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It should matter not if Anthony uttered “Minerva” or “Madame Rose”—she was one and the same. Yet if she was Madame Rose, then the consequences for her actions last night would not entail her meeting Anthony at the altar. As Madame Rose, she could take on lovers and need not give up her independence. Not that she wanted anyone but Anthony as a lover, but if she could retain her freedom and still enjoy his company in the evenings, she would have the best of both her worlds.
She flopped back on to the bed.
The movement had Anthony opening his eyes and smiling. “A good morn to you.”
“Yes, a very good morning to you too.” Minerva rolled off the bed and stood looking about for her silk robe. Not spying it anywhere, she trudged over to her trunk to find it.
“What are you searching for?” Anthony asked, sitting up bare-chested with the bed linens covering his lower half. The half that she now had intimate knowledge of.
She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her grin. “My robe.” The silky material brushed against her fingertips, and she retrieved the garment. She stood, looped her arms through the holes, and tied the sash securely around her waist.
When she turned to face the bed, she was disappointed to see Anthony had left the bed and was already half-dressed with his pants and lawn shirt on.
Minerva put her hands on her hips and asked, “Leaving?”
“Since you were donning clothes, I thought I’d do the same.”
Hm. The downfalls of loving someone who matched your every move. Although countering his every move and his doing the same had proven rather enjoyable in bed.
She glanced at the bed and then back to Anthony. To spend the day abed with him would be decadent. But her time as Madame Rose was limited, especially if he were to win their game.
She bridged the space between them and said, “Probably for the best. Shouldn’t you be at home strategizing with my brother and Lord Camdon?”
Eyes wide, he ceased fiddling with his buttons. “You’re not intending to play to win. Are you?”
She buttoned up his waistcoat. “I always play to win.” Minerva stepped back and clasped her hands behind her back. The temptation to undo her handiwork and return to bed with Anthony was becoming all too alluring.
“But last night—”
“Last night proved to be thoroughly enjoyable and extremely enlightening. Let me remind you, as Madame Rose, I’m free to do as I please.”
He loomed over her. “Let me remind you, Lady Minerva Malbury, that after what transpired between us in that bed, you are mine…forever.” Anthony didn’t wait for a response; he simply turned on his heel and marched out her door, grumbling about having to wait another day or two to claim her as his wife.
Her knees had literally weakened at his declaration. She loved the demanding, exacting side of his personality, because he never revealed that aspect of his character to anyone but her, not even her brother Benedict.
Anthony’s parting words replayed in her mind. What if he did win?
She recalled his steely, determined glare. A shiver of panic ran down her back.
There was no time to waste. She walked over to the window and looked down at the bustling street below. If Anthony won, she had but two more days of freedom as Madame Rose.
She marched back to her trunk and extracted a low-cut, deep burgundy gown that no unmarried lady would be allowed to wear in public.
Madame Rose was about to go on an adventure.
Chapter Twenty
Male voices floatedthrough the halls as Anthony entered his townhome. He marched down to his study, where he found Kent and Camdon lounging in the chairs facing the dying embers in the fireplace. Each held a tumbler filled with liquid that glowed a golden amber. He wasn’t sure if the rage flowing through his veins was due to the men helping themselves to his private whisky collection or the fact that Minerva had once again correctly predicted the movements of those close to them.
He ignored his friends, walked over to stand next to the chessboard, and stared at the pieces. Minerva often equated life to a game of chess. Except in his experience, not everyone played by the same set of rules in real life.
Camdon slapped a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Where the devil have you been?”
“Out.”
“Out visiting your mistress?”
Heat and anger rolled through Anthony at his friend’s unknowing inference to Minerva as a mistress. He frowned and replied, “I don’t have one at present.”
