Chapter Twenty-Three
Several days had passed since Lady Danbury's garden party, yet Anthony found that the memory remained as vivid as if it had occurred that morning.
He had spent much of his adult life cultivating self-control.
The responsibilities attached to the dukedom demanded it.
Estates required management. Tenants depended upon him.
Parliament was full of men whose primary talent appeared to be provoking one another.
None of it could be navigated successfully by a man governed by impulse.
Ordinarily, Anthony prided himself upon remaining calm.
Lately, however, he seemed incapable of thinking about Nathaniel Hawthorne without experiencing a dangerous urge to commit violence.
The sensation was both unfamiliar and deeply inconvenient.
What troubled him most was not the insult itself. Anthony had endured insults before. Society had spent years whispering about his appearance, his scars, and his reputation. He had long ago ceased caring what strangers thought of him.
Evangeline was another matter entirely.
Nathaniel had known precisely where to strike. The comments regarding heirs and motherhood had not been intended to wound Anthony. They had been aimed directly at Evangeline, exploiting fears she was far too gracious to voice aloud.
The thought followed him throughout the week and accompanied him into London when he travelled there several evenings later to meet Sebastian for supper at White's.
The club was crowded despite the late hour.
Candlelight gleamed against dark wood panelling polished by decades of use, while servants moved discreetly through the rooms carrying decanters and supper trays.
The low murmur of conversation mingled with the rustle of newspapers and occasional laughter drifting from the card rooms. Gentlemen clustered around fireplaces discussing politics and racing odds while others occupied leather chairs beneath portraits of long-dead aristocrats who appeared faintly disapproving of the entire enterprise.
Anthony found Sebastian waiting in one of the smaller dining parlours toward the rear of the building.
A cold supper had already been laid upon the table.
Silver dishes held sliced beef, ham, bread, cheese, and pickled vegetables while a bottle of claret stood breathing beside two glasses.
Sebastian took one look at him and sighed. "My condolences."
Anthony removed his gloves and settled into the chair opposite him. "For what?"
"For whatever dark thoughts currently occupy your mind. You look as though you've spent the day contemplating murder."
Anthony poured himself a glass of wine. "Only briefly.
"That is not reassuring."
Despite himself, Anthony almost smiled and Sebastian immediately noticed.
"There. Evidence that you remain human after all."
"I am delighted to have exceeded expectations."
Sebastian smirked as he helped himself to another glass of wine, the crystal decanter casting patterns across the table.
"I spent three hours listening to men argue over canal improvements," he said. "Three hours, Anthony. At one point I became so desperate for entertainment that I started assigning personalities to the wallpaper."
Anthony lifted his wine. "And?"
"The wallpaper was considerably more persuasive. Although…"
Anthony's attention shifted, his gaze drifting toward the window as his mind wandered back to Evangeline.
"Anthony."
He turned his head to find Sebastian staring at him.
"You have no idea what I just said."
Anthony sighed. "No."
Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "You are still thinking about the garden party."
It was not a question.
Anthony looked down at his wine. "Yes."
Sebastian's expression softened. "She seemed well when I saw her yesterday."
Anthony gave a quiet laugh. "Evangeline would insist she was well if the house were collapsing around her."
"True," Sebastian agreed, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Resilience is one of her more admirable qualities."
Anthony sighed, sitting forward in his seat. "I am worried about her," he admitted.
"Nathaniel is just a bag of wind," Sebastian said. "He's trying to stir up trouble."
Yes, and that was precisely the problem. He did not want trouble anywhere near Evangeline.
Before either of them could continue the conversation, the door opened, and Anthony looked up. Immediately, his shoulders stiffened.
Nathaniel Hawthorne entered the room with the easy confidence of a man entirely comfortable in his own skin. He paused briefly to exchange greetings with several gentlemen seated nearby before continuing toward their table.
"Blackwood," Nathaniel said pleasantly. "Ashford."
Sebastian's expression suggested he would rather have been addressed by a venomous snake.
"Nathaniel."
Anthony made no effort to conceal his displeasure.
His cousin smiled. "I hope I am not interrupting."
"You are."
Nathaniel ignored the response and helped himself to a glass from a nearby sideboard.
For a few moments he made idle conversation regarding Parliament and the weather. The performance was so polished that another man might almost have believed it sincere.
Anthony knew better. Nathaniel never approached anyone without a reason.
Eventually his cousin glanced toward him. "I wished to apologise for the misunderstanding at Lady Danbury's."
Sebastian made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a choke.
Anthony's expression remained unchanged. "A misunderstanding."
"Indeed," Nathaniel replied, swirling the wine in his glass. "I fear my remarks were interpreted rather wrongly."
"I assure you that they were interpreted accurately."
The smile remained firmly in place.
"No offence was intended." Anthony was beginning to lose patience. "I merely expressed concern."
"Then allow me to relieve you of it," Anthony replied coolly. "My wife requires none."
For the first time, something shifted behind Nathaniel's eyes, a flicker of irritation, gone almost immediately.
"Of course," he said. "Though one cannot help reflecting upon the circumstances."
Anthony said nothing as Nathaniel took another sip of wine.
"The succession has become a topic of considerable interest."
A muscle tightened in Anthony's jaw.
"One hears unfortunate stories from time to time. Young marriages. Great expectations."
Anthony's attention sharpened as Nathaniel studied the wine in his glass.
"Pregnancies can be unpredictable things."
Sebastian slowly set down his fork. "Nathaniel."
His warning went ignored.
"A perfectly healthy young woman can encounter difficulties."
The words settled heavily between them.
Nathaniel finally looked up, his smile never wavering. "Childbirth remains remarkably dangerous."
A coldness unfurled in Anthony's chest.
"Families spend years preparing for the future only to find everything altered in a single day."
The implication was unmistakable.
Nathaniel lowered his voice. "Life is fragile, after all."
For a moment nobody spoke.
Anthony stared at him, and Nathaniel met his gaze steadily.
There was no misunderstanding now, no ambiguity, as the threat sat openly between them. Not directed toward the inheritance or toward Anthony.
But toward Evangeline.
The woman Nathaniel clearly viewed as an obstacle.
Anthony did not remember rising from his chair. One moment he was seated, and the next, Nathaniel's collar was clenched in his fist.
"Anthony!" Sebastian cried.
But Anthony barely heard him as he hit his cousin squarely across the jaw.
The blow sent him sprawling. Several gentlemen, taken by surprise, leapt to their feet as chairs overturned and a table crashed sideways. But Anthony hardly noticed.
Years of discipline vanished beneath a single overwhelming certainty.
Nathaniel had threatened Evangeline.
Everything that followed happened too quickly to think about.
Nathaniel regained his footing only to be driven backwards again. Furniture scraped across the floor. Voices rose around them. Someone shouted for them to stop.
Anthony ignored them all.
The sight of Nathaniel's face was enough to reignite his fury every time he attempted to regain control.
It took three men to separate them.
One of them was Sebastian.
"Anthony!" His friend's grip tightened on his arm. "Enough."
Anthony struggled against him.
Across the room, Nathaniel stood adjusting his ruined cravat. Blood darkened the corner of his mouth, and one eye was already beginning to swell.
The sight brought no satisfaction whatsoever. Only the desire to hit him again.
Nathaniel laughed softly. It was perhaps the worst thing he could have done.
Anthony surged forward again. But several gentlemen tightened their hold on him, rendering him immobile.
A moment later, Nathaniel inclined his head and walked away.
No one attempted to stop him, and the silence he left behind felt heavier than the fight itself.
Sebastian escorted Anthony upstairs before he could do anything else regrettable. A private room had been made available, and the moment the door closed behind them, Anthony began pacing.
The anger remained, but beneath it lurked something far worse.
Sebastian leaned against the mantelpiece, watching him.
After a moment, Anthony stopped; his hands were still clenched. "He threatened Evangeline."
Speaking the words aloud made them feel even more real.
"We need to know whether he is merely attempting to frighten you," Sebastian said.
"And if he is not?"
Sebastian met his gaze. "Then we need proof," he said. "Nathaniel gambles. He has debts. Men like that always have associates willing to talk."
Anthony nodded. "I want to know everything."
"You will," Sebastian said, straightening. "And in the meantime, do not do anything reckless."
Anthony glanced at his bruised knuckles. "That advice arrives somewhat late."
A faint smile appeared. "Yes,"
But the humour vanished quickly. Neither man found much amusement in the situation. Nathaniel had crossed a line; both of them knew it.
It was well after midnight when Anthony finally left the club; the city had quieted considerably.
A thin mist drifted through the streets while scattered lanterns cast pools of amber light across damp cobblestones. Most respectable households were long since asleep, their windows dark against the night.
Anthony mounted his horse and turned toward home.
His thoughts remained fixed upon Evangeline. He pictured her seated beside the library fire with a book in her hands, walking through the village school, laughing with her sisters, smiling at him across the breakfast table.
The images came easily now as knots tightened in his stomach.
He knew in that moment that if anything happened to Evangeline, he would never recover from it,
The thought had barely formed when movement caught his eye ahead.
A shadow detached itself from a narrow alley.
Anthony frowned as instinct stirred.
Before he could react, a gunshot shattered the silence. His horse screamed. The animal reared violently beneath him, and Anthony felt himself thrown backwards.
For one terrible instant, all sense of direction vanished. Then came impact.
Pain exploded through him as he struck the cobblestones. Above him, the night sky spun.
Voices seemed to echo from a great distance and, somewhere nearby, frightened hooves thundered away into the darkness.
Anthony tried to lift his head, but his vision blurred. The last thing he thought of was Evangeline before darkness swallowed everything.