“Um…yes. Of course. Forgive me. I… Do come in.” The man stepped aside so Anthony could enter. “I’m Mr. Stewart Howard, Miss Quinn’s brother-in-law.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Anthony said.
“A shock to make yours,” Mr. Howard responded. His eyes widened as though he’d not meant to say that out loud. “Forgive me but your arrival is most unexpected. It’s also a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
“I gather Miss Quinn made no mention of me?” The disappointment Anthony felt over this could not be measured. He wasn’t sure how he’d expected to be greeted, but it hadn’t been like this – as though he were a stranger no one had heard of.
“She hasn’t said much of anything since she got here,” Mr. Howard informed him. “Refused to address whatever it was that brought her to our doorstep, except it having to do with a friend letting her down. I’m guessing that friend might be you, although I’m not sure if that means I should welcome you or chase you away.”
“This is your home, Mr. Howard. If you ask me to leave I shall do so, although I’m hoping you’ll let me speak with Miss Quinn first. There’s been a terrible misunderstanding, you see, and I’d very much like to straighten it out.”
“I can’t promise she’ll see you.”
“All I’m asking is for you to tell her I’m here. The rest will be up to her.”
“Very well then.” Mr. Howard suggested Anthony place his hat and gloves on the hallway table before inviting him to enter the parlor. “Help yourself to a drink if you like while I inform my wife and Miss Quinn of your arrival.”
Anthony entered the tidy room where a fire burned with an orange glow. The space was small and the furniture of a cheaper quality than what he was used to, but it was clean and orderly. He’d even go so far as to say it was cozier than any other home he’d ever visited.
The style was simple, a little bit rougher than one might find in upper class homes, with less flamboyance about it. A heavy wool blanket draped over the side of the love-seat, a basket of knitting tucked underneath a nearby table, and a pair of spectacles seemingly forgotten on top of a book offered a glimpse of what life was like inside these walls.
Warm and comfortable in a way he’d not felt before meeting Ada.
He needed her to understand what had happened – that he’d had nothing to do with Miss Starling’s lies – that he loved her, needed her, wanted her, and—
“No.” He heard the hasty footsteps upon the hallway floor and caught a fleeting glimpse of someone hurrying past the partially open parlor door. “Tell him to leave. I’ve nothing to say to that man.”
Anthony crossed the room and flung open the door just in time to spy the hem of a dove grey gown disappearing up the stairs.
“Ada!” He knew it was highly uncivilized of him to holler her given name, but he was beyond caring. “Please come and—”
An upstairs door slammed shut.
He stared at the stairs and briefly considered going in pursuit, only to change his mind. Turning to the two other people who filled the hallway, he bowed toward the woman who stood beside Mr. Howard. “Anthony Gibbs, Duke of Westcliffe.”
“Bethany Howard, Ada’s sister,” said the woman.
Anthony nodded. “I’m sorry for the fuss I’ve caused. And for interrupting your meal, as I’m sure I must have done.”
“It’s fine. I’m just happy to make some sense of everything. Perhaps you’ll shed some light on the situation since Ada has been more tightlipped than a country mouse.” Mrs. Howard encouraged Anthony to return to the parlor where her husband proceeded to pour them each a glass of port.
“I fear your sister is under the impression that I plan to marry Viscount Ebberly’s daughter.” He sipped his drink and savored the sweet spicy flavor. “Apparently, the woman told your sister this was the case.”
“I don’t follow,” Mrs. Howard said with a frown. “Why would Ada care whom you marry? I mean, it’s not as though…wait…are you suggesting that you and she are… Heaven have mercy, have you made advances upon her?”
Mrs. Howard, who was a good head shorter than he and of a slight build, suddenly looked as though she might be ready to knock him out cold.
As much as he disapproved of lying, he refused to mention the kiss he and Ada had shared.
“No.” He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ve done no such thing.”
“Then why are you here?” Mrs. Howard pressed,
Anthony sighed. “Because I want to make sure she knows the truth. It’s imperative she understands how much she means to me and that it’s impossible for me to live without her.”
The Howards were both staring at him as though his head were upside down.
“What exactly are you saying?” Mr. Howard asked, alerting Anthony to the fact that he’d left the most important thing out.
