The rest of the party passed in a whirl, mostly because Ana Maria couldn’t stop thinking about it. All of it: his mouth on hers, her hand on him, how he’d sounded when he’d whispered in her ear.
How exhilarating it had felt to know that just above them were people who would be shocked, horrified, and also likely titillated if they knew what was happening in the garden below.
She woke at dawn, lying in her luxurious bed, the bed she still slept to one side of because she hadn’t yet gotten used to the size of it compared to her earlier bed, staring out the window at the various chimneys, clouds, and the faintest hint of sun.
She felt completely and totally in control—able to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.
The feeling might not last, but she needed to take advantage of it while it did.
Springing out of bed, she went to her wardrobe and drew out one of her new day dresses, a blue gown that looked like it had been dipped into the sea. It wasn’t too difficult to button up, thank goodness, although she knew most ladies would insist on assistance for every little item they might put on.
But she wanted to be alone to savor how remarkable she felt.
It wasn’t just the kissing, though the kissing helped; it was that she had stated what she wanted, both to herself and to him, and she had acted on her wants.
Today she was going to begin her new venture, whatever that might look like. She’d go to Miss Ivy’s and consult with Octavia, then go to his house for more lessons in fighting.
Not a euphemism, though she hoped that there would be other non-fighting activities as well. Which she had told him straight-out.
From now on, she was going to say what she meant. If she could figure that out precisely. Because of course she was still conflicted, still oxymoronic, about what it was she actually desired.
Though she knew definitely she desired him.
“My lady!”
Jane burst through the door holding a tray, glancing quickly at the clock in the corner and then back at Ana Maria with a startled expression. “It is so early, what in goodness’ name are you doing up?”
Jane set the tray down on the low table to the right of the bed, then approached Ana Maria and took hold of her shoulders, twisting her so her back was to Jane. Ana Maria shook the other woman’s hands off as she felt them at her buttons.
“I did those already,” she said in a terse tone as she spun back around.
“I just wanted to check,” Jane replied.
Ana Maria glared at her friend, who just kept regarding her with a skeptical look.
“You have to let me do some things,” Ana Maria continued, this time in a less peevish tone.
“I know it’s hard for you, adjusting to all of this,” Jane said softly as she gestured to the room. “But we all want you to succeed, and it will be more difficult for you if you can’t stop thinking of yourself as a servant.”
“I don’t.”
Ana Maria was taken aback herself by how quickly she spoke. But she didn’t feel like a servant. Not anymore. She felt like an entire person, one who had the benefit of a title and wealth, but one who was also adept at making her own decisions—something she wasn’t certain other more traditionally raised young ladies knew how to do.
“Good,” Jane said. “So you’ll be choosing your own husband and settling into your own household.” She made it sound like an inevitability, and Ana Maria felt herself recoil.
“No!”
Jane’s eyebrows rose. “But I thought you didn’t want to be dependent on your cousin forever?”
Ana Maria felt as though she were choking from her emotion. She couldn’t speak for a few moments, just shook her head. “I—those aren’t the only options.”
Jane folded her arms over her chest. “What else is there, then?”
“There’s me! And what I want to do!”
Jane narrowed her gaze. “And what is that? Because I can’t believe you want to return to doing what you used to. Even if it were possible.”
“No, I don’t.” She paused. “But I want to do something. And that something is not get married to somebody with teeth and flowers just because there are no other opportunities.”
“Not that big lummox!” Jane exclaimed.
Ana Maria’s face grew hot. Jane looked smug.
“I thought so.”
“No, that is not happening.” Ana Maria spoke firmly, as if that would stop Jane from talking.
“I’ve seen how you look at him. You’ve always looked at him that way.” Jane shrugged. “Now that you are who you are, finally, why can’t it happen?”
Ana Maria plopped down on her bed, gesturing for Jane to sit beside her. “It sounds so easy when you say it.”
“But it is easy. The duchess wouldn’t have allowed it. She’d have been too jealous of your position, but now that she is gone and your cousin is in charge? Why not?”
“He doesn’t want to for some reason.”
“What possible reason could that be? Is he damaged in some way?”
Ana Maria blushed even more at Jane’s implication, and the fact that she knew the answer, nearly firsthand, so to speak. “It’s not that. He is most definitely not damaged.”
At least not that way—but she knew he was hurting; his offhand comments and various grunts and growls told her that much.
“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?”
“Can we stop having this conversation? I need to go to Miss Ivy’s today. I am going to help Miss Octavia redecorate.” Possibly she could match her cheeks to the red silk she imagined using on the walls.
And then she remembered it wouldn’t be the perfect day, after all. “Drat! And Lord Brunley is coming to take me to see his chestnuts.” Why had she agreed? Idiot, idiot, idiot.
“I just want you to be happy.” Jane reached over to take Ana Maria’s hand. Her fingers were rough with calluses.
“I will be, I promise.” With or without him, she thought. Because she was in charge of her own happiness now, and she wouldn’t wait while some confused behemoth sorted his thoughts. But she would go ahead and take what she wanted, if he was willing.
“What time is Lord Brunley arriving?”
Ana Maria shook her head. “I think this afternoon sometime.”
“Miss Ivy’s first, then, is it?” Jane said as she rose from the bed. “I thought you were going to redo this room first?”
“I can do both.”
Ana Maria stood as well, gazing around at the understated colors of her bedroom. Her soul longed for color and vibrancy, and now that she was set on her course, she would get it.
“You can.” Jane spoke with the same confidence Ana Maria felt. “Now let’s get you on your way so you can accomplish everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“And then I have to go see Lord Brunley’s brown horses,” Ana Maria said in a disgruntled tone.
“He likely won’t allow you to redecorate them,” Jane said in a sly tone, making Ana Maria laugh.
“Duke!”
Nash groaned as he heard his grandmother’s voice down the hall. He rose from his chair, going to the door of his study to find her—he didn’t necessarily want to speak with her, but he wasn’t going to make an ancient lady travel when he could use his own two legs to find her.
So that she could scold him or annoy him in some way.
“There you are,” she said. Her lady’s maid’s expression was as disapproving as his grandmother’s tone. “We spoke about the need for you to obtain some manners—”
“You spoke about it,” Nash interrupted.
“And I have time now.”
No question if he had time, he noticed. Although he did, so he had nothing to gripe about.
Except the entire and complete intrusion and upending of his life.
“In here?” he said, gesturing toward his study.
The dowager duchess scowled. “Not ‘in here.’ You should say, ‘Would you care to come inside?’ or something more polite. And no, not there.”
Nash rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond as he normally would.
“Would you care to go to the ballroom, then?” he asked, making his tone deliberately formal.
“Better. And yes.”
His grandmother turned, taking her lady’s maid’s arm and making her way back down the hallway to the ballroom.
Nash followed, having to keep his stride about half what it usually was because of his grandmother’s pace. Look, he wanted to say, I’m accommodating you now, only you aren’t even registering it.
Humph.
He waited as his grandmother was settled on one of the low sofas that hugged the edge of the room.
He rarely came here; this was where parties were held, and Nash did not hold parties beyond having Sebastian and Thaddeus over for whiskey.
This room was where his father had spent many evenings, which meant that Nash had an instinctive dislike of it. Even now he could picture his father—red-faced, loud, and frequently angry—standing in the middle of the room bellowing out orders as people scurried to obey.
Nash hadn’t been old enough to actually attend the parties his father threw, but he had snuck out from his bedroom and watched the guests arrive. Mostly gentlemen like his father, with a few ladies he later realized were not of the aristocracy at all. He hadn’t thought about it then, but he wondered now if his father and his friends had hurt the women. He didn’t doubt it. He wished he could find them and make reparation, but he supposed it would have to do to hire as many of his father’s bastards as he could find.
“What are you doing?” his grandmother said. “Standing around gawking at what?”
Nash shook his head. “Nothing.” He felt his hands clench into fists, and couldn’t help but start pacing, the fury inside him roaring to life.
The dowager duchess thumped her cane. “Come sit. I can tell it is not nothing.”
Nash suppressed a sigh—a sigh! Him!—and sat beside her, careful not to jostle the sofa cushions too much with his weight.
She turned to him, folding her hands in her lap. “He wasn’t a good man.”
“What?” Nash said, startled.
“Your father.”
“How did you—?”
“Because you looked like he used to. Right before—” She stopped suddenly, and he got a chill up his spine.
I look like him when I get angry.
“That is why I want to make certain that your heir does not inherit. He gets that look also, and I have heard of things he has done . . .” She trailed off, and he felt his chest tighten. This was why it was so important he not care. Because caring led to violence. His father had shown that.
“But at the moment the only lady who seems as though she might accept you is Lady Felicity, and while she would be suitable, she is not ideal.”
Nash’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you say that?”
His grandmother made a dismissive gesture. “She is a bit obvious.”
“Because she wants to be a duchess?” Nash snorted. “Isn’t that what all of them want?”
His grandmother raised her nose in the air even higher than usual. “Yes, of course. But it is not something a lady should exhibit.”
I want to kiss you.
She said what she wanted. He liked that; otherwise, how would he possibly know? He was obviously terrible at figuring things out, since he’d never tried before. Certainly not with a lady. His friends told him what they wanted from him also: usually more whiskey, or for him to stop being an ass.
He could oblige them on the former but not always on the latter.
Marrying and fathering a child was his chance to right the wrongs that his father had done. That his cousin would do, if given the title.
“All right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “What do I need to learn?”