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Chapter Thirteen
Alone in hischambers, Anthony frowned at his own image in the mirror. Minerva’s words replayed over and over in his mind.
Fight for what you want.
He wanted Minerva and he was prepared to do what he must to win her hand.
He’d gained Kent’s blessing, eliminating one of his reasons for not having claimed her as his intended in the past. But with one obstacle removed, he was faced with another. Minerva’s match with Camdon. Her opponent had the uncanny ability to lure his opponents into complacency and then trounce them at their own game. Camdon would not be as easy for Minerva to defeat as her prior suitors.
Plagued by the issue of her wanting to conduct their game in secret. Anthony glared at his reflection and asked, “Doyouknow why Minerva wants to hide the outcome of our match from others?”
He shook his head and turned his back to the man in the mirror. None of the explanations he had conceived for her peculiar request had proven to be of sound mind, and Minerva always acted with reason and logic.
Anthony turned around once more and peered at the man in front of him, recalling a statement Kent had shared with him once—a person in love may not always behave as they normally would. His own actions had proven that.
Reasoning that he’d already broken his promise to remain in the shadows, he formulated a plan to show Minerva what lengths he was prepared to go to in order to fight for what he truly wanted. It was a simple plan. He would accompany Kent and Phyllis to the Harmon Ball, observe Minerva trouncing Camdon, and then publicly issue his own challenge, in effect declaring his intent to marry Minerva before all and sundry. No more loving her in secret. No more observing from afar. It was time he revealed his true self.
His stomach ached as if he had drunk a case of brandy. He fed the last button of his waistcoat through its hole. Fear of failure and rejection began to plague him.
The scratch at his chamber door followed by Kent’s bellow from below spurred Anthony to cease daydreaming and jam his arms through his coat. The door of his chamber flung open just as he reached for the latch.
A slightly disheveled Kent frowned at him. “Ready to come out of hiding?”
Anthony nodded. “Do you think I still have a chance?”
Kent slung his arm around Anthony’s shoulders. “Camdon is a fine strategist, but I believe my sister shall prevail.”
Walking out to the waiting carriage, Anthony tugged on his collar and shook off the sense of foreboding. He entered the coach and nodded at Kent’s lovely wife. “A good eve to you, Phyllis. How are you feeling?”
“Concerned.” One-word replies were a good indication that the speaker was annoyed or upset.
He studied Phyllis closely as he settled into the rear-facing seat. Even in the dimly lit coach, he could see the worry lines about her eyes. He asked, “Who are you concerned about?”
“Minerva, of course.” Phyllis glared at him. “If Camdon succeeds, she’ll be forced to marry a stranger! She deserves more, much more.”
His smile was replaced with a scowl. Did she not think he was good enough for Minerva?
With wide-eyed shock, Phyllis reached for Kent’s arm. “Are you sure this man is not an imposter? Drake would never dare to try to intimidate me with a look. No, this man can’t be Drake. The Drake I know employs charm rather than intimidation in order to gain favor.”
Kent patted his wife’s hand. “I can assure you, the man before you is indeed Anthony MacMillian, the Earl of Drake. He is simply on edge this eve.”
“Hm. Well, I prefer the always amicable Drake to the beast seated opposite me. I wonder which Minerva will fancy more.”
Phyllis’ last remark seized Anthony’s heart. What would Minerva think of his appearance tonight?
*
The Harmon ballroomwas for all intents and purposes empty. The dance floor was devoid of couples. Matchmaking matrons were mysteriously missing. Where was everyone this eve?
What Anthony really wanted to know was: where the devil were Minerva and Camdon?
Behind Kent and Phyllis, Anthony spied Lord Harmon approaching. “Lord Kent. Lady Kent. How lovely to see you this eve.” The host frowned as he noticed Anthony. “Lord Drake. I wasn’t aware you were in Town.”
“I’ve been keeping my own company of late.” Anthony stepped to the side and pointedly scanned the ballroom. Aside from the smattering of wallflowers gathered in small clusters and engaged in rather animated conversations, there wasn’t a single soul interested in the fine notes coming from the orchestra. In fact, there wasn’t gentleman in sight. Who was at the center of tonight’s gossip?
Lord Harmon moved to stand next to Anthony and asked, “Searching for someone?” The middle-aged gentleman was no fool; he was simply being difficult.
Anthony arched a brow in Lord Harmon’s direction and then turned on his heel to leave the group to search for Minerva.
