"Oh, it is impressive," Cassandra agreed readily. "But it also means he is likely quite... rough. They say he is ruthless in battle. That he was willing to do what others would not."
"You mean he was competent," Anthea said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "What a shocking quality in a military officer."
Cassandra laughed. "You are always so contrary, Anthea. Though I suppose it is probably just the ton's snobbery," sheadmitted. "They cannot abide the thought of a duke who was not raised to be one."
"Undoubtedly," Sybil agreed. "Thetonprefers their Dukes to be born in marble halls and educated at Eton. A man who has actually experienced hardship is far too... real for their tastes."
Anthea shook her head, wondering if she was the only person in London capable of not immediately believing every scrap of gossip that circulated. Or perhaps she was simply the only one not interested in the Duke's arrival at all.
She had more pressing concerns than some soldier playing at nobility.
"Still," Cassandra continued, her voice dropping to an even more conspiratorial whisper, "they say he is quite imposing. Tall and broad and—oh! There he is!"
Anthea followed Cassandra's gaze across the ballroom to where a knot of people had gathered. She could see very little through the crowd, only glimpses of a tall figure and the occasional flash of dark evening clothes.
"He does appear rather large," Veronica observed hesitantly.
"Large and dangerous," Cassandra said with evident relish. "Look at how Lady Thornbury is watching him. Like she expects him to overturn the refreshment table at any moment."
Anthea was about to make another comment about the absurdity of ton gossip when her attention was caught by a different figure across the room.
Beatrice.
Her stepmother was speaking very insistently to Poppy, her face set in that particular expression that Anthea had learned to dread. Even from this distance, she could see Poppy's distress, the way her shoulders hunched, the way her hands twisted together.
"Excuse me," Anthea murmured, already moving.
"Anthea?" Sybil called after her, but Anthea was no longer listening.
She wove through the crowd with single-minded determination, her eyes fixed on her stepmother and stepsister. Beatrice was gesturing now, pointing toward?—
Toward the Duke.
Anthea's blood ran cold as understanding dawned. The tall figure with broad shoulders and an undeniably powerful build. The man who moved with deliberate intention even when simply standing in conversation. And there, following reluctantly in his wake as he departed the ballroom, was Poppy.
No,Anthea thought fiercely.Absolutely not.
She did not know what scheme Beatrice had concocted, but she would not allow Poppy to be caught in whatever trap had been set. Brute or not, soldier or not, no man would be permitted near her stepsister without supervision.
Anthea quickened her pace, slipping out of the ballroom and into the corridor beyond. She caught a glimpse of Poppy's pale pink gown disappearing around a corner and followed, her heart pounding with equal parts anger and fear.
What was Beatrice thinking? What could she possibly hope to accomplish by sending Poppy after a duke? Unless?—
Unless she hoped to trap him. To force a scandal that would require marriage.
The thought made Anthea's stomach turn. She had suspected Beatrice was capable of many cruelties, but this? This was beyond even her usual machinations.
She rounded the corner and saw Poppy slip into a room, the music room, judging by the pianoforte visible through the briefly open door.
Anthea did not hesitate. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Poppy," she said firmly.
Her stepsister whirled around, her face streaked with tears. "Anthea! I—you should not be here?—"
"Neither should you," Anthea said, closing the door behind her. "What were you thinking? Following a man you do not know into an empty room?"
"I did not wish to," Poppy said miserably. "Mama said… she said if I did not at least attempt to speak with him privately, she would force Veronica to do so instead. And you know Veronica could not bear it! The scandal alone would destroy her, not to mention being forced to marry a—a brute!"
