Page 2 of The Risk of Rogues
“That’s what all women say when a man won’t bend to their will.” He glanced about. “What room did you designate for cards?”
She sighed. “The breakfast room. I take it you know your way there?”
With a nod, he set off for the hall. Unfortunately, just at that moment the dance ended, so he was caught up in the swirl of ladies being led from the floor by their partners. In the confusion, he collided with a young miss.
Or rather, with the young miss’shat. The bloody thing was huge—a purple turban that billowed out so far from her head that the gauze ribbon trailing from it caught in his watch fob.
“Good heavens!” she cried as she twisted around to face him.
Then three things happened at once. Her turban fell off to dangle briefly from his watch fob before its weight carried it to the floor. The lady’s flaming red hair tumbled down about her ears. And as she pushed back the gorgeous locks to get a good look at him, he came face-to-face with the woman he’d given up on ever seeing again.
“Anne!” he said hoarsely.
She started, recognition showing in her freckled features. Then she narrowed her amber eyes on him. “Howdareyou!” And, scooping her turban up off the floor, she shoved past him to head for the door.
“You’re in trouble now,” her dance partner said. “One thing you must never do to Lady Anne: come between her and her hats.”
Hart well remembered those hats, each of them carefully trimmed by her to fit her unique, intriguing taste.
Then the rest of the man’s words registered.LadyAnne? What the hell?
He stalked out into the hall after her.
Anne fumed as she marched toward the retiring room with her embarrassing hair bouncing about her shoulders. Hart wasn’t supposed to be here. Delia had been sure he wouldn’t attend, which was the only reason Anne had dared to come. The last thing she’d wanted was to encounter the scoundrel who’d courted her years ago and then given her up when the going got tough.
Then to have him destroy her favorite turban, probably out of sheer spite, thoughsheshould be the one doing things out of spite, considering that—
“Anne!” he called from behind her.
Oh no. He didn’t even have the decency to leave her be. She quickened her pace, but the rascal caught up to her with deplorable ease, thanks to those long legs of his. Catching her by the arm, he pulled her around to face him. “Anne, stop and listen to me, for God’s sake.”
The words, spoken in that familiar husky voice, burrowed under her skin the wayhehad done years ago, with his eyes the color of a fir forest and his wavy, chocolaty locks so very tempting to touch—
Heavens, what was she thinking? She didn’t want to touch any part of him!
She snatched her arm free. “What do you want, my lord?”
The sharpness in her question made him pale. “To talk to you. You owe me that, at least.”
“Why would I owe you anything?”
The question seemed to genuinely surprise him. “Why do you think? You never answered my letters, for one thing.”
Letters? He’d written her letters? “They probably never reached me,” she said baldly. “Father always had the mail delivered to him first, and he wouldn’t have passed on any missives fromyou. He didn’t approve of you, which is why he refused to let me marry you, which I’m sure you know.”
Now he looked stunned. “I didnotknow. When I asked for your hand, he said he was refusing because you were only sixteen and too young to marry. I got the impression that once you were older, I might have a chance.”
That surprised her. For years after his proposal, Papa had waxed eloquent to her and Mama on the subject of Hart’s reputation. “My age was one reason, yes. But not the main one.”
“Then what was?” He crossed his arms over his chest, which had grown even more impressively broad in his years in the army. “I realize I’m merely a second son, but your father was merely a merchant in Stilford. How could he not have approved?”
“Quite frankly, Papa thought you a gambler and a wastrel.”
Hart winced. “I suppose the gambler part is fair.” He squared the massive shoulders that had always made her heart flip over, then got the stubborn look on his face that had always put her back up. “But I kept up with my pursuit of law at Cambridge. And if he didn’t approve of me, why didn’t he say so?”
“How should I know?”
A muffled whisper behind him caught her attention. They had an audience. It was only a few ladies, far enough down the hall to be unable to hear.
