Chapter 10
12th November, 1812
Throughout her self-imposed exile, Anna avoided conversing with her mother as much as possible and only saw her friend Emily once, for tea.
“I wish you were not hiding away,” Emily said. “Everything is nearly ready for the house party, and it is going to be such a grand time. Are you certain you won’t be coming?”
“If the duke is there…”
“I rather think he will be. He’s back, you know.”
“Back?” Anna had just picked up her cup, but now she returned it to the saucer. Her stomach was most unsettled now, at hearing this.
“Yes. Didn’t you hear? I thought that perhaps you were staying… Well, he’s been away for several weeks now. Went to visit a friend perhaps or family. Everyone says something different, so I’m not certain anyone knows the truth of the matter.” Emily eyed her. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” Anna murmured. Had Benjamin found a lady to settle down with? Was that why he had gone off? “No one has uncovered the truth of it?”
“No one. I’m sure the truth will come out eventually. It always does.”
Anna frowned. “Eventually,” she conceded, “but sometimes gossip comes about first.”
She hadn’t confided in her friend that she knew the identity of Aunt Augusta, and she did not plan on doing so as it was not her secret to share, but she could not help feeling differently about gossip in general. Although it was sometimes lighthearted, it could also be rather cruel and could even ruin reputations.
Still, she found herself wondering at all the possible reasons why the dashing duke might have run away for weeks.
17th November, 1812
A month after her mother shared her romantic tale, Anna woke from a troubling dream. The duke had fallen gravely ill seconds after he had proposed to her. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to nurse him back to health, and he had died in her arms.
To try to settle herself, Anna left the house to continue her charity work. Outside of this work, Anna had become rather withdrawn, much to her mother’s dismay.
Once the meeting concluded, Anna overheard a familiar name.
“My husband is meeting up with the Duke of Barnet at White’s.”
Anna stilled. Not even bothering to note which lady had unwillingly given her this precious information, she left.
Anna turned to her maid. “Do go on home.”
“But—”
“My mother will not mind. I am going to visit with Emily. She has been pushing me to for weeks now, and I finally feel up to it.”
It took some convincing, and only after she said that the Pembrokes would see her safely home did the maid leave.
Although it was scandalous and something about which the gossips might even write to The Teatime Tattler, Anna headed toward White’s. Not that she could dare go inside, of course, but the thought of being so forward as to seek him out like this made her flush. She wasn’t at all certain she should be doing this. Perhaps it would be better to actually go and visit Emily after all.
As she debated, the man she was thinking about exited from White’s, and she screwed up her nerve to approach him. “It is a lovely day, isn’t it?”
The duke gave her a distracted smile. “Indeed it is.”
“What’s wrong?” Unbidden, her dream came to her. Nightmare, really. Here, standing before her, he appeared strong and healthy, although his face was a little pale, and the way he was glancing about, as if he did not wish to be seen, struck her as odd.
“I am quite fine,” he insisted.
Her heart sank. Should she press?
No.
“I am glad of that,” she said, but then she couldn’t help adding, “Your health is satisfactory?”
“Yes.” He wouldn’t grace her a real smile, though, and he still was looking about.
“I’m glad,” she said stiffly. “Do you not wish to be seen with me or… No matter. Good day.”
And she walked away.
Benjamin watched Lady Anna leave his side. She hadn’t gone more than four steps before he rushed to her side. “Forgive me,” he said as smoothly as he could.
She would not look at him.
He winced. “Lady Anna, please.”
The lady jerked to a stop. “Please what?”
She was glaring at him, angry, almost standoffish. And she didn’t even know the truth yet.
Benjamin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I would like to tell you something in confidence, if I may. I… I am not quite ready for this news to reach everyone yet.”
“You’re entrusting me with a secret?” Anna’s eyes sparkled, matching the flush appearing on her cheeks.
“Yes,” he said gloomy. Her smile would not last long, he’d wager. “You see; I find myself engaged to marry.”
“Engaged?” She retreated a step, a hand on her chest. “Find yourself… How does a duke find himself engaged?”
There was pain swimming in her eyes, hurt undertones to her voice. He winced. She had been one of the ladies he most enjoyed spending time with, one he had even considered might be the one for him.
But life had made a mess of things, and he could hardly sort through things himself.
“Yes,” he muttered. “Not something I expected or anticipated, but it is what it is. I am engaged.”
“To whom? Or is that a secret you wish to keep to yourself?”
He winced yet again. “To a dear childhood friend.” Although he hadn’t planned on sharing the details, he blurted out, “She is with child. Not by me, but the reprobate responsible has run off with another woman. It’s the only way to save her from scandal. I will do this for her. It’s only right. I have brought her to town with me, and she is staying with my mother.”
Anna held herself perfectly still. “I wish…”
That things were different? Ah, he did as well. He rather liked his freedom to dance with every lady, to smile, to flirt. He hadn’t pictured himself marrying for a long while.
And now he was not only engaged, but he would have to marry and marry very soon to try to keep the disgrace of Lady Florentina Ramsbury, the daughter of the Earl of Burntwood, from gossips.
Anna dipped her head and walked off. Perhaps he should go after her, try to explain more, but really, what was there for him to say?
Instead, he headed back into White’s. He needed another drink.