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“What the devil?” Mr. Townsend snapped. “You said you weren’t coming.”

“Not with you. I’ll follow close on your heels.”

“Don’t be absurd. You won’t keep up.”

“I could beat you to Eton with one hand tied behind my back.”

Exasperation turned those craggy features forbidding. “Brave words. If I didn’t think you’d risk your damned fool neck, I’d take you up on the challenge.”

With so much at stake, Fenella couldn’t falter. “So you’ll take me.”

“Not on your life.”

“We’ll be discreet.”

His snort was dismissive. “Aye, and of course nobody will pay a lass like you a scrap of attention when we stop to ask after the scamps.”

“We’ll manage.”

That square jaw jutted with obstinacy. “I’ll be on my own.”

She summoned a saccharine smile, despite her urgency. “And I’ll be just behind you.”

“You’re a blasted stubborn wench, Lady Deerham.”

“I am.” Strangely the remark pleased her. It was an improvement on madam or his dear Lady Deerham. Somewhere in the last six months, she’d grown a backbone—and she liked it. Before meeting Caroline and Helena, she’d been contemptibly compliant. “Whether you intend to take me or not, I’m leaving for Eton within the next quarter of an hour.”

He folded his arms and tilted one eyebrow in disdain. She raised her chin and faced him down, although it was rather like scowling at Ben Nevis and expecting it to melt into a puddle.

“There’s no room in my carriage for a maid, my lady. And I’ve neither time nor inclination to swap my rig for a larger vehicle. We’ll be completely alone. You and I. All night.”

Fenella recognized the potential for scandal. She hardly cared. “Sir, two young boys are lost somewhere out in the darkness. With or without you, I will find them. Compared to my son’s safety, I couldn’t give a…tinker’s damn for my social standing. Or your nitpicking.”

He looked rather startled at her language, despite his own tendency to curse. Too bad. She’d swear like a sailor if it achieved her end of joining him. She wasn’t at all sure what she thought of Anthony Townsend. But she was positive of one thing—in the case of trouble, Mr. Townsend was big and mean enough to handle anything life flung at him. If anyone could track Brand and Carey down, it was this large, belligerent male.

“This is a mistake.”

That sounded like he might relent. “The mistake is delaying our departure.”

He gestured toward her yellow gown with a contempt her modiste’s best efforts didn’t deserve. “You’ll need to change.”

He’d yielded, although he was yet to admit it. She hid a triumphant smile. She faced hours in this mercurial man’s company. Silly to get him offside. Or more offside. “I’ll be quick.”

“You’d better be.”

The smile at last proved unstoppable, although she hoped it wasn’t as smug as it felt. Extraordinary to smile at all. Defying Mr. Townsend bolstered her courage. “You’ll take me, then.”

His sigh was long-suffering. “Not if you’re more than five minutes getting ready—and very much against my better judgment. God help us both.”

Chapter Two

Anthony stared helplessly at the ravishing blond sylph in blue who imagined she could stand up to him. And against all expectations, seemed to have prevailed.

His family was respectable. His father had been a mine manager, so he’d been brought up with a modicum of decency. He’d never gone hungry. He’d had a good education. He’d had an adventurous life, discovering the world and its wonders.

But never in his travels had he seen anything to match Lady Deerham.

Since he’d made his fortune, many a lordling had been eager to take advantage of his business acumen. But ladies remained an unfamiliar breed. Especially ladies like this, as fragile as a new rosebud or the Venetian glass he imported to such great profit. When he’d stopped shouting long enough to notice what she looked like, his mind had immediately turned to custard.


Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance