A Little Mischief by Amelia Grey Page B

has returned to London to find a wife. No doubt he’ll be there.”
    “Really,” Isabella said, trying to sound calm, but just thinking about the man caused heat to rise in her cheeks.
    “I’ll be sure to see that introductions are made.”
    Don’t bother. We’ve met.
    “He’s always been a bit of a rogue.”
    He still is.
    “I met him once and he doesn’t deserve the reputation he has. He’s charming and the most pleasant gentleman you’ll ever meet,” Auntie Pith continued.
    Surely you jest.
    “Two years ago he was probably the most sought-after gentleman without a title.”
    You can’t be serious.
    “I’ve heard he’s changed since his father and brother were killed and he became the earl. He’s settled and ready to put his youth behind him.”
    You obviously don’t know how much he’s changed if you thought him charming and sought-after.
    “I think you’ll find him most attractive and suitable.”
    “Over my dead body.”
    “What was that you said, Isabella, I didn’t quite understand you?”
    Isabella realized she must have spoken aloud and quickly cleared her throat.
    “I think we best get busy or we’ll miss everyone at the first party.”
    “So right.”
    Auntie Pith turned away, but Isabella remained where she was for a moment.
    Her aunt was probably right. Sooner or later she would be formally introduced to Lord Colebrooke. A more unpleasant man she had never met. And she’d never met one who intrigued her so much she couldn’t get him off her mind.
    ***
    Daniel closed the door to the family’s London home with more of a bang than he had intended. He removed his hat and gloves and left them on a table. He didn’t believe he’d ever felt so duped, and he was certain he’d never met a lady as clever as Miss Winslowe.
    What nerve the chit had to try to pull such a stunt with him. Did she think him witless? She must. Why else would she have concocted such an outlandish scheme? And he almost fell for it. What could she have hoped to gain from making him believe Gretchen had killed Throckmorten? What kind of sick game was Miss Winslowe playing?
    All it would take was a word from him and no one in Society would have anything to do with her again. She should consider herself damned lucky if he decided not to mention her name to one or two of the dowagers in Town.
    Parker appeared from around the corner, and Daniel handed the butler his coat. “Is my sister still in her room?”
    “Yes, my lord. She hasn’t been out of it since you left.”
    “Find her maid and have her tell Gretchen I’ll be right up to see her.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Daniel might as well inform Gretchen that she didn’t kill anyone, and that she must never speak to Miss Winslowe again. But he wanted a drink first, so he headed for the parlor.
    He couldn’t believe he’d actually gone over to Miss Winslowe’s house thinking he might find a dead man. The entire incident was absurd, and he had played right into the lovely lady’s hands. She was probably passed out from laughing at him right now. He probably wouldn’t have believed her if she hadn’t had such a fetching face.
    He poured himself a splash of brandy and downed it like a sea-drunk sailor downing ale. One thing was certain: Miss Winslowe needed to be watched. Carefully. There was no telling what she might come up with next.
    Daniel’s job was to see that whatever happened, it didn’t involve his sister.
    Miss Winslowe wouldn’t have any trouble finding a suitable husband. Aside from being a troublemaker, she had many desirable qualities. Gretchen’s chances of making a match were slightly diminished because of the spectacles she had to wear, and it would be impossible if she became embroiled in scandal broth.
    A few minutes later he went upstairs and entered Gretchen’s room. She was sitting up in bed, pillows propped behind her head.
    “Oh, Danny!” she cried when he rounded the doorway into her bedchamber. “Thank heavens you’ve returned.