“Miss Spencer, can I help you in any way?” he asked again.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to help me when we dislike each other?”
“At least look at me when you are arguing,” he said.
She did then, lifting her head slowly until their eyes met. The turmoil in the depths spoke of her utter devastation.
“Perhaps I can see you are not yourself and have ceased hostilities briefly, until you are once again prickly and antagonistic.”
That didn’t produce a smile either.
“It is hardly my fault I am that when there are so many fools up there.” She pointed above her head. “Besides, with your reputation I fear you are not one to talk, my lord.”
“There is that. However, it’s my hope I am not one of those fools?”
“If I say you are, then will you leave me alone?”
“Come, let me escort you back, Miss Spencer.”
She sighed, and it was a sad sound.
“Would you like me to collect your father or sister?”
She shook her head before speaking. “We cannot be seen in here together, my lord. Alone like this would be disastrous, and my family can ill afford that kind of scandal considering…” Her words fell away.
“Considering?”
“Considering you are who you are, and I am who I am. I’m sure you understand.”
Of course he did. He could get away with his behavior due to his title and the fact he was a man.
“Why are you down here alone and not upstairs watching your sister?”
“She is fine and surrounded by people.” Miss Spencer then waved a hand about dismissing his words.
A heavy, tense silence settled between them as Anthony weighed the words he would speak next.
“Is your current predicament, which you will not share with me, anything to do with Lord Cavendish?”
Her shoulders jerked, and she stumbled back a step. Anthony grabbed her arm as she tripped on the edging of the garden behind her. He pulled her upright and closer to his body. Looking into her eyes, he felt it again, that rush of expectation he always got when she was close.
“Why would you ask me that?” she whispered.
“Because you danced with him before Lord Jamieson, and he said you appeared upset.”
She pulled her arm from his grip and turned away. Delicate shoulders rising and falling as she looked, but he was sure didn’t see the fat, shiny-leafed plant directly before her.
His eyes traveled up the rigid line of her spine and then the pale skin above the line of her dress. Anthony felt the urge to lean in and place his lips there. He stepped back, out of range. Her hair was piled high, with several soft curls trailing down her spine.
She bent her head slightly, and his eyes followed the elegant curve of her neck, and stopped.
Surely not? Leaning in, he studied the two dark dots. Did more than one person have marks like that on their neck? Because the alternative was not something he could contemplate.
“I must return to my sister, my lord. Good evening.”
