“What are you doing?” Anthony tugged at the jacket, forcing the man to stop.
The man clenched a fist and turned around. “What the devil do you want?” His expression froze as he stared at Anthony’s unmasked face. “What are you?” He trembled in genuine horror.
Anthony let him go. “Why are you chasing that lady?”
Isabella, a few yards away, glanced over her shoulder and stopped upon seeing him.
“Anthony!” She ran towards him, a broad smile on her lips. “This man wanted to manhandle me.”
“What?” he prompted when the man remained silent.
“She was blocking the road,” the man said but without verve.
“I was protesting with other women. Of course we were blocking the road.”
“I have to go to work.” The man stepped closer to her, but Anthony blocked him.
“If you have to go to work, then go. No one is holding you here.” Anthony towered over the man a good foot.
The man removed his hat and stepped back from Anthony. “Fine. I’m leaving. Don’t touch me.” Muttering something, the man left.
“Phew!” Isabella bent over, her hands on her knees. “Thank you.”
“Are you hurt?” He took her chin and tilted her head right and left to search for bruises.
“No, I’m all right.” Her cheeks were flushed from the chase. “I was getting tired.”
“You were leaving him behind though.” He didn’t withdraw his hand for a moment too long. “Let me take you home.”
Her long eyelashes fluttered down. “Thank you, but I need to meet Lawson in Oxford Street.”
He held her hand as they walked back to his carriage. He wasn’t going to take any chances, and she didn’t slip her hand out of his.
“Oxford Street,” he said to the coachman before helping her into the carriage. “What were you protesting about?”
“Women’s right to vote. It wasn’t a big march, but we made ourselves heard.” She showed him a leaflet. “And you? Where were you going?”
“The House of Lords.” He fiddled with the mask next to him, wondering again if he should wear it. He almost jolted when she put her hand on his, stopping the fidgeting.
“At first, people will talk, but then they’ll forget and gossip about something else. But if you wear that mask, the gossip will only be more cruel and hurtful.”
“It’s unbelievable how transparent I am to you.”
“No, there are things I don’t understand about you.”
The carriage rocked gently, and a sable curl swayed back and forth over her cheek.
“Like what?”
“Like why did you want to marry me? When I asked you the first time, you made a list of strictly practical qualities, and I wondered if that was all.”
He cradled his chin. “Who said I don’t want to marry you even now?”
She laughed, and the sound was like silver coins bouncing off marble steps. “Well, why?”
He stared at her beautiful face, shining obsidian eyes, and rosy cheek, acknowledging the sense of calm and peace her smile brought to his heart. “You’re right. I wasn’t completely honest with you. The true reason I want to marry you is because you make me happy. I like your laughter, spirits, and mind. I like how you see life, and I like myself when I’m with you. There are marriages based on less than that.”
She became solemn. “You might get tired of my laughter, spirits, and mind.”
