The anger that gripped him was unlike any he’d ever experienced before. It curled itself around him, tugging at his very core and demanding him to seek satisfaction for the wrong this wonderful woman before him had been subjected to at the hands of that harpy.
“When I asked her to leave you alone after your hasty departure from the modiste, I did not know the extent of her untruths. Had I done, she would not have gotten off as lightly as she did.” He made a mental note to pay a call on the Croonings. It was one thing to have a jealous streak, but to spread lies in which he and Isabella figured was unforgivable and without pale. “Needless to say, I have no intention of marrying her, since there is only one woman for whom I hold an interest. Unfortunately, she is quite determined to marry someone else.”
There was a pause as she gazed back at him with endless amounts of regret. Her lips parted slightly and he held his breath, wondering what she might say—if she would refute his statement and tell him what she so obviously wanted to say, that the only man she planned on marrying was him.
“Lord Kingsborough,” came a voice from directly behind him. Whatever Isabella might have thought to say would have to wait. Turning, Anthony was surprised to be met by the very curious gaze of a girl who shared Isabella’s coloring. Her attire was scruffier, however, and it looked as though there were leaves in her hair. “Miss Jamie Chilcott at your service,” she said. “How do you do?”
Anthony stifled a grin and offered her a gallant bow. “I trust you must be Miss Chilcott’s ... sister?”
“I certainly am,” Jamie confirmed with a cheeky smile. “And since I’ve heard so much about you lately, I thought it time I made your acquaintance—see what sort of man has captured my sister’s interest.”
“Jamie!” Isabella cried, sounding both embarrassed and horrified.
Anthony’s grin turned to a heartfelt laugh. “And do you approve?” he asked, his attention still on Jamie.
The girl frowned, as if giving the matter a great deal of thought. “That depends,” she drawled with a casualness belying her age. Heaven above, this girl would be trouble when she grew older—Anthony just knew it.
“On what, exactly?” he asked.
Jamie shrugged. “You’ll see.”
“Jamie,” Isabella warned as she drew out her name for emphasis. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, you know, Izzie—the usual.” And with that, Jamie folded her arms across her chest and marched over to the stone bench, where she took a seat, not in the least bit bothered by the cold, it would seem, and looking much too smug for someone who wasn’t up to mischief.
Anthony felt an eerie sense of uneasiness wash over him—as if he was about to be made the butt of a joke. There was no doubt the girl was up to no good, and rather than be annoyed by it, Anthony felt rather humbled. She was testing his mettle the only way she knew how, to ensure that her sister made the right choice. It was endearing, really, in a way, though Anthony sincerely hoped he wouldn’t end up covered in mud as a result. His valet would have a fit.
Recognizing that there was no point in worrying about what was surely to come, Anthony decided to tell Isabella about his plans for the following day.
“And my mother agreed to this?” she asked as she stared back at him in wonder.
“I don’t believe she felt as though she had much choice, given that the invitation was issued by my mother.” He decided that it was time to go. She and her parents had a lot to discuss—far more than Isabella could possibly imagine. With a bow, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Until tomorrow, Bella.” Turning to Jamie he added, “A pleasure to meet you, miss.”
Jamie nodded with an impish gleam to her eyes. What on earth was she up to?
And then Anthony felt it—a movement in his jacket pocket, as if something was squirming about in there. His own boyish instincts took over, and, acting as nonchalant as possible, he said, “Perhaps I ought to check the time first.”
Eyes on Jamie, he stuck his hand inside his pocket until he felt something soft and slippery and very much alive. “What the ... ,” he gasped, feigning surprise.
Jamie’s eyes widened while Isabella turned an accusatory glare on her sister.
Staggering backward a bit, Anthony yelled, “Oh my God! It’s got me! Help! Get it off of me!” He fell to the ground, pretending all the while to be struggling with the creature in his pocket.
“Good Lord, Jamie,” Isabella cried, rushing over to where Anthony was lying. She looked over at her sister with a scowl. “What did you do?”
“I ... I ... ,” Jamie stammered, standing perfectly still but looking suddenly pale.
“Isabella,” Anthony groaned.
“Yes,” she said, kneeling down to offer her assistance and shielding Anthony from Jamie’s view.
“I think it will take both of you to pull me free from this beast,” he said with a wink at Isabella.
She smiled back with sly understanding. “Yes, yes of course,” she said, nodding profusely. “Jamie, do come and offer your aid. The duke is in a terrible muddle, and all because of you, I suspect.”
“Oh ... please hurry,” Anthony yelled, satisfied to find Jamie springing to his side in the next instant. “Isabella, if you could move aside a little so Jamie here can get a hold of my arm.”
Isabella dutifully moved aside while Jamie bent low, a move that proved detrimental, for as soon as Anthony had the girl within reach, he grabbed hold of her with his free hand, yanked the other—which was clutching a small frog—from his pocket and dropped the amphibian down the back of Jamie’s gown with a shout of victory.
