Page 54 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
Antonia met her pale blue gaze. She dipped into her reticule and came forth with a handful of gold. “Fifty guineas.”
“I said, the prize is big enough,” the dowager snapped.
“Are you afraid you cannot match me?” Antonia challenged.
“I can and will match anylady.”
Her quarry had taken the bait. Now Antonia had to set the hook. “Are you saying I am not a lady?”
“You are but a miss. You oughtn’t even be here. Who are your parents? What connections brought you into the bosom of good and guileless people such as the Evendaws?”
“My family remains in America. I am mistress of my own fortune.” Unbowed, Antonia stared down the woman whose love and pain for her lost daughter had curdled, and saw a reflection of herself. She embodied of a type of freedom that galled these fine women whose choices had been bounded by considerations of class and wealth.
Her effrontery in challenging them in their own castle turned Lady Summervale’s face a mottled red. “‘I shall make my own decisions,’ is the battle cry of a foolish woman. Name your price, Miss Lowry. I’ll defeat you if it kills me.” The Duchess dropped into her chair. Her hands shook as she dealt the cards and fanned them out.
“I want the Heart’s Cry necklace.”
