Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,5
a companion—it was shocking, Ana Maria knew, not to have someone to chaperone her, but the last thing she wanted was yet another person treating her differently. Thankfully, Thaddeus was too engrossed in his new duties to see the impropriety of it.
Fletchfield bowed, and Ana Maria turned to Jane. “I’ll be up later this afternoon to discuss what gown to wear this evening.”
“I thought the blue—” Jane began.
“Later this afternoon,” Ana Maria interrupted. One of the few good things about being a lady—besides not having to scour kitchen grates and sweep dirt—was getting to choose which of her new gorgeous gowns she’d wear. And Jane had an opinion, as she always did, but Ana Maria was beginning to trust her own taste better than her lady’s maid’s.
That felt wonderful, at least. To know she was looking her absolute best thanks to her own decision.
She’d never had that kind of confidence. Not least because she always wore whatever castoff her stepmother allowed her to. But also because nobody had entrusted her with making any kind of decision her entire life—and even now that she was supposedly a lady in the highest echelon of Society she was denied the same choice.
Well, she’d have to say no, thank you, to that. She was going to make her own choices and live her own life, which meant going where she wanted to when she wanted to, by herself if she wished, even if Society would raise its eyebrows. Or not marrying someone merely because he sent her some posies and could chew on his own.
It wasn’t much as standards went, but it would do for now.
Fletchfield held the door open for Miss Octavia, who stepped inside, her customary lively expression on her face. “Good afternoon, my lady.” Her eyes widened as she scanned the room. “Look at all those glorious colors!”
Ana Maria felt the unfamiliar warmth of a welcome compliment. “Thank you.” She patted the cushion of the seat next to her. “Do sit down. Tea is on its way.”
“Please tell me you decided on everything entirely on your own.”
That warmth furled throughout Ana Maria’s whole body. “I did.” She tilted her head to regard the bright silk of the curtains. “I’ve never done anything like this. I wasn’t certain I’d like it.”
“You have to tell me where you got all this. Or better yet, take me yourself.” Miss Octavia squinted in concentration. “You have a real talent.”
“Thank y—achoo!”
“You’re achoo—welcome,” Miss Octavia replied with a cheeky grin.
Her friend’s exuberant delight infected Ana Maria, making her want to cast off all the doubts and hesitations that had claimed her imagination since she’d first been elevated to her current social status.
And why shouldn’t she cast them off? Shouldn’t the whole point of being independent be . . . to be independent? To stride forward in life without worry?
“What in heaven’s name are you thinking about? You have the most intense expression on your face.” Miss Octavia wrinkled her nose. “You look like my sister Ivy when she’s puzzling out a particularly difficult bookkeeping problem.”
Ana Maria shook her head. “Nothing nearly that complicated.” Only the rest of my life. She smothered a secret smile as Fletchfield arrived bearing the tea things, including some of Cook’s most excellent lemon scones.
She would decide on her future after she had some tea and possibly a few scones. A person had to have their priorities straight, after all.
Chapter Two
“The silver one,” Ana Maria said in a firm tone.
Jane humphed and shook her head as she withdrew the silver evening gown from the wardrobe.
They were in Ana Maria’s new bedroom, a grand step up from her previous living quarters in the attic. The bedroom had been a guest bedroom, used very rarely since the late duchess did not like visitors. Or, honestly, she did not like anybody but her son, Sebastian, Ana Maria’s half brother.
Ana Maria hadn’t gotten to redecorate this room yet; she’d wanted to live with what she’d chosen in the salon for a bit before taking on a bigger project. But now that she was pleased with the results there, her fingers were itching to change everything in here to reflect her taste.
Bright, vibrant colors instead of demure beiges and browns; plenty of pillows for lounging rather than the standard two per person; a small scattering of rugs rather than the enormous carpet.
But redecorating here would mean finally accepting that this was her life, and she was close to that, but not nearly there yet. What else would you