He frowned, puzzled by his lack of response. Had he changed that much? Anthony suspected he’d never desired her. He’d wanted Lillian because she was what every gentleman should hope for in a bride that Season. He flushed, embarrassed at how superficial such a thought seemed now.
Love wasn’t something he hoped for, but his travels had taught him he should at least want some deeper connection with a potential partner for life. Philip squeezed Lillian’s hand and whispered something else. She blushed, and his brother smirked. Yes, he’d been a fool to think Lillian should have wanted him.
He’d left as a spoiled lord who didn’t get what he wanted. It wasn’t a good look. Still, he didn’t regret his departure, but at some point, he would need to talk with Philip and Lillian. For years, he’d built what happened into something more. He saw now he’d been too young and foolish to see past his own wants.
A fork clattered onto a plate, drawing him away from his perusal of the duke and duchess. Harriet smiled wryly at those seated around the table. “I apologize. It slipped out of my fingers.”
He smirked, amused. He wasn’t sure if Harriet was unlucky, clumsy, or both. Everyone resumed talking, but Harriet studied him. Anthony sensed he’d somehow annoyed her. When they were younger, he’d always teased her about the havoc that followed in her wake.
She was probably waiting for him to say something else, but he remained silent. They stared each other down. Finally, she stuck her tongue out at him when she was confident no one was watching. He covered his mouth with a napkin so no one could see his silent laugh. She turned away and started talking to his mother.
Anthony continued to examine her. For some reason, his eyes were drawn to her lips. They were so full. He hadn’t remembered that. His gaze dipped down further, to her decolletage. Immediately, he yanked his gaze away. What was he doing? Of all the ladies he should peruse, the hellion was not one of them.
“Anthony, do you know who the King of Garnets is? Everyone in London is trying to figure out who this mystery man is,” his mother asked.
At some point, he would have to tell her that it was him and Jon. Yet, for some reason, the idea of everyone in London knowing he’d become wildly wealthy and also used it for good deeds didn’t appeal to him. He’d not done any of it for show. Hewas still embarrassed about how little he’d understood about the lives of the less fortunate when he was younger. It was only while living in Bohemia that he’d seen children surviving in squalor firsthand. He’d immediately been driven to do something.
Naively, he’d assumed the despair was because of the sporadic fighting that occurred off and on in the region. Jon then educated him about the plight of the less fortunate in England. Anthony had been horrified, and they’d both agreed to put aside a portion of all their earnings to help those in need. Doing a good deed shouldn’t have been such a curious thing, but London loved a mystery and wanted to know who was helping the less fortunate from abroad.
“Anthony?” his mother prodded.
“I think he isn’t real,” he replied, which wasn’t quite a lie because it wasn’t just one man but two.
His mother and Abigail looked at him skeptically. Abigail said, “Well, it would be lovely if he is real and you could invest in some of his ventures. You now know a great deal about the region. A partnership with him would make you a fine businessman.”
A snort escaped Harriet, and his gaze swiveled to her. He raised a black brow. She smiled prettily at him. “I’m sure you keep yourself well occupied, at least the papers suggest you do.”
Somehow, the London newspapers had concluded he was a rake living a very vice-filled life. Anthony was no saint, but the gossip sheets had grossly exaggerated his exploits. Her eyes danced with mischief.
“I would rather you stay in England even if that means you missing out on working with the King of Garnets,” his mother said.
He winced at the nickname. “That is an awful moniker.”
Shockingly, Harriet nodded in agreement. “The man is doing so much good, but the name is horrid.”
“Don’t you love garnets?” Lillian asked Harriet.
The hell-raiser blushed. “I do, but not because of some mysterious man. They are lovely stones.”
“They suit you,” Anthony said.
She lifted a brow. “How so?”
The whole table waited for his response.
“Garnets are unique, never considered subdued, and if you catch them in the right light, they can be quite enthralling.”
Everyone stared at him in shock. Harriet's lips parted slightly in stunned silence. He cleared his throat, realizing that his description had not been what anyone expected.
“What a lovely way to explain the stone and Harriet,” Lillian said, smiling at his compliment.
Attempting to lighten the mood, he added, “They are also hardy, meaning that any chaos Harriet immerses herself in, they should be safe.”
Everyone giggled at that; Harriet even smiled, amused. “I don’t intend to cause things to fall over or become a mess this holiday.”
“Do you remember when the ice sculptor shattered at the ball?” Philip said.
“I was simply trying to see if it would slide across the floor,” Harriet said, grinning.
