“How odd,” Frances said, closing her book and standing up. “I’m not sure what I should do to help matters, though.”

“I thought perhaps if you spoke to him and informed him that the duke is not at home, and that you would be sure to tell him about the visit, he might then believe that I’m telling the truth.”

“I see,” Frances said, a sense of importance coming over her. This was her house to defend, after all. “I shall meet him, but please be prepared to call for the footman and even the constable if he still refuses to leave.”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Mr. Vickers said, hurrying out ahead of her to speak to the visitor.

Perhaps this man is a clue as to Anthony’s business affairs, Frances thought as she smoothed out her gown and held her head high.Aloof. Proud and aloof, as a duchess would be.

“Sir Perry,” Frances said as she entered the drawing room and the butler announced her to the guest.

A weaselly-faced man who barely came to Frances’ shoulder turned around to greet her. He looked her up and down, then bowed slightly.

“Yes, Your Grace. I have come to speak with your husband about an important matter, but your butler will not allow it. I see the coward has sent you in his stead, though.”

“I beg your pardon,” Frances said coldly, looking down at him.

“Your husband. He apparently must hide behind your skirts like a naughty child rather than face me.”

“You will remember yourself when addressing me, or you will vacate this property at once,” she snapped. Sara came up behindher just then and stood sentry just behind her shoulder, while Vickers remained planted by the drawing room door.

“I see you have rallied your troops, my queen,” Sir Perry said with a sneer. “Do make sure you inform your husband that he can no longer deny my requests. I will have what’s mine, one way or another.”

“And what do you think it is that you are entitled to?” Frances demanded, hoping this could give her some insight into what was happening.

“Oh, he hasn’t told you? He hasn’t made you aware that we have a contract in good standing, and he’s been going back on it?”

“I can assure you that my husband would never do such a thing. He is an honorable man, and if he has rejected any contract, then there is a flaw with it. You do yourself a great disservice by slandering him, believe me.”

Sir Perry seemed to shrink back in fear slightly, his white hair quivering as he looked up at Frances’ imposing height. He clearly hadn’t been expecting a challenge in this interaction, but now he had no choice but to accept it or back down.

“I will not waste my time discussing men’s matters with a mere woman,” he said, the words obviously distasteful to him. “Tell that husband of yours that I shall return shortly. He’d best have the terms of our contract sorted out by then.”

“I shall do no such thing. If you wish to give my husband a message, you will make an appointment to see him and face him like a man yourself. If you cannot, then you are not worth his time. I, for one, shall have no part in your cowardice.”

Frances thought to turn and leave, effectively dismissing this sniveling intruder, but a movement at her elbow stopped her. Anthony came up behind her and strode past until he stood face to face with Sir Perry.

“You have some nerve coming to my home uninvited,” he said, practically growling.

“I wouldn’t have to resort to such things if you kept your word concerning your contracts,” the baronet replied lazily.

“I have kept my word. It is you who have no business coming here. You’ve gotten your payment, now be on your way.”

“You know my price, Preston. You will pay it in full or I shall move forward with my plans.”

For someone so small, the baronet certainly did not back down, even from Anthony’s strong presence. Frances almost pitied him, though, after seeing the murderous expression on the duke’s face.

“Get out of my house, Bellingsworth, else I shall have to remove you myself,” Anthony snarled, balling his fists in a way that made Frances nervous.

“I’m going. But never fear, I shall be returning for what’s mine,” the baronet drawled before taking his leave.

After the intruder had left, everyone slipped out of the room one by one, save for Frances and Anthony. She hesitated, wishing to offer Anthony some words of comfort but stricken by what had just happened. Instead, she waited silently for his breaths to come more naturally. Only then did he turn to look at her, that rage-filled expression still there.

“Why did you receive him?” he demanded coldly.

“What do you mean? What choice did I have?” Frances asked, perplexed by Anthony’s anger.

“He is a scoundrel of the worst sort!”