“Candide,” Casper replied, handing it to Anthony. “Love the sarcasm.”
“Hm ... trust you to find the one book I’ve hidden away.” Anthony put the book aside and took a sip of his brandy.
Casper followed suit. “That’s not entirely true—there’s also theMemoirs of a Woman of Pleasurethat you’ve so diligently placed behind Chaucer.”
Anthony coughed. “Yes, well ... my mother would probably have a fit of the vapors if she discovered either one of them.” Getting up, he took the book and returned it to its rightful place—behind Defoe.
“Even withCandide?” Casper asked, frowning. He sounded unconvinced.
“She considers it blasphemous, which I suppose I can understand—in a way.”
Casper shrugged. “So tell me—did you find the elusive Miss Smith?”
Hesitating a moment, Anthony considered what he’d discovered. He then met Casper’s gaze and nodded with slow deliberation as he walked back to his seat. “Yes, I did.”
“And?” Casper’s eagerness for information was most apparent not only from his tone of voice but from his posture as well, for he was now leaning forward in his seat as if the act of doing so would elicit a quicker reply.
“And her name is Miss Chilcott. Her father is employed at Roberts’ Exclusive Carriages.” He reached for his brandy. God how he needed it with everything he’d learned today.
“Well, I hate to state the obvious, old chap, but she’s hardly duchess material then. Society dictate will want you to marry a lady and ... Miss Chilcott, was it?” Anthony nodded morosely. “Why, she may be lovely to look at and more charming than most, but she’s not even the daughter of a baronet!”
“I am aware of that small detail, thank you very much. However, there’s no law preventing me from courting her or from marrying her should I choose to do so.”
“It will be social suicide if you ask me,” Casper muttered. “You’re a duke, which unfortunately for you and Miss Chilcott means that you have a standard to uphold.”
Anthony knew this of course, but that didn’t mean he liked it. “Hang Society,” he muttered, tossing back the rest of his drink. “Besides, it’s not as if this family hasn’t done the unconventional before. Winston has still not been accepted back into some circles because of his business, but at least he’s happy with the choice he made.”
“If I were you, I’d marry the daughter of an earl and make Miss Chilcott your mistress,” Casper said, ignoring Anthony’s comment. “Besides, you know what these highborn ladies are like—too prim to be stroked, much less ...” He allowed the sentence to trail off. “So if you do marry one, you’ll require someone else on the side to satisfy your needs.” Anthony scowled, but Casper blithely continued with, “You may have abandoned your rakish ways, but men like us have appetites, and that’s not something that ever goes away.”
“You’re disgusting,” Anthony said, though he had to admit there was some truth to it. How often had he submitted to his own hand in the course of the past five years? Thousands, perhaps more. And since he’d met Miss Chilcott ... if she only knew what he’d done as he’d thought of her luscious body these past two evenings since the ball.
Casper smiled. “Say what you will, but I can see it on your face. Make Miss Chilcott your mistress and I’m sure she’ll—”
“Stop right there!” Anthony warned. “Miss Chilcott is a decent woman, Casper. She’s not the sort with loose morals, and I won’t allow you to speak of her in such a degrading fashion.”
Casper held up his hands. “Fair enough.”
The door opened and Anthony, turning his head, found both Winston and his mother entering the room. “I hope we’re not intruding,” his mother said. She was wearing a rusty orange day dress that went well with her coloring, her black and gray completely abandoned, much to Anthony’s relief.
“Not at all,” Anthony told her, rising and waving them both over. Stepping around the table, he kissed his mother lightly on the cheek. “We were just discussing my investigation regarding Miss Smith, otherwise known as Miss Chilcott.”
“Oh, so you found her?” Winston asked as he poured himself a drink at the side table. “Would you care for some sherry, Mama?”
“Just a small one,” the duchess replied.
“And please bring the carafe with you over here, Winston,” Casper said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Your brother and I are in need of a refill.”
“So, tell us about Miss Chilcott, Anthony. Is she the unwanted stepchild of a countess, hidden away so that none shall know of her beauty?”
Anthony rolled his eyes. “You read too many fairy tales, Mama.”
“Not anymore.” There was an edge of sadness to her voice. “But I used to when Louise was little. To be honest, I always did enjoy those happily ever afters—they don’t happen often enough in real life.”
“Well, it looks as though it’s unlikely to happen for me either,” Anthony said. “Miss Chilcott is a driver’s daughter, and as Casper has correctly pointed out, it would be difficult for me to make her my duchess—socially speaking, that is.”
“That explains her belief that she cannot share a future with you, though I’m not entirely sure of how it affectsyourdecision, Anthony. When did you begin caring about what Society thinks?” his mother asked as she took a careful sip of her sherry, the tiny glass balanced perfectly between her elegant fingers. “Because if you ask me, you never gave much of a damn about anyone’s opinion until recently. I’d be greatly saddened to see you do so now, when so much depends on you doing the complete opposite.”
All three men stared at the tiny figure of a woman who sat before them. Anthony could not recall her ever using profanity before—it was so unlike her. She, on the other hand, looked completely unaffected as she looked right back at them. She eventually shrugged. “There’s little joy to be had in growing older, but having the freedom to say as you please is most assuredly one of them.”
