“And here I was advising him to make her his mistress,” Casper said. “I’d no idea that you were so liberal in your way of thinking, Duchess.”
“Casper, surely you have been a friend of this family long enough now to know we’re not as conservative as most. It is my very deepest wish that my children will be as happy in their choice of partners as I was with my husband. If Miss Chilcott is the woman Anthony wants, then I have no intention of standing in his way. The rest of Society will give both of them a hard enough time—I see no reason to make the situation more difficult.”
Anthony felt his heart swell with a bit of hope—the only bit of hope he’d had all day. “Thank you, Mama. I really appreciate your support in this. However, there is a complication that you ought to know about.”
“Please don’t tell me that she has a child out of wedlock,” his mother said, concern marking her drawn features.
“No, it’s nothing like that.” Taking the carafe Winston offered him, Anthony poured a measure into Casper’s glass before adding another to his own. He’d already told his family that Miss Chilcott was planning to marry someone else—that he believed she felt duty-bound to do so. “I happened upon her this afternoon in Moxley as I was on my way to meet with her father. She was buying gloves.”
His mother raised both eyebrows. “I approve.”
Anthony sighed. “She was not alone but in the company of Mr. Roberts, who was acting as her escort—heis the man she intends to marry.”
Both his mother and Winston frowned.
“The carriage maker?” Casper asked.
Anthony nodded. “The very one.”
“I thought the name sounded vaguely familiar,” Winston said. “Didn’t you acquisition your new curricle from him, Anthony?”
Anthony gave his brother a tight smile. “You see my dilemma?”
“Not particularly,” Casper said, looking annoyingly calm.
Trust Casper to change his view on the matter just so he could argue the point. “A moment ago, your opinion was quite pessimistic,” Anthony told him.
“That was before I discovered how open your mother is to the idea of having Miss Chilcott for a daughter-in-law,” Casper said, directing a sweet smile at the duchess.
“I’m not particularly fond of toadies, Casper, though I do appreciate the consideration,” the duchess remarked, sipping delicately at her sherry.
“Whatever your opinion,” Anthony said, deciding he’d had enough of their backscratching, “the fact remains that I know Mr. Roberts, perhaps not personally, but enough to feel some remorse at the thought of stealing Miss Chilcott away from him.”
“Then you’re a better man than I,” Casper said.
Anthony grinned. “I believe that goes without saying.” They saluted each other with their glasses before proceeding to take a healthy gulp.
“There is also the question regarding the gown,” the duchess said, breaking the silence. “However would the daughter of a mere driver have come to possess such an expensive item?”
“I cannot give you an answer to that yet,” Anthony told her. “But I don’t believe Miss Chilcott to be a thief. Whatever the case, I think there’s an honest explanation. Until I discover it though, I’ve no intention of alerting the Deerfords. I trust you’ll make no mention of it to them either.”
“You have our word on it,” Winston told him seriously. “And if there’s anything at all that we can do to help ...”
Anthony nodded. “Thank you, but I can’t think of anything right now. It’s good to know that I have your support though. Now, if I can only convince the lady herself.” He frowned, realizing he’d neglected to tell them how his visit to the Chilcotts had actually gone. “When I spoke to her father and showed him the drawing of his daughter, he denied recognizing her. For whatever reason, they’re insistent upon marrying her off to Mr. Roberts, though I cannot for the life of me understand why.”
“Could they be indebted to him somehow?” Winston asked.
“I’ve wondered that myself,” Anthony said as he leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees and placed his chin in his hands. “I suppose it’s possible. Her father is in Mr. Roberts’s employ.”
“The father of the woman you wish to marry is her fiancé’s driver?” Casper asked, looking undecided about whether to laugh or frown. He picked the latter.
Anthony nodded. “He test-drives the carriages that Mr. Roberts manufactures.”
“Well, then perhaps Mr. Roberts is blackmailing the poor man in some way?” the duchess suggested.
“That would certainly explain a lot,” Anthony agreed, “but Mr. Roberts, as peculiar as he may be, doesn’t seem like the sort of man who’d resort to such baseness of character.”
“I agree,” Casper muttered. “It takes an evil-minded person to bend someone’s fate to their will. If Mr. Roberts had it in him, you’d know.”
