Roslynn’s fingers curled into fists. Frances’ reaction was a bit more dramatic. Ashen-faced, and with a small squeal of horror, she tore away from Roslynn’s side and ran back into the parlor.
Anthony clapped his friend on the back, bringing him out of his bemusement. “Well, what are you standing there like an ass for, George? Go after her.”
“No!” Roslynn snapped before George could take a step. “Havena you done enough?”
Her contempt sliced into the poor man, but hedidn’t hesitate another moment in starting toward the parlor. Aghast, Roslynn turned to beat him there, intending to slam the door in his face. But she hadn’t counted on Anthony’s intervention. Somehow he crossed ten feet of space before she had reached the parlor door, and with a band of steel locking firmly about her waist, he steered her toward the stairs instead.
She was outraged beyond belief by his high-handedness. “Let go of me, you—”
“Now, now, my dear, have a care, if you please,” he told her glibly. “I believe we’ve had quite enough distasteful scenes in that hall for the delectation of the servants. We don’t need another.”
He was absolutely right, so her voice was lowered, but no less furious. “If you dinna—”
His finger pressed to her lips this time. “Pay attention, sweetheart. She refuses to listen to him. It’s time she was forced to, and George can do that here—and without interruption.” Then he paused, grinning at her. “Sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all,” she gritted out beneath her breath. “I listened to you. I just didna believe you!”
“Stubborn chit,” he gently chided. “But no matter. You’re coming along with me while I change for dinner.”
She didn’t have any choice but to go along with him, since he practically carried her up the stairs. But once in his room, she jerked away, not even noticing that Willis stood beside the bed.
“That is the most loathsome thing you have ever done!” she exploded.
“Glad to hear it,” he replied blithely. “Here I was under the impression that the most loathsome thing I had—”
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
She pushed past him to get to the door. He caught her up about the waist and deposited her in the chaise longue by the mantel. And then with a hand on each side of it, he leaned over, until she had to press back in the chair to keep a distance between them. There was no longer a trace of humor in his expression. He was now deadly serious.
“You’re going to stay put, my dear wife, or I will tie you to that chair to see that you do.” With just the barest crook of his brow, he added, “Is that perfectly clear?”
“You wouldna do that!”
“You may be absolutely certain that I would.”
Her lips set mutinously while their eyes did battle. But when Anthony wouldn’t move away and stayed there hovering over her, she thought it prudent to give in for now.
Her agreement was offered by lowering her eyes and drawing her legs up into the chair to get comfortable. Anthony accepted these signs of surrender and straightened, but his humor did not return. He was aware that in helping George, he had thoroughly damaged his own cause. Whatever progress had been made toward the diminishing of Roslynn’s anger by the sheer passage of time was now destroyed. So be it. After all these years, George deserved his chance. What were a few more weeks of Roslynn’s renewed bad temper? Torture.
He turned away from the chair, his scowl so black his valet took an involuntary step backward upon seeing it, which finally brought him to Anthony’s attention. “Thank you, Willis.” His voice was deliberately colorless to sheathe the inner turmoil of his thoughts. “Your choice is superb as usual.”
Roslynn’s head snapped around upon hearing that, her eyes first lighting on Willis, then on the clothes carefully laid out on the bed. “Do you mean to be saying he knew you’d be home for dinner?”
“Of course, my dear,” Anthony replied as he shrugged out of his coat. “I always let Willis know when to expect me if I am reasonably certain of my schedule.”
She gave Willis an accusatory look that brought hot color to his already ruddy cheeks. “He could have told me,” she said to Anthony.
“That is not his responsibility.”
“Youcould have told me!”
Anthony glanced over his shoulder at her, wondering if it would do any good to risk turning her anger onto this lesser subject. “Quite true, sweetheart. And if you hadn’t flounced off in a pout this morning, I would have.”
Her eyes flared. Her feet hit the floor. She came half out of the chair before she remembered his threat and dropped back into it.
But she hadn’t lost her voice. “I did no such thing! And how dare you say so?”
“Oh?” Anthony faced her again, his lips slightly curled. “Then what would you call it?”
