Page 21 of Venus in Disguise

Ash kissed her cheek, knowing Viv’s bark was far worse than her bite, and she would take care of things for him.

Narcissa stood in the library of the grand old house, the comforting aroma of old books and leather doing nothing to ease her anxiety. She ought not to be here. Her situation was too tenuous, far more fragile than she had ever realised before. Yet, here she was, waiting alone for a man she had been forbidden to even speak to. Surely, she was out of her mind. Yet when the door opened and Mr Anson appeared, her fears fled, replaced by the urgent desire to be with him, to know this man who seemed to speak to her soul in a way no one else had ever done.

“It’s all right, my sister is keeping guard,” he told her, smiling reassuringly. “There’s nothing to fear.”

She gave a choked laugh, and his smile faltered.

“That was a stupid thing to say,” he admitted wryly. “I meant only that we shall not be discovered, at least. Now, tell me about the earl and your father’s plans for you.”

He moved to the settee and patted the space beside him. Narcissa swallowed, and after a moment's hesitation, she sat down.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said. “I am here to secure a husband the duke approves of. His grace wants a connection that is worthy of his title. The earldom is an old one, his lineage impeccable, and the earl is wealthy. He says he will give me time to see if I can do better, but he knows I can’t as well as I do. In his eyes, it is the perfect match.”

“If you disregard the fact Wishen is old enough to be your grandfather,” Ash replied in disgust.

Narcissa shrugged, wrapping her arms about herself, for she was suddenly cold. She did not look at him, not wanting to see the revulsion in his eyes when he realised she was not going to fight her fate. “You know how these things work as well as I do. You know I’m hardly innocent in all of this. I have encouraged his advances because I know he’s a man I can handle. I’ll have a title and wealth and a husband I can wrap about my finger, just as I wanted, just as you predicted.”

He reached out and put his fingers to her chin, turning her face towards his. Narcissa swallowed as he studied her, looking into her eyes as if searching for the truth of who she was. “That’s not what you want, though, not really. It’s simply all you think you can have.”

She let out a soft huff of laughter. “They must be the same thing. I must make them the same thing, or I shall never find a moment’s peace.”

“You can’t marry such a man,” he said, dropping his hand and looking away from her. His tone was angry, but whether with her or the situation she wasn’t certain.

“I can if my father insists upon it, for I have no means of fighting him,” she said simply. “Girls marry men they neither know nor even like all the time. It’s not such an unusual fate, and at least I feel reasonably confident he will never beat me.”

“And that’s the best you can hope for? A husband who will not beat you?” he repeated, a dark note in his voice.

Narcissa shrugged. “Most likely, yes. Unless some miracle brings the Earl of Ashburton to town and he falls head over ears for me,” she said with a wry smile. “He’s about the only man I can think of who my father would accept over Wishen, though he despises Montagu.”

“Ashburton?” he said sharply. “You want him? Well, you’d make a pretty pair, I’ll admit,” he added with a sneer.

Narcissa regarded him cautiously, aware of the tension behind the words. “I’ve never met him,” she replied, puzzled by the sudden outburst. “Though I believed he was a friend of yours. I only meant that he’s one of the few men my father would choose over Lord Wishen. I hear he is young and handsome, and so it must be obvious I would prefer him as my husband. I’d be a fool not to.”

“Yes,” he muttered, and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lady. I’m not being of much help.”

“There’s nothing you can do, and besides, you have helped,” she said, feeling suddenly a little shy as she glanced at him. “It is nice to have someone to talk to, someone who I can be frank with and who doesn’t constantly remind me of the duty I have to my father’s title and consequence, to my bloodline.”

He was silent for a long moment before he replied. “My father ran away from home when he was fifteen because his sire was a brute who beat him savagely. He lived on the streets for a while and disappeared from society. Everyone thought him dead. Then, years later, he returned, having made his fortune in trade. People looked down upon him for that.”

Narcissa stared at him with wide eyes, astonished by the revelation. He paused for a moment and then carried on. “My mother is everything a lady ought to be, kind and intelligent, and so strong. She is a loving mother who raised us to have empathy for others, and to take a pride in ourselves. I live in terror of disappointing her, of either of them, but all they really want is for their children to be happy. They are still as madly in love now as they were when they first met and to be in their presence is to bask in their happiness, to have it touch everything around you. These wonderful people are my parents, and I am so proud of them, of everything they have achieved, and yet there are still those who look down upon them and believe themselves superior when they are not fit to breathe the same air. It makes me crazy, and then to see a man like your father, who seems to view his children as a means to an end, who would sell you to a fat old man, and to know he is respected and revered.” He shook his head and let out a breath. “I shall never understand the values of the ton. I don’t want to understand.”

She reached out, taking his hand. For she heard the hurt, the frustration at people’s stupidity and bigotry, and she felt it too, on his behalf. “They sound like wonderful people. Brave and resilient people,” she added with a smile.

He stared down at their clasped hands, and she followed his gaze, seeing her slender fingers entwined with his. Pale alabaster set against his golden skin.

“You don’t despise my father for having worked for a living?” he asked sceptically.

“I know I ought to,” she admitted, frowning over the admission. “But in all honesty, it seems strange to me to think that way. Your father succeeded despite the odds stacked against him. He fought back against fate and won. That’s rare, I think, and rather wonderful.”

“Yes. It is,” he said, and his gaze met hers, a look in his eyes she could not read but that made her skin feel hot. Looking away quickly, she took a breath.

“I wish I could feel such pride in my father, and know that he loved me, that he cared for me at all. You are lucky, Mr Anson, and no amount of spiteful or judgemental comments can ever take that from you. I have been meaning to apologise to you for how Miss Pinkerton spoke to you that night at the theatre. I was never more vexed with her. I did not wish for you to believe I felt the same way and I wish… I wish…” Her voice trembled, and she took a moment to compose herself before she spoke again, her eyes fixed upon their hands. “I have never seen a relationship like you describe your parents having. I never really believed that existed outside of books. I have never dared even dream of it, but I… I would like to know what it feels like, to be loved and wanted and admired.”

She started as warm fingers caressed her cheek and she turned to look at him, stunned by the compassion in his eyes, by the warmth and understanding.

“You ought to be loved,” he said softly. “You deserve to be loved, to be the woman a man would sell his soul to win, the kind he would spend the rest of his days with, knowing he was the luckiest fellow on the planet.”

“Oh,” she said helplessly, her eyes prickling with tears as she fought for composure. Yet a tear spilled down her cheek all the same. “How strange it is. I’ve heard so many extravagant compliments these past weeks, and yet, I never cried before. You really are as dangerous as they all say, aren’t you? I shall be a puddle at your feet if you keep on,” she added with an unsteady laugh, confused by the powerful surge of emotion that his words had provoked in her heart.