The Greatest Lover in All England by Christina Dodd Page B

imagination. “Our plan is not such a good idea. Tony…Sir Anthony is not a man to be trifled with.”
    Sir Danny withdrew from her a few steps and considered her as a master would consider a painting. “Sir Anthony?”
    A gruff voice interrupted his scrutiny. “Our Rosencrantz holds Sir Anthony in awe, don’t you think, Sir Danny?”
    Rosie whirled around, and found herself facing Ludovic, who said, “Why don’t you ask our Rosencrantz why this Sir Anthony merits such respect?”
    â€œI don’t know what you mean,” she said.
    â€œHe kissed you.” It was an accusation.
    â€œHe kissed you?” Sir Danny’s shaggy eyebrows drew together. “Who…he?”
    â€œOur handsome host.” Ludovic spit on the ground, then wiped his hand across the back of his mouth. “I saw him. He kissed the fair Rosencrantz.”
    â€œAs a man kisses a woman?” Sir Danny asked.
    Ludovic wiped his palms down the sides of his jerkin. “Most certainly.”
    â€œRosencrantz, is that true?” Sir Danny asked.
    She cringed. She hadn’t wanted to tell him. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. Something—a fear they would point fingers and laugh, or accuse her of inviting intimacy, or just a sense of maidenly privacy—prohibited her confession. “Sir Rycliffe mistook me for someone else.”
    â€œSomeone he could kiss? I’m quite confused.”
    And Sir Danny did look confused, as confused as ever Rosie had seen him, but delighted, too.
    â€œConfused?” Ludovic asked. “Why confused? Sir Anthony Rycliffe obviously saw what few have guessed.”
    Sir Danny’s confusion and delight seemed to melt away; he assumed the suave facade he habitually wore. Rosie tried to take her cue from him, but she had to hide her suddenly trembling fingers behind her back.
    â€œWhat is that?” Sir Danny stepped up and measured himself against Ludovic and came up ridiculously short. Sir Danny seemed not to notice, and ordered, “Speak, knave. What is it you think Sir Anthony has seen?”
    â€œDo you think I have no eyes?” Ludovic glared at Sir Danny.
    â€œNay, I think you have no brain,” Sir Danny said.
    Rosie said, “For pity’s sake, Sir Danny—”
    Danny’s voice only strengthened. “Sir Anthony saw nothing. Nothing!”
    â€œHe did, too, and I know what it was.” Ludovic stared pointedly at Rosie’s bosom.
    With a flamboyant gesture, Sir Danny gestured toward the road that led away from the estate. “I tell you now to go. Take your lies. Leave us, leave the troupe. We don’t need you, so get you gone.”
    Ludovic stood, his hands dangling at his side, as hegazed first at Sir Danny, then at Rosie. He looked like a man fighting a battle with himself, a battle lost in the flames of a primeval fire. In a lightning swift move, he plucked Sir Danny off his feet by the front of his padded jerkin. Rosie grabbed for Ludovic’s arm, but neither her grip nor Sir Danny’s kicking feet swayed the battered giant.
    â€œUnhand me, sir!” Sir Danny demanded, and Ludovic shook him like a terrier with a rat.
    His steel muscles flexed beneath Rosie’s fingers as she dug them into the flesh. “Put him down. Now!” Fear made her voice shrill. “Put him down , Ludovic.” She stomped one heeled shoe into his instep, and he cried like a beleaguered wolf and slammed his elbow onto her shoulder. She collapsed onto the ground, arm numb, collarbone pulsating from the impact, and Ludovic dropped Sir Danny.
    â€œYou…you’re…did I break it?” Ludovic knelt beside her and reached out, but she scooted back with a whimper.
    He froze, then stared at his hands, and he turned them over and over, like joints of meat on a grill. “Can you still see the blood on them?”
    Ludovic had been a fanatic about keeping his hands clean, and she’d