“Lies are they?” Evie snapped.
“Allow me to finish this for you,” he said running a hand down her rigid spine.
“I—”
“I am to be married to Miss Spencer, Miss Beasley,” he said before Evie could continue. “She is to be my wife,” he added, just to make sure the woman understood. “If anyone threatens or harms her again, there will be consequences for those involved.”
“My lord—”
“Consequences that neither you nor your mother will enjoy.”
Miss Beasley gulped so loudly they all heard it.
“Do you understand that from this day forth, everyone will show my fiancée and her family the utmost respect?” Anthony had kept his voice calm, as if they were simply chatting, but his meaning was clear to everyone in this small gathering.
“Evie?”
“Carry on with your walk, Prue, all is well,” Evie said, keeping her eyes on Miss Beasley. “I’ve done nothing to you. Why would you want to harm me?” she added.
“You are engaged to me,” Anthony said. “And that is enough. Isn’t that right, Miss Beasley?”
The woman was puce with embarrassment now. She’d not expected Anthony to come to Evie’s aid. She’d thought to drive a wedge between them. Little did she know their engagement was not real.
“A word of advice before you leave us, Miss Beasley. Stay well clear of Lord Cavendish and his friends. If you think I am dangerous, they are doubly so.”
Her mouth fell open at Anthony’s words. She then turned and fled with her friends on her heels.
“Well,” Evie said, exhaling the word in a loud breath.
“Exactly. Let’s walk behind your sister and Landon.”
“A distance behind,” she muttered.
“Pardon?” He picked up her hand and lowered it to his arm, seeing as she hadn’t put it there already.
“Nothing.”
That single word had conveyed her need for him to ask no further questions and to put distance between them. As someone who had lived his adult life doing just that, he allowed her the quiet she wished for as he looked at the paintings.
“I like that one.” He pointed to a landscape minutes later. It was of the scene before them, a small glimmer of water in the distance. Carriages and horses on the road, and people promenading.
“I like that one better.” She pointed to the right where a man was painting a night sky with very little color.
“Because it mirrors your current mood?”
“My mood is fine, thank you,” she snapped.
“Perhaps one of these will help sweeten your sour countenance.” He held out a barley sugar. She took it with a muttered thank you and popped it in her mouth.
He let her have her silence as he listened to her sucking on the sweet. Visions of them in bed together with that mouth on him had his barley sugar wedging in the back of his throat. Anthony coughed several times to dislodge it.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he rasped.
“Suck it slowly and it will not shoot to the back of your mouth.”
“Thank you. As you can imagine, that had not occurred to me in the years since I’ve been eating them.”
