“Favors?” She laughed. “I never once asked for your favor! And you have bestowed it most unwillingly.”
His eyes locked on hers, and despite the darkness, she thought she saw emotion flooding them.
“Quite right,” he said, his voice rasping. “You went so far as to ask me to retract the favor I had offered you and replace it with something wholly different.”
Despite herself, her cheeks flushed with heat. That had been such a desperate act, and she had been certain it would fail. Yet he had come to see her father the morning after, and her father had never once hinted that she might have had a role to play in the drama.
She could only assume he had shelled out a horrifically large sum to appease her father for so long.
Still, she hated being beholden to anyone.
“If you inform me of how much I owe you for that favor,” she said stiffly, “I would be happy to return it.”
His fingers contracted slightly on her wrist. “Do you think such a thing is so easy?”
“It is only money.”
“I have no wish for your money.” His voice was harsh, and he brought his face close to hers. “Do you think I did it with the hope of being repaid?”
“Then why?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her heart stuttered. “Because…” he said with deliberation, but before he could finish the thought, the carriage pulled to a stop.
Suddenly aware of how close they were, she retracted her hand and sat back; he let her go.
“It appears we have arrived,” she said, hating how breathless her voice sounded.
“So it seems.” Contrary to the way he had held her, he sounded now nearly detached.
“And it is my house, after all.” The door opened. The Duke’s coachman stepped back, and the Duke held out his hand to help her down.
She ignored him, stepping free of herself.
“I would most appreciate it if you stopped meddling in my business, Your Grace,” she told him once her feet were on solid ground again. “Focus on your protégé and your own life, if you please.”
With that, she left him where he sat in the carriage and slipped through her father’s back door, holding a hand against her chest and her pounding heart.
Whatever had happened—or rather, almost happened—with the Duke, it couldnothappen again.
CHAPTER 4
Thalia laid her knife and fork on her plate slowly as she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
Her father, for once, had elected to breakfast with her, although he had disappeared behind the broad sheets of a newspaper, and the silence ate away at her.
Silence was better than the alternative, but whenever her father was around, she felt on edge. He was dynamite in coal—when he exploded, the fire could last for days.
When the doorbell rang, her father slowly lowered his newspaper. His eyes were bloodshot, no doubt a result of his excesses the night before, but he was sadly very sober and with all his faculties.
“Who is that at this hour?” he demanded.
“I expect it is Lady Bloomsby,” Thalia said. “She said she would call this morning.”
Sure enough, Anna sailed in after the butler announced her. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Is it not a wonderful morning? Lord Gilford, what a pleasure to see you! I have come to collect dear Thalia.”
“To go where?”
“For a walk in Hyde Park.” Anna smiled, twirling her parasol.
