Uncomfortable with the realization, he freed his hand and started tugging off one of her gloves. “How fares the blisters?”
“Better.” Once bare, he glanced at her palm to see for himself; only one jagged circle of thickened skin visible. But when he turned her palm over to bring the back of her hand to his lips, he whistled through his teeth, his thumb tracing two reddened scratches. “What happened here?”
“Harriet. And holly bushes.”
Should he even ask? Before he decided, she sighed and retrieved her hand. “And yes, I wore gloves this morning. At first.”
“Why were you not wearing gloves when we met?”
“My winter gloves? I took them off before digging, as I did not want to dirty them.” Could one sound sheepish? “They were my favorite, fur-lined pair. Perhaps, by now home to a snug field mouse? Dragged into a rabbit warren?
“The lace half gloves beneath already relinquished to the crying toddler earlier that day, as a hopeful distraction that failed until my ticking timepiece was added.”
“But what of your bonnet?” He touched her hair—and she let him.
“The wind stole my bonnet, shortly after I departed the Timmonses’ carrying Lord Grayson. It could be halfway to Italy by now. My cloak? I left it with Mrs. Timmons, after seeing how pitiful her own.”
“Hmm. You relinquish the cloak off your back to help those in need. See to a lad’s pet at great sacrifice to yourself. Caring and generous, it seems to me. On one hand, you would make a fine viscountess. A man could do much worse for his mate.”
“And on the other? I confess curiosity over which of my faults might flow from your lips.”
“On the other hand? Oh, that is all.” He lifted his left arm and waved slightly crooked fingers toward her. “I only have the one to ponder with.”
“You wretch, how dare you make me laugh right now.”
“Anne. Anne. You realize you can give to others to your detriment, do you not?” He shook his head as though she were the most pitiful of creatures. “Two pair—gone in a week? You should marry me if for nothing more than to have a keeper. A protector, to keep you in gloves.”
“A protector?”
Egad. He bent to nuzzle her cheek. “Poor choice of—”
The door burst open and he quickly straightened.
“Oh! Anne! Finally have I found you.” The inquisitive sprite who had diverted him in the entrance hall spun wide eyes from her sister to him. “Both of you? In here? This is smashing.”
Anne distanced herself from him, but not before he heard a sick moan she couldn’t stifle.
“Mama and Lady Redford bid me to find each of you. Your presence—joint presence, they said—is required. Aye, they said that: required, not requested, upon the dance floor.”
Ed caught Anne’s dismayed gaze with his. “I thought you escorted her up to the nursery.”
“So I did.”
“I escaped.” They paid her no mind.
Ed held out the long glove he still possessed but refused to relinquish his hold once she reached for it. “And you claim you had a hand in rearing her?”
“So I did.”
“Apparently, not successfully.”
“Though we all try our best…” Amusement jumped in Anne’s eyes. “She tends to go her own way.”
To the rat-a-tat-tat-tat of her slipper striking the floor, Harriet expelled a huff. “She can hear every word you are each saying.”
They both ignored her.
“There are worse things in a sibling,” Ed said, finally releasing his grip on the silk. “Or a child.”