To Love A Wicked Scoundrel. Anabelle Bryant

as she? The lingering question excited and troubled her at the same time. Good heavens, she needed to stop her ridiculous behaviour. If only she could dismiss his words with the same ease with which she scolded herself for remembering them.

      The evening they met in Lord Rochester’s study, Lord Highborough had called her hair magnificent. She’d never received a compliment as grand. No matter that his opinion did not signify, a tiny part of her brain insisted on repeating his words like a litany, even as Lily filled the carriage with chatter.

      The park bustled with activity although the hour had just turned eleven. The driver knew the area well and took them in a direct route to the upside-down tree where he parked alongside the thoroughfare. One couldn’t help but be amused while viewing the tree. It did appear as if it sprouted from the ground backward, the base quite narrow and the top grown wide. Lily investigated the area around the tree’s trunk and Isabelle delighted in the serious expression her sister donned as she combed over every blade of grass in search of treasure.

      ‘I hoped you would come.’

      Isabelle’s breath caught when she heard his voice behind her. She almost dropped the little velvet bag Lily had entrusted to her for safekeeping. With simple logical, she dismissed the obvious question as to how he found them and the realisation of his masterful play of the scene took hold. She whipped around to abrade his trickery.

      ‘It does not seem an especially clever notion to mention an upside-down tree in the presence of a six-year-old child and not expect there to be an urgency to see it.’ She hoped her tone echoed the condescension of her words. The rakish devil merely quirked his lips before he offered a deep bow and his silence compelled her to continue. ‘Or do you normally malinger here in the park and lurk behind trees, ready to pounce upon unsuspecting females?’

      He appeared amused by her admonishment. ‘I am at your service, milady. Not just here in Hyde Park, but for the entire day if need be. I am happy you have acted upon my first suggestion. Mayhaps there are other natural sites that hold your interest this morning.’ He offered her a slow, lazy smile.

      Impossible man. She refused to look at his finely formed face and turned her attention to where Lily frolicked under the tree branches. ‘Be careful what you wish for, milord. Lily will keep you busy for hours.’ She couldn’t know he meant to keep her busy for just as long in a different manner, but something in the way he looked at her – his eyes full of mischief, his lips curled with a saturnine grin – caused an uneasy ripple of apprehension to surface even as she spoke the warning.

      ‘Constantine.’ He said the word as if a command. ‘I can no longer call you Isabelle, and not offer you the same kindness. We should be of equal accord. Please call me Constantine. Con, if you prefer.’

      There seemed such finality to his statement she saw little reason to disagree. Besides, she already thought of him in that manner. Meredith’s incessant babbling removed all formality from the man’s mention. The sudden thought of her stepmother paired with the handsome man before her gave her conscience a firm shake, and an uncomfortable foreboding shadowed her earlier appreciation of his appearance. She pushed the uneasy feeling aside, unwilling to let it take hold. For then she’d be forced to offer foolish excuses and flee.

      ‘Lord Highborough!’ Lily bounded towards them. Adoration graced her angelic face. ‘It really is upside-down. It is an upside-down tree.’

      Saying it aloud seemed to cause Lily unending delight and she twirled with excitement. Constantine reached into his waistcoat pocket and extended his open palm towards her. The motion caused Lily immediate pause.

      ‘Oh, it is lovely. May I have it please?’

      ‘Lily, where so ever are your manners? I apologise.’ Embarrassed, Isabelle did not quite meet his eyes, but she detected he stayed her with the barest shake of his head.

      ‘There is no need to apologise. I brought this especially. Lily told me about her penchant for buttons. My valet will never miss this one.’ He placed the gleaming gold button into the child’s waiting palm and then Lily did the most astonishing thing, and flung herself against his legs in a fierce embrace. Isabelle watched and something tight twisted in her chest.

      ‘I will treasure it always. Thank you so very much.’ Lily’s tone was all adoring worship. Then in a flash of pale yellow muslin she ran beneath the upside-down tree and settled to examine her newly acquired prize.

      ‘You certainly have won her affection.’ Isabelle did not disguise her genuine appreciation. Lily owned most of her heart. The sudden realisation turned bittersweet, as if as a grown woman she should have made room for more people, a husband or a lover. At least a cherished friend. She blinked hard and forced the regretful thoughts from her mind.

      ‘Had I known it would take a single button I would have brought you one as well.’

      Against her wishes, a smile escaped. Good Lord, he cut a fine figure standing amidst the wild flowers in Hyde Park. Her heart stuttered into a heavy rhythm and no matter how she demanded it cease, her traitorous body refused to obey. The infamous Earl of Colehill proved nothing at all like she’d assumed. This man was at complete odds with the urbane seducer described in the scandal sheets. Her conflicted assumptions scrambled to rearrange themselves and she sensed danger indeed. The rake who purportedly kept several mistresses and wagered rashly, rebel rousing until the wee hours of the morning, was easy to treat with disdain. This man, the real man in front of her, with hair the colour of sweet honey, and eyes that twinkled even under a cloudy sky, presented a captivating contradiction.

      His thoughtfulness in wishing to please Lily by bringing an addition for her treasured collections touched Isabelle deeply. At times, Meredith did not show such consideration for her daughter’s feelings. In that one small expression he elevated her esteem, despite the fanfare that surrounded his reputation, or her earlier vow to dismiss him as ridiculous. How many intriguing layers were there to the breathtaking man before her, the same one who chose to portray himself as having the world on a string, his life an ongoing amusement?

      Her eyes trailed after him as he moved to where Lily played. Had society failed to look deep enough to discover the truth beneath the easy perception of confidence and self-assurance? The puzzling notion held her entranced, as if by solving the paradox, she would be led to discover herself. There was no denying they’d become unwittingly intertwined somehow; by fate or just plain coincidence, it did not signify. And the promise of adventure never seemed more within reach.

      ***

      Constantine glanced over his shoulder and paused as Isabelle approached where he and Lily conversed under the tree branches. She looked lovely. She wore no elaborate jewelry, nor fanciful bonnet covered with frivolous adornments. Instead her choice of fashion appeared tasteful and attractive. Her breathtaking hair, hidden under a narrow straw hat, was secured with a thin sash that matched her gown. He could imagine its glory. Without a doubt, her features were her most becoming accessories: creamy ivory skin and all soft feminine curves.

      ‘What do you see?’ Lily’s innocent question interrupted his considerations and it proved a good matter as he suspected Isabelle noticed he stared in her direction.

      ‘Does your sister have a beau?’ He smirked as he voiced the question, unaccustomed to showing concern over male competition.

      ‘Oh yes. She has many.’

      Annoyance rippled through him at the youngling’s reply. While he didn’t know what he expected with his foolish question, the undesired words sharpened his retort. ‘Here? I thought your family just arrived a few days past?’

      He glanced in Isabelle’s direction. She’d stopped to admire the primrose clusters growing beside a wrought-iron bench. Refreshing as she appeared, how could he have thought she would not have a long list of admirers?

      ‘Yes. She has many in Wiltshire so Mother insisted she bring a few to London. Isabelle likes them well enough, although Mother tells her she can do much better here in the city. Mother says a lady should always be pretty and never mind witty.’

      Lily bent and