Page 5 of The Duchess Audition

Marina, however, took a moment to bow her head to William, flashing him a smile before she began to make her way to the door. She would not be startled into forgoing a goodbye, when she did not know when she might see that curious child again. It had been nice to have a captive audience, even just for a few minutes.

“Good day to you,” she said with another bob of her head, as she passed by the imposing man with the sweeping dark hair and rosemary-green eyes.

Eyes that locked with hers in a squint of disapproval as she walked by him and headed back out into the cold morning air.

With a sigh, she glanced back at the beautiful sandstone manor. Uncle cannot say I did not try.

CHAPTER TWO

Good day to you?

The woman’s parting remark fizzed inside a mind that was already abuzz with irritation. Anthony could not tell if it had been meant to annoy him, but it had regardless.

“Would someone care to explain this?” he asked, returning sharply to the matter at hand.

The matter in his hand.

He waved the offending ‘invitation’ at his grandmother and son, his eyebrow raised. It was not often that he lost his temper with either of them, but arranging auditions for women to be his future wife, behind his back, seemed like a fair reason for a tongue lashing.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded to know. “Did you think I would not discover this? Did you think you could hide the fact that you invited who knows how many women into this house, to audition to be my wife? Have you both taken leave of your senses?”

And he had been having such a pleasant morning, too: a hearty breakfast followed by a bracing two-hour ride among the dappled hills, enjoying the fresh air and verdant landscapes.

The two hours that they knew I would be riding today, the scoundrels!

“What would you have done if I had decided not to go riding this morning, hmm?” he asked, since neither were answering any of his questions.

William had withdrawn into himself, fidgeting with the tassel of a cushion. Meanwhile, his grandmother, Harriet, had the look of a woman who was just waiting for him to finish talking so she could say her piece.

So, he paused, crumpling the invitation back into a ball to let her know that his ire had not eased any.

His grandmother sighed. “Anthony, my dear boy, this should not be a surprise to you. We have discussed this before. Endlessly.”

“And still you have no right to do what you have done,” Anthony replied curtly. “A discussion is not an agreement.”

Harriet reached out and patted William gently on the back. “Darling, might you give your father and I a moment alone? I think there are lemon cakes in the kitchen.”

The boy looked like he might argue, but then he shrugged, got up with a dramatic sigh, and padded out of the drawing room. Under his breath, Anthony could have sworn his son muttered the word “apoplectic.”

“This is beyond the pale, Grandmother,” Anthony said, the moment his son was out of the room. “You cannot do as you please. You cannot meddle in my life like this. Truly, what were you thinking, inviting so many women to the house? Do you think this will not reach the scandal sheets?”

Harriet met his eyes, her expression stony. “Your son, my great-grandson, is struggling, Anthony. I do what I can for him, but I am seventy years old!” she rasped. “You left us no choice but to take drastic measures, because I shall not watch that sweet boy’s light continue to dim before my eyes.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Anthony scoffed. “There is nothing wrong with him. He is, perhaps, a little quiet, but that will be of benefit to him when he goes to Eton.”

“And there is the trouble,” his grandmother said, shaking her head. “You are already thinking toward the day he will leave instead of concentrating on the fact that he is here, and you behave as if he is your… distantly related ward instead of your son.”

Anthony bristled. “He is fed, he is clothed, he is taken care of, he has tutors, he has everything a boy could need.”

“A boy needs more than that,” Harriet shot back. “A boy needs affection, tenderness, someone to guide him emotionally while tutors tend to the rest. He has already lost one parent, Anthony; do not make him feel like he has lost both. If you cannot be what he needs, then you must marry, so that he might have a stepmother to fill that place. Someone kind.”

Guilt jabbed Anthony between the ribs. It was true that he was not so very affectionate toward his son, but then he was not so very affectionate to anyone. He had not been raised with the tenderness that Harriet espoused, and it had not done him any harm. His mother and father had had their lives and he had had his; that was how it was done in the Drew family.

“I agreed to look for a wife this Season,” he said gruffly. “I did not agree for you to bring a gaggle of them to my door. You have no idea what you have done.”

“I know perfectly well,” his grandmother retorted, her lips pursed. “But had I left the matter in your hands, my dear boy, we would be waiting Season after Season. You would find every excuse not to find a bride, perpetually, until I am gone and your son is grown and there is no need anymore.”

“Anyone would think I were an idler, the way you speak of me,” Anthony muttered, deciding whether or not to remind his grandmother that she lived in luxury because of him, because of his dedication to hard work.