“Hardly that,” Evie said. “We are not done in yet.”
“Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but our lodgings will be small, and we will both have to find employment. You will tutor spoiled young ladies on etiquette, and I will look after horrid young children or take in sewing.”
She shot her sister a look. “You’ve given this a lot of thought clearly.”
“Of course. It is important to have a second option, should the first not work.”
“Always good to be prepared, but why is it you get to be with the children, and I take the young ladies?”
“They will respect you more due to your age.”
“Thank you for that, but we are not that far apart.”
“Five years is a lot by society standards,” Prue said unhelpfully.
“And there was me thinking I could treat you to a fruit pie—”
“Oh, please do!” Prue shrieked.
“Very well, let us find somewhere that sells them.”
As they walked, she came up with ideas to dissuade Lord Cavendish. She had to say something that did not offend but convinced him she would not be a suitable wife, because life with that man would be horrible. There was much Evie would sacrifice for her family, but she hoped it did not come to that.
Chapter Five
Glancing behind him,Anthony noted the Spencers were no longer speaking with the loathsome Cavendish. Miss Spencer was standing before a shop window now, looking around her, while her sister studied it.
The woman irritated him far more than she should. Now there was also something else about her to contend with. When he’d held her and felt those soft curves pressed into his body, Anthony wanted to tighten his grip and keep her close, which had been enough of a reason to release her.
She’d left him with her soft scent and a longing for more, which shocked him. Anthony felt nothing but lust for women, usually.
The mouthy baggage had told him his personality was like a feral dog and then had the audacity to smirk after a carriage wheel flattened his hat. He’d wanted to shake her.
She was trouble, so he was avoiding her from now on, which shouldn’t be hard as she was a debutante, and they were usually terrified of him… except she wasn’t.
His aunts had put her name on the list of prospective brides for him to consider. Anthony was glad he’d crossed her off because she was about as comfortable as a hedgehog. If and when he married, which he knew was expected of him, it would not be to a woman like Evangeline Spencer.
He shot a final look in her direction as he prepared to turn left. She stood with her shoulders back, chin slightly raised, as if daring anyone to approach.
That horse would have hurt her, and possibly worse, if he’d not pulled her out of the way. Anthony’s skin felt prickly just looking at her. Damn her for not heeding his warning when he’d yelled it, because now he’d touched her, and he knew exactly what she felt like in his arms.
His eyes swept down her one last time, noting the hem of her dress did not brush her boots, but was several inches higher. He wondered what the Spencers’ situation was, and then instantly dismissed that thought. They were of no interest to him.
She stood on one foot, like a stalk, with the toes of one boot resting on the other. It was an odd stance for anyone, but for a society miss out in public, even more so.
She turned her head, as if sensing him, and their eyes collided. Anthony nodded his head, and she did the same, and then they both looked away.
His chest felt tight, and he had an urge to run. Instead, he moved out of her line of sight. Only then did Anthony draw in a deep breath and slowly release it.
It took him a further twenty minutes to reach his destination, in which time he’d dismissed Miss Spencer from his mind. Taking the six steps up to the townhouse, he arrived at the front door. Raising the brass knocker, Anthony let it drop. Seconds later, it opened.
“Good afternoon, Lord Hamilton.”
“Chadders, are they both here?”
“They are.” The door was opened wider, and he stepped inside.
“Lord Beaton and his son will arrive shortly. Have them wait in a parlor and then notify us, please, Chadders.”
