Heat that had nothing to do with the sun warmed Anne’s cheeks as she wondered if he would appear as dashing as Mr. Grey.
Speaking of the handsome captain, Mr. Grey bowed before her. “Your kerchief, Miss Weatherby.” He frowned at the initialsCABembroidered in the corner.
Anne’s face flamed even more as she plucked it from his fingers. “I borrowed it from Charlotte.”
A lopsided grin spread across Mr. Grey’s face. “I see. Well, it did bring me luck, so my thanks to both of you. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I think I’ve done enough damage for the day.” His gaze jerked toward Miranda before returning to Anne. “I think I shall peruse Burwood’s library for a book. I hear he has quite a collection.”
Only Miranda remained on the terrace with Anne, and the wayMiranda studied her set Anne’s nerves on edge. “Are you interested in Mr. Grey? As a potential suitor, that is.”
Anne wanted to say yes. She liked Mr. Grey. He was handsome and, truth be told, a bit dangerous, which normally would have increased her interest. But no flare of heat sizzled up her arm when they’d touched. Her stomach didn’t do a strange little wobble when he looked at her. She had no desire to bait him into an argument just to watch his lovely green eyes flare.
She gave herself a mental shake. Green? Mr. Grey had amber eyes, like Burwood’s.
And speaking of Burwood, Anne had learned her lesson. She had felt none of those things with him either. But then again, at that time, she hadn’t experienced them with anyone.
Until Lord Grumpy-Trousers.
Ugh.
“Anne?” Miranda’s brown eyes narrowed. “Are you paying attention to me, or are you daydreaming about Mr. Grey?”
Not quite.
“What if I am interested in Mr. Grey as a suitor? He has been attentive and kind. He’s the first man to show real interest in pursuing me in...in...well, in quite a while.”
The wicked little voice inside her whisperedin ever.
Suspicion remained on Miranda’s face. “Ever? You’re not counting Burwood?”
Good grief, did that slip out?
“Must everyone bring that up? No. I am not counting him. He was never really interested in me, and we all know it.”
Am I really so undesirable?
“Anne, you’re not undesirable. You simply haven’t met the right man, but it’s not Mr. Grey.”
If this was Miranda’s idea of helping, she needed to find another method. “And why ever not? You sound so certain.” Apparently, Miranda expected Anne to simply accept her pronouncement and move on.
“Well.” Miranda peered down at the handkerchief, and a frown creased her brow as if she struggled to find areason. “Well. He’s a gaming hell owner, for one. And he was born on the wrong side of the blanket. Your brother would never approve.”
“Wrong side of the blanket. That is such a stupid expression. And Andrew is so desperate to marry me off to someone that at this point, I don’t think he’d give a donkey’s behind who it was. He even tried to arrange a match with Lord Fairchild.”
“I presume you turned Fairchild down?”
The little bit of pride Anne clung to crumpled. “Not exactly. He decided I was too old.”
“The nerve! As ifhe’sin his prime!”
“Exactly.” Unexpected though it was, the camaraderie forming between them spurred Anne onward. “I do like Mr. Grey, and he has the support of Burwood. So surely Andrew would consider him.”
The brief connection snapped like a dry twig, and the look in Miranda’s eyes grew lethal.
What did I say?
“Even if your brother does consider him a suitable match, has Mr. Grey shown a genuine interest in pursuing you? Other than being kind and attentive, which any true gentleman should do.” Although they were the only two left on the terrace, Miranda leaned closer. “Has he taken liberties? Tried to kiss you? You two were alone for a while during our ride this morning.”
“Kiss me?! While we were on horseback? Miranda, what’s possessed you? And might I remind you, while I was alone with Mr. Grey, you were alone with Lord Manning.”
