I hear it’s quite cold there.
Everyone had their own opinion of Mr. Grey, it seemed, but the one thing they all agreed upon was that he was not in possession of great wealth. Or really, any wealth at all.And anyway, he had not proposed. Nor did he intend to.
With a heavy heart, Annabel turned the corner onto Brook Street, allowing Nettie to chatter on about the extravagantly plumed bonnets they‘d seen in a Bond Street window. She was about six houses away from home when she saw a grand carriage approaching from the other direction.―Wait," she said, holding her hand out to stop Nettie.Her maid looked at her in askance, but she stopped. And she quieted.
Annabel watched with dread as Lord Newbury plopped down to the pavement and marched up the steps. There could be no doubt as to why he was there.―Ow! Miss…"
Annabel turned to Nettie, realizing that she‘d been gripping the poor girl‘s arm like a vise. ―I‘m sorry," she said in a rush, quickly letting her go, ―but I can‘t go home. Not yet."
―Do you want a different bonnet?" Nettie looked down at the bundle she was carrying. ―There was that one with the grapes, but I think it was too dark."He smirked. She had no idea. Harry might work for the dull branch of the War Office-the one that dealt with words and papers instead of guns, knives, and secret missions-but he was well trained. He’d spent ten years in the military, most of them on the Continent, where an observant eye and a keen sense for movement could make the difference between life and death.
He’d noticed, for example, that she had a habit of tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. And because she sometimes watched him at night, he knew that when she let it down-the entire, unbelievably sunshiny mass of it-the ends hit right in the middle of her back.He knew that her dressing gown was blue. And, regrettably, rather shapeless.
She had no talent for holding still. She probably thought she did; she wasn’t a fidgeter, and her posture was straight and direct. But something always gave her away-a little flutter of her fingertips, or perhaps a tiny elevation of her shoulders as she drew breath.And of course, by this point, Harry couldn’t possibly not notice her.