heavens, did he believe her to be one of the bird-witted ninnies who stood on the corner outside his residence hoping to catch a glimpse of
His Royal Handsomeness
? She turned and scurried after Lily as fast as her slippers could carry her.
***
Constantine completed his change of clothes and hurried to the window to see if the chaos in the street had dissipated. A few people milled about but with the excitement over, the square would soon return to normalcy. About to turn away, a flash of red under the white lace of an onlooker’s parasol caught his eye. It took less than a minute to recognise the lady below as the lovely stranger who verbally sparred with him last night in Lord Rochester’s study.
Isabelle.
Her image had taunted him throughout the remainder of the evening, and when he awoke this morning, the remembrance of her sultry grey eyes, vibrant hair and lush figure tightened his body with yearning. He regretted not capturing her tempting heart-shaped lips in a long, heated kiss when he had had the chance.
He chuckled aloud, assured he would have earned himself a set down. Isabelle appeared unlike the many ladies willing to offer him their casual favours. He learned her first name, but the minx distracted him so thoroughly, he never discovered her last. That problem wanted a remedy.
He caught up to her and the bewitching child he met during the poppy incident at a narrow turn in the path, near the bodkin bench under a flowering bergamot tree. The child was consumed by a bird’s nest and she refused to proceed further down the path no matter what type of inducement Isabelle offered. A wry smile quirked his lips at her thwarted hasty retreat. He had believed her to possess a bit more spunk. True, it likely proved awkward to be caught staring up at his second-storey window.
He remained a good distance from them and wished to enjoy Isabelle’s pleading tone a bit longer, but the child spotted him and with a squeal of delight pointed in his direction and raced forward with excitement. He smiled upon discovery, as he had committed the same crime as she, shamelessly watching from afar.
‘Hello, good sir.’ The child fell into a polished curtsy and then thrust out her palm, over which a delicate feather lay, the thinnest plume, a gentle shade of grey with hints of gold near the edges. He looked up to see the same soft hues in Isabelle’s eyes.
‘Lily, how many times have I warned you never to talk to strangers? We are not in Wiltshire. This is a very large city. All types of libertines and blackguards may be lurking in the shadows. Dangerous men who lack morals and tempt disaster are hiding everywhere ready to deceive any trusting young lady.’
He bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a smile at the dreadful picture Isabelle drew with her words. While the underlying message was one worth championing, he doubted it necessary to portray him as the worst kind of threat.
Lily glanced from one adult to the other with a perplexed look on her face. ‘This is my friend,’ the child said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘He gave me a button simply because I admired it.’
Isabelle arched a narrow brow in his direction and challenged him with her eyes. Lord, he’d rather challenge her with his body.
The child continued rightfully unaware of the sparks that danced between the two adults above her head. ‘My name is Lily and this is my sister, Isabelle.’
‘I am very pleased to meet you. I am Lord Highborough. I live over there on the corner.’ He waved in the general direction of Park Lane as he glanced from child to the adult. ‘But I believe you know that already.’ Isabelle’s skin warmed to a lovely shade of pink. He crouched down to Lily’s height and questioned her in a discreet tone. ‘I thought I saw your sister with you two days past. How many sisters do you have, little one?’
Lily giggled and offered him another sweet smile. ‘Just one.’ She raised her palm beneath his nose. ‘Do you like my
His Royal Handsomeness
? She turned and scurried after Lily as fast as her slippers could carry her.
***
Constantine completed his change of clothes and hurried to the window to see if the chaos in the street had dissipated. A few people milled about but with the excitement over, the square would soon return to normalcy. About to turn away, a flash of red under the white lace of an onlooker’s parasol caught his eye. It took less than a minute to recognise the lady below as the lovely stranger who verbally sparred with him last night in Lord Rochester’s study.
Isabelle.
Her image had taunted him throughout the remainder of the evening, and when he awoke this morning, the remembrance of her sultry grey eyes, vibrant hair and lush figure tightened his body with yearning. He regretted not capturing her tempting heart-shaped lips in a long, heated kiss when he had had the chance.
He chuckled aloud, assured he would have earned himself a set down. Isabelle appeared unlike the many ladies willing to offer him their casual favours. He learned her first name, but the minx distracted him so thoroughly, he never discovered her last. That problem wanted a remedy.
He caught up to her and the bewitching child he met during the poppy incident at a narrow turn in the path, near the bodkin bench under a flowering bergamot tree. The child was consumed by a bird’s nest and she refused to proceed further down the path no matter what type of inducement Isabelle offered. A wry smile quirked his lips at her thwarted hasty retreat. He had believed her to possess a bit more spunk. True, it likely proved awkward to be caught staring up at his second-storey window.
He remained a good distance from them and wished to enjoy Isabelle’s pleading tone a bit longer, but the child spotted him and with a squeal of delight pointed in his direction and raced forward with excitement. He smiled upon discovery, as he had committed the same crime as she, shamelessly watching from afar.
‘Hello, good sir.’ The child fell into a polished curtsy and then thrust out her palm, over which a delicate feather lay, the thinnest plume, a gentle shade of grey with hints of gold near the edges. He looked up to see the same soft hues in Isabelle’s eyes.
‘Lily, how many times have I warned you never to talk to strangers? We are not in Wiltshire. This is a very large city. All types of libertines and blackguards may be lurking in the shadows. Dangerous men who lack morals and tempt disaster are hiding everywhere ready to deceive any trusting young lady.’
He bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a smile at the dreadful picture Isabelle drew with her words. While the underlying message was one worth championing, he doubted it necessary to portray him as the worst kind of threat.
Lily glanced from one adult to the other with a perplexed look on her face. ‘This is my friend,’ the child said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘He gave me a button simply because I admired it.’
Isabelle arched a narrow brow in his direction and challenged him with her eyes. Lord, he’d rather challenge her with his body.
The child continued rightfully unaware of the sparks that danced between the two adults above her head. ‘My name is Lily and this is my sister, Isabelle.’
‘I am very pleased to meet you. I am Lord Highborough. I live over there on the corner.’ He waved in the general direction of Park Lane as he glanced from child to the adult. ‘But I believe you know that already.’ Isabelle’s skin warmed to a lovely shade of pink. He crouched down to Lily’s height and questioned her in a discreet tone. ‘I thought I saw your sister with you two days past. How many sisters do you have, little one?’
Lily giggled and offered him another sweet smile. ‘Just one.’ She raised her palm beneath his nose. ‘Do you like my
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