And no matter the rush of their nuptials, by the end of the week, she would be the Duchess of Grandfellow, a title not easily ill-reputed.
“My home is a few blocks away.” Thank God his mother preferred the country estate to town. Not to mention Figaro. Jackson needed his brother’s meddling like he needed a pin to the eye. He stuck out his arm for escort. No reason they could not be civil now that the initial fires had been shot.
Never one to relinquish her arms, Anna breezed past him. “Which way?”
“East. Toward Picadilly.”
She marched out of the park and turned down the street.
“That’s west,” he called.
She turned on her heel without a word and set a brisk pace in the other direction, her arm coming up over her head to show her hand with three of her five fingers raised. Another code, this one a taunt:Run up the tree.A signal with a secret meaning:It’s a race.
His contented sigh was a white puff in the cold air.
Secret hand signals, code words between forbidden friends; was it any wonder he’d found spy work suited his preferences?
Even as a child, Anna had been quick and fearless, with a horrible sense of direction.
And he, a young boy: privileged, cautious, not allowed to ever stray from his path.
His heart clenched. The truth was, regardless of society’s expectations, she’d always suited him.
Until he’d gone and ruined everything.
Chapter Four
Not twenty pacesmarchingeastand he was beside her, his long legs eating up the pavement, one stride for her every two, his presence larger than his title.
She could use Elise’s stern presence about now, but her companion hadn’t reappeared. And wouldn’t. Not while Jackson was around. There was no question Elise had made it out. The woman had a way of melting into her surroundings. Even now, she was probably back at the Brixby residence awaiting Anna’s return.
“How’s your hand?” Jackson asked.
Bruised.
“There’s a bit of an itch.” She hid her flexing fingers in her skirt and smiled. “Perhaps if I strike you again, it will dispense?”
He chuckled, a deep roll of laughter that turned her belly to fluttery wings.
“So stubborn.” It sounded like a compliment.
He’d always done that, made the less-than-desirable parts of her personality seem like nuggets of gold. Precious. Desired.
“I’ve a salve at home that will ease any swelling,” he offered, simultaneously gesturing with his right hand:Right at the corner. Two blocks to go.“I personally guarantee its efficacy.”
She snorted, ignoring how easy it was to slip into unspoken speech. “Been in a lot of fisticuffs, Duke?”
He paused. “More than I’d like.”
She snorted again. Who did he think she was? “Liar.” The boy she’d known had always enjoyed physical pursuit, no matter how dangerous.
His blue eyes widened. Then, those teasing lips of his curled upward.
Heat pooled low in her belly.Curse my body’s response.
She gritted her teeth and focused on the dark walk underfoot, crossing the street and making the turn the same time he did.
A minute of silence, the clip of their boots on the cobblestones the only sound.
