Well, there was an interesting thought. The infamous RottenRow, sure to provide a fascinating look into the ton, everyone parading up and down the bridle path on their best horses. She was sure to observe a million details that would help her flesh out the bonier parts of her book. But she would be observed in turn, used as fodder for idle gossips to chew up and spit back at each other. Researching real life was a dangerous game. She wanted none of it.
“I don’t want to go out in public.”
“But Rotten Row is on your list of things to do.”
“I’m not writing the novel anymore.”
A sigh of exasperation. “Yes. You are writing the damn book. You talk about it incessantly. Let’s help it along.”
“Won’t people be whispering about us?”
“Most likely. That’s the routine on the Row. But the best way to quell rumors is to face them head on.”
“Or stay in bed until they die down on their own,” she whispered, sensing that she was losing the battle.
“Ana, you are coming riding with me. As my future duchess, with a soon-to-be burgeoning literary career of her own, this is a logical and necessary step. We must be seen in public together.”
She cocked an ear. Half of that statement filled her with dread, the other with excitement. “A literary career?” Since that extraordinary kiss had turned her world topsy-turvy, she had scarcely dared imagine what life post-marriage might be like. It was a daunting gray area. But this sounded... intriguing. Something to consider.
“Yes, of course. As my wife, you’ll have nothing but time in which to write all the countless books your fertile imagination can conjure. Now, Tessie, stuff her into a habit and have her downstairs within the hour.”
Tessie dropped a curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace.”
When he’d gone, Tessie folded the covers away from her body. “You heard His Grace. Up you get.”
Ana groaned. “I can’t believe this is happening. I never meant for any of it to happen.”
“Perhaps not, but you were caught kissing and that’s the way of the world now, isn’t it?”
As Tessie helped her into her finely tailored navy riding habit, arranging the shirred epaulets just so over her shoulders and fluffing the jaunty peplum, Ana’s gaze found the window with its partial view of the square. She hadn’t seen Cygnette at Lady Chetwynd-Ellerton’s ball. Perhaps she’d been wrong about her making her debut. Maybe Cygnette was an independent young lady who had decided never to marry and to pursue her farfetched dream of becoming a physician, or an archaeologist, or even an author.
Was marriage really a cage that kept one from fulfilling one’s dreams?
What if her marriage to the duke actually enabled hers? He seemed to be fine with the idea of having an author for a wife, someone with her own career independent of their union. She shook her head, denying the possibility. He would want all her attention on the heirs she would be forced to produce, like a broodmare cooped up in a stable. Surely a loveless marriage would crush her creativity, stifle her spirit.
“Hold still!” Tessie shoved several hat pins into her backswept coiffure, attempting to afix the pert bonnet. “What’s got you sighing so? It’s a lovely day for a ride!”
“Tessie, life is already too much of a ride for me at this particular point. It’s moving far too quickly into uncharted territories, and I’m having a hard time hanging on.”
Tessie smiled behind her mistress’s dramatic head. “You’re to be a duchess, Ana. A duchess. You’ll never have to worry about anything again for as long as you live!”
Ana didn’t bother to contradict her as she gathered up her gloves and crop. She knew that from her friend’s perspective she had indeed stumbled into a spot of luck. But the prospect of a lifetime of luxury didn’t hold the same allure for her. She had never felt quite so beset by uncertainties, not even when she’d been destitute and desperate in her tiny room at Miss Flanagan’s. At least then she’d known her missions: find her father, publish her book.
Life had become complicated and mysterious since then. The duke had made it so. And now he was making her face her fears, forcing her out into the stark light of the public stage. She’d thought that observing society was what she wanted. But today, it would be society observing and judging her. Let them.
She set her chin and marched down the stairs.
Later, dismounting from the horse with her fingers tucked into the duke’s strong hand, she had to admit she’d been wrong, utterly and completely. He’d engineered an almost perfect afternoon, something from a dream belonging to someone else. Someone in an affectionate relationship with a well-dressed lover who nodded reassuringly at her from his horse at intervals and pointed out interesting sights along the sandy gravel road. The inquisitive looks from passersby, so daunting at first, had faded into a harmless blur as the magic of the sunny, stimulating scene took hold.
The duke had provided what amounted to, for him, a steadystream of comforting commentary. For someone else it might have been more of a brook, she allowed, a trickle really, but for him it had been volubility itself. He’d provided the names of the more outrageously dressed riders, noting their titles and marital statuses, even tossing in a line or two about their unique peccadillos or peculiarities.
“That’s Sir Alexander Howell, in the frothy cravat,” he said, nodding his chin at a gentleman wearing two clashing waistcoats from which a fountain of lace erupted. “He spends the bulk of his leisure time in the company of elderly women of means.”
“Countess Bettina Davencourt, on the braided mare. Never seen out with her husband, the earl, who is always seeninwith her lady’s maid.”
Short, to the point, but ever so provocative—she peered at the people in question and marveled at how ordinary they appeared under their finery. Was absolutely everyone hiding a secret or two? It would seem so. It was satisfying fare.
They’d run into a number of his friends along the road, who struck Ana as a surprisingly pleasant and lively group. They were sculptors and barristers and viscounts and merchants, from a motley assortment of professions and stations, united by high intelligence and an obvious zest for life. Not a single one of them looked askance at her; rather, they’d all smiled directly into her eyes and exclaimed warmly at the pleasure of meeting her.