But then again, of course he would. She had just confessed her love to him in a carriage, and then they had arrived at this party.

She shouldn’t feel concerned.

“You’ve taken care of that scoundrel?” her father continued. His gaze darted between her and Griffith.

She felt Griffith freeze beside her, and she turned to look at him. And then felt her spine tingling. And not in a pleasant way.

“Who did you take care of?” she asked, each word sounding clipped.

Griffith met her gaze, and she knew who it was.

“Mr. Baxter,” she said on an exhale. He didn’t have to confirm it, she could see it in his eyes.

Damn it.

“He will be an excellent husband, Della.” The duchess spoke in a condescending tone. “He’s already providing for you, and you haven’t even gotten married yet. I am so glad someone has seen fit to overlook some of—” And then her mother paused.

“Overlook that I ran off and had a child with my dancing instructor?” Della tried to keep her voice calm. Mostly because she knew it would infuriate her parents. And because she was infuriated, but didn’t want to reveal just how infuriated. And hurt. And disappointed.

But not in her parents; she had already reconciled herself to never having a relationship with them again. But how could he have done it? Whatever it was he had done?

He had kept it from her, and he knew that was the one thing she would not countenance.

“Shh,” the duchess said, glancing around them. “You don’t want anyone to hear.”

“Can we discuss this later?” Griffith had taken her arm, and she shook him off.

“No, we cannot.” She flung her head up and stared him in the face, all that hurt and anger whirling through her body.

She saw him swallow, and she knew he was hurting also. But his feelings couldn’t and wouldn’t overshadow hers; he had to know, or at least she hoped he knew, what she would think about him charging in to handle things without telling her. “We’ll discuss this now,” she said, taking his arm. “If you’ll excuse us?” Della said to the duke and duchess, dragging him away, then releasing her hold on him as soon as they were out of earshot.

“We were sitting in that carriage for a full thirty minutes,” she said in a low, furious voice. “You had plenty of opportunity to tell me.” She stepped forward so she was only a few inches away from him. And he still looked so handsome, damn it.

She shouldn’t be noticing that, not when she was so irate.

“I was going to,” he replied, meeting her gaze. His eyes were intensely focused on her face. “But I wanted to wait—”