“But if all the Chilcotts are looking to accomplish is to marry off their daughter to an affluent man—which Mr. Roberts is, by the way—then I see no reason for them to deny you, Anthony,” the duchess said, her tone taking on a defensiveness unique to a proud mother. “You’re a duke, for heaven’s sake! She should be thanking her lucky stars that you’ve paid her any attention at all.”
“Unless of course she’s in love with Mr. Roberts,” Winston pointed out.
“She’s not.” Anthony’s voice was clipped as he spoke. “She believes she has to marry him—that she has no choice in the matter. I mean to prove her wrong. I will speak to her father again, and when I do, I will be very clear about my intentions.”
“And if they still refuse you?” Casper drawled, his gaze meeting Anthony’s.
“Then I may have to whisk Miss Chilcott off to Gretna Green.” He was joking of course. He would never force a woman to marry him against her will, but he did feel as though he was being brushed aside too easily. Perhaps it would be good to assert himself a bit more—remind Miss Chilcott of what they’d shared the night of the ball. Seeing his mother’s horrified expression, he couldn’t help but add, “Let’s not forget that I used to excel at seduction. Perhaps a rake is precisely what Miss Chilcott needs.”
Smiling to himself, he drank deeply from his glass just as his mother muttered faintly, “Heaven forbid.”
Chapter 14
Anthony set out for the Chilcott home the following afternoon. He was tired, having suffered yet another restless night with thoughts of Miss Chilcott, and he still wasn’t sure of what he would say to Mr. Chilcott—how best to make his case so that he wouldn’t be turned away yet again. Pondering this, he trotted along at a leisurely pace, his horse’s hooves stamping the road that led toward Moxley when suddenly, in the distance, he saw someone walking toward him. As he got closer to the individual, his heart rate picked up in realization of who that person was.
It was Miss Chilcott—there could be no mistaking it, even though her face was downcast as they approached each other, leading Anthony to suspect that she’d determined his identity as well and was probably hoping he wouldn’t notice her. As if such a thing had been possible.
As he came closer to her, he pulled his horse to a complete stop and tipped his hat in salutation. “Good afternoon, Miss Chilcott.”
She looked up at him, her hand shading her eyes against the afternoon sun. “Oh, Your Grace—what a surprise!”
Did the color in her cheeks just deepen, or was he imagining things?
“What brings you all the way out here? You must be at least a mile from town.”
“I ... er ...” As if unaware of where she actually was, Miss Chilcott looked both left and right before returning her gaze to Anthony, who was trying his damndest to keep his expression straight. “I was on my way to visit my aunt with a pie.” She held a small basket up for him to see.
“Does she live far from here?” Anthony asked, a little concerned that a woman of Miss Chilcott’s beauty was roaming the countryside on her own. Had she no inkling of the sort of danger she was placing herself in?
“Another mile perhaps—there’s a turn up ahead that will take me straight there.”
Looking down at her, Anthony considered his next move. She looked dazzling with the sunlight casting a golden glow upon her hair. Her gown was simple and white, yet so much more enticing than the more elaborate ones he’d seen ladies in London wear. And then of course there was her bosom, of which he was afforded a very clear view from his vantage point.
His stomach was not the only part of him to tighten as he thought of what it might be like to bare it. Bloody hell, Casper was right—he might have stopped behaving like a rake, but his mind was not so easily controlled.
Taking a tight hold on the reins with his left hand, Anthony swung himself down onto the ground, landing right in front of Miss Chilcott. He turned to face her, noting the look of surprise and ... was that dread in her eyes? “Allow me to accompany you.”
“I cannot possibly,” she gasped. “It’s ... it’s not proper.”
Intrigued by her level of discomfort, Anthony leaned toward her. “How so?”
“We have no chaperone.” She looked around again, like a naughty child who feared being caught. “If anyone saw us together, it would make things quite difficult for me. You see, I am to marry Mr. Roberts, in case you were not aware. Whatever will he think if he hears I’ve been out walkingalonewith you?”
“I imagine he’d thank me for seeing to your safety,” Anthony said. As reluctant as she was for his company, he was enjoying their discussion. Determined to win, he added, “Besides, if anything were to happen to you—a sprained ankle perhaps, or, God forbid, something worse—I’d quite simply never forgive myself.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Miss Chilcott nodded. “Very well then,” she acquiesced. She started walking again while Anthony kept pace, leading his horse by the reins.
“Do you often go for walks like this? On your own?” he asked.
Turning her head, she met his gaze, her deep frown alluding to her displeasure at the question. “I suppose you’re about to tell me that you don’t approve.”
Sensing she would not respond well to overprotectiveness but feeling an elemental need to keep her safe, Anthony shrugged and said, “The world can be a dangerous place, Miss Chilcott. I merely mean to caution you.”
Looking at her, he could tell she was struggling with what to say. Her voice was low when she eventually spoke—so much so that he had to strain to hear her. “Thank you, Your Grace. I shall take your concern under advisement.”
Well, she’d certainly taken the high road, which of course only served to increase his admiration of her. “So, what sort of pie are you taking to your aunt?” he asked after a moment’s silence.
Miss Chilcott didn’t turn to look at him as she said, “Apple,” her eyes fixed firmly upon the horizon.
