And mayhap he had been. Smote by the Lord for being tempted by the lady before him.

Anthony firmed his jaw. “I’ll ask you to let it go,” he said in frosty tones meant to dissuade her and also resurrect a much-needed barrier between them.

Lettie lifted her chin a notch and then gave a tight nod. “As you wish.”

He wished her to leave and take with her this powerful temptation.

He wanted even more to kiss her.

Anthony registered the sound of footfalls too late.

He glanced over at the doorway as his sister’s maid appeared at the threshold.

To the young woman’s credit, she gave no outward reaction to his and Lettie’s wickedly close positioning.

“Her ladyship asked me to inform her visitor that she regrets that she cannot return, that her presence is required with Lady Eloise.”

Ah, a sea of vultures.

“I will escort Lady Lettice out,” he called over. “If you might see her cloak is readied and her carriage summoned.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” The young woman dropped a curtsy and then rushed off.

“You’re getting rid of me,” Lettie muttered.

Yes, in part. Part of him recognized he couldn’t continue this meeting alone with Lettie. No matter how much he might wish to.

He motioned to the door.

“I’ll have you know I’m not done with this,” she informed him as they made their way from the parlor.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt,” he drawled. He just also happened to know she’d have to get the sordid details from her elder brother.

And then she’d quit coming around and inserting herself into his life.

Odd, the thought of that filled his chest with a heavy darkness.

And he was grateful for the uncharacteristic break in her usual loquaciousness, for it spared him from having to speak through his inexplicable regret that this would surely be their last meeting.

As they walked the length of the long corridor, the din coming from the drawing room grew increasingly louder, boisterous enough to rival the most crowded ballroom and swelling in volume.

As they passed the drawing room, filled to the brim with Eloise’s suitors, Lettie paused.

“Egad,” she said and then swiftly bustled off.

A sudden need to know what these past years had been like for Lettie Brookfield filled Anthony. He searched his mind, doing the quick math. She would be twenty-six or twenty-seven. “I trust you know something of that,” he remarked.

A laugh exploded from Lettie, and she slapped him on the arm. “Oh, hush. You were never one of those rogues with falsities falling from your lips.”

He frowned. She’d assumed he was being…polite. “You haven’t?”

“Me?” She scoffed. “I’ve never had a room like that.”

God, the gents of London were truly mad.