"I..." Anthea started, but Gregory raised a hand.
"Think about it," he said, his voice carrying unmistakable authority. "Consider what I am offering. I will call upon you again tomorrow for your answer. But know this, Miss Croft—this is your one opportunity. If you refuse, I will not ask again."
"You sound very certain I will accept," she said, an edge entering her voice.
"I sound very certain that you are practical enough to recognize a mutually beneficial arrangement when it is offered," he corrected. "You love your sisters. You wish to protect them. This is how you do it."
He was right. Damn him, he was right.
"I will consider your offer," Anthea said finally, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind.
"That is all I ask." He bowed, the gesture formal and precise. "Until tomorrow, Miss Croft."
And then he was gone, leaving Anthea standing in the middle of the drawing room with her mind in complete turmoil.
She had been so certain she would refuse him. So determined to maintain her independence, her hard-won solitude, her carefully constructed walls.
But he had not asked for her love. Had not demanded anything except honesty and practical assistance. Had offered her exactly what she needed—a way to protect her sisters whilst maintaining her emotional distance.
It was perfect. Logical. Exactly what she should want.
The door burst open and Beatrice swept back in, her face flushed with fury.
"What did he say?" she demanded. "Did he offer? He must have offered—why else would he come?"
"He offered," Anthea said quietly.
"And?" Beatrice's expression was a twisted mixture of rage and calculation. "What did you tell him?"
"I told him I would consider it."
"Consider it?" Beatrice's voice rose to a near-shriek. "You will accept immediately! This is exactly what I—" She stoppedherself, visibly fighting for control. "This could still work. You marry the Duke, you help your sisters secure good matches. It is not what I planned, but?—"
"But nothing," Anthea interrupted coldly. "If I accept his offer, it will be on my terms. Not yours. And you will have no say in how I choose to help my sisters. Is that understood?"
Beatrice's face mottled with fury, but before she could respond, Veronica and Poppy slipped back into the room.
"Well?" Poppy asked tremulously. "What happened?"
Anthea looked at her stepsisters. She would not let Beatrice destroy them. Would not let them suffer as she had suffered.
But accepting Gregory's proposal meant trusting him. Meant believing his offer was genuine. Meant risking everything she had spent three years protecting.
"I have until tomorrow to decide," Anthea said finally. "And I promise you both—whatever I choose, it will be for the right reasons."
Even if she was not entirely certain what those reasons were anymore.
But as she climbed the stairs to her chamber, she could not escape the memory of dark green eyes. Of a man who wantedher honesty, not her love. Who offered practical partnership, not romance.
Who had stood close enough to make her heart race, then walked away without a backward glance.
Think about it, he had commanded.
And damn him, she would. Whether she wanted to or not.
Chapter Seven
"You absolute fool! Why did you not send word ahead?"
