Chapter 16

The light was dimmer when Anthony woke from his afternoon nap. He glanced at the clock and tried to make sense of the time. It couldn’t possibly be five in the afternoon, could it? Had he truly slept four hours? Inconceivable.

Apparently spraining one’s ankle made one incredibly tired. He’d fallen asleep yesterday too while thinking of Ada. When he’d eventually woken, he’d learned that Athena had already gone to bed. She’d left him a note though, informing him that his message had been delivered.

He wanted to speak with her in person, however, but when he’d woken late in the morning, he’d learned that she had gone out.

He grabbed the pathetic bell he’d been given and gave it a ring. When no one answered, he shouted for someone to come and assist him at once.

The door opened and Mathis appeared with a vague look of panic about his eyes. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Is Lady Athena home?”

“Yes.”

Finally. Anthony flung the covers to one side and reached for Mathis. “Help me, will you? I need to attend to my toilette, and then I must speak with my sister.”

By the time Athena arrived, Anthony had managed to wash and change his shirt. He’d also returned to his bed. He waved Athena closer and gestured toward a chair. “Did you receive a response to the letter you dropped off yesterday?”

“Not yet.” She approached the chair and prepared to sit when Penelope entered without knocking.

“Forgive the intrusion,” she said, “but I thought I’d join you so I don’t miss out on additional news. Athena tells me you’re to be married. I can’t believe you told her without one word of it to me.”

Anthony sighed and motioned for her to sit on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry, Penny, but it’s all a bit new, and the only reason Athena was informed was because she happened to be awake when I got home from the ball. I asked her to deliver a message to the woman I plan on marrying. She and I had agreed to meet yesterday, but I was prevented from showing up. It’s strange that she hasn’t responded though.”

The fact that she hadn’t was disappointing. Could it be that the kiss hadn’t moved her in the same way? No. He was sure it must have. So why hadn’t she written to wish him well or to offer some hint of affection when he’d been injured? It didn’t make sense.

He glanced at Athena. “You said you made sure the letter I wrote to Miss Quinn was delivered.”

“Miss Quinn?” Penelope asked, her voice pitching a little. “Is that your intended’s name?”

“Yes.” Anthony frowned at his sister. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, um... It might have been wise to inform Mathis so he would have known who she was when she stopped by earlier.” Penelope knit her brow. “She said she was an acquaintance of yours, not your fiancée.”

Anthony stared at his sister and blinked a few times. “I’ve not proposed to her yet but… She was here? Today?”

Penelope jutted her chin toward a side table near the door. “She brought you that.”

Anthony frowned at the parcel he saw there. “What is it?”

“The book you ordered.”

He hadn’t ordered additional books. Curious, he asked Penelope to hand it to him, then fought to suppress a chuckle when he read the title. Original Poems for Infant Minds by several young persons. Ada must have used it to explain her coming here.

“What did she say?” Anthony asked his sister.

“Not much. She wanted to make sure you were all right and appeared relieved when I told her about your sprained ankle.”

“But she would have known about that if she’d read the letter Athena delivered.” He turned to Athena. “You handed it to Miss Quinn directly, did you not?”

A deep flush colored Athena’s cheeks. She shifted while biting her lip. “The shop was closed when I arrived and then Miss Starling turned up and—”

“Miss Starling?” Anthony pushed himself into a more upright position and leaned in Athena’s direction. “She was there? At the bookshop?”

Athena’s nod sent a chill down his spine. “We exchanged a few words. She mentioned being acquainted with Miss Quinn and offered to deliver the letter for me when I let it slip that I was late for tea with my friend. The traffic was abysmal – very slow going on Oxford Street in particular.”

“So just to be clear,” Anthony said, his words measured, “you gave the letter intended for Miss Quinn to Miss Starling instead?”

“With her assurance that she would give it to Miss Quinn so I wouldn’t have to wait. It was a kind offer on her part.”

“No, Athena. It was not.” Anthony muttered a curse beneath his breath and prayed for calm. “It’s my fault. I should have told you what Miss Starling is truly like so you’d know not to trust her. Still, I cannot believe you would pass your responsibilities on to someone else. This was important. What were you thinking?”

Athena wrung her hands. Her lower lip started to tremble and then a fat tear spilled onto her cheek. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Miss Starling is a respectable lady. What cause did I have to doubt her word?”

“None whatsoever,” Anthony admitted. He was truly starting to regret not confiding more in his sisters. If they’d only known of his problems and what they’d led to, this might not have happened. “I’ll have to visit Miss Quinn myself and explain the situation in person.”

“Before you do,” Penny said, “there’s something else you probably ought to know.”

“What?” he asked with mounting dread.

Penelope’s stiff expression wavered just enough to put him at risk of having an apoplectic fit. She sent her sister a hesitant glance before meeting his gaze, firming her lips, and saying, “When Miss Quinn came to call, she asked if what she’d heard was true – if you were indeed planning to marry.”

“How would she…” Confused by this new development, he stared at his sister. “I’ve not told her of my intentions toward her yet.”

“Right. I thought it odd too at the time, that she would be privy to something I’d only recently learned from Athena. But since Athena had mentioned the letter you’d asked her to give your intended and Miss Quinn appeared to be well informed, I told her she was correct.”

“And?” Anthony held his breath.

Penelope tilted her head. “She didn’t seem to take the news very well.”

Shit.

Anthony tossed his covers aside and pointed toward the bell pull. “Ring for Mathis. I’m going out. Right now.”

He clearly had a huge mess to clean up and it was past time he got started. Relying on others had just made things worse. Though that was a bit unfair since this massive misunderstanding might have been prevented if he’d not been so bloody secretive with everyone.

It was just that he’d wanted to ask for Ada’s hand first. He’d wanted her to be the one person he shared his intentions with, and he’d wanted her answer before he went about telling the world. What a muck-up this was. She was probably very upset at the moment and who could blame her? If she did believe he planned to marry, it could only be because Miss Starling had put that idea in her head, which meant Ada thought she was being tossed over.

Bloody hell. He could not get to that bookshop fast enough.

“I sent a footman to purchase this for you,” Mathis said, producing an elegant cane when Anthony mentioned his plan to leave the house. “It ought to take some of your weight off the ankle.”

“Thank you.” Anthony took the cane and tested it out. His ankle still ached, though not as badly as yesterday, and the cane did help. “Very thoughtful, I must say.”

After seeing him down the stairs, the butler brought him his gloves and hat.

“Would you like for us to come with you?” Athena asked as she and Penelope watched him get ready to leave.

“I think it’s best if I do this alone. But if Miss Starling stops by for some reason, do ask her to wait for my return.” He intended to give that horrid woman a sound telling off when he saw her next. How dare she meddle in his affairs with such brazen disregard for his or Ada’s feelings?

A footman escorted him to the carriage once it was brought around.

“The step has been fixed as per your request, Your Grace. It will hold your weight.”

“Thank you.” Anthony hoisted himself into the vehicle and knocked on the roof as soon as the door had been shut. As the horses pulled the carriage into motion, Anthony propped his sore ankle on the opposite bench and, with a groan, sank against the squabs.

Everything would be fine, he told himself, staring out the window. The situation would soon be resolved. Ada might be upset, but she was a reasonable woman. She would at the very least hear him out. And once she did, she’d know that the only woman he’d ever consider taking to wife was her.

Perhaps he’d propose this very afternoon – forget Gunther’s, Vauxhall, and boat rides in Hyde Park. They could do that later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making sure she knew he hadn’t abandoned her.

Satisfied with this rational plan, he relaxed a bit more. Athena had made an honest error in judgment, but she was only sixteen and still had a great deal to learn. From her point of view, Miss Starling was likely the essence of what a young lady should strive for. Unfortunately, Athena did not know what Miss Starling could truly be like.

Neither had he, until recently. He’d not taken her for the vindictive type until she’d made that comment about the marriage contract in the park.

He hissed in frustration and wished he’d had the sense to put her in her place sooner. But he’d been polite, had chosen to keep from causing offense. Well, lesson learned. Some people clearly deserved to be offended.

The carriage turned and arrived at the bookshop soon after. Anthony’s footman helped him alight, then handed him his cane.

“Thank you.”

He hobbled toward the door and pulled it open. The bell chimed, just as it had when he’d come here for the first time a few weeks ago. Spotting Mr. Quinn at the counter, he cut a path directly toward him.

The older man’s eyes widened. “I didn’t expect to see you again anytime soon.”

Not exactly the warm greeting Anthony might have hoped for, but at least the man was speaking to him. It could have been worse after what had transpired.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call on you and your niece yesterday. The carriage step broke when I got home from the Axelby ball. As a result, I sprained my ankle and have been unable to walk.” He managed to reach the counter and leaned his good side against it so he could take some weight off his foot. “I did ask one of my sisters to deliver a message, but I fear it never arrived.”

Mr. Quinn held Anthony’s gaze for a long and strenuous moment. “Indeed it did not. My niece learned of your misfortune when she stopped by your home several hours ago.”

“Yes. I’m sorry she had to find out that way.” He paused, hoping Mr. Quinn would tell him he’d fetch Ada right away so they could speak with each other. When he didn’t, Anthony felt compelled to say, “I also fear she may have been misinformed regarding my marital prospects. I’d very much like to discuss that with her. Do you think she’s able to spare a moment in order to hear me out?”

Mr. Quinn flattened his mouth, affording the otherwise jovial man with an uncharacteristic look of displeasure. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you at the ball the other evening, but I will say this – she went from being more cheerful than I’ve ever seen her, to looking as though she were off to the gallows. Her heart has been crushed, Your Grace.”

“Which is why I must speak with her so I can make this right.” He took a deep breath when Mr. Quinn merely crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “I love her, you see, and I want her to be my wife.”

Mr. Quinn’s mouth fell open. “Then why in blazes did that other woman tell Ada that she was to be your duchess?”

Because she’s a vindictive shrew?

“I fear she’s decided on something I haven’t agreed to,” Anthony said, as diplomatically as he possibly could.

“But when Ada went to your home, your intentions were confirmed by your sister.”

“My intentions to marry her, not Miss Starling.”

“Ah.” Mr. Quinn scratched the back of his head. “I’m beginning to see the problem. This Miss Starling person should be ashamed of herself.”

“Believe me, I feel the same way.” Anthony gave Mr. Quinn the most imploring look he could muster. “Given what I’ve just told you, will you please tell Ada I’m here to see her?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“But I just told you—”

“She’s left Town, Your Grace.”

Anthony froze. “What?”

“She was angry and hurt by what she discovered.”

“But what she discovered wasn’t true.”

“Perhaps not, but she doesn’t know that.” Mr. Quinn’s shoulders drooped. “She needed to get away for a while, catch her breath and let her heart mend, without the risk of you suddenly stopping by. I’m sorry.”

Not as sorry as Anthony. “Do you know where she’s headed?”

“To her sister’s in Hitchin.”

It could have been worse, he decided. Hitchin wasn’t far – just a three-hour carriage ride north. “I’ll need an address.”

Mr. Quinn finally smiled for the first time since Anthony’s arrival. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. “Will you be setting off straight away?”

“No. But soon. I’ve a score to settle first. Shouldn’t take long though. If all goes well, I’ll arrive in Hitchin before dark.” He took the address Mr. Quinn gave him, pocketed it, and offered his thanks then headed back to the carriage. Before climbing in, he asked the coachman to stop by Viscount Ebberly’s house on the way home.

Anthony had decided he’d start there, but when he arrived he was informed that Miss Starling had gone out – to meet him, the butler believed.

Anthony thanked the man for the information and set off for his own townhouse. For once, he hoped Miss Starling would be there so he’d not be further delayed. When he arrived. Mathis informed him that the lady was indeed waiting for him in the parlor and that Anthony’s sisters had made themselves scarce.

Bracing himself, Anthony leaned on his cane as he entered the room. Miss Starling immediately leapt to her feet and rushed toward him. “Oh, you poor thing. I’ve been beside myself with worry after learning of your accident. Come, have a seat beside me on the sofa so I can prepare a nice cup of tea to soothe you.”

“Thank you, but I think the conversation you and I are about to have calls for brandy.” He swung away from her and limped to the sideboard, swatting her away when she attempted to pour the drink for him.

“Well,” she said with a light chuckle, “you’re certainly grumpy when you’re unwell. I suppose that’s a good thing for me to be aware of.”

“And why is that?” Anthony asked in a steely tone. He turned to face her, solely for the purpose of glaring at her while he took the first sip of his drink.

She looked momentarily taken aback. “Why, because it’s useful for a wife to know such pieces of information about her husband.”

Anthony clenched his jaw and counted to three before speaking, lest he rail at her like an unhinged lunatic. A cool head was the best approach. It was vital he remember that. “I thought I made myself clear. You and I are not betrothed. More to the point, we never shall be.”

“Don’t be silly,” Miss Starling said. “I know you need my dowry and I’ve always dreamed of becoming a duchess.”

He could not believe her father had mentioned his financial troubles to his daughter after swearing to keep the information secret. A word with him would be in order too, apparently.

“That may well be, but it’s not going to happen. And frankly, I’d rather end up in a poor house than married to you.”

She gasped and her hand came to her breast, fluttering there while she stared at him in wide-eyed dismay. “You cannot possibly mean that.”

“After what you’ve done? Most assuredly.” He held her gaze while wondering how such a venomous weed had managed to thrive in London society for as long as she had. “How dare you meddle in my affairs? How dare you tell Miss Quinn you and I plan to marry? And how dare you refrain from delivering the letter I sent her?”

Miss Starling actually blinked with what seemed like confusion. “What letter?”

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?” he barked, finally losing his temper. “My sister told me she met you outside the bookshop and that you offered to give the letter to Miss Quinn on her behalf. I also know that Miss Quinn did not receive it, even though you spoke with her.”

“Westcliffe,” Miss Starling cooed, “Please be reasonable. You know I’m only trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Anthony sputtered, incredulous by her attempt at manipulation. Even now she refused to admit she’d done anything wrong.

“You cannot marry a woman of Miss Quinn’s standing. It’s impossible.”

“I disagree.”

“Come now.” Miss Starling rolled her eyes before giving him a please-come-to-your-senses sort of look. “She lives above a bookshop for heaven’s sake.”

“Your point?”

“She’s unworthy and will make a terrible duchess. You’ll only be embarrassed by her.”

Anthony took another sip of his drink before setting his glass aside and crossing his arms. He leaned against the sideboard, keeping most of his weight off his recovering ankle. “Let me be perfectly clear, Miss Starling. You and I will have nothing further to do with each other. If you see me in public, you’ll make every effort to steer clear. Further, you will never approach Miss Quinn again. Is that understood?”

Miss Starling narrowed her gaze, her mask of pleasantness falling away to reveal her true character. “You’re making a grave mistake, Westcliffe. Marry me and you can have it all – a sizeable fortune, a respectable wife, and the woman you love to warm your bed. Although I must confess, Miss Quinn did not appear taken by that idea, which makes me wonder if she really cares for you as much as you hope.”

An icy chill swept the length of Anthony’s spine. His heartbeats slowed as he stared at Miss Starling, praying he’d misunderstood her meaning. “You did not suggest to Miss Quinn that she become my mistress.”

To even suppose a respectable lady would broach such a subject was unthinkable. Then again, the more he learned about Miss Starling, the less respectable she appeared.

“It seemed like the ideal solution to all of our problems.”

Anthony glared at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”

He hardened his jaw, resisting the urge to cross the space between them and shake her until her teeth rattled. “You will sing Miss Quinn’s praises from this day onward. In fact, you will make a conscious effort to have her welcomed into Society.”

“How on earth am I to accomplish—”

“In addition, you will donate your allowance to her for the next three months.”

Miss Amanda gasped. “You cannot be serious.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “You have spread lies and deceit in the most underhanded way imaginable. Be grateful that I do not demand more.”

“But Westcliffe. I need those funds for outings, clothes, and other necessary purchases. With the Season still underway, it would be impossible for me to manage without.”

“Punishments ought to be felt, which is why I’m choosing to make this part of yours.” When she glared at him in return he said, “Should you decide to try and thwart me in this, should you attempt to hurt Miss Quinn further, or me for that matter, I will make sure every respectable door is closed to you henceforth. In fact, if even the slightest rumor containing my name or Miss Quinn’s should reach my ears, I will assume it was caused by you, and in return, my retaliation will be swift and unforgiving. Do I make myself clear?”

“I don’t—”

“Miss Starling,” he growled, the last of his thinly held control beginning to waver. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear? Or will you have me drag your father into this debacle as well?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”

He held her gaze. “Good.”

“If I may, I’d like to—”

“That will be all.” He gestured to the door.

She stood, her posture lacking its usual self-assurance. “I’ll bid you good day then, Your Grace.”

“Good day, Miss Starling.”

He waited until he heard the front door close behind her before summoning Mathis.

“Yes, Your Grace?” the butler inquired when he appeared.

“Please have an overnight bag packed for me and the carriage brought round. I’d like to leave for Hitchin within half an hour.”

As soon as Mathis assured him he’d see to it straight away, Anthony made his way to his study. There he penned two quick notes addressed to Brody and Callum. His friends would need to know that he wouldn’t be meeting with them this evening. They also needed to be assured that he would keep working on the book.

He’d take his lap desk with him and write while he travelled.

Somehow, he’d have to find the presence of mind to focus, despite feeling as though the world was crashing down over his head.