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She trudged up the stairs. Her longstanding debate over the advantages and disadvantages of becoming Madame Rose remained unresolved. She acknowledged that, as selfish as it was, her desire to be free, to be someone else—someone the complete opposite of what thetonexpected of her as Lady Minerva Malbury—held an allure that rivaled her deep-seated love for Anthony.
She marched down the hall past the portrait of her ancestors who would shake their heads at her if they could. Minerva mumbled, “I know I have no one to blame but myself for this predicament.”
She reached her chamber and pushed open the door that was slightly ajar. Barnett, her maid, was turning down the sheets. “Oh, beg pardon, my lady. There was a commotion earlier in the kitchens that delayed me. I’ll have your bed ready—”
“Nothing to fret about, Barnett. I’m in no rush.” Minerva scanned her room. Where was Anthony hiding?
Barnett gave a pillow one more quick fluff and then moved to assist her to undress. Minerva stood stock-still. She wouldn’t be able to get out of her gown unassisted.
A tingling sensation ran down her arms all the way to her fingertips. The thought of Drake watching her undress both unnerved and excited her.
Her maid made quick work of the row of buttons, and moments later Minerva stood clad only in a slip. “My thanks, Barnett. I think I shall stay up and read for a bit.”
“Shall I fetch you extra candles?”
“Not tonight.”
Barnett picked up Minerva’s discarded gown and stays, bobbed, and left the room.
She waited for the door to close. “You can come out now.”
Anthony rolled out from under her bed and tugged at the hem of his jacket. “How did you know I was here?”
“Besides my catching you spying out of my window from down below, the skin on the back of my neck prickles every time you are close, regardless of if you are in my line of sight or not. In addition, there is that faint scent of sandalwood that unmistakably belongs to you.”
“I smell lemons when you are near.” He came to stand before her.
She had begun bathing with lemon soap the day he shared it was his favorite scent. At first, she had hoped the scent would entice him to remain close to her. That theorem quickly proved to be faulty. Then, over time, the fresh citrus scent became calming, and she couldn’t fathom having a different scent upon her skin. Many of her habits originated from a desire to capture Anthony’s attention but grew to become simply part of who she was.
She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her chin up to ask, “Why were you skulking about in Avondale’s gardens tonight?”
“Because I needed…I wanted to speak with you.” Drake ran the back of his knuckles along her jaw. “Seeing you tonight at Avondale’s without me, I realize how stupid I’ve been all these years. I love you, and I intend to win our match.”
He had confessed to loving her the other night, but hearing it again solidified her confusion. “I don’t understand. Why the change of heart? Why do you wish to marry me? Why now? What of your fear of killing me?” She stopped her queries to take a breath. She had barely begun to share the long list of questions that she wished for answers to.
Anthony reached for her right hand and held it between both of his warm, gloved hands. “That is what I needed to speak to you about. I’ve come here to ask…could you be happy loving me and me alone for the rest of our days?”
A high-pitched ringing tone echoed in her ears. She blinked and refocused on Anthony, who was squeezing her hand. “Are you asking me if I would be willing to forgo the opportunity of children?”
“Yes, exactly.”
It had taken only a few discreet inquires, and Minerva had learned that Anthony’s fears of death by childbirth were valid—while not as common as it once was, there remained a high mortality rate, meriting his concern. After her discovery, she’d attempted to picture a future with Anthony sans children. The joy she experienced fantasizing of a life together with him hadn’t faded, and wasn’t impacted by the possibility of never having children. Children didn’t foster love between parents. Her and her siblings’ existence had proven that. It was Minerva’s belief that her father loved her mother less with each child she’d birthed.
Children or no children, she loved Anthony. But loving the man didn’t preclude her from wanting the adventure she had spent three long Seasons devising.
Minerva pulled her hand from his and searched his features. The lines at the corners of his eyes indicated worry, but his gaze also held a hint of anger. “Your sudden change of heart…it has nothing to do with Lord Camdon?”
“I’d be lying if I said that seeing you in another man’s arms this eve had been a pleasant experience.” He stepped back two paces. “Do you find yourself attracted to Lord Camdon?”
Anthonyhadbeen jealous. He’d stated he loved her, twice. He’d claimed he wanted to win their match and marry her. It was what she had wanted for so long, yet now he had said it, why wasn’t she over-the-moon excited?
“You should know that Lord Camdon has challenged me to a chess match.”
“Did you accept the challenge?”
“Yes and no.” She turned and paced the length of her bed. She needed to sort through all the rioting thoughts and emotions. As she passed by him, she explained, “I agreed to play dependent on certain terms. Specifically, if I were to win, the Head of the Foreign Office would cease their attempts to recruit me.”
Anthony’s jaw dropped for a moment, and then he asked, “Camdon was ordered to challenge you?”
