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saying so. “Yes, indeed. I will try to keep Harry away from your cat.”
    Lady Dunlee nodded toward Mr. Parker-Roth. “I’m sure your betrothed can help. Oftentimes large dogs need a man’s touch.”
    “Exactly.” Mr. Parker-Roth wrapped an arm around Anne’s waist. “I’ll be happy to take Harry in hand.”
    Anne stiffened at his touch. Lady Dunlee’s lorgnette had snapped up and her enlarged orb was now staring at his hand on her waist. She tried—halfheartedly, but she did try—to shrug out of his embrace, but he wouldn’t let her go. Instead his hand slipped a little lower so it lay on her hip just below her stays.
    Oh! She felt each finger as if it were burning a hole through her dress and chemise. The hard strength of his arm and the warmth of his body all along her side made it very difficult to think clearly.
    Well, perhaps thinking wasn’t the issue. Her head insisted she should move away, but her body . . . She drew in a deep shuddery breath, filling her lungs with his scent, a heady mix of brandy, damp broadcloth, eau de cologne, and . . . man.
    A heavy liquid warmth settled low in her belly.
    Oh, God. She’d never felt this way before, even when she’d thought herself in love with Brentwood. It could not be good.
    “I will see if I can train Harry to behave in a more gentlemanly fashion,” Mr. Parker-Roth was saying. “As I’ve been in London and Lady Anne’s been in the country, I haven’t had the opportunity until now to do so—and of course manners in the country are more relaxed.”
    “Indeed they are, sir,” Lady Dunlee said, scowling at him, “but I hope manners are not so relaxed as to approve the behavior I just witnessed in the square. You know, if Lady Anne does not, that London society will not tolerate such conduct.”
    “I—”
    Mr. Parker-Roth didn’t let Anne squeeze a word in. “I beg your pardon for my lack of decorum, Lady Dunlee. I can only plead temporary insanity. I’d not seen Anne in far too long.” Mr. Parker-Roth managed to look suitably contrite—he’d probably perfected that charmingly apologetic expression as a boy.
    Good Lord, Lady Dunlee dimpled up at him. “Of course you have my pardon, sir, as long as I have your vow to control your emotions in the future. I quite understand the fervor of young love.”
    Anne had to choke back a laugh, turning it into a cough. Lady Dunlee had at least forty, if not fifty, years in her dish. Young love must be a very faint memory.
    “But I would be terribly remiss,” Lady Dunlee continued, “if I didn’t point out many people will wonder at this sudden betrothal. You can’t wish to make things more difficult for Lady Anne and her family.”
    “Of course I don’t.”
    Anne barely heard Mr. Parker-Roth’s words. Many people would wonder? What a horrifying thought.
    She must have made a sound, because Lady Dunlee raised her brows, giving her an alarmingly arch look. “You are very lucky, Lady Anne. Countless society maidens will take to their beds in a fit of the dismals when they hear Mr. Stephen Parker-Roth is no longer available.”
    Her stomach sank to the bottom of her slippers. This must be a nightmare. She would wake up in a moment safely tucked into her bed at Crane House.
    “Oh, yes, society will be abuzz with the news of your betrothal.” Lady Dunlee gave what looked suspiciously like a skip as she cleared the threshold.
    “But you promised not to say a word,” Anne called after her.
    The woman just smiled over her shoulder and waved her hand. Instead of turning to mount the stairs to her house, she headed off across the square. A large, gray cat darted out from under a bush to rub itself against her ankles.
    “At least Miss Whiskers is safe,” Mr. Parker-Roth said, closing the door.
    Anne glared at him. “I don’t care about that stupid cat—where is Lady Dunlee going?”
    “To Melinda Fallwell’s. She lives at number forty-nine.”
    “Who’s Melinda Fallwell?” Anne pointed to the