Page 49 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
Margaret and Havencrest’s engagementwasa farce. Yet the game Antonia and Malcolm were playing had real consequences if they were discovered. Margaret must not pay the price for their conspiracy. If it came to it, Antonia vowed to marry Malcolm herself.
Ugh. She also couldn’t leave Malcolm in limbo, married to a wife who had abandoned him. One more entanglement holding her back from the wisest thing she could do—run. She’d have to fake her own death, again.
She’d make sure to enjoy their wedding night, though.
“Miss Lowry.” Havencrest’s tone whiplashed. Margaret’s eyes widened. The two women froze midstep, arm-in-arm, facing away from him. Antonia inclined her head toward her friend and peered over her shoulder.
“Your Grace?”
“I shall call upon Lady Evendaw tomorrow morning,” Havencrest declared tightly.
“Very well.” Her tone was as cold as a winter wind off the river. Antonia shuddered to think of that night.
“I will bring the metronome.” He bowed, bade them good evening and left them.
“What on earth does he mean by that?” asked Margaret, agape.
Antonia’s cheeks turned hot. Her friend knew about the required dancing lessons, but not that Havencrest had been her instructor. Antonia carried so many secrets locked away inside her, and tonight she felt the burden keenly.
“He wants to practice a dance. So that I can be granted a voucher to Almack’s.”
“If I may be so honest, you could use it—”
“Thank you, Margaret, your observation is correct,” Antonia declared through gritted teeth. “Now, which way to the card room? I am of a mind to practice my hand at whist.”
