"If you must know, I hadn't brought a maid with me for I had desired privacy and utter solitude in dealing with my appointment." A sheepish expression formed on her face. "I do not know what I would have done if you did not come along. Its contents would have spilled on the street, and I shall be too embarrassed to pick them up and admit that they are indeed mine."

Anthony guffawed, he could not help himself. Madame De Courcey was known for her uncanny ability to maintain secrecy in a society that profited very much from gossip. The infamous clothes, which left nothing to the imagination, were just a boon for madame's reputation. "Such modesty from the Duchess of Ravensdale. You should be proudly waving your lace in a flag!"

Her lips turned down into a frown, eyes menacing and lips pursing to form forceful hurried whispers, "If my fists weren't otherwise engaged in these packages, I would have throttled you and boxed your ears."

Words that should have inspired fear had then extracted a spell of chuckles rumbling under Anthony's chest.

Their steady friendly relationship has blossomed into a sibling-like affection as the years passed. The duchess usually kept a femme and unaffected facade, but only Anthony could seduce her out of stoicism and move her to violence.

Even so, Charlotte was grateful for his rescue.

They reached the end of the street and she easily recognized her large crested carriage with its coachman lazily sleeping under the safety covers of his hat.

"How long have you been here?" Anthony asked dubiously, it seems like the duchess was even more modest than he previously assumed.

"I had a long internal debate before the sun was up." She said, shrugging as she shouted at the coachman to wake him up. "Then I waited until I could slip away without disturbing my husband's sleep." She said in a whisper and then continued sheepishly, "And then, I continued to my appointment. I was being very discreet about it. This could have ended much worse."

"Ah." He smiled, feeling awfully lighthearted at the turn of events. "One would think that in the way that you use your words, the meaning could be deduced that you have in fact taken a lover."

"Oh, pish! Stop it, will you?" She breathed, the corners of her mouth pinched with irritation as her eyes darted to the coachman to see signs of any eavesdropping. "You know as well as anyone that I would never take a lover. I love him."

Surprisingly, Anthony didn't feel any nausea at the mention of hearts and sweetings. "I know you do, and if this is any evidence, I think you might love him just a wee bit much."

Charlotte rolled her eyes as the last of the boxes were loaded into the carriage. "I can scarcely believe I'm going to say this, but I've missed you so. Why don't you come and take a turn with me? I can bring you back to your townhouse."

What a terribly fantastic idea!

This decision would be ripe for another scandal under his belt. This time, Anthony will not be known for seducing young impressionable females, but instead caught red-handed in the vestiges of the morning with a married duchess in her husband's carriage, no less. Never mind the truth, the ton will spread this like wildfire.

He thought that he'd rather not be at the end of Ravensdale's pistol by the end of this Season. He was just getting his life back.

Sensing his hesitation and plausible reason for inner conflict, Lady Ravensdale tugged hard on his coat. "Oh, pish! No one will dare say anything, nor suspect. They must be stupid if they do. And you shall be a fool to think that I might seduce you." She took a step on the stool provided for her, calling behind her as she climbed the coach, "Come on now, we have much to discuss."

Obliging to his dear friends as Anthony has always been, he alighted and properly situated himself across her; his thoughts of scandal easily forgotten.

The door closed and the carriage lurched forward, bringing them into a comforting enclosure which was fit for anyone to spill their deepest secrets.

"I had seen Lady Edward with Miss Millicent Wetherby this morning. They left the milliner's shop just before I saw you. Have you talked to them?"

The mention of the dreaded name dampened his spirits. He always knew that Charlotte was the perceptive sort. Today was greater proof of this, since even with toppling boxes and flying bonnets, her eyes did not miss a thing.

"Yes, I think we have finally reached an understanding." He replied as nonchalantly as he could, so as not to pique unnecessary interest from her.

But she remained persistent, and prodded further. "Which is?"

"Well, if you must know" He sighed, ultimately deciding that riding the carriage was indeed a bad idea. "I merely stated what was obvious, that I have no interest, whatsoever, in her person being anywhere as much as ten feet near me," Pausing to think that he did not want Lady Edward to be near Sarah Jane as well and added, "and to those who are dear to me."

She nodded with a knowing grin. "Anthony, I am very happy for you. You look much improved."

He did feel much improved, although there were still many doubts.

Before the cramped enclosure forces any more secrets from him, Anthony thought it best to throw the conversation where it truly belonged—to Charlotte.

His teasing smile was back on his face. "Tell me again why your modesty has taken you before midmorning to ask Madame De Courcey to update your trousseau?"

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "You will never let me forget it will you?" She eyed the smaller boxes beside her, as most of the larger ones were stuffed at the back and top of the carriage.

"It is something we lovesick wives like to do for our husbands who dare forget that we are their queen." It was half a joke, half the truth, and she had said it to get him off her back. She quickly found that this is a feat not easily done.

Anthony quirked a brow, "Has he been ignoring you then?"

"Not at all."

"In bed?"

"Anthony, for Christ's sake!" She whipped her head to the window as her hands crumpled beneath her thick skirts.

"Charlotte, if he has been mistreating you, I can talk to him." This was definitely a cause for concern.

They had been friends; Charlotte was his friend more and longer than her husband ever was to him. Before their courtship, he barely knew the young duke as he had always kept to his estate, ignored most of the peerage, and explored a different circle in society.

Anthony had a hand in bringing them together, and that instance alone had allowed Ravensdale to be more than indifferent to him. And at present happenstance, Ravensdale is one of his most trusted friends.

"What is it?"

"Surely you don't believe that I will confide such matters to you." The duchess said resolutely, still not meeting his too perceptive gaze.

"I will rip his throat if he dare put a finger on you."

"Oh do stop this, you're being ridiculous. He loves me, he would never." She turned to look at him then, an expression unknown to him crossed her features.

Anthony reached out and tapped her knee. "Whatever it is, you should tell me."

When she didn't say anything, he thought that maybe if he shared his secret with her, she'll allow him to be of help. Anthony was never the brutish man that the ton had always thought him to be. He considers himself to be more sensitive and caring than the next person, but he is still also daft and quite oblivious to female intentions just like any other English nobleman. He will need more than facial expressions as a clue.

He began his words with an intentional bait, a sense of intrigue he knew she will not be able to resist. "Well then, if you shan't say anything, I have something to tell you."

Her posture changed, eyes widening, shoulders moving half an inch towards him, all attention.

"I am to remain Killsworth, for Rosenberg has produced an heir somewhere in Yorkshire after its 10th title bearer."

If it was possible, the duchess' eyes grew larger and rounder.

"I withheld a letter from the solicitor indicating that I must marry my ward if the title was relinquished. But the title hasn't been relinquished and he wished to collect her and move her to Yorkshire where the rightful heir is currently situated." Anthony relayed, his carefully placed air of nonchalance breaking its resolve.

She was silent, waiting for him to continue.

He couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, "I can't bear it." His eyes closed at the open revelation, he had never said it aloud, he wouldn't even allow himself to think it, and now here he was, surprised at how it hurt so damned much.

"Anthony you should just marry her!" She exclaimed, worry creasing her forehead.

He shook his head, trying to control his emotions.

"Just marry her! Lord knows she wants to marry you!"

His eyes shot up to her furious face lined with the eyes of a warrior. "I saw it, we all did. If love can be painted as a picture, I can attest to have seen it with my own eyes in that ballroom!"

The duchess shifted in her seat, as if contemplating if she should say something more. But Anthony flicked his hand in a way that encouraged her to be more open with him "My husband suspects that you might be in love with her... for you couldn't... he said you couldn't..." She could not bring herself to say it.

"Christ." Anthony's mind drowned in expletives not fit for a lady's ears. Ravensdale gossiped with his wife about his lack of sexual relations! What had happened to his world?

"I am not mad to believe that she might feel the same way about you." She insisted, hearing the carriage rolling to a stop. She rapped the roof communicating to the coachman to take another turn. "I, on the other hand, can honestly and almost assuredly say that the girl has been in love with you for so long. I could see it even during that night we were introduced."

Anthony looked at her questioningly, his mind refused to believe what his heart was rejoicing for. "Surely you are jesting, you have no way of knowing"

"And you have no way of knowing unless you ask her!"

He winced, the words and the shrill timbre of her voice biting his skin and the air around him.

Calmly, she rested her back towards the cushion, slouching and relaxing at his revelation. "You have this chance at happiness, and you should take it." She smiled wistfully, remembering how empowered she felt when her love threatened to pull away.

"I took mine, and I have not regretted it a day since. Granted, there are problems, no married couple, be it loveless or no, could live blissfully all the time. But having the chance to make him happy as he did with me will always be my greatest achievement."

"And yet..." He drawled, rolling his eyes for an added effect.

An unladylike groan escaped her lips. "Anthony, Lucas loves me. He is having trouble with... with... you know. You know more than any other man!"

He paled, thinking how Lucas had laughed at him that night, but was actually and unfortunately suffering the same plight.

"He has assured me that it was not because of any lack of desire for me." Her voice hushed, she tried to keep the conversation as soft as possible. "But he is very anxious to have children, and having nary a day without him bedding me for a year now, and yet without any result, he seems to have blamed himself for it."

She squirmed in her seat, debating if she should tell more.

Suffering in silence, she finally relented. "He used to take a copious amount of alcohol, and he believes that he must be the reason why I don't conceive." She paused for a while and then stared out the window. "He also believes that this is the cause of his body's lack of enthusiasm for consummation."

Anthony did know that Ravensdale had imbibed more than the usual man, but he hadn't known that it produced problems in that area.

He nodded, his eyes turning warm. "I shan't tell anyone, your grace."

Her head bobbed up in down in gratitude, her eyes glittering from unshed tears. "I want to see you happily shackled Anthony, and she is absolutely perfect for you."

He rather thought that Charlotte was not the best example of this picture of happiness, but he held his tongue.

Yes, he wanted every bit of body and soul that Sarah Jane could offer him. God help him, but he craved to have someone who would cry over his loss of erection, and do silly things like buy racy negligees for him.

Sarah Jane would come to care for him without even needing to ask. She was everything pure and light and he was starting to believe that she was within reach.

His chest started to expand painfully. Anthony could not have been more certain about anything in his life. He yearned for pure unadulterated joy thirstily, like a dying man, and all he had to do was to stretch out and grab her.

And ask her to marry him.

But first, grab her by the shoulders, and kiss her.

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A/N: yay! Here's another update for you! I'm bracing myself for busier weeks to come, so I'm trying to get all these chapters out before I drown in work!

What are your thoughts? I've lightly touched on alcoholism and it's effects here, and tried to portray it in the best way it would have been understood during the 19th century. This was meant to make you immerse yourself more in my chosen period setting, and I do hope I was successful in this endeavor!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below :) please consider giving a vote if you enjoyed the chapter! My goal is really to have this read by more people ❤️ thank you so much!