Anthony heard them move and was about to do so himself when it must have occurred to Mr. Roberts that he was meant to be escorting Miss Chilcott. “That is, of course, if you do not mind,” he said, addressing her as if she’d now become a nuisance.
“By all means,” she said. “Take your time. I shall continue to admire the amanthine until you return.”
“Amaranthine,” Mr. Roberts corrected, his voice tinged with exasperation.
Another shuffle of feet sounded, followed by footsteps as Casper and Mr. Roberts moved to the other side of the shop. Anthony made his move, rounding the shelves.
There before him stood Isabella, her back slightly toward him as she looked down at the piece of fabric that lay spread out on a counter. Did Mr. Roberts really intend for her to wear that? It would never suit someone as gentle and kind as her—it was much too gaudy for a woman with such soft blonde hair and pale complexion. She needed something milder, like the silk he’d seen at the front of the shop.
Stepping forward, he moved closer until he was standing at her right shoulder, but she was so lost in thought—serious thought, if the crease between her eyebrows was any indication—that she didn’t register him at all. How he longed to smooth away her worries and distract her from all her concerns. “If it’s any consolation, I would have said it was purple too,” he whispered.
She spun toward him, eyes wide, and in one fraction of a second he saw the contents of her heart. Then she must have remembered his absence—that he hadn’t called on her like he’d said he would and that he hadn’t even sent her a note—for her expression became shuttered, and when she spoke, her voice was as cool as rime on a winter’s morning. “I have nothing to say to you. Please leave.”
“I’m sorry about the way I—”
He was cut off by her laugh—quite possibly the most sarcastic laugh he’d ever heard. “Sorry? Whatever for? You owe me nothing, Your Grace, least of all an apology.” The struggle that raged within her was so painful to watch that Anthony was tempted to look away. He forced himself not to, took a deep breath and placed his gloved hand upon the one she was resting on the counter. It did not have the effect he’d been hoping for. Instead she snatched her hand away and glared up at him. “How dare you?” she seethed.
He felt himself stiffen as anger rose in him as well. He might not have acted very gentlemanly toward her, but he had his reason—a very good reason, in fact—yet here she was in Mr. Roberts’s company, treating him with disdain when she’d not even listened to what he had to say. He opened his mouth to speak, when the tinkling of a bell announced the arrival of yet another customer and he heard both Casper and Mr. Roberts say in unison, “Lady Harriett, how do you do?”
What followed happened with such speed that Anthony wasn’t entirely sure of what to make of it. One moment, Isabella was standing before him, the next she was dashing past him, only to trip over a bolt of fabric that had fallen to the floor and land in a heap with the grace of a sack of potatoes and a loud “umph.”
Anthony stepped forward to help her up, taking her by the arm as he asked about her welfare.
“Please don’t touch me,” she whispered, attempting to shake him off as her eyes darted about with the fear one might expect from a rabbit chased by a hound. What the devil?
“Kingsborough!” a sweet voice chimed just then, and Anthony turned his head to find the detestable Lady Harriett smiling up at him with stars in her eyes. “I had no idea that you were back in town—what a lovely surprise. After our last conversation I hadn’t thought I’d see you before the Darwich Ball, but since you’re here ...” Her words trailed off, and Anthony could have sworn that the look she served Isabella held some hidden meaning.
If only he could figure out what the bloody hell was going on. He wasn’t afforded much time to consider it though before the lady continued by saying, “Perhaps you could help me find a suitable fabric for the gown I plan to wear that evening. You could have a waistcoat made to match—now wouldn’t that be splendid!”
Anthony sensed Isabella stiffen by his side and realized what game Lady Harriett was playing at. She knew he had designs on Isabella because, like an idiot, he’d blurted out his plans without thinking what a woman like her might do when she discovered her adversary to be of such inferior rank.
He pulled himself up to his full height and opened his mouth to give the abominable creature the proper set down she deserved when Mr. Roberts came up beside Lady Harriett with Casper right on his heels. Casper gave Anthony a look of apology while Mr. Roberts stared at him in surprise. “Your Grace,” he said. His gaze drifted to where Anthony’s hand still gripped Isabella’s arm before returning to Anthony’s face with a frown of disapproval. “I didn’t realize you were here as well.” His features softened, but when he spoke, there was no mistaking the menace of his question. “I hope you’re not planning to abscond with my fiancée.”
Fiancée?
Had he proposed, then? More importantly, had Isabella accepted? She must have if Mr. Roberts was claiming her to be his fiancée. A pang of jealous rage poured through him at the thought of it, but he forced himself to remain still and in control of his features. There was no way he would allow any of the people present to know the weight of the blow that Mr. Roberts had just dealt him. Releasing Isabella, since this seemed the prudent thing to do, he said, “Miss Chilcott took a tumble—I was merely helping her up when Lady Harriett arrived. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Roberts said, his assessing gaze still fixed on Anthony. “It is only too fortunate that you were here to assist. Thank you.”
Anthony glanced at Isabella, hoping that something in her eyes—some truth she dared not speak—would answer the one question that he dared not, could not, ask.Are you engaged to this man?But he found nothing there to appease the uproar that had taken hold of him, and when Mr. Roberts announced that he had placed the order for the amaranthine velvet and that he and Miss Chilcott also had plans to visit the milliner’s in pursuit of a new bonnet for Miss Chilcott, Anthony was left with no choice but to watch her walk away.
Nothing had ever depressed him more, but at least he’d handled the situation with the same degree of restraint his father would have shown. It was a small comfort.
“So, Miss Chilcott is to marry Mr. Roberts, then?” a vexing voice asked as soon as the couple had left.
“Lady Harriett ...” There was no mistaking the warning in Casper’s voice as he tried to silence the nefarious woman, but she stupidly added, “How disappointing that must be for you, Your Grace.”
His name coming from her lips grated, and Anthony stared at her, his eyes trapping her with menace, all thought of the civility he’d shown a moment earlier forgotten. She gasped a little and took a retreating step backward, but he was too angry to care. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice filled with ducal command.
“I ... I ... I don’t know—”
“That isnotthe answer I am seeking, my lady.” He leaned toward her, taking perverse pleasure in watching her tremble as she leaned back until she hit the shelving unit. “Miss Chilcott was terrified of you, and you took the opportunity to imply that you and I have formed an attachment, so don’t feign ignorance with me. I know a snake when I see one.”
She gasped at the insult. “It was merely a bit of fun, really,” she said, her gaze shifting imploringly to Casper, but she would find no help from him.
“Fun?” Anthony’s words dripped with incredulity, and then the dam broke and he found himself yelling, “FUN?”
The shopkeeper came running to ask if everything was all right, but she took one look at Anthony and chose to retreat to a safe distance. Anthony forced himself to take a deep breath. He had to get himself back under control—dukes yelling at people in shops simply wasn’t done—and to think how well he’d handled the situation with Mr. Roberts, only to lose his temper a second later. Closing his eyes to avoid having to look at the woman before him, he reined in his emotions. He couldn’t be sure of what she’d told Isabella, but he had an inkling, and when he spoke again his voice was a deep rumble—the sort that demanded obedience in the most rebellious sorts. “Please stay away from her, Lady Harriett. Do not speak to her or approach her, for if you do, I cannot answer to the consequences.”
