Andrew shrugged. “Yesterday. In the park. Directly after Lady Danielle took her leave of me. After I... right after I proposed marriage.”
Looking as if she might swoon at any moment, Dahlia once again glanced around. “You say it was myfather? You’re quite sure it was not Uncle Daniel?”
One brow furrowing, Andrew said, “Hesaidhe was your father—”
“Oh,” Dahlia whined. “Oh, dear. What did he tell you to do?”
Andrew was about to respond, but his brother strolled up and hooked his arm into Dahlia’s free arm.
“Thank you, brother, for seeing to it Lady Dahlia had an escort, but I can take over now,” Anthony said as he lifted Dahlia’s hand to his lips before placing it back on his arm. “You might find the library more diverting,” he whispered hoarsely. He didn’t give Andrew a second glance but merely led Dahlia off toward the back of the garden.
Giving Andrew one last quizzical glance, Dahlia turned her attention on Anthony.
