“I don’t remember seeing you there, Lord Minshom. Did you enjoy the play?”

“I scarcely remember the play. I’m always more interested in the people.”

Amelia picked up her fan and smiled at the ladies. “Shall we leave the gentlemen to their port?”

Marguerite was the first to rise. She guessed the conversation had become too staid for Amelia’s liking. Before she left the room, she tried to catch Anthony’s eye, but he refused to look at her, his attention fixed on his wineglass. Part of her wanted to stay and protect him, from what she wasn’t quite sure. But hadn’t he complained that everyone tried to mollycoddle him? Perhaps he needed to face Lord Minshom by himself.


Anthony watched the ladies depart, all too aware that Marguerite had tried to get his attention but completely unwilling to give it to her. She hadn’t been surprised by Minshom’s arrival. Had she known he was coming? And if so, why had she brought Anthony face-to-face with a man he despised? Did she somehow know of the connection between them—that Minshom had sworn to do anything to get him back under his thumb?

He glanced over at Minshom, who sat opposite him, and saw him smile at one of Charles’s remarks. Perhaps he had it the wrong way round. Minshom knew of his connection with Marguerite. Had he told her to bring Anthony as a guest? He sighed. Unless there was a connection between Marguerite and Minshom, that idea was equally ridiculous. And Marguerite had sounded sincere when she’d told him she needed him. At this particular moment, he needed to believe that more than he needed to breathe.

“Cat got your tongue this evening, Sokorvsky?”

Anthony finally looked up at Minshom. Despite having no facts to go on, he knew in his gut that Minshom represented some kind of danger to Marguerite. The odds of them meeting in the same house on the same weekend were far too great. He had to find a way to honor his promise to Marguerite but not let Minshom rile him.

“Good evening, Lord Minshom.”

“Are you surprised to see me here?”

Anthony shrugged. “I’m always surprised to see you.”

Minshom leaned across the table as Charles headed toward the decanters on the sideboard. “I’m connected on my mother’s side to the Lockwood family. They consider me a cousin.”

“That explains it, then.”

“You’re not concerned about sharing a house with me?”

“Why should I be?”

“Because sometimes it is hard to resist temptation.”

“Perhaps it will be good for you.”

Minshom’s smile flashed out. “My, the little boy is finally showing his mettle. I was talking about you being unable to resist me, not the other way around.”

“I know what you meant. It doesn’t mean I have to agree with you. I’m not the one doing the chasing this time.”

Minshom’s light eyes narrowed. “You think I came here for you?” He laughed. “Your conceit is almost amusing. I came here for a completely different reason. You are not the only person I have an interest in.” Minshom got up and bowed. “Now, please excuse me. I have to go and change and then come down and charm the ladies. Lady Justin is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

Anthony barely managed to stay in his chair as Minshom headed for the door. With provocation like that, how the devil was he expected to deal with Minshom over the next two days? He poured himself a glass of port when it circled the table again and drained it in one swallow. When would Charles end his excruciatingly boring conversation about hunting and reunite with the ladies?


Half an hour later, Marguerite sat next to Anthony in the drawing room, a cup of tea balanced on her knee and one wary eye on Lord Minshom, who was talking to Amelia. The room was decorated in overly fussy pink stripes and clashing florals that made Marguerite feel quite dizzy. She risked a glance at Anthony and a smile, but he didn’t respond. She hadn’t been able to conceal her reaction to Minshom’s appearance, and she thought Anthony had noticed. She braced herself for the questions she knew would follow.

If only she’d realized exactly how strained the relationship between Minshom and Anthony was. In Minshom’s presence, Anthony’s easy charm had deserted him, leaving him grim and unsmiling, and his suspicions on obvious display.

“Did you know Lord Minshom would be here, Marguerite?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because I don’t like the man, and he seems to be taking quite an interest in you.”

“Perhaps he admires me.”

“He told me you were beautiful.”

She winced. “He would.”

“So you admit to having an acquaintance with him?”

She turned to look up at him, kept her gaze steady. “I’ve met him at the Lockwoods’, and he escorted me home once. I’m not sure if that constitutes an acquaintance.”

“Do you like him?”

“Non.”

“Good. I suggest you keep away from him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You say ‘suggest,’ yet it sounds more like a royal command. Perhaps we should discuss your acquaintance with Lord Minshom rather than mine.”

Anthony frowned. “Any association I had with him is in the past. I loathe the man.”

“Such strong sentiments for such an apparently minor relationship.”

“I didn’t say it was minor. I . . .”

“Goodness me, are the love birds quarrelling?”

Marguerite looked up to find Lord Minshom in front of them and tensed when he drew up a chair and sat down. He’d changed into a dark blue coat, silver waistcoat and tight black pantaloons which clung to his long legs.

“Surely that is none of your business?” Anthony asked.

Minshom looked pained. “You used to have such excellent manners, Sokorvsky. Whatever happened to them?”

“Perhaps I reserve them for those who deserve my respect.”

“And if I don’t want your respect?”

Anthony smiled. “Then surely we are even.” He took Marguerite’s hand. “Do you wish to see the gardens?”

She refused to meet his intent gaze or react to the pressure of his grip on her wrist. If Lord Minshom wanted her to meet with him, she needed to endure his conversation for a little while longer. In truth, it would almost be better if Anthony stormed off in a rage and left her alone with Minshom, although she didn’t relish that either. She opened her mouth to reply to Anthony, but Minshom got in first.

“It is a little too late to be wandering outside, don’t you think?”

“I wasn’t asking you, Minshom.”

“I was answering for the lady. I would hate to see such a delicate flower catch a cold.”

Marguerite placed her hand over Anthony’s and gently squeezed, drawing his attention back to her face. “I fear Lord Minshom is right. It does look rather chilly out there. Perhaps we should wait until the morning.”

“Well, then would you like to take a stroll around the room and stretch your legs?”

Minshom chuckled. “I believe Sokorvsky is trying to get rid of me, Lady Justin. Perhaps he’s afraid I’ll steal you from under his nose.”

She raised her chin. “That is most unlikely, seeing as I enjoy his company immensely.”

“More than you enjoy mine?”

“I didn’t say that, my lord.”

Minshom raised his eyebrows. “Is that what brought you two together? Your dislike of me? How amusing. I’ve never seen myself in the role of cupid before.”

Anthony looked down at Marguerite. “To be perfectly frank, when I’m with Lady Justin, I can’t say I think of you at all.”

Lord Minshom placed a hand over his heart. “I believe my feelings are hurt.” He got up and gave them an elaborate bow, reached for Marguerite’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Perhaps I’ll see you in the morning?”

Marguerite folded her fingers around the scrap of paper Lord Minshom pressed into her palm and tried to look unconcerned. Anthony didn’t bother to reply as Minshom retreated, pausing to talk to Charles before leaving the room.

“Thank God he’s gone.”

“You were rather rude to him, Anthony.”

“Rude? The man deserves to be hung, drawn and quartered, and you think I’m rude?”

“It’s not like you.”

He sighed, “I know, but Minshom makes my skin crawl.”

“Why?”

“Because . . .” He studied her, his usually calm expression absent. “I can’t tell you here. Perhaps later.”

“Tomorrow?”

He hesitated. “Later tonight when I creep into your bed?”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” How on earth was she going to meet with Lord Minshom if Anthony was by her side all night?

He stared at her, his smile dying. “You don’t want me?”

“Of course I do. It’s just . . .” She looked desperately across at Charles. “I’m in Justin’s old house.”

“Ah, I see. You’re afraid of offending someone who is already dead.”

“That is scarcely fair, Anthony.”

“I don’t understand why you arranged for me to accompany you here if you didn’t want me.”

“I told you why I wanted you here.”

His shrug was dismissive. “To support you, to be your friend.”

“Is that not enough for you?”

“I suppose it will have to be.”

“Now you sound like a petulant child.”

He held her gaze. “A child wouldn’t want you the way I do.”

She briefly closed her eyes. “Anthony, why are you making this so difficult?”

“I don’t know.” He studied her intently. “Perhaps because you still haven’t told me exactly what is going on?”

Frustration rose inside her and battled with her conscience. “Do you think I came here to sneak off and indulge in a night of passion with Charles or Lord Minshom?”

“Well, that would certainly make sense of it all.”

Heat rose on Marguerite’s cheeks. “There’s no need to be sarcastic. I do not want to bed another man!”

“Then why are you behaving so oddly?”

“If by ‘oddly’ you mean that I took exception to you assuming you were welcome in my bed, then yes.”

“I did not ‘assume’; I thought we were going to be honest with each other.”

She stood up, snapped open her fan and plied it vigorously. “As honest as you are about your relationship with Lord Minshom?”

“Hold on a moment, you can’t just change the subject like that and expect me to respond.”

“I’m not changing the subject. You questioned my honesty; I’m simply repaying the favor.”

Anthony rose too, making Marguerite aware that their argument had gotten out of hand and was attracting a fair amount of interest.

“I will tell you anything you want to know about that man in private.”

She sighed. “And look, our argument has come full circle. We’re back to Lord Minshom again.”

“So we are, and that’s exactly what he probably intended, isn’t it?”

They stared at each other for a long moment and then Marguerite headed for the door. In the deserted hallway, Anthony caught up with her and grabbed her hand. “Please don’t let him come between us.”

Marguerite eased her hand out of his grasp and placed it flat on his chest. She had to stop Anthony from following her. She had to make it impossible for him to come to her room that night.

“He can only do that if we give him the power to hurt us. Rather than worrying about me, perhaps you should be concerned about yourself.”

“In what way?”

“You told me you hated everyone protecting you, but as soon as Lord Minshom confronted you, you tried to get away from him.”

“I was trying to protect you! Isn’t that what you asked me to do?”

“So you say, but I’m not the one who is afraid of him, am I?”

Anthony stepped back, the harsh angles of his face stark against the blazing blue of his eyes. “You think I’m a coward, don’t you? The kind of man who hides behind a woman’s skirts.”

Marguerite held her ground, aware that she was hurting him. But she had no choice. Hopefully Anthony would still be prepared to listen to her when she was able to tell him the truth. And what she was saying was true; she really didn’t understand his relationship with Minshom.

“I think you fear him, though I’m not sure why.”

“But you’re not interested in allowing me access to your room tonight to explain myself. You’re more worried about what Charles will think of you taking a lover than in sorting things out with me.”

Marguerite simply stared at him as panic gripped her and paralyzed her thoughts. What could she say?

Anthony bowed. With all the good humor stripped from his face, he resembled his older half brother.

“I’ll bid you good night. But perhaps I’m not the only one being contrary. If you’re too afraid to offend the Lockwood family, why on earth did you decide to bring me down here with you? What happened? Did you lose your nerve or am I suddenly not good enough anymore?”

He turned on his heel and headed back down the hall toward Charles’s oak-paneled library, where the roar of male conversation already resonated. Marguerite stared after him. The urge to follow and slap his face for his outrageous suggestions was so strong she had to clench her hands into fists. She was trying to protect him from Minshom, didn’t he see that? Didn’t he understand that the last thing she wanted to do was drag him into a situation that might not even happen?