Page 3 of A Rogue to Ruin
“They do. Your effort is commendable. You will be back here next week, then?”
“I shall.”
“Wear your simplest gown. We’ll go to Covent Garden.”
“I only have two hours.” Anne didn’t want to explain further. She liked the idea of anonymity almost as much as she liked the idea of him taking her to Covent Garden. A forbidden excitement embraced her.
“It will be a swift tour, then,” he said. “But I promise it will be enjoyable.”
Of that, Anne had no doubt.
* * *
One week later…
After meeting at Hatchard’s, Lord Bodyguard—which was the name Anne had given the gentleman—escorted her into his cabriolet and drove them to Covent Garden. Rather, near to Covent Garden, since they left the vehicle in the charge of Lord Bodyguard’s tiger while they made their way to the square.
“I think I was right to call you Lord Bodyguard,” Anne said as she took his arm.
He turned his head, his brows elevating in surprise. “LordBodyguard?”
She arched a shoulder. “You seem wealthy.”
“Not all nobles are wealthy,” he said with a slight laugh. “And not all wealthy men are noble.”
“You’re also imposing.” And intelligent and witty.
“Not all nobles are imposing.” The disdain in his tone spoke volumes. “I told you I wasn’t an earl.”
She waved her hand before he could respond. “I don’t care. You’re firmly Lord Bodyguard in my mind.”
He flashed a brief smile. “Then I shall be Lord Bodyguard.”
“What do you call me?”
“I don’t.”
Anne felt a prick of disappointment.
“WhatshouldI call you?” he asked as they walked into the square.
Her attention was instantly drawn to the people bustling about, the booths and wagons selling produce, food, and goods, the façade of St. Paul’s Church. They were utterly quiet as he squired her around the square. She took in every sight and sound, but by the time they reached St. Paul’s, she was beyond weary of her veil.
Pushing the gauze up, she flipped it back over her the brim of her hat and exhaled. “Much better.”
“Much.”
Anne turned her head to see him staring at her, his gaze shining with appreciation. She couldn’t look away. His eyes, a brilliant blue, were the most unusual she’d ever beheld. There was a bright orange mark in the right one, as if there was a fire burning within him that couldn’t be contained.
“Miss Dazzling,” he said softly, answering the question he’d posed several minutes before.
Dazzling.She’d been called beautiful, charming, graceful, but never dazzling.
“I think I’d better be Missus. For appearances’ sake.”
He smiled. “To be clear, I won’t be calling you that out loud.”
Just in his mind, as she called him Lord Bodyguard in hers. She tightened her hold on his arm. “What shall we do?”
