The ancient butler shuffled off.
Harry’s tall, broad frame filled the doorway. He leaned against the doorjamb more tempting than that tantalizingly succulent apple in the Garden of Eden. “What has captured your attention, Anne?”
Embarrassed heat burned her entire body. If it were possible for one to die of humiliation she’d have been a useless heap at his glorious feet. She jumped up. “My attention?” Her mind raced. “My ribbons,” she blurted, and then said on a rush. “I was paying careful attention to organizing my ribbons.” Because her silly habit with the ribbons was only slightly less mortifying than admitting to her wounded hurt over his evening’s enjoyments.
The earl shoved away from the wall and strolled over. His gaze fell to the floor. To the damning piece of evidence. “May I?” he murmured.
She opened her mouth, but he’d already bent to scoop up the copy of The Times. Anne planted the sole of her slipper upon the center of the page. “You may not,” she said between clenched teeth.
He tugged.
She held firm.
Harry yanked once more. She teetered backward and would have toppled onto the cream-and-white upholstered sofa, but Harry leapt to his feet. He shot an arm around her waist and caught her to him. Her heart thumped wildly. “Careful, sweet,” he murmured and suddenly released her.
Anne screwed her mouth up, uncertain whether she was more annoyed by his high-handedness or his seemingly total lack of interest in their body’s positioning. She settled for a healthy combination of the two.
As he read, she shuffled back and forth on her feet, while studying his bent head. A golden lock fell across his brow and gave him an almost boyish look. Only she’d venture Harry, the Earl of Stanhope, had never been a boy. Instead, he’d been a man sprung from the earth to torment poor, senseless young ladies.
He finished reading and picked his head up. “Hmm.”
She knew he expected a reply to that dangling ‘hmm’ and loathed feeding his amusement. Anne sighed. Mother had forever lamented her dangerously insatiable curiosity. “Hmm, what, my lord?”
“What should this nameless he not have done?”
Anne cocked her head. “Nameless he…? Oh…” Her words trailed off with the agony of humiliation. He’d of course heard her call out when he’d entered the room. And now, having read the paper, he’d clearly made the correct supposition that he was the nameless someone she’d spoken of. She toed the Aubusson carpet and studied the poor, until-now forgotten ribbons on the floor.
Harry touched his fingers to her chin and forced her gaze to his. “I gather you read the section about a certain Lord HS and a certain Lady AA?”
She managed a tight nod. She’d read bits of the piece. Most of which she’d learned, however, had come from Mother’s squawking.
“And?”
“And, what?” she said on an exasperated sigh.
He stroked her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I imagine a lady such as you would have questions for me?”
She frowned. “A lady such as me?” She rather disliked the whole ‘lady-such-as-you’ nonsense.
“A clever, inquisitive miss with lots of questions.”
Anne touched a hand to her heart. No one in her life; not Aldora, Mother, not even her twin who knew so very much of her soul, found Anne in any way insightful. They failed to see she had opinions on matters of actual significance; on life, love, happiness. “You think I’m clever?” she asked softly.
Harry worked his gaze over her face.
If he teased her, she’d slap his hands and hate him forever. “I do,” he said solemnly.
And a small sliver of her heart would forever belong to Harry, the Earl of Stanhope for such an admission.
“Well?”
Her mind spun as she tried to recall his earlier question. Only she remembered Mother’s outrage and then the blurred words about a forbidden someone or another. All her earlier hurt and annoyance melded to create a potent blend of fury, the easiest emotion to decipher from the swirling confusion roused by this new, startling awareness of Harry. She settled her hands upon her hips. “Who is this woman?” She gestured to the copy of The Times. “This forbidden woman.” A forbidden woman he’d abandoned her for. She gave her head a shake. Rather, the forbidden woman he’d left Lady Westmoreland’s recital for. Their arrangement was strictly a matter of business. He had no obligations to Anne. None at all. Why did that thought rankle?
Amusement flickered in the green-gold flecks of his hazel eyes. “Jealous, sweet?”