"Of course," Veronica murmured, and Anthea caught the way her stepsister's hands twisted together—a gesture she only made when deeply uncomfortable.
"Perhaps we might move on to see the elephants?" Anthea suggested, keeping her voice carefully pleasant. "I believe they were recently fed, and Veronica has been quite eager to observe them."
"Of course, of course," Mr. Thornbury said agreeably. "The elephants are quite fascinating. But first—" He gestured toward a nearby enclosure. "Have you observed the Barbary lion? The scientific classification system developed by Linnaeus in 1758 provides us with the nomenclature Panthera leo, and the distinction between..."
"Mr. Thornbury," Sybil interrupted smoothly, appearing at Anthea's elbow with perfect timing. "I wonder if you might settle a debate for me? My husband insists that the lions here are Barbary lions, but I believe them to be a different subspecies entirely."
Mr. Thornbury's eyes lit with the fervor of a man given permission to lecture. "Ah! An excellent question, Your Grace. You see, the Barbary lion, or Panthera leo, is distinguishable by?—"
He launched into what promised to be an exhaustive explanation, and Sybil caught Anthea's eye with the barest hint of a wink. Bless her.
Anthea touched Veronica's arm gently. "Shall we walk ahead? The elephant enclosure is just there."
Relief flooded Veronica's face. "Yes, please."
They moved away from Mr. Thornbury's droning voice, Veronica releasing a long breath the moment they were out of earshot.
"I cannot do this," Veronica whispered. "Anthea, I simply cannot. He has not stopped talking since we arrived. And not conversation—lectures. He lectures me as though I were a student in his classroom rather than—rather than?—"
"Rather than a woman he is supposedly courting?" Anthea finished wryly.
"He is not courting me. He is educating me. There is a difference." Veronica's voice held an uncharacteristic edge. "And when I attempt to contribute to the discussion, he corrects me. Every single time."
"He is insufferable," Anthea agreed. "And you are under no obligation to endure him simply because he expressed interest."
"Mama will say I am being too particular."
"Mama is not here." Anthea squeezed her stepsister's hand. "And I would rather you remain unwed than married to a man who makes you feel small."
Veronica's eyes grew suspiciously bright. "Thank you."
"How much longer must I endure this before it becomes acceptable to feign a headache?" Sybil said as she rejoined them.
Despite everything, Anthea felt a laugh bubble up. "You are a saint for distracting him."
"I am a martyr.” Sybil glanced toward where Veronica and Mr. Hartley were still sketching together. "Though it appears my sacrifice was worthwhile. She looks genuinely happy."
"She does,"
Before Anthea could respond, a commotion near the tiger enclosure caught her attention. A small crowd had gathered, and voices rose in excitement. She caught sight of a familiar tall figure—broad shoulders, dark hair, that particular way of standing that suggested military bearing even in civilian clothes.
Gregory.
Her heart performed an acrobatic feat that it had no business doing in response to merely seeing a man from a distance. She had written to him yesterday, explaining what had happened with Beatrice, suggesting they meet to discuss... well, everything. But she had not yet received a response, and she had been trying very hard not to read anything into that silence.
"Is that the Duke?" Veronica asked, following her gaze.
"It appears so."
"He is with someone."
Yes. He was indeed with someone. A young woman in a pale blue walking dress stood beside him, her gloved hand resting on his arm with easy familiarity. She was laughing at something he hadsaid, tilting her head up toward him in a way that made Anthea's jaw tighten.
An older woman—the girl's mother, presumably—stood slightly behind them, beaming with obvious approval.
"That is Lady Millicent Carstairs," Sybil said quietly, rejoining them after successfully distracting Mr. Thornbury. "Daughter of the Earl of Wickshire. Quite well-connected. Impeccable bloodline. Everything a duke could want in a potential bride."
Something cold and unpleasant settled in Anthea's stomach. "Oh? I see."
