Chapter Two
Anthony sat at the dining table studying his family and the Barstows.
This was all so familiar, but also at the same time not.
He’d expected to feel pain to see Lillian and Philip together, but while it had been awkward, the hurt feelings he’d left with five years ago were shockingly gone.
Truthfully, maybe not so surprising. He’d not pined for her like he thought he would.
Yet, he had missed being around her and everyone else seated around the table.
Philip leaned towards Lillian and whispered something in her ear.
She beamed back at him. It was clear they adored each other.
Anthony studied his sister-in-law, whom he’d known since he was a small boy.
He’d idealized her once. She was still the epitome of grace, kindness, and beauty, but nothing stirred within him when he gazed upon her.
He frowned, puzzled by his lack of response. Had he changed that much? Anthony suspected he’d never desired her. He’d wanted Lillian because she was what every gentleman should hope for in a bride that Season. He flushed, embarrassed at how superficial such a thought seemed now.
Love wasn’t something he hoped for, but his travels had taught him he should at least want some deeper connection with a potential partner for life.
Philip squeezed Lillian’s hand and whispered something else.
She blushed, and his brother smirked. Yes, he’d been a fool to think Lillian should have wanted him.
He’d left as a spoiled lord who didn’t get what he wanted.
It wasn’t a good look. Still, he didn’t regret his departure, but at some point, he would need to talk with Philip and Lillian.
For years, he’d built what happened into something more.
He saw now he’d been too young and foolish to see past his own wants.
A fork clattered onto a plate, drawing him away from his perusal of the duke and duchess. Harriet smiled wryly at those seated around the table. “I apologize. It slipped out of my fingers.”
He smirked, amused. He wasn’t sure if Harriet was unlucky, clumsy, or both. Everyone resumed talking, but Harriet studied him. Anthony sensed he’d somehow annoyed her. When they were younger, he’d always teased her about the havoc that followed in her wake.
She was probably waiting for him to say something else, but he remained silent.
They stared each other down. Finally, she stuck her tongue out at him when she was confident no one was watching.
He covered his mouth with a napkin so no one could see his silent laugh.
She turned away and started talking to his mother.
Anthony continued to examine her. For some reason, his eyes were drawn to her lips.
They were so full. He hadn’t remembered that.
His gaze dipped down further, to her decolletage.
Immediately, he yanked his gaze away. What was he doing?
Of all the ladies he should peruse, the hellion was not one of them.
“Anthony, do you know who the King of Garnets is? Everyone in London is trying to figure out who this mystery man is,” his mother asked.
At some point, he would have to tell her that it was him and Jon.
Yet, for some reason, the idea of everyone in London knowing he’d become wildly wealthy and also used it for good deeds didn’t appeal to him.
He’d not done any of it for show. He was still embarrassed about how little he’d understood about the lives of the less fortunate when he was younger.
It was only while living in Bohemia that he’d seen children surviving in squalor firsthand.
He’d immediately been driven to do something.
Naively, he’d assumed the despair was because of the sporadic fighting that occurred off and on in the region.
Jon then educated him about the plight of the less fortunate in England.
Anthony had been horrified, and they’d both agreed to put aside a portion of all their earnings to help those in need.
Doing a good deed shouldn’t have been such a curious thing, but London loved a mystery and wanted to know who was helping the less fortunate from abroad.
“Anthony?” his mother prodded.
“I think he isn’t real,” he replied, which wasn’t quite a lie because it wasn’t just one man but two.
His mother and Abigail looked at him skeptically. Abigail said, “Well, it would be lovely if he is real and you could invest in some of his ventures. You now know a great deal about the region. A partnership with him would make you a fine businessman.”
A snort escaped Harriet, and his gaze swiveled to her. He raised a black brow. She smiled prettily at him. “I’m sure you keep yourself well occupied, at least the papers suggest you do.”
Somehow, the London newspapers had concluded he was a rake living a very vice-filled life. Anthony was no saint, but the gossip sheets had grossly exaggerated his exploits. Her eyes danced with mischief.
“I would rather you stay in England even if that means you missing out on working with the King of Garnets,” his mother said.
He winced at the nickname. “That is an awful moniker.”
Shockingly, Harriet nodded in agreement. “The man is doing so much good, but the name is horrid.”
“Don’t you love garnets?” Lillian asked Harriet.
The hell-raiser blushed. “I do, but not because of some mysterious man. They are lovely stones.”
“They suit you,” Anthony said.
She lifted a brow. “How so?”
The whole table waited for his response.
“Garnets are unique, never considered subdued, and if you catch them in the right light, they can be quite enthralling.”
Everyone stared at him in shock. Harriet's lips parted slightly in stunned silence. He cleared his throat, realizing that his description had not been what anyone expected.
“What a lovely way to explain the stone and Harriet,” Lillian said, smiling at his compliment.
Attempting to lighten the mood, he added, “They are also hardy, meaning that any chaos Harriet immerses herself in, they should be safe.”
Everyone giggled at that; Harriet even smiled, amused. “I don’t intend to cause things to fall over or become a mess this holiday.”
“Do you remember when the ice sculptor shattered at the ball?” Philip said.
“I was simply trying to see if it would slide across the floor,” Harriet said, grinning.
“It did not,” her mother said.
They all laughed. Anthony’s eyes connected with hers. “There is nothing wrong with being curious.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
The conversation shifted, and Anthony sipped his wine, enjoying being home.
***
Harriet stumbled to a halt when she opened the door to the library.
Anthony sat reading a book. It was late.
What was he doing up? She supposed he could say the same thing about her.
His mouth quirked up at the sides, and he stood.
“Be careful. If you knock these bookcases over, it will take days to reorganize them.
She glared at him but wasn’t truly upset. “I can’t help it that things tend to break around me.”
He folded his arms. “You cause them to break.”
She smirked but didn’t deny it. Her eyes dipped down, and she found herself staring at his large arms and chest. Harriet didn’t remember Anthony being so broad. She swallowed and yanked her gaze away, scolding herself for even thinking about such things.
She wasn’t looking for a husband, and even if she were, it wouldn’t be Anthony. Even though they’d grown up together, they were like oil and water. “How has life on the Continent been? You seem to be quite popular with the ladies.”
He snorted and walked to a table with a decanter of brandy. While pouring them each a glass, he said, “The papers are always wildly inaccurate.”
She took the drink but wasn’t sure she believed him. There was an air of confidence about him that he’d not had before. Something was different. Perhaps becoming a lothario did that to a man. “You seem changed.”
He raised a brow. “How so?”
Harriet swallowed. Her gaze roamed over him. Truthfully, he looked more handsome and larger than she remembered. He’d also lost the polished look that so many gentlemen had. He was tan, and it was clear he’d been doing manual labor.
“Harriet?”
She flushed, knowing he caught her studying his form. “You look older.”
He laughed. “I would hope so; it’s been five years.”
They both took sips of their drinks. Harriet wondered if he was still upset about Lillian. She knew her sister and brother-in-law missed him. They’d all been close. Even though Harriet and Anthony had always annoyed each other, after he left, her life had also felt emptier.
“They love each other deeply,” she said.
She didn’t have to explain who. He smirked. “I was a foolish young man. I wanted Lillian because everyone did. I realize now what I felt was superficial.”
That would put her sister and Philip at ease. “Have you told your brother that?”
He shook his head. “No, but I intend to.”
Harriet wondered if he genuinely felt that way. He’d left right after Philip and Lillian’s wedding. As if reading her mind, he said, “I stayed away for so long because something about being away on the Continent felt right.”
“You’d always been the Duke of Webster’s brother. I understand. I’ve always just been Lady Lillian’s sister. She was considered the epitome of a London society lady, and I was considered a mess.”
He frowned at her. “We jest about the chaos, but I’ve never just seen you as Lillian’s sister. You are much more than that.”
Harriet scoffed at his words, not believing him. He stepped towards her until they were no more than a few feet apart. “You are intelligent, curious, and confident.”
She swallowed. Her body went warm, and her mind flitted back to his comparison of her and garnets. Feeling awkward and unsure, she teased, “You would know since you’ve met so many women.”
He tilted her chin up. “I don’t need to know any other women to see how much you stand out.”
His gaze darted to her mouth, and Harriet instinctively licked her lower lip. A soft groan escaped him. What was happening? Harriet and Anthony’s eyes connected. For a mad moment, she thought he would kiss her. Not that she wanted him to. Liar.
Suddenly, he stepped back, and he ran a hand through his black hair. “I think I’m finally tired. I will leave you in the library.”
The intensity disappeared just as quickly as it arrived. He smiled and added, “Don’t break anything.”
She rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Anthony.”
Harriet stared at the door he’d walked through, confused. Had she and Anthony almost kissed, and why was she disappointed that they hadn’t?