The sailor landed several feet away from them, out cold. The man he had been sitting with rose from their table with a growl, but not soon enough. A short jab and he fell back in his chair, his hand flying up to stanch the blood now seeping from his nose.
Anthony turned around slowly, one black brow arched questioningly. “Any more comers?”
MacDonell was grinning behind him, realizing now how fortunate he had been not to take on the Englishman. Not another man in the room made a move to accept the challenge, drawing the same conclusion. It had happened too quickly. They recognized a skilled pugilist when they saw one.
“Very nicely done, dear boy,” James congratulated him. “Now can we quit this place?”
Anthony bowed low, coming up with a grin. “After you, old man.”
Outside, James set the girl on her feet in front of him. She got her first good look at him then in the glow of the tavern lamp above the door, enough to make her hesitate a hairbreadth before she kicked him in the shin and bolted down the street. He swore violently and started after her, but stopped after a few feet, seeing that it was useless. She was already out of sight on the darkened street.
He turned back, swearing again when he saw that MacDonell had disappeared as well. “Now where the bloody hell did the Scot go?”
Anthony was too busy laughing to have heard him. “What’s that?”
James smiled tightly. “The Scot. He’s gone.”
Anthony sobered, turning around. “Well, that’s gratitude for you. I wanted to ask him why they both turned when they heard the name Cameron.”
“To hell with that,” James snapped. “How am I going to find her again when I don’t know who she is?”
“Find her?” Anthony was chuckling once more. “Gad, you’re a glutton for punishment, brother. What do you want with a wench who insists on damaging your person when you have another one counting the minutes until you return?”
“She intrigued me,” James replied simply, thenshrugged. “But I suppose you’re right. The little barmaid will do just as well.” Yet he glanced down the empty street again before they headed toward the waiting carriage.
Chapter Twenty-five
Roslynn stood by the window in the parlor, her cheek pressed to the cool glass, her hands gripping the blue tasseled drapes next to her. She had stood like that for the past thirty minutes, ever since she had left the dining room and an uncomfortable dinner with Jeremy and his cousin Derek, who had come by to take the youngster out for the evening.
At least Derek Malory’s arrival had proved a diversion for a while. The marquis’ heir was a handsome young man about her own age, with an unruly thatch of blond hair and eyes more hazel than green. He cut quite a dashing figure in his evening togs, and it took Roslynn only half a minute to discover he was fast following in his uncles’ footsteps—another rake for a family that had too many already. But there was still a certain boyish quality about Derek Malory that made him seem harmless and quite charming.
He reacted to the news of his uncle’s marriage just as Jeremy had, at first with disbelief, then delight. He was also the first to call her Aunt Roslynn, and not in jest, giving her quite a start for a moment. She really was an aunt now, to a whole brood of nephews and nieces. An instant family, thanks to her marriage to Anthony, and a warm and loving one, if Jeremy was to be believed.
But Jeremy and Derek were gone now, and Roslynn had gone back to her brooding, hardly even aware that she had stood in the same spot for the past half hour, gazing out at the passing traffic on Piccadilly.
On the one hand, she was worried sick. Something had happened to Anthony. He was hurt, unable to get word to her. That was the only reason the whole day had gone by and she had heard nothing from him. On the other hand, what had started as a slight irritation upon being abandoned, so to speak, had grown to a simmering anger as the hours dragged by, especially when Derek arrived and she couldn’t explain Anthony’s absence. He had simply gone about his business for the day without a by-your-leave, never mind that he had a wife now who might worry about him.
These conflicting feelings hadn’t sat well together and had spoiled her appetite for the special dinner that she had held up for more than an hour, hoping Anthony would arrive in time. He hadn’t, of course, and her anxiety was growing now, taking precedence over the anger, tying her belly up in knots.
Hell’s teeth, where was he? This was only the second day of their marriage. Had he completely forgotten that fact? They should have spent the day together, getting to know each other better.
A carriage finally stopped in front of the house. Roslynn raced out of the room, waving Dobson away when he started for the door. She yanked it open herself before Anthony even reached it, and scanned his tall frame for injuries. There were none. He was all right. She wanted to hug him and clobber him at the same time. She stood there gripping her hands instead, to keep from giving in to either urge.
When Anthony spotted her, looking like a confection in a pale green gown with delicate white lace trim, his face lit up with a dazzling smile. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart. I can’t tell you what a bloody rotten day I’ve had.”
Roslynn didn’t move so he could enter, but stoodher ground in the center of the doorway. “Why dinna you tell me anyway?”
The brogue gave her away. He stepped back to get a better look at her and noted the mulish angle of jaw, the tightly compressed lips.
“Is something amiss, my dear?”
“Do you ken what time it is, mon?”
“Ah, so that’s it.” He chuckled. “Did you miss me, sweetheart?”
“Miss you?” she gasped. “Ye conceited toad! I dinna care if you go off for days at a time if that’s your wont. But it’s common courtesy, isna it, to be telling someone when they’re no’ to expect you home?”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” he surprised her by agreeing. “And I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I spend the day trying to track down your elusive cousin.”
