In two weeks, they would prove they could work together.
In two weeks, everything might change.
If she was brave enough to let it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The guests began arriving on a crisp Friday morning, their carriages rolling up the drive in carefully orchestrated intervals that Anthea had spent days planning.
She stood beside Gregory at the entrance, playing the role of gracious hostess while her stomach twisted with nerves. So much depended on this weekend. Her sisters' futures. Gregory's investments. Their ability to work together without descending into another argument.
"Breathe," Gregory murmured, too low for anyone else to hear. "You have planned everything perfectly. It will work."
Anthea glanced at him, surprised by the reassurance. He was watching the approaching carriages, his expression calm, but his hand found hers briefly—a quick squeeze of support before propriety forced them apart.
The first carriage disgorged Lord Ashford and his son Henry. Anthea recognized the younger man from Gregory's descriptions—the friend from White's who had been kind when others were hostile.
"Everleigh!" Henry bounded up the steps with the enthusiasm of a puppy. "Excellent timing for a hunt. The weather could not be better."
"Lord Ashford, Mr. Ashford," Gregory said, shaking hands. "May I present my wife, the Duchess of Everleigh."
"Your Grace." Henry bowed, and there was genuine warmth in his smile. "My father and I are honored by the invitation."
"We are delighted to have you," Anthea said. "I believe you will find the company quite... interesting."
More carriages arrived. Sir Richard Cunningham, who Gregory needed for his agricultural investments. Lord Pemberton, still somewhat cool from the disastrous dinner party but willing to give Gregory another chance. Mr. Hartley—the gentleman artist from the menagerie, whom Anthea had tracked down and invited with Gregory's enthusiastic approval.
And finally, Veronica and Poppy, arriving with barely concealed excitement.
Anthea watched as Henry's gaze caught on Poppy. Watched as her sister noticed his attention and straightened slightly, color rising in her cheeks.
Good. That was very good.
"Shall we get everyone settled?" Gregory said quietly. "I believe you have assigned rooms with your usual terrifying efficiency."
Despite her nerves, Anthea felt her lips twitch. "Terrifying efficiency?"
"It is a compliment," Gregory assured her. "I have learned to appreciate your terrifying qualities."
The Pall Mall game was scheduled for the afternoon, after guests had time to refresh from their journeys and enjoy a light luncheon.
Anthea stood on the lawn, watching the teams form. Gregory had orchestrated this beautifully—pairing potential investors with engaging partners, ensuring everyone felt included without being obvious about his motives.
"Your Grace," Henry appeared at her elbow. "Might I request the honor of your sister's company on my team? Miss Poppy, that is. I understand you have two sisters, and I should hate to cause confusion by making assumptions."
Anthea glanced at Poppy, who was pretending very hard not to be watching this exchange. "I believe my sister would be delighted, Mr. Ashford. Though I should warn you—she is quite competitive."
"Excellent," Henry said. "I cannot abide people who do not play to win."
He offered his arm to Poppy, who took it with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. Within moments, they were deep in discussion about strategy, Poppy's earlier shyness completely forgotten as she gestured animatedly about angles and force.
"They seem to be getting along well," Gregory observed, appearing at Anthea's other side.
"Quite well," Anthea agreed.
"He is a good man," Gregory continued. "Honest. Kind. Terrible at cards but excellent at estate management. Your sister could do far worse."
"Are you matchmaking, Your Grace?"
