A LADY FOR A DUKE

Her father gave her another of his sharp, assessing looks, as if he'd somehow picked up a note of protest in her tone, though there hadn't been even the faintest hint of one. "You don't have to marry him, Anna. No one's going to force you. It's not the Middle Ages after all. But the logical thing to do is to get all the information so you can make an informed decision." She didn't know how he'd managed to pick up on her reluctance, not when she'd barely acknowledged it herself. Or perhaps it wasn't reluctance, only surprise due to the unusual nature of the request. Whatever, her father was right. She needed to gather all the information before making a decision, in which case accepting the Duke's invitation was the logical thing to do. Really, she was viewing this with far too much emotion, especially when she didn't even know what kind of proposal the Duke was going to put forward. It clearly wasn't going to be a real marriage, not when they'd never met. Perhaps it was because of some legal difficulty? Not that it mattered. Marriage-whenever she thought of it, which she seldom did-seemed to work well for some people, but it required a certain amount of emotional involvement that she wasn't willing to give. She would have to inform the Duke of that when they met so he was clear. She certainly wouldn't want to mislead anyone. "No, you're right," she said in the same cool tone. "You can tell the Duke that I'd be happy to accept his invitation." Her father was pleased, she could tell, and that gave her a certain satisfaction. And, since she wasn't going to get anything done if she thought about it too much, she put it out of her mind. __________ The next day came and Anna couldn't put it out of her mind any longer. Today, she had to come up with a way to tell a man that she wouldn't be getting married to him...Or she would be engaged... Depending on what he was offering. Would it be worth it? She told herself that she wasn't in the least bit nervous as she surveyed her very meagre wardrobe, trying to decide on what to wear. She hardly went out anywhere, except for a few times with her friends, Collins and Sara, so she didn't have a lot of nice dresses. She picked a summery, cotton white one and decided to wear it. She liked the dress, but putting it on made her feel as though she was making an effort and some stubborn part of her didn't want to be seen to be making an effort. The same stubborn part of her that had refused to look up anything about the current Duke of Springbrook on the Internet. There was bound to be something about him-some photos at least-to give her an idea about what to expect, but something inside her absolutely refused. She knew that giving in to her stubborn streak wasn't a good idea, since it had caused her problems in the past, but she rationalized it, by telling herself that she didn't want to go to Haerton with any preconceived ideas. Besides, she'd find out about him soon enough, and there was always the possibility that the whole ridiculous situation was a joke. Or something her father had misunderstood, or some other easily explicable thing that would become apparent the moment she arrived. It wouldn't have anything to do with her actually marrying some man she'd never met, and a duke at that. So she didn't make an effort. Instead, she wore jeans and a serviceable shirt in plain white and she didn't even touch her make-up. She made sure her father had everything he needed for the evening, double-checked his phone was within reach so he could call her if he had to, and then she stepped outside and walked across the lawn to the little path that would take her to Haerton. It was a beautiful evening, the long summer twilight lying over the moors beyond the woods lighting the gray stone of the large house. Ivy covered the walls, softening the stark, square lines and the austere front entrance. While Anna loved Haerton grounds-its wild wood and large ornate gardens-she'd never actually been in the house itself. But she'd always been curious about it. Nerves fluttered inside her as she stopped in front of the big front door and pressed the button for the doorbell set in the door frame. The door was immediately opened by a slightly cadaverous-looking man who was clearly one of the Duke's staff. He greeted her, requested that she follow him, then, without waiting for a response, stalked off, leaving Anna no choice but to do what he said. She wasn't given time to look around, though she caught a glimpse of high ceilings and ornate plaster-work, and paintings in heavy gilded frames. The floor was worn parquet and her footsteps scuffed as she hurried after the staff member who was obviously doing butler duties. He opened a door to her left and ushered her into a very comfortable sitting room with a huge fireplace down one end, where a collection of couches and arm-chairs were arranged in front of it. Bookshelves stood against the white paneled walls, piled high and untidily with vast amounts of books. There were occasional tables scattered about and littered with various knickknacks, piles of papers, more abandoned books, plus a few cups and saucers. Old silk rugs covered the floor, softening the stark feel of the place, but nothing could mask the faint smell of must and damp. The scent of an old, neglected house that had been shut up and abandoned for far too long. Despite that, the sitting room gave the impression of a room well lived-in, and it was warm, and Anna found herself relaxing somewhat. "The Duke will be with you soon," the man said and left without another word, closing the door behind him. Anna stood for a moment, the silence of the house settling around her. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a small painting near the fire. She was just starting towards it to have a closer look, when she heard the door open again behind her, then close just as quietly. And all the hairs on the back of her neck lifted in a kind of primitive awareness. "Hello Anna," a deep, rich and very familiar male voice said.