Anthony sensed Isabella stiffen by his side and realized what game Lady Harriett was playing at. She knew he had designs on Isabella because, like an idiot, he’d blurted out his plans without thinking what a woman like her might do when she discovered her adversary to be of such inferior rank.
He pulled himself up to his full height and opened his mouth to give the abominable creature the proper set down she deserved when Mr. Roberts came up beside Lady Harriett with Casper right on his heels. Casper gave Anthony a look of apology while Mr. Roberts stared at him in surprise. “Your Grace,” he said. His gaze drifted to where Anthony’s hand still gripped Isabella’s arm before returning to Anthony’s face with a frown of disapproval. “I didn’t realize you were here as well.” His features softened, but when he spoke, there was no mistaking the menace of his question. “I hope you’re not planning to abscond with my fiancée.”
Fiancée?
Had he proposed, then? More importantly, had Isabella accepted? She must have if Mr. Roberts was claiming her to be his fiancée. A pang of jealous rage poured through him at the thought of it, but he forced himself to remain still and in control of his features. There was no way he would allow any of the people present to know the weight of the blow that Mr. Roberts had just dealt him. Releasing Isabella, since this seemed the prudent thing to do, he said, “Miss Chilcott took a tumble—I was merely helping her up when Lady Harriett arrived. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Roberts said, his assessing gaze still fixed on Anthony. “It is only too fortunate that you were here to assist. Thank you.”
Anthony glanced at Isabella, hoping that something in her eyes—some truth she dared not speak—would answer the one question that he dared not, could not, ask. Are you engaged to this man? But he found nothing there to appease the uproar that had taken hold of him, and when Mr. Roberts announced that he had placed the order for the amaranthine velvet and that he and Miss Chilcott also had plans to visit the milliner’s in pursuit of a new bonnet for Miss Chilcott, Anthony was left with no choice but to watch her walk away.
Nothing had ever depressed him more, but at least he’d handled the situation with the same degree of restraint his father would have shown. It was a small comfort.
“So, Miss Chilcott is to marry Mr. Roberts, then?” a vexing voice asked as soon as the couple had left.
“Lady Harriett . . .” There was no mistaking the warning in Casper’s voice as he tried to silence the nefarious woman, but she stupidly added, “How disappointing that must be for you, Your Grace.”
His name coming from her lips grated, and Anthony stared at her, his eyes trapping her with menace, all thought of the civility he’d shown a moment earlier forgotten. She gasped a little and took a retreating step backward, but he was too angry to care. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice filled with ducal command.
“I . . . I . . . I don’t know—”
“That is not the answer I am seeking, my lady.” He leaned toward her, taking perverse pleasure in watching her tremble as she leaned back until she hit the shelving unit. “Miss Chilcott was terrified of you, and you took the opportunity to imply that you and I have formed an attachment, so don’t feign ignorance with me. I know a snake when I see one.”
She gasped at the insult. “It was merely a bit of fun, really,” she said, her gaze shifting imploringly to Casper, but she would find no help from him.
“Fun?” Anthony’s words dripped with incredulity, and then the dam broke and he found himself yelling, “FUN?”
The shopkeeper came running to ask if everything was all right, but she took one look at Anthony and chose to retreat to a safe distance. Anthony forced himself to take a deep breath. He had to get himself back under control—dukes yelling at people in shops simply wasn’t done—and to think how well he’d handled the situation with Mr. Roberts, only to lose his temper a second later. Closing his eyes to avoid having to look at the woman before him, he reined in his emotions. He couldn’t be sure of what she’d told Isabella, but he had an inkling, and when he spoke again his voice was a deep rumble—the sort that demanded obedience in the most rebellious sorts. “Please stay away from her, Lady Harriett. Do not speak to her or approach her, for if you do, I cannot answer to the consequences.”
There was a beat of silence, and then she asked, her voice snippy and completely lacking the respect that was his due, “Is that a threat?”
“You can bet your bonnet it is, my lady.” Anthony turned on his heels and stormed out. Good Lord, he’d never considered resorting to murder before, yet there were suddenly two people whom he was now very keen to dispose of.
“I say, Anthony,” Casper said from somewhere behind him. “That was very well done, indeed. Bravo!”
“That woman has overstepped,” Anthony said as he marched along, his anger still coursing through his veins, putting his nerves on edge and tightening his muscles.
“I couldn’t agree more!” Anthony could hear Casper’s footsteps quickening as he tried to keep pace. He said nothing more for a while, but when Anthony turned sharply onto Church Lane, he asked, “Where are we heading?”
“To Miss Chilcott’s house.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Casper asked, hurrying after him.
Anthony spun around to face his friend, stopping so abruptly that the two almost collided. “I need to know if Mr. Roberts spoke the truth when he referred to her as his fiancée, I have to tell her that whatever Lady Harriett has said to her is a lie, and I have to explain the reason for my absence.”
There was sympathy in Casper’s eyes as he regarded Anthony. “I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but Miss Chilcott does seem quite determined to thwart your advances. Are you sure it wouldn’t be best for you to direct your attentions elsewhere? If we go to London—”
“You don’t understand,” Anthony said, knowing how impossible it was for his friend the rake to comprehend the sort of power love could hold over a man. It was crippling, really. “It is either her or no one. I will not go to London to waste my time on women I don’t give a flip about when the one woman who fills my every thought is right here. I need to make this right—this tangled mess that threatens to drive me insane.”
“Well, you certainly don’t lack determination,” Casper offered with the barest hint of a smile.
Anthony held his gaze. “I’ll do whatever it takes to secure her hand.”
“Providing it’s legal of course,” Casper said, his eyes starting to sparkle.
Anthony deliberately hesitated just long enough to make his friend wonder before he responded, “Of course.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
They’d started walking again, though at a more casual pace. Anthony pondered the question a moment before saying, “Yes, I believe there is. The Season is starting, and since I have no intention of leaving Moxley before I’ve settled this matter with Miss Chilcott, I’d be most obliged if you would see to escorting my mother to London for me. Louise and Winston will be better company for her right now than I, and as you mentioned earlier, attending a few social functions will do her good.”
“I will be happy to help if she agrees. Just let me know when she will be ready for departure.”
Anthony nodded. “She wished to invite Miss Chilcott for tea in order to further her acquaintance with her. If they meet tomorrow, then I see no reason why you cannot depart the day after that, but I will send a note around so you are made aware of the proceedings.”
They came to a halt in front of Miss Chilcott’s home. “You’re quite optimistic,” Casper remarked, “to think that you can pacify Miss Chilcott to the point where she will be willing to appear at Kingsborough Hall tomorrow. I suggest you pray for a miracle.”
“No need,” Anthony said, sensing that whatever miracle he needed had already occurred in the form of his mother’s request. “I shall not be the one issuing the invitation, Casper—my mother shall, and I doubt very much that Miss Chilcott would turn down the Duchess of Kingsborough for any reason.”
“My dear man,” Casper chuckled as he dipped his head in admiration, “I fear your quarry may have underestimated her pursuer, but wouldn’t it be better, then, to give her time to cool a little? Surely you can wait until tomorrow with your questioning.”
Anthony shook his head. “No, for I wish to give her something to consider before we meet again, and besides, I doubt I’ll get a moment’s rest tonight unless I discover whether or not she has promised herself to Mr. Roberts.”
Chapter 21
Having promised Casper to send word later in the day about his mother’s decision to journey to London with him, Anthony bid his friend a good day, assuring him that the matter he now faced was one he must see to alone.
Unlatching the gate, he stepped inside the garden and started up the path that led to the front door. Once there, he took a moment to straighten his jacket before raising his fisted hand and giving the door three loud raps. It didn’t take long before the door opened, revealing the same maid he’d encountered on his previous visits. “I’m afraid Mr. Chilcott is not at home,” she said. “Would you like to leave a note?”
“I’m not here to see Mr. Chilcott,” Anthony told her. The fact that she would make such an assumption rather than ask him to state his purpose was a sharp reminder of his current location. “It is Miss Chilcott I’ve come to call upon.”
“She’s not at home either,” the maid responded.
Anthony hadn’t expected her to be, considering Mr. Roberts had seemed quite keen on finding a fashionable bonnet for her. He’d probably insist that it match the purple fabric he’d selected for Isabella’s new gown. Anthony shuddered. Poor Isabella—she was going to look positively ghastly in that color. “If you don’t mind, I should like to wait for her—there is a matter that I wish to discuss.”
The maid looked perplexed, and Anthony realized then that she had been informed to turn him away, except he was making it more difficult by giving her reasons not to. And then something that Isabella had said about her mother a few days earlier came to mind. She hates your kind and will never allow me to wed you. “In the meantime,” he said, “if Mrs. Chilcott is available, I would be delighted to join her for a cup of tea.” And then he did something he never would have thought himself capable of. Frustrated by the lack of success he’d had in winning the Chilcotts’ favor, he decided to abandon some of the changes he’d made to his character and pushed his way past the maid without being granted entry. Not the sort of thing one might expect from a duke, and certainly not his proudest moment considering his efforts to live up to his father’s good name, but enough was enough—he would not be turned away.
“Your Grace,” the maid gasped behind him. “You cannot—”