Page 15 of The Rose and the Earl

The Prince Regent of Bavaria?

Bloody hell.

What had he gotten himself into?

“Out with it,”Lenora demanded before she and Annabel even found their seats at the White Rose. “I want an explanation for your behavior, and I want it now.”

Eloise and Bridget were already onto their second ginger biscuit, a shower of tell-tale crumbs on Eloise’s chin giving her away. They watched, eyes big and mouths hanging open in identical expressions of amazement, as Annabel slumped in her chair and Lenora sat across from her, mouth pinched in disapproval.

“What’s going on?” Eloise breathed.

“No idea,” Bridget whispered back. “I thoughtwewould be the ones in trouble.”

“You are in trouble,” Lenora snapped without taking her eyes off Annabel. “But your sister is in more trouble. I’ll get to you after I’m done with her.”

“Can we at least discuss this in a more private setting?” Annabel asked, her cheeks already rosy at the thought of divulging her most innermost secrets in the middle of a busy tea shop. The impending holiday had brought people in in droves, filling the small space with its round tables, wicker chairs, and mismatched porcelain chinaware near to bursting.

It was warm.

Hot, even.

Or maybe that was merely a by-product of her own shame.

Removing her scarf, hat, and cloak, Annabel lumped them on the floor, then turned to her sister with a mutinous frown. “I’d like to return home.”

“AndI’dlike to go back to before you humiliated us in front of Lord Whitmore.”

“Who is Lord Whitmore?” Bridget asked curiously.

Eloise shrugged and stuffed another ginger biscuit into her mouth.

“He’s no one,” said Annabel, dropping a cube of sugar into her tea with the intensity of a surgeon sharpening his scalpel. If she had her choice, she wouldn’t discuss the events following the ball at all. Ever. But she definitely wouldn’t discuss them here, out in the open, where anyone could overhear her.

“Lord Whitmore is our newest guest for dinner tomorrow night,” said Lenora. “He is also our neighbor, as he’s recently taken possession of Broadwin House. And–”

“I thought that burned to the ground,” Bridget cut in.

Eloise snorted. “Itshouldbe burned to the ground. Why would anyone want to live there? It’s haunted.”

“It’s not haunted–” Lenora began.

“You couldn’t pay me a thousand pounds to go in there,” said Eloise.

Bridget’s brow wrinkled with skepticism. “You wouldn’t do it for athousandpounds? Do you have any idea how much money that is?”

“Not enough to save me from a ghost.”

“Yes, but what if–”

“Enough!” Lenora cried, slapping her hands down on the table with enough force to rattle the tea saucers. Thankfully, the shop wassocrowded and loud that no one even glanced their way, which gave Annabel a small measure of assurance that whatever she shared with her sisters would stay between them. A small comfort, given the enormity of what she was going to have to disclose. “That’s enough from the two of you.”

“What didwedo?” asked Eloise, pouting.

“We did leave our post,” Bridget reminded her. “We should have stayed at the–”

“I kissed him,” Annabel blurted. “I kissed Lord Whitmore. Except I didn’t know he was Lord Whitmore at the time. I thought he was a highwayman. I mean, I didn’treallythink that. His clothes were far too fine. But that’s who he portrayed himself to be. In the beginning. Then before the kiss, when he found me on my hands and knees–”

“We’re leaving,” Lenora announced unceremoniously. “Bridget, Eloise, help me with these packages. Annabel, don’t forget your belongings.”

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