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Leonora felt a hot flush rush to her cheeks, but she straightened her spine, curtsied, and cleared her throat. “Your Grace.”
His smile widened, the arrogance of it making her want to throw a biscuit at his head. “I suppose you wish to get straight to business. To discuss why we are both here.”
“I would prefer that very much,” Leonora said coldly, lifting her chin.
“Before we move on to the trinket,” Anthony began, tilting his head. “I must ask. How on earth did you manage to create those sideburns that night? I have been wondering and it’s been killing me. What animal on earth did you sacrifice for that?”
Leonora crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “I am not answering that.”
“If you do not tell me, this conversation goes nowhere,” he teased smoothly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I shall simply keep the trinket.”
“Stop calling it a trinket,” she snapped, unclasping her hands and glaring at him. “It is a family heirloom. It is not cheap.”
“To you,” he said and shrugged.
Leonora forced herself to take in a sharp breath. “Fine. To me.”
“Tell me your secrets, little master rogue if you want this to go anywhere. How did you pull off the disguise?”
Leonora let out a reluctant huff, knowing she had no leverage. “I snipped the fur from the collar of my guardian’s old winter muff. The color matched well enough in the dark, and I secured it with isinglass I found in a theatrical trunk in the attic.”
Anthony threw his head back and let out a laugh that echoed off the ceilings. The sound was so bright and unexpected that it caught her entirely off guard.
“That is brilliantly unhinged,” he laughed, wiping a trace of mirth from his eye. “Who on earth thinks to use a winter muff for facial hair? I have never met anyone quite like you.”
Leonora dropped her hands to her waist, her temper flaring again. “How did you even figure out I was a woman? I asked you before, and you never gave a proper answer.”
“I told you, anyone with eyes would have seen through it,” he replied easily.
“That is a lie,” she protested. “The men in that room had eyes. They looked at me funny, they muttered about a lanky, frail fellow, but not a single one of them suspected I was a woman.”
“They were looking at the cards, their whiskey and bidding for tempting items at an auction,” Anthony said, pushing off the fireplace and taking a slow step toward her. “It does not take a genius, Miss Ashcroft. You have incredibly long eyelashes, skin like porcelain, far too fair and smooth for any man who spends his nights in underground dens. Frankly, I have never seen a man who fidgets with his waistcoat every three seconds as though it might explode.”
“I was nervous,” she muttered defensively.
“Clearly.” He smiled, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I pride myself on being observant.”
A brief silence settled over the room. Leonora uncrossed her arms, stepping back to put a safe distance between them before she lost her temper entirely. “So. Back to the necklace. What exactly do I have to do for you to give it to me, Your Grace?”
Anthony closed the remaining distance, stopping just a few feet away.
Up close, he was striking, towering, and impeccably tailored, with light brown hair swept back from his face, though a single lock resisted the effort, curling loose near his temple. His eyes were an arresting, deep blue, the exact Prussian shade she had tried and failed to mix in her paintings, framed by dark lashes. She found herself wondering how the matchmaking mothers of London had not already chained him to an altar.
His gaze turned sharper. “Before I agree to any terms, I want to know why you want it so badly.”
Leonora groaned in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. “I did not come here to play twenty questions with you. You said there would be a deal.”
“Calm yourself,” he murmured, holding up a soothing hand. “Do not be so spirited.”
“Do not tell me not to be spirited,” she shot back. “Why on earth do you even care?”
“What man in his right mind would not care?” Anthony asked and raised his eyebrows. “You dressed as a man, glued winter fur to your face, stuffed wool stockings down your front, and snuck into a gambling den just to secure a necklace. Do you think any sane person would not be curious? A lady of the ton risking her reputation and her very safety for a piece of jewellery. That is a story worth knowing.”
Leonora stared at him, realizing there was no escaping it. She let out a long, sigh, her shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of her.
“Fine,” she whispered, looking down at the carpet. “I want the necklace because it belonged to my mother. It is the only real piece of her I have left. I have been searching for years, and when I found out it was going to be auctioned, I had to do whatever it took to get it back. It is just a keepsake. But it means everything to me.”
Anthony squinted down at her, his eyes searching her face. She could tell he did not believe it was the entire truth, and deep down, she knew he was right. It was only half of it.
