Penelope felt her soul disappear from her body. Her face paled, her eyes slightly widened at the confession.
For one unbelievable moment, she became utterly speechless. Her mind went blank with words that she couldn't process, disbelief prominent in her expression as she struggled to absorb the knowledge.
'…but I intend to marry her as well.'
Those words echoed in her mind with cold clarity enough to send shivers down her spine.
Anthony Ravenport was not merely the infamous Rake of Monclair; he was also a man whose aversion to courtship and marriage had become a subject of endless speculation among the ton.
His attendance at social gatherings was a rarity, and his presence alone was always enough to stir whispers and curious glances. He was the sort of gentleman who preferred to remain untouched by the intricacies of society, a man who had spent years evading the very obligations that other gentlemen of his standing willingly embraced.
