She smoothed her morning dress—a simple muslin in pale blue that she had chosen specifically because it was not particularly flattering. Poppy joined them in the corridor, her face pale with worry.
"Oh, Anthea, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. If I had not gone to the music room?—"
"This is not your fault," Anthea said firmly, squeezing her stepsister's hand. "This is Beatrice's doing. And I will not allow her to win."
They reached the drawing room just as the butler announced, "His Grace, the Duke of Everleigh."
Anthea's breath caught despite herself as the Duke entered the room.
He looked... different in the morning light. Still imposing, still possessed of that military bearing that made every movement appear deliberate and controlled. But there was something in his expression— uncertainty perhaps, or determination?—that she had not noticed the previous evening.
He was also, she noted with extreme irritation, still frustratingly handsome.
Stop that,she commanded herself.Handsome means nothing. Maxwell was handsome.
"Your Grace," Beatrice said, rising with obvious shock barely concealed behind a brittle smile. "What an... unexpected visit."
"Mrs. Croft." Gregory bowed with precise correctness. "I hope I am not calling at an inconvenient time."
"Not at all," Beatrice said, though her voice was strained. "Though I confess I am surprised to see you. I had thought—that is, I assumed?—"
"That I would not come?" Gregory's gaze was steady, measuring. "I am a man of honor, Mrs. Croft. Surely you did not expect otherwise."
Beatrice's smile turned even more brittle. "Of course not, Your Grace. Please, do sit. Shall I ring for tea?"
"That will not be necessary," Gregory said. "I do not intend to stay long. I have come to speak with Miss Anthea Croft on a matter of some importance."
The formal use of her full name made Anthea's spine straighten. She stepped forward, meeting his gaze with as much composure as she could muster.
"Your Grace," she said coolly. "I cannot imagine what matter could require such urgent attention."
His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he recognized the challenge in her words. "Can you not? I would have thought the events of last evening made my purpose quite clear."
"Oh, surely you need not concern yourself with such a trifling matter," Beatrice interjected quickly, her voice taking on a desperate edge. "Young people these days are so frequently misunderstood. I arrived in the music room mere momentsafter you, Your Grace. Nothing improper occurred. Nothing at all. I am certain we can manage any unfortunate speculation without?—"
"Mrs. Croft," Gregory interrupted, his voice carrying unmistakable authority. "I am here to speak with Miss Anthea Croft. Alone."
Beatrice's expression flickered between shock and fury. "That would hardly be proper, Your Grace."
"Neither was being caught alone with her in a music room," Gregory said bluntly. "I believe we are past the point of strict propriety."
Anthea felt a sudden, unexpected urge to laugh. There was something deeply satisfying about watching someone shut down Beatrice's manipulations with such directness.
"It is all right," she said, surprising herself. "I will speak with His Grace. Veronica, Poppy, perhaps you could give us a moment?"
Her stepsisters exchanged worried glances but obediently filed from the room. Beatrice, however, remained stubbornly in place, her face pale with barely suppressed rage.
"Mrs. Croft," Gregory said, his tone making it clear it was not a request. "Leave us."
Beatrice's mouth opened, then closed. For a long moment she simply stared at Gregory, as though unable to believe he was dismissing her from her own drawing room. Then, with visible effort, she forced a smile.
"Of course, Your Grace. I shall be just outside should you need anything." She swept from the room, but not before shooting Anthea a look that promised retribution.
The silence that followed was thick with tension.
"You did not need to be quite so forceful with her," Anthea said finally.
"Did I not?" Gregory moved closer, his expression unreadable. "Miss Croft, let us speak plainly. We were caught in a compromising position. My honor demands that I offer marriage."
