"Why should my situation concern the Duke of Norfolk? We are but distant relations who have exchanged no more than polite greetings at various functions."
Something flickered in his gray eyes, discomfort perhaps, or uncertainty.
"I have observed you from afar, Lady Anne. Your grace, your kindness to others, your genuine interest in the less fortunate, these qualities are rare in our circles."
"You have observed me?" Anne repeated, astonished.
Lord Harrington cleared his throat.
"Perhaps observed is not the right word. Noticed. Admired. From a respectful distance, I assure you."
"For how long?"
"Three years," he admitted. "Since Lady Thornbury's midsummer ball, when you spent the evening reading to her blind father rather than dancing."
Anne remembered that night. Most of society had considered her decision to attend the elderly Viscount rather than participate in the festivities as peculiar at best, pitiable at worst.
"I had no idea," she murmured.
"Nor should you have had. I maintained my distance out of respect for your station and youth. When I heard of your engagement to Westmere, I resigned myself to admiring your character from afar indefinitely."
Anne felt a flush creeping up her neck.
"And now?"
"Now," he said carefully, "I find myself in the position to offer friendship if you would accept it. Nothing more presumptuous than that."
"Friendship?" Anne couldn't hide her skepticism. "Your Grace, while I appreciate the sentiment, I am currently the subject of London's most vicious gossip. Associating with me does your reputation no service."
The Duke smiled for the first time, a small, controlled expression that nonetheless transformed his serious countenance.
"Lady Anne, I am the Duke of Norfolk. My reputation can withstand a great deal more than being seen in the company of a woman of impeccable character who has been wronged."
Despite everything, Anne found herself returning his smile.
"In that case, Your Grace, I would be honored to accept your friendship."
"Excellent," he replied, standing. "Then perhaps you would consider accompanying me on a carriage ride through Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon. The spring blooms are particularly fine this year."
Anne hesitated only briefly before nodding.
"I would like that very much."
After the Duke had departed, Anne remained in the drawing room contemplating this unexpected turn of events.
For the first time since the scandal broke, she felt something other than humiliation and betrayal.
It wasn't happiness, not yet, but perhaps the first tentative step toward it.
The following weeks brought dramatic changes to Anne's life. While Marie and Charles faced a measured but significant social backlash for their actions, Anne found herself unexpectedly shielded by the formidable protection of the Duke of Norfolk's attention.
Lord Harrington was true to his word, offering friendship without presumption. Their carriage rides became a regular occurrence, gradually expanding to include visits to exhibitions, attendance at concerts, and even charitable endeavors that Anne had long wished to pursue but had never found support for within her own family.
Through these shared experiences, Anne discovered a man far different from the somber, intimidating figure she had previously perceived. David Harrington possessed a quiet wit, a brilliant mind, and a compassionate heart carefully concealed behind his reserved exterior.
Most surprising of all was his genuine interest in her opinions and ideas, a novelty that both flattered and puzzled her.
"You seem surprised whenever I ask your thoughts," he observed one afternoon as they strolled through the British Museum.
Anne considered her response carefully.
"I suppose I am. The Duke of Westmere rarely sought my opinion on matters of substance."
"Then he is even more of a fool than I suspected," David replied. "Your insights are invariably thoughtful and often quite profound."
The compliment warmed her, yet stirred an uncomfortable question.
"Why did you never approach me before if you had admired me for so long?"
David's pace slowed.
"At first, it was a matter of propriety. You were quite young and I was cautious. Later, when I learned of your engagement, honor dictated I keep my distance."
"And now?" Anne pressed. "Is it pity that motivates your attention?"
David stopped walking entirely, turning to face her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"Pity? No, Lady Anne. Admiration, respect, and a deepening affection that I dare not name fully, but never pity."
The honesty in his expression left her momentarily speechless.
"Forgive me," he said, resuming their walk. "I spoke too boldly."
"No," Anne replied softly. "I asked, and you answered truthfully. That is refreshing."
As spring gave way to early summer, Anne found herself healing in ways she had not thought possible. The pain of Marie's betrayal remained, but its sharp edges had begun to dull.
In its place grew something new, a quiet appreciation for David's steady presence, his unwavering support, and the way his rare smiles seemed increasingly reserved for her alone.
Then came the invitation that threatened her fragile peace.
Charles and Marie Blackwood, Duke and Duchess of Westmere, requested the honor of her company at a small dinner party celebrating their one-month wedding anniversary.
"You cannot possibly be considering attending," Lady Eleanor exclaimed when Anne mentioned the invitation.
Anne traced the embossed lettering with her fingertip.
"I believe I must."
"Must? Why on earth would you subject yourself to such an ordeal?" her mother demanded.
"Because avoiding them forever is impossible in our circles," Anne explained. "Better to face them now on my terms than be ambushed at some larger function."
Lord Hobart, who had been silently observing the exchange, nodded.
"There is wisdom in that approach."
"Edmund," Lady Eleanor protested.
"The girl is right, Eleanor. This confrontation is inevitable. Better to have it done with."
Anne squared her shoulders.
"I shall ask the Duke of Norfolk to accompany me."
Her mother's expression shifted instantly from outrage to calculation.
"Yes, yes, that would be most appropriate. His presence would certainly strengthen your position."
That evening, Anne penned a note to David explaining the situation and requesting his company. His response arrived the following morning, a simple message assuring her of his support and offering to call for her in his carriage on the appointed evening.
When that evening arrived, Anne dressed with particular care, selecting a gown of deep sapphire silk that highlighted her fair coloring. If she must face her sister and former fiancΓ©, she would do so looking her absolute best.
"You are a vision," David said softly when she descended the stairs to meet him.