Anthony stood and bowed. “It’s been good to see you.”
“You’ll no doubt disappear into the country,” Sir Thomas said. “But don’t let too much time pass before we see you here again.”
Anthony tamped down his fury and followed Ramsbotham into the gaming room. It was this man’s boat that carried Henrietta and Verity to France. He knew no more than that. He intended to find out more.
“Marquess,” he said, bowing.
“Lord Beaumont?” Ramsbotham returned a flourishing bow.
“I seek a private word with you.”
“As you wish.”
He followed Anthony into the library which was now deserted, but for the pall of smoke left behind. They took the pair of oxblood leather chairs. Ramsbotham removed an enamel snuff box from his pocket, his eyes fixed on Anthony.
“You are acquainted with Mademoiselle Garnier I believe,” Anthony said without preamble.
The Marquess flicked open the snuff box, took a pinch, and sniffed it into each nostril. “I am. I wasn’t aware you were. Do you have a prior claim?”
Anthony frowned. “How quaintly you put it. I would advise you not to speak out of turn in matters concerning Mademoiselle Garnier.”
“Out of turn? I merely invited her to my country estate for the weekend. I have reason to believe, because of our… association, that she will come.”
“Association?”
“We are… intimate friends.”
Anthony’s blood boiled. He fancied he saw a red mist before his eyes and wanted to roar with rage. With tremendous effort, and the determination that this man would never learn how disgusted and angry he was, he kept his voice cool and even toned. “If you say anything of this sort about my future wife, Ramsbotham, I shall be forced to call you out.”
At his glacial command, Ramsbotham seized the arms of his chair, his eyes wide. “You plan to marry, Mademoiselle Garnier?” He recovered his poise and sank back again. “She said nothing to me when I saw her last.”
“And when was that?”
“Why, only the day before yesterday. On her way to the theatre, she graciously offered me a lift in her carriage.”
“I’m not interested in what might have happened between you, Ramsbotham, although I suspect you have embroidered on the truth. I want the matter to end here. It never happened. Do I have your word as a gentleman?”
“She is a lovely looking woman, but I must say you are insane to marry her. Why not just enjoy her?”
Anthony curled his hands into fists. “I’m not asking for your opinion. I want your word.”
Ramsbotham tucked his snuff box into a pocket and stood. “And why should I give it?”
Anthony jumped to his feet. He stepped forward and grabbed the peacock by his pretty silk coat. “Because my sword hand itches to run you through, if you don’t.”
The marquess held up his hands. “Such violence, my lord. Surely no woman is worth it.”
“Shall this be the end of it?” Anthony repeated tightening his hold.
Ramsbotham’s gaze slid over Anthony’s tense face, then the clenched fist creasing his expensive coat. “You have it.”
Anthony let go of him suddenly. Ramsbotham staggered back. He steadied himself and smoothed his coat. “But only if she marries you. If not, I will continue to pursue her for my own ends.”
“In that case, you’d best treat her well. If not, be sure I will seek you out.”
“My, Beaumont, I must say I had no idea you were so impassioned. A veritable knight in shining armor. And I’ve heard you were a moderate fellow who preferred to rusticate.” He eyed Anthony uneasily. “She has got under your skin, has she not?” he said, with his unpleasant laugh.
Anthony turned, stalked out of Boodles, and hailed a cab. He brooded while the carriage took him home. What had taken place between that man and Verity? He refused to believe she would choose the life of a courtesan. He knew her. She hadn’t expressed an interest in the affairs at court, or the excitement of the Prince of Wales’ set. She was a moral French woman. But when he tried to dismiss the whole as rubbish, her words returned to haunt him.You do not really know me.
