"The Duke does not strike me as a man prone to deception," Cassandra observed. "From what I have heard, he is almost brutally honest. Some might even say tactless."
Despite herself, Anthea felt her lips twitch. "He did accuse me of trying to seduce him with perfume."
"I beg your pardon?"
"It is a long story," Anthea said, waving a dismissive hand. "But yes, he is... direct. Sometimes insultingly so."
"And yet you are considering his offer," Cassandra said shrewdly.
Cassandra leaned forward, her expression unusually serious. "Anthea, I have known you since we were girls. I have watched you withdraw from Society, convince yourself that you are content alone, build walls so high that no one could possibly scale them. And in all that time, I have never seen you look at a man the way you looked just now when speaking about the Duke."
"I did not look any particular way," Anthea protested weakly.
"You absolutely did," Cassandra said. "Your eyes softened. Your voice changed. You were remembering something about him—something that affected you."
His green eyes,Anthea thought traitorously.The way he stood so close. The challenge in his voice when we argued.
"Even if I were attracted to him—which I am not admitting—that would be irrelevant," she said aloud. "He has made clear this would be a practical arrangement. He does not want my affection."
"Are you certain?" Cassandra asked. "Because from what you have told me, he went to considerable lengths to ensure you understood exactly what he was offering. And he specifically noted that you were honest with him. That you spoke directly rather than attempting to manipulate or trap him."
"Because he has been targeted by fortune hunters," Anthea said. "He values honesty because it is rare among the debutantes throwing themselves at his title."
"Or," Cassandra suggested, "he values honesty because it is a quality he admires in you specifically."
Anthea shook her head. "You are romanticizing a business arrangement."
"Perhaps," Cassandra allowed. "Or perhaps you are so determined to protect yourself that you cannot recognize when someone is offering you exactly what you need."
"What I need is to help my sisters," Anthea said firmly. "Not to entangle myself in a marriage I never wanted. And marrying the duke would mean…"
"Would mean what?" Cassandra prompted gently.
"Would mean trusting him," Anthea said quietly. "Trusting that his offer is genuine. That he will not change his mind or demand more than I agreed to give. That he is not simply using me as Maxwell used me."
"The Duke is not Maxwell Tinkett," Cassandra said firmly. "Whatever that man did to you, whatever lies he told, the Duke is not him. From everything I have observed and heard, he is a man of honor. He served his country with distinction. He inherited a troubled estate and immediately set about trying to help his tenants rather than simply enjoying his newfound wealth and status."
"How do you know all this?" Anthea asked, startled.
"I make it my business to know things," Cassandra said with a slight smile. "And from everything I have observed and heard, the Duke is a man of honor. He served his country with distinction. He inherited a troubled estate and immediately set about trying to help his tenants rather than simply enjoying his newfound wealth."
"How do you know all this?" Anthea asked, startled.
"I make inquiries about eligible Dukes," Cassandra said simply. "Particularly ones who seem utterly lost at Society events."
Anthea thought of Gregory's obvious discomfort at the ball. The way he had retreated to the library as though seeking sanctuary. "He does not belong here. In this world of false smiles and hidden meanings. He is too direct. Too honest."
"Which is precisely why he needs someone who can navigate it for him," Cassandra said. "Someone like you." She squeezed Anthea's hand. "I am not saying you must accept his offer. That decision is yours alone. But do not let fear make it for you. You deserve better than that."
Anthea nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and made her escape before Cassandra could offer any additional uncomfortable insights.
But as her carriage rattled through the London streets toward home, she could not stop thinking about what her friend had said.
Do not let fear make the decision.
Because she was afraid. Terrified, in fact. Not of the Duke himself, but of what accepting his offer would mean. Re-entering the world she had spent three years avoiding. Trusting a man with her future. Risking her carefully constructed peace.
And more frightening still—acknowledging the unwanted attraction that hummed beneath her skin whenever she thought of him. The way her pulse had quickened when they stood close together. The treacherous awareness that defied every rational reason to keep her distance.
