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?