"I am not attempting any scheme," she said, keeping her voice level despite the fury building in her chest. "I was merely?—"
"Hiding behind the pianoforte?" he interrupted. "Yes, I noticed. Very subtle."
"I was not hiding, I was—" Anthea stopped herself before she could mention Poppy. "I was seeking a moment of privacy. The ballroom was overwarm."
"How unfortunate that I also sought privacy in this same room," he said dryly. "What are the odds?"
Insufferable man.Anthea took a step forward, her hands clenched at her sides. "Your Grace, I understand you may have reason to be suspicious, but I assure you?—"
"You assure me nothing," he cut her off again. "I have been in London less than a fortnight, madam, and I have already learned that assurances mean very little among the Quality."
"Then perhaps you should learn to judge character rather than simply assuming the worst of everyone you encounter," Anthea snapped, her careful composure cracking.
Something moved in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or possibly respect. "And what makes you think I have judged incorrectly?"
"Because I have no interest whatsoever in trapping you into marriage," Anthea said bluntly. "In fact, I have no interest inmarriage at all, to anyone, under any circumstances. So you may set aside your suspicions and simply accept that this is exactly what I claimed, a misunderstanding."
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze intense and assessing. Anthea forced herself to meet his eyes steadily, refusing to look away even as something uncomfortable twisted in her stomach.
He has very green eyes,some traitorous part of her mind observed.Dark green, like forest shadows.
"You speak very directly for a lady," he said finally.
"And you make assumptions very readily for a gentleman," she countered.
His lips twitched. It was not quite a smile, but it was close enough to make Anthea's breath catch inexplicably.
"You are correct," he said, surprising her. "I have been... overly cautious this evening. The constant scrutiny has made me perhaps more suspicious than is warranted."
It was an apology, she realized. Awkwardly delivered and somewhat grudging, but an apology nonetheless.
"I accept your apology, Your Grace," Anthea said, feeling her own anger drain away slightly. "Though I would suggest that notevery woman you encounter is attempting to entrap you. Some of us have far better things to do with our time."
"Such as hiding behind pianofortes?" he asked, and this time there was definite amusement in his voice.
"Such as protecting foolish stepsisters from their manipulative mothers," Anthea retorted before she could stop herself.
His expression sharpened immediately. "Stepsisters?"
Wonderful. Well done, Anthea. Why not simply announce Poppy's presence outright?
"It is a long story," she said quickly, "and not one I care to share with a stranger."
"We have been introduced," he pointed out. "Or rather, we have insulted one another quite thoroughly. I believe that constitutes an introduction of sorts."
Despite herself, Anthea felt her lips curve. "I suppose it does. Though I do not believe I caught your name, Your Grace."
"Because I did not give it," he said. "Gregory Briarson, Duke of Everleigh. And you are?"
"Miss Anthea Croft."
"Miss Croft." He inclined his head, the gesture oddly formal after their heated exchange. "I regret my initial rudeness."
"And I regret mine," Anthea admitted. "Though in my defense, you did accuse me of scheming."
"In my defense, this wasn’t my first time."
"Perhaps you should not allow yourself to be in situations where scheming is possible," Anthea said pointedly.
