Page 32 of If the Slipper Fits
Hardasher stooped as he attempted to peer beneath the rim of her bonnet.
Caden sympathized with the man. He hated the thing himself. Why on earth did she wield her bonnet like a shield? Did the upper-crust so intimidate her? The Gloriana from his childhood didn’t cow to anyone. What happened to change her so?
“Mrs. Jones, I never asked what inspired you to offer assistance to Mr. Thurgood?” Harrison asked.
Anna’s head jerked in his direction, as if taken aback by the question.
Caden too wondered at his friend’s odd turn-of-phrase..
“Anyone would have done the same,” shemurmured.
Harrison smiled genially. “Anyone who felt they could do some good would, yes. For my part, I went in search of help. Yet you swooped in like an angel of mercy.”
“I don’t know about that. My father was a do—” She broke off.
Harrison arched his brows, gazing on her with polite interest. “You were saying?”
Her shoulders slumped. “A doctor of medicine,” she all but whispered. “I…assisted him in his practice from time to time.”
Ah. She hadn’t meant to reveal the small detail, probably hoping to keep Caden from discovering her identity.Too late, darling.
“And your mother?” Harrison prodded.
“My…mother?” she squeaked.
Caden eyed Harrison, his suspicions roused. Did every man present wish to throw his hat into the ring as a potential suitor to the chit?
“Mrs. Jones’ lineage is all very interesting, I’m sure, Mr. Randall.” Lady Egerton sounded anything but intrigued. She drew a breath as if she meant to go on, but Caden had his own interests to protect.
“Indeed. Ladies, Harrison, Lord Hardasher? If you’ll excuse us? There’s a game afoot.” Not waiting for a reply, Caden scooped Anna’s palm in his and pulled her toward the couples lined-up, awaiting game cards. Once in the queue, he tucked her hand snuggly into the crook of his elbow.
Her fingers squeezed his forearm lightly.
Caden glanced down as she turned her face upward.
She gazed at him, a small, seemingly genuine smile curving her rosy lips and softening her amber eyes.
What’s say we play Prince Charming rescues the stolen princess, Glory. That should stop your sulking.The memoryslammed into him.
He suggested her favorite pastime, he claimed, because she seemed glum at the prospect of her imminent departure from Derby. He did not share his own, secret motive for doing so.
The handful of times she’d asked that summer, he’d refused. She probably assumed he simply preferred more rough and tumble games—skipping stones, climbing trees, Robinhood and his band of merry men. In previous summers that had been his stated reason for not wishing to play Prince Charming rescues the princess.
That summer, at fifteen going on sixteen, he wrestled with something else entirely. Something he couldn’t explain if he wanted to, even to himself—though he hadnotwanted to.
This time, though,hehad asked—albeit with a belligerent air, as if he did her a favor.
No surprise, she accepted with girlish delight.
It was her last summer in Derby. He hadn’t known when her family’s coach departed for London it would be the last time he ever saw her. Even so, her leaving hurt like hell.
***
She could breathe again, thanks to Caden dragging her away from too many eyes and too many questions, focused entirely on her.
Lord Hardasher with the spine-chilling stare caused the hair at her nape to stand on end. She’d spotted him hovering at the edge of the party near she and Lady Wentworth. She tried telling herself he, like them, disliked crowds.
When he attempted to partner with her for the game, her suspicion that he had a particular interest in her resurfaced.
