“What I’m saying,” Anthony told the pair firmly, “is that I want her to be my duchess.”
18
Anthony was here. Ada paced the cramped bedchamber she’d been given and tried to adjust to this fact. He’d climbed in his carriage, had come in pursuit, and was presently sitting downstairs in her sister’s parlor.
She bit her lip as she strode three steps and turned. His arrival here had altered her perspective for the second time that day. She’d instinctively fled. Because—shame on him. How dare he? Who did he think he was? And so on and so forth.
But maybe she ought to have heard him out?
Maybe…
No. His sister had been clear. He was getting married. What was there for her to misunderstand? Besides their entire relationship, which had clearly been based on lies. Miss Starling would soon be the new Duchess of Westcliff, and they could live happily ever after. What did Ada care?
A great deal, apparently. She swiped an inconvenient tear from her right eye. She would not cry. Not over someone as undeserving as Anthony Gibbs. His only purpose in coming was probably linked to that blasted book he was writing. In all likelihood he wanted her help. Well, he’d have to do without it until she was good and ready. And then she’d offer it only to his friends so she’d not have to face him.
Crossing her arms, she spun toward the small window above the bed. Dukes did not chase after penniless women unless they had ulterior motives. And penniless women did not marry dukes, except in fairytales.
Good grief! Whatever had she been thinking, letting herself pine for someone like him? What on earth did she imagine would happen? Honestly, hearts ought to have keys attached so one could lock them up tight and keep unwanted people out.
The door creaked open behind her.
“Ada?” Bethany whispered.
“It was horribly rude of him to show up while we were eating,” Ada muttered. She glanced at her sister. “Please accept my apologies on his behalf. One would think a duke might have better sense, but all that man seems to think of these days is himself.”
Perhaps a touch unfair, but she was back to being hurt and angry and totally unforgiving.
“He already told us he was sorry for the late hour and suggested we resume eating while he waits for us in the parlor.” Bethany lowered herself to the bed and smoothed out the blanket with her palm. “Didn’t make much sense when we were already beginning to clear the table before he arrived.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know that.” Ada pointed at the door while sending a glare in that general direction for good measure.
“Dearest, there’s clearly a great deal of unresolved issues between you two. Perhaps the best course of action would be for you to speak with him. It might help you feel better.”
Ada shook her head. “I’ve no intention of ever seeing or speaking with him again.”
The truth was, she was scared – terrified actually – that seeing him would weaken her resolve. If he’d come here to try and convince her to be his mistress, she feared she might be persuaded if he simply told her how much he missed her, needed her, yearned for her. And if he kissed her, she’d be lost.
It was imperative she not allow that to happen.
“He seems really nice,” Bethany tried.
Ada snorted. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Bethany gave her a thoughtful look. “I wonder if he would look as pained as he does if that were truly the case.”
“He’s a master deceiver,” Ada informed her. “Has been all along.”
Bethany tilted her head. “You’re certain of this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s going to marry another woman after he kissed me,” Ada snapped. “What sort of decent and honorable man does that?”
“None that I can think of,” Bethany murmured while frowning at the bed.
“Precisely,” Ada agreed, “which is why I refuse to come downstairs until he’s gone.”
