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them both.
    Her yelp of surprise lingered in midair as her book fell to
the floor, just missing his foot.
    Anna . Wonderfully kissable Anna. He flushed. He
should not think of such things in mixed company.
    “Mr. Peel!”
    He continued to hold her at the shoulders. The only thing
preventing him from pulling her against him was his damnable honor and an
accursed sewing basket she clutched before her.
    “Miss…Miss…”
    “I’m Anna, sir.” Her gaze fell to the basket.
    “I thought to give you the same courtesy of using your
surname.”
    She smiled a sweet, sweet smile with her kissable lips. “Colney,
sir. Anna Colney.”
    “Well, Miss Colney, will you accept an apology from an
ungraceful clod?” His hands tingled from the lingering touch. He drew them down
her arms adroitly.
    She looked up at him. Her brown eyes matched the rich oak of
the wainscoting and her cheeks were accentuated with a rosy flush. He had never
noticed until that moment how much she resembled Sophia. If not for the severe
servant’s uniform, one might mistake her for a cousin. Perhaps a cousin in
mourning.
    “You’re not a clod, sir. It’s a hazard of the ground floor. Such
accidents happen more often than not amongst the servants.”
    “Ah.” He should leave but he couldn’t. “So what are you
doing down here on the ground floor?”
    “Lady Sophia called. She needed a quick repair to her
bodice.”
    Hence the sewing basket. “You’re wearing a different dress,”
he blurted.
    “Sir?” She blushed.
    Bollocks . “From the other night. This one is black.
And is it silk?”
    “It is last year’s mourning gown from my lady.” She nibbled
on her lower lip. “When guests are lodging we’re to dress for dinner as well,
sir. I need to be presentable in case I am called upon.”
    He could not take his eyes off her now-moistened lip. “You
would think my house barbaric then. I’m certain we do no such thing.”
    She smiled the loveliest of smiles. “I’m sure the lady of
your house sees to it, sir.”
    “My mother.”
    “Sir?”
    “My mother. Lady Bucknall. There is no Mrs. Peel.”
    She blushed. “I had gathered that, sir.”
    Of course. His kissing Sophia. Or Anna, rather.
    She curtsied. “I’ll take my leave, if you don’t mind, sir.”
    She bent to pick up her book, almost crashing into him again
as he thought to do the same.
    He straightened and glanced at the gilded letters on the
cover. “ North and South . I’ve not read that one. Is it good?”
    “I am enjoying it, sir.”
    “It’s about industrialization, is it not? I should probably
read it.”
    She laughed softly. “Yes, I suppose Mrs. Gaskell does touch
on similar themes to what you and Lord Petersham are about to embark upon.” Her
hand flew to her mouth. “I’m dreadfully sorry, sir. My lady has spoken a little
about your scheme. I have not been indiscreet with the knowledge.”
    “You have already proved your penchant for discretion with
your silence concerning my relationship with Lady Sophia.” He handed her the
book.
    She looked away as she tucked it inside her basket. “Thank
you, sir.” She curtsied and started in the direction from where he had just
come.
    “Wait.”
    She hesitated. “Sir?”
    He had to say something. Really he just wanted to kiss her
but such a move would reek of power and privilege, making him yet another
aristocrat abusing a servant. He did not want such a base relationship with
her. He wanted something more. But such a thing could never be managed.
    “I just wanted…I mean to say that…I think you look lovely
tonight.”
    She blushed. “Thank you, sir.”
    “Last time I saw you it was practically pitch dark,
otherwise I would have told you then.” Blast . That sounded stupid.
    “And you were otherwise occupied. Good night, sir.” She turned
and left.
    Otherwise occupied, indeed . Geoffrey chuckled to
himself. Anna Colney was simply magnificent.
    * * * * *
    Arthur gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as