Chapter 13

Nothing could ruin Anthony’s excellent mood later that evening after seeing Ada and Mr. Quinn safely home. He grinned while relaxing against the squabs of his carriage and allowed himself to reflect on how well everything had turned out. He’d taken a risk in declaring himself, but the prize had been glorious.

He could scarcely wait for dawn to arrive so he could head off to the nearest hothouse. A stop at the jewelers might be in order as well, considering what he had planned.

While he couldn’t afford much, he wanted the ring he gave Ada to be hers alone. Unused by anyone else. Not previously worn by one of his ancestors.

A smile teased his lips.

It was odd how easy it was to make a decision once he knew she returned his affection. How silly of him to worry what others might think of his marrying her when he was a duke who could bloody well do as he pleased. He’d show her off too, force the world to respect and welcome her as his duchess.

As for his financial woes, they would be much improved once he sold off a few more possessions. A couple of additional paintings he’d never liked and that ugly seventeenth century gilded clock that stood in the music room would serve well for starters. Hopefully, the book he’d written would grant him a steadier income once it got published.

The only minor problem might be Miss Starling. By marrying Ada, he’d surely lose her assistance with his sisters’ debuts. They’d need to be sponsored by someone who’d had her own presentation at court, which he knew Ada hadn’t. But maybe her friend, Lady Emily, could help.

An excellent plan.

It would work. It had to.

Because he could no longer think of a future in which Ada wasn’t his wife. He needed her by his side. With her, anything was possible.

But first, a little romance. She was after all an avid reader of such books, and he was man enough to admit he quite liked such stories himself. Hell, he’d written one. Time to put some of the lessons he’d learned from Ada and her favorite book to good use.

She’d not yet tried an ice so he’d start with that. Then a trip to the theatre perhaps, and an outing to Vauxhall might suit, with a follow-up visit to an art gallery. They could even take a boat out on the Serpentine. Oh yes, she’d love that.

He drummed his fingers against his thighs while willing the carriage to get him home faster. Perhaps he should tell his sisters. They’d be delighted to know he was planning to marry and would without doubt want to help with the wedding. Which would of course have to be small, he reflected.

Ada wouldn’t mind. She’d probably prefer a more intimate affair with only the closest family and friends present. Yet another thing he loved about her.

He wondered if he’d be able to sleep tonight. Probably not with all of this energy coursing through his veins. It would be impossible for his mind to find peace since he’d so much to think of. There were an endless amount of arrangements to make in the coming weeks.

Ah, the carriage was finally pulling up in front of his home. It came to a swaying halt and one of the footmen who’d ridden outside came to open the door. He set the step down and Anthony, in his eagerness, bounded onto the metal plate.

The high-pitched moan of rusty iron snapping accompanied Anthony’s fall. He pitched forward but managed to recover his balance by grabbing hold of the footman’s shoulder, only to catch the edge of the pavement with the tip of his shoe. His foot slipped sideways just as the weight of his body came down on his ankle.

Pain sliced through flesh and bone while stars danced before his eyes. A strangled sound, part howl, part curse, was torn from his throat.

Hell and damnation.

“Your Grace.” The footman clasped his upper arm, lending support. “I’m terribly sorry. I should have anticipated this.”

“No,” said the coachman, who’d leapt down from his box and dropped to a crouch so he could inspect the broken step. “This is my fault. The iron’s rusted through.”

“Neither of you is to blame,” Anthony hissed between gritted teeth. “I was told last month that the carriage required maintenance, but I refused to listen.” He’d stupidly believed it to be an unnecessary expense. All he could do right now was be thankful this happened to him and not Ada or Mr. Quinn.

“Can you walk?” the footman inquired.

Anthony tried to do so but the pain was so intense his knees nearly gave out while tears sprang to his eyes. He gasped. “It’s either broken or sprained.”

“In that case I’ll help you inside and…oh good, Mathis is coming. He’ll offer assistance.”

Mathis, the butler who’d replaced his predecessor a few years ago, was a welcome sight indeed.

“What’s happened?” he asked as soon as he reached them.

“His grace took a stumble and hurt his ankle.”

Without missing a beat, Mathis wound one arm around Anthony and encouraged the footman to do the same so they could support their master’s weight. Together, the three of them hobbled up the front steps and entered the townhouse.

“In there,” Mathis said, setting a course for the parlor.

Much to Anthony’s relief, he was quickly positioned at an angle on the sofa so his injured ankle could rest upon the seat. A cushion was placed underneath it.

“Please send for Doctor Richmond at once,” Mathis instructed the footman. He waited until the footman was gone before turning to Anthony once more. “Would you care for some tea, Your Grace?”

Tea sounded lovely. “Yes please.”

The butler departed with the assurance that he would return soon, allowing Anthony to sag against the sofa’s backrest with a loud groan. This was not supposed to happen. He was meant to call on Ada tomorrow. He’d promised.

“Bloody nuisance.”

As it stood, he only had himself to blame and with that unpleasant reminder, he flung one arm over his eyes and tried his best to ignore his discomfort.

“What’s all the commotion about?” a female voice asked with a hint of playful curiosity.

Anthony raised his arm just enough to regard his youngest sister, Athena. “Why are you still awake at this hour?”

The sixteen-year-old drew closer, squinting at his leg. “Couldn’t sleep. Are you injured?”

“Apparently.”

She leaned forward to better study his foot. “How on earth did you manage that?”

He told her what happened, about the carriage step breaking because of neglect, and his subsequent fall.

Her eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say you were struggling to make ends meet? We’ve so many things we might sell. My diamonds alone are worth a fortune.”

“Thank you, but that is completely out of the question. They were a birthday gift from Mama and Papa.” He gestured for her to sit before saying, “Don’t worry. I’m already doing precisely as you suggest.”

“You are?”

“You’d be surprised by how much an old painting I found in the attic was worth.” He tried to reassure her with a smile. “It’s not the last thing I’m selling, but it’s enough to assure me that we will be fine.”

Especially since he planned on reinvesting a portion of the earnings. This time he’d take better care to select the sort of companies his father had placed his faith in.

“There’s also the piano,” Athena suggested. “Nobody plays it.”

He wondered why he’d not thought of that heavy piece of furniture himself. Its only use was gathering dust. But he supposed he’d been of the opinion that music rooms had their place in upper class homes, even if none of the family had any musical talent. It was all part of the show. His stance on that, however, was swiftly changing.

Mathis returned with tea, which was quickly poured and offered to Anthony. The sip he took was remarkably soothing. Just the thing to make a man feel like he might soon recover.

He thanked his butler, who left, and gave his attention back to his sister. “I’ve been contemplating my future.”

Her face paled. “You’re not that badly hurt, surely? I mean, you will recover from this, I assume.”

Anthony grinned, despite feeling like his entire foot had been turned in the wrong direction. “One can only hope, Athena, but I would imagine so.”

“Oh good.” She looked visibly relieved.

Eyeing her, he drank some more tea. “I was referring to long-term plans.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

He wondered how best to proceed and decided to just spit it out. “I’ve met a woman – the loveliest lady in all of creation. After getting to know her better, I’ve considered asking her to be my wife.”

Athena clapped her hands and bounced in her seat. “That’s wonderful news. Oh, Anthony, I can’t wait to meet her. I’m sure Penny will agree.”

Anthony hoped so, because Athena’s sister, born ten minutes earlier than she, was known to be far more critical than her siblings.