VIII. – Delightful Secret
It was so exceedingly difficult to capture moments of brief conversation with him. Her father and Martin-Roget hovered like vultures whenever there was any sort of event, as if both knew of her straying feelings. And had it not been for dear Lady Blakeney, poor Yvonne was certain that she would have never had the chance to get to know dearest Anthony.
As it was, Lady Blakeney had seemingly taken a sudden, keen interest in Mademoiselle de Kernogan, and had begun to request her particular company ever since the fateful day Yvonne and milord had bumped into each other in the rose garden. Furthermore, Yvonne's father could not possibly object to the wife of the richest man in England desiring his daughter's company, and Yvonne herself had to admit that she was becoming quite attached to the beautiful Marguerite. Not only was the woman witty and cheerful; she was always able to steal a few minutes of Lord Tony's time for Yvonne, and ensure that the Duc de Kernogan remained wholly unaware of the proceedings.
It was in this secretive fashion that Yvonne carried on a new, nicer secret than the black one that had consumed her for so long. Anthony was shy and bumbled over his words, but he also had the sweetest smile and his liquid, dark brown eyes always shone with a beautiful light whenever he came near her. When their time was up, he always seemed so doleful to leave her. He would continue to watch her from across a room after their brief encounters, seeking her out at least once more to remind her that he hadn't forgotten her. She would sometimes feel his gaze settle on her, waiting for her to shower him with even one fleeting glance.
But he hardly need worry about that. Yvonne could scarce keep from staring at him. He was so attractive, so attentive, so thoughtful and lovely, and when she went to sleep at nights she would often compare him to Martin-Roget. Her future fiancée was nothing like dear Anthony! Martin-Roget was cool and unfeeling and looked at her only with stern, frowning expressions these days, or would ignore her if she spoke at all…while Anthony clung to every syllable she uttered, as though nothing were more enchanting than her voice. Martin-Roget was more interested in his ever-important business affairs; Anthony was content to be in her presence. Martin-Roget never gazed at her so lovingly and tenderly, as if she were the only thing that mattered in his life.
Oh, how she adored Anthony! If only her father felt the same!