“Not at all,” Burwood said. “We were just saying how grateful we are you were nearby when Miss Weatherby needed help.”
A certain wariness crossed Lord Grump’s face, his green eyes narrowing just a tad. “Are you feeling better? No lasting...repercussions?”
Oh! Understanding the caution in his address completely, Anne tipped her chin up. “Have no fear, sir, that I expect anything from you for your gallant rescue. But you have my gratitude. That is all.”
“Anne!” Andrew shot her a censorious glance.
“It’s quite all right, Mr. Weatherby.” Lord Grouch held up a hand in surrender. “No doubt your sister has been judged unfairly for past events. I apologize for my unfortunate choice of words. What I meant to say was I hope there are no ill effectsfrom the water.”
Something in the twinkle of Lord Grump’s lovely green eyes belied his statement, and Anne suspected he meant exactly what she had presumed. Yet, she accepted his wilted olive branch.
“Apology accepted, my lord.”
“Good. Now, would any of you gentlemen care for a bit of physical activity? I have an itch for a rousing fencing match.”
Ashton shook his head. “Surprising as it may seem given my time as a captain in the king’s service, I’ve sworn off violence, even in play. And Andrew would more than likely fall onto your sword, injuring yet another Weatherby.”
Anne laughed. The duke knew her brother well.
“Harry!” Andrew chuckled. “And I thought you were my friend.”
Mr. Ford shook his head. “Don’t look at me.”
“Burwood? Beckham?” The grump appeared desperate. What was his game?
Mr. Beckham grinned. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Charlotte snorted a laugh.
“Lady Miranda, whom would you suggest?” The grump’s sweet smile could have made bees jealous.
Not waiting for Miranda’s suggestion, Anne had a wickedly marvelous idea. “I think Mr. Grey would be a wonderful opponent. Please, Mr. Grey? Surely your time as a naval captain gave you experience with a sword.” Anne batted her eyes for good measure.
But Miranda surprised them all. “Yes, Mr. Grey. Show us your prowess with a blade.”
Why did she sound . . . angry?
Mr. Grey and Miranda exchanged a look that had Anne’s intuition piquing.
“If you insist, my lady.”
“Foil or épée?” Lord Grump asked as he stripped off his coat.
“Your choice, my lord.”
“Épée. Let’s make this a little more exciting for the ladies.” The grouch sent another sweet smile toward Miranda.
Was he flirting with Miranda? An ugly, tight feeling settled in Anne’s stomach.
Two footmen brought the equipment and fencing jackets, while others rearranged the seating on the terrace in a semicircle for the rest of the group to view the match on the lawn below.
Miranda held out a handkerchief. “Lord Manning! For luck.” He accepted the gift, then bent and kissed Miranda’s fingers.
Not to be left out, Anne said, “Quick, Charlotte, do you have a handkerchief?”
Charlotte’s dark brows rose, but she handed over her embroidered handkerchief.
“Mr. Grey!” Anne waved the cloth in the air and glanced over at Miranda.
