Chapter 18

Anthony was here. Ada paced the cramped bedchamber she’d been given and tried to adjust to this fact. He’d climbed in his carriage, had come in pursuit, and was presently sitting downstairs in her sister’s parlor.

She bit her lip as she strode three steps and turned. His arrival here had altered her perspective for the second time that day. She’d instinctively fled. Because—shame on him. How dare he? Who did he think he was? And so on and so forth.

But maybe she ought to have heard him out?

Maybe…

No. His sister had been clear. He was getting married. What was there for her to misunderstand? Besides their entire relationship, which had clearly been based on lies. Miss Starling would soon be the new Duchess of Westcliff, and they could live happily ever after. What did Ada care?

A great deal, apparently. She swiped an inconvenient tear from her right eye. She would not cry. Not over someone as undeserving as Anthony Gibbs. His only purpose in coming was probably linked to that blasted book he was writing. In all likelihood he wanted her help. Well, he’d have to do without it until she was good and ready. And then she’d offer it only to his friends so she’d not have to face him.

Crossing her arms, she spun toward the small window above the bed. Dukes did not chase after penniless women unless they had ulterior motives. And penniless women did not marry dukes, except in fairytales.

Good grief! Whatever had she been thinking, letting herself pine for someone like him? What on earth did she imagine would happen? Honestly, hearts ought to have keys attached so one could lock them up tight and keep unwanted people out.

The door creaked open behind her.

“Ada?” Bethany whispered.

“It was horribly rude of him to show up while we were eating,” Ada muttered. She glanced at her sister. “Please accept my apologies on his behalf. One would think a duke might have better sense, but all that man seems to think of these days is himself.”

Perhaps a touch unfair, but she was back to being hurt and angry and totally unforgiving.

“He already told us he was sorry for the late hour and suggested we resume eating while he waits for us in the parlor.” Bethany lowered herself to the bed and smoothed out the blanket with her palm. “Didn’t make much sense when we were already beginning to clear the table before he arrived.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that.” Ada pointed at the door while sending a glare in that general direction for good measure.

“Dearest, there’s clearly a great deal of unresolved issues between you two. Perhaps the best course of action would be for you to speak with him. It might help you feel better.”

Ada shook her head. “I’ve no intention of ever seeing or speaking with him again.”

The truth was, she was scared – terrified actually – that seeing him would weaken her resolve. If he’d come here to try and convince her to be his mistress, she feared she might be persuaded if he simply told her how much he missed her, needed her, yearned for her. And if he kissed her, she’d be lost.

It was imperative she not allow that to happen.

“He seems really nice,” Bethany tried.

Ada snorted. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Bethany gave her a thoughtful look. “I wonder if he would look as pained as he does if that were truly the case.”

“He’s a master deceiver,” Ada informed her. “Has been all along.”

Bethany tilted her head. “You’re certain of this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to marry another woman after he kissed me,” Ada snapped. “What sort of decent and honorable man does that?”

“None that I can think of,” Bethany murmured while frowning at the bed.

“Precisely,” Ada agreed, “which is why I refuse to come downstairs until he’s gone.”

A second of silence passed before Bethany quietly asked, “Shall I relay that information to him?”

“Please do.”

Bethany stood, gave a weary sigh, and departed, leaving Ada with a much bigger void in her heart. If she’d thought slamming the proverbial door in Anthony’s face would help, she’d been sorely mistaken. She felt worse now than before. And while it was easy for her to blame the restless night that followed on the rain, nothing could be further from the truth.

It was Anthony. He’d come to see her and she’d lashed out, refusing him the chance to even explain himself. For someone who prided herself on being fair while he played the villain, she’d been extraordinarily unjust.

But it was too late for that now, wasn’t it? She’d told him to leave and her sister had not returned to tell her the man insisted on staying. Which meant he was gone. Out of her life forever.

It was for the best. She ought to be glad.

Instead she felt wretched.

And since the matter had now been dealt with to some degree and she had no wish to overstay her welcome, she probably ought to return home too. Uncle James would be relieved to learn that he’d not have to manage without her for longer.

Deciding she might as well rise and see about catching the next coach to London, she got up, washed and dressed, then headed downstairs. Only Mrs. Lewis, the maid of all works, was awake and busy preparing breakfast.

“Would you like a cup of tea to start?” she inquired. When Ada said she’d love one, the woman collected a cup and filled it, then handed it to Ada. “The food will be ready shortly.”

“Take your time,” Ada said as she wandered back into the hallway and headed toward the parlor.

She entered the room with every intention of simply relaxing in front of the fire, only to freeze when she looked out the window. What the..? She bent forward slightly and moved a bit closer in order to get a better view of the vehicle she’d spotted. And blinked when she saw the Westcliffe crest on the side. The black carriage was parked immediately in front of the Howard front door.

Ada narrowed her gaze. This was really too much.

She set her cup down, grabbed a shawl, and exited the house. The rain had ceased, allowing splashes of sunshine to spill between clouds. After crossing the damp pavement, she knocked on the carriage door, which swung open almost at once.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded of Anthony, who was staring back at her with a somewhat bleary expression. His hair was a mess and there was a rough bit of stubble along his jawline that made him look all the more handsome and…

No!

She would not contemplate such things!

So she knit her brow and sent him the most scathing look she could manage.

“Waiting for you,” he said while attempting to straighten his jacket and put his cravat back in order.

“I thought I expressly asked you not to.”

“Possibly, but I chose to ignore you.”

“What?” Did his arrogance have no bounds?

“We need to speak, Ada. Perhaps we should go for a walk?”

“No thank you.” She swept her gaze along the length of his carriage. “Where’s the driver?”

“I dropped him off at the inn last night together with my footman. Figured the pair deserved a decent night’s rest.”

She stared at him. Why did he have to seem so nice? And now he was struggling to climb from the carriage, reminding her of his sprained ankle. Pain and remorse on his behalf gripped her heart. She instantly wanted to wrap her arms around him and chase away all his troubles with soothing words of assurance. Which would not stand.

Deliberately backing up, she added distance for the sake of self-preservation. “I ought to return inside for breakfast.”

“Before you go, please hear me out.”

“Anthony.” She clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut while doing her utmost to stop the emotions she’d been experiencing for the past couple of days from unraveling. “Are you or are you not intending to marry?”

“I…” He cleared his throat. “There’s much for me to explain before we get to that.”

She shook her head. “Go back to London. Live the life you want and be happy. Just please, leave me alone.”

Turning, she started back up the front steps and was almost at the door when he said, “Elizabeth Bennett leapt to the wrong conclusion, as well, regarding Darcy. But at least she agreed to listen to him in the end, Ada.”

She halted and considered those words. Trust Anthony to use her favorite novel against her. He wasn’t wrong either. Elizabeth had also had every reason to think the worst of Darcy based on the information she’d been provided. Was it possible Ada’s situation might be similar?

And if there were even the slightest chance it might be, ought she not let the man she loved say his piece?

Dropping her hand, she returned to the pavement. “Very well. Let’s go for a walk.”