Page 6 of The Duchess Audition

The Knotgill fortune had not come to him by inheritance, but by perseverance and the sweat of his brow. What had begun as a small pot had swelled into a financial legacy thanks to him and some sage investments, careful speculations, and his ability to get other men of business to part with their money.

But to point that out would have been inelegant of him, and he was trying to be more noble than that.

“I just wanted to help, Anthony,” his grandmother said in a tired voice. “I just wanted to narrow down the possibilities so it would not feel like a monumental task, considering all that you already do for us. I hoped to lessen the burden, not make it worse.”

Anthony knew he was being shamelessly manipulated by the woman who knew him better than anyone in the world, but he found he did not care. When it came to William, Harriet would have moved mountains to see him happy.

Perhaps, in this instance, she did mean well.

He softened and went to sit with her on the settee. His hand reached for hers and held it fast, his gaze following the blue veins of her translucent skin.

“It is no great news to me that I have not been a good father,” he admitted. “I know that I am distant and dismissive and too strict at times, but… it is how I was raised. It is how you raised my father. I do not know any better.”

When I see the boy, all I see is his mother…

“Darling, that is why you must be better,” Harriet said, her voice hitching. “You must be better than I was, better than your grandfather was, better than your father was, better than your mother was. Now in the winter of my life, I fervently wish I could go back and do things differently. William is my chance to make amends, but I am not so young as I used to be. I cannot be all he has to lean on.”

Anthony frowned, thinking of his own father. He had respected the man, feared him at times, but perhaps it said something rather poignant that he had not shed a single tear at the man’s funeral.

Is that what I want from my son? For him to feel nothing at my passing, one day?

He had loved his mother the way a stray loves the one who leaves out food and water. Always wanting to be closer to her, but never able to. Whenever he had tried, she had shooed him away, until he stopped trying altogether.

But what if William could have something different?

He puffed out a breath, unable to believe he was about to say this. “Who did you favor?”

Harriet brightened. “Of the ladies?”

“No, of the new gardeners,” he replied with an amused roll of his eyes.

“Well, I rather liked that Irish fellow with the red hair,” Harriet said with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “But, of the ladies, there was… yes, I think there was one who was not as insipid as the rest. Possibly too peculiar, but she had character, and you need that.”

Anthony choked out a laugh. “I do?”

“Certainly.” She nodded. “Otherwise, you will be bored, your eye will wander, and then I shall have to suffer the indignity of seeing your name in the scandal sheets. My grandson, a rake? Never.”

Smiling, Anthony sat back against the settee. “Tell me of this lady.”

“She was the last one to leave,” Harriet explained.

“Ah… her.” Anthony’s eyes pinched, thinking of the woman’s possibly sarcastic, Good day to you.

“Now, do not hasten to any assumptions,” his grandmother chided mildly. “I respect that she does not have unparalleled beauty and is rather… gauche, but she is interesting. Interesting is good.”

He tried to recall the faces of the other ladies who had passed him by, but he could not. All that filled his mind was that final woman’s tight smile, the upward, unafraid tilt of her chin, and blue eyes like the sky at dawn, burning with a sunrise gleam. Angry, perhaps? Annoyed? He was not sure.

And something on the left side of her face, half-hidden behind a swathe of dark hair.

Was it a birth mark?

The image would not come to him any clearer, just her eyes and her somewhat sardonic smile focused in his head.

“I have never seen William so engaged,” Harriet continued. “He could not sit still, hanging upon her every word. True, she was speaking of… odd things that are not to my taste, but he was fascinated. He even asked her questions and, had you not interrupted when you did, I imagine he would have willed her to speak for a fair stretch of time. It was not so with any of the other ladies. Rather like his father, they bored him quickly.”

Anthony cast his grandmother a warning look. “What do you think I am, Grandmother? I am not some scandalous rogue. I simply do not have time for idle chatter and vacuous conversation, which so many of these society ladies seem to be trained in.”

“And that is why this woman may be your perfect match,” Harriet said, patting his hand. “I doubt she could chit-chat if she tried. She is awkward, granted, but that means she likely does not have many other prospects or suits. You will not have to fight for her hand, which would assuredly expedite things.”