Page 36 of His Scandalous Lessons
Instead, she allowed herself to look confused. “Mary? Why, I thought she came back here.”
Stanton’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
Anne frowned, playing up her stupidity for all it was worth. “She wasn’t on the train with me, papa.” She widened her eyes and leaned forward as if to impart a secret. “I think she has a beau. I’ve seen her sneaking out at night after finishing up her duties, and I distinctly recall her being especially fidgety the morning I left. Do you know—”
“Enough,” snapped Stanton. “I don’t want to hear any details. God help that girl if she tries to come back to this house expecting to retain her position.” When it seemed as if he would send her away, Stanton scrutinized her in her dress. “Tell Bates to inform the cook that you’re to be on bread and water for the foreseeable future. You know how the duke hates plump women.”
Anne swallowed hard and tried to keep her face impassive. “Yes, papa.”
“Good. Now get out of my sight.”
She had made this bed, and now she had to lie in it.
For Richard.
Chapter 20
The first place Richard went upon arrival to London was his brother’s house in St. James's. The Earl of Kent’s residence was a fine example of the Palazzo Style, with rows of tall windows set amidst ornately decorated cornices. Richard found it too ostentatious — he preferred his smaller, more comfortable townhouse in Bloomsbury — but it suited his more austere brother, James, quite well.
He was there to seek his brother’s help concerning social events. Since he couldn’t show up on Anne’s doorstep to check after her welfare, he would quietly do so at the season’s various parties and balls. It wasn’t enough to have one of Thorne’s men stationed outside her property to keep watch; Richard wanted to see her for himself.
Christ, he missed her.
She’d only been gone a matter of hours and he missed her.
Richard let himself into his brother’s house, much to the chagrin of James’s butler, Jeffries, who had recently given up all hope of announcing him.
“Mr. Grey, sir, I’m afraid his lordship isn’t at home,” Jeffries said.
“Of course he isn’t,” Richard muttered. That would have made things easy. “Where has he gone?”
Before Jeffries could respond, Richard heard a voice that could only belong to his sister. “Finally, you’re home!”
Richard looked up to see his sister strolling down the stairs with a wide, welcoming smile. He dismissed Jeffries and said to Alexandra, “Hullo, sis. How have you been?”
Every time he saw Alexandra, it surprised him again how grown up she was. Gone was the little girl who used to follow him about the house whenever he visited. She had been replaced by a graceful woman with a devilish streak that had widely caused scandal. While Alexandra was considered a great beauty by society’s standards — she had the Kent coloring, after all, with pale blonde hair and bright, vivid blue eyes — it was her essays that got her into considerable trouble. Many people did not appreciate women who spoke publicly about politics at all, let alone one who made money writing about it.
At twenty-one years of age and three seasons under her belt, Alexandra was considered quite firmly on the shelf. In her, Richard had the clearest example of how men were utter and complete fools.
“Busy,” Alexandra said, coming forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Essays to write, men to criticize, protests to attend.”
Richard grinned. “My baby sister, a revolutionary. I couldn’t be more proud.”
“And that’s why you’re my favorite brother.”
“Really?”
“For today, yes. But James is absent; he may very well take first place by the evening,” she said with a wink.
“Where is he? I need to speak with him.”
Alexandra raised an eyebrow at his impatience. “James is out. He’s been out quite a bit these days.”
“Christ.” Richard ran a hand through his hair. “Where? At his club?”
“I’m not his keeper, Richard. He’s a grown man.”
“Shit,” he breathed, much to Alexandra’s surprise. He generally tempered his language around her. She was his little sister, after all. “Fine. Send me a note when he gets back, will you?”
