Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

" A nthony, there you are," Phoebe said, her exasperation giving way to shock. "I have been looking for you everywhere."

Eliza looked past Anthony's shoulder to see his sister standing there, gaping at them.

Eliza felt her cheeks flush with the mortification of being caught in such a compromising position by Anthony's sister. She stepped away from the wall, trying to compose herself, but the embarrassment was evident on her face.

Phoebe's eyes softened as she took in Eliza's flustered state.

"Do not worry, Eliza," she said gently. "I will not utter a word. I came out to prevent my brother from getting you into trouble."

Anthony straightened, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Phoebe, always the vigilant sister."

Phoebe shot him a warning look. "You should know better, Anthony. Eliza has a reputation to uphold, and your actions could jeopardize that."

Eliza felt a wave of gratitude toward Phoebe but also a lingering embarrassment. "Thank you, Lady Rutherford. I appreciate your understanding."

Phoebe smiled warmly at her. "Call me Phoebe, please. And truly, there is no need to thank me. I just want to make sure you are all right."

Anthony, still standing close, folded his arms and leaned against the wall, his demeanor more relaxed. "Well, since you have found me, dear sister, what do you propose we do now?"

Phoebe sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Eliza and I will return to the musicale. Anthony, you will stay out here for a bit longer, so no one suspects anything."

Anthony glared at her but did not argue. "Fine. Enjoy your music, ladies."

Phoebe took Eliza's arm gently, guiding her back toward the house. "Come, dear. Let us return before anyone notices our absence."

Eliza nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering tension. "Thank you, Phoebe."

As they made their way back to the house, Eliza could not help but steal a glance at Anthony. His expression was unreadable, but she could still feel the lingering heat of his touch on her skin. She knew that this encounter had only intensified the complicated feelings between them, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could maintain her resolve.

Phoebe walked beside her, a reassuring presence. "Eliza," she said quietly, "do not let my brother's antics trouble you too much. He can be vexing, but he means well."

Eliza offered a small smile, grateful for Phoebe's support though she knew absolutely for sure that Anthony did not mean well. Not in the slightest.

"Thank you, Phoebe. I will try."

As they re-entered the drawing room, the music once again enveloped them, and Eliza took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present moment. She followed Phoebe back to their seats, grateful for her new friend's intervention and support. But even as she sat down, she wondered how it might feel to surrender herself to Anthony after all.

She shook her head. She could not allow herself to lose control.

"What is eating at you, old friend?" Christopher asked, leaning back and swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You look like a man at the edge of a precipice."

The air seemed thick enough to suffocate Anthony as he sat back in a plush armchair, nursing a glass of whiskey.

The scent of perfume and smoke mingled in the air, creating a heady mix that would have normally set him at ease. But tonight, nothing could dispel the gnawing frustration inside him.

Christopher sat across from him with a bemused expression. He had watched Anthony's growing irritation over the past week and had finally suggested a visit to their old haunt as a means of distraction.

Anthony exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"It is nothing. Or rather, it is something I would rather not discuss."

Christopher raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? When have you ever been this worked up over nothing? If I did not know better, I would say a certain Miss Huxley has managed to get under your skin."

Anthony shot him a glare. "Do not speak of her."

"Oh, come now," Christopher chided. "You cannot hide the truth from me. You have been brooding ever since this engagement of yours. Tell me, has she finally succeeded in taming the wild Duke of Redfern?"

Anthony's grip tightened around his glass. "No one is taming me. Least of all her."

Christopher chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "If you say so, but from where I stand, it looks like she has done quite a number on you. I have never seen you this distracted, this… frustrated."

Anthony leaned forward, his gaze intense. "She has been avoiding me, ignoring my notes, and refusing my gifts. It is infuriating."

"Ah," Christopher said, nodding in understanding. "The chase has become more difficult than you anticipated. And here I thought you enjoyed a challenge."

"I do," Anthony admitted, his voice low and strained. "But this is different. She is different. Every time I think I am getting close, she pulls away."

Anthony looked down at his glass, suddenly aware that it was empty.

He flagged to the bartender for another drink. "I am going to need many more of these tonight."

Christopher studied him for a moment before setting his glass down. "Then why did you agree to come tonight, Anthony? If she is the one occupying your thoughts, why are you trying to drown them in this place?"

Anthony sighed, his frustration boiling over. "Because I needed a distraction. I needed to forget her, if only for a moment."

Christopher smirked. "And how is that working out for you?"

Anthony's silence was answer enough.

A woman approached their booth, her sultry gaze fixed on Anthony. She moved with a practiced grace, a seductive smile playing on her lips as she approached him.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she purred, her voice like velvet. "How may I serve you tonight?"

He knew what he was supposed to feel in this moment—desire, anticipation, excitement. But all he felt was a hollow ache, a sense of wrongness that he could not shake.

He glanced at Christopher, who was watching him with a knowing look.

"Go on," Christopher urged. "Enjoy yourself. That is why we came here after all."

The woman moved closer, her fingers lightly trailing over Anthony's shoulder.

He felt nothing, no spark of attraction, no stirring of desire. All he could think about was Eliza—the way she looked at him, the way she challenged him, the way she made him feel alive.

The frustration that had driven him here only intensified, and he suddenly felt suffocated by the very opulence that surrounded him.

"I cannot do this," Anthony muttered, suddenly standing up.

The woman stepped back, startled, while Christopher's eyebrow shot up in surprise.

"Anthony?" Christopher asked, concern in his voice. "What's going on?"

"I need to leave," Anthony replied, his voice tense.

Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room, ignoring the curious stares of other patrons.

The hallways of the brothel felt claustrophobic as he made his way to the exit, each step echoing with the weight of his frustration.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, breathing deeply as if he had been suffocating inside.

The city was quiet at this late hour, the streets bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Anthony wandered aimlessly, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger and longing.

He had gone there to forget Eliza, but all he had done was solidify her presence in his mind. Every touch, every word, every look from her haunted him, driving him to the edge of madness.

He found himself at the edge of Hyde Park, the still, dark night offering a momentary respite from the chaos in his head.

He stopped by a bench, sitting down heavily and burying his face in his hands.

How had he come to this? How had one woman managed to unravel him so completely?