It had also made it entirely too easy to cut himself off from people, to keep hefty walls up to hold everyone out, not just so that he couldn’t suffer that same hurt and betrayal again, but also because he’d not trusted himself.

In the immediate years following that treacherous act, he’d still come to London. He’d done so, however, as a man who’d had his eyes opened. If a family whom he’d been as close with as his own could use him so handily to manipulate their son… Well, what did that say about everyone else around him?

With every Season he’d attended, he’d observed the inauthenticity of the people who made up the peerage and come to the realization that he wanted no part of that.

So he’d left.

He’d chosen instead to travel and see the world, because any place was certainly preferable to the confining walls resurrected by the ton.

He’d been content to stay away and gladly would have continued to stay away had he not the obligation to see his sister secure. That absolutely required he be present, so he could protect her from hurt as he was able.

In the past, it had been all too easy to neatly lump all the lords and ladies into the same category, one filled with insincere people with jaded souls and ruthless intents.

That was, it had been all too easy until Lettie had come traipsing outside after him, filled with joyful exuberance and sincerity…at seeing him.

She’d been direct.

She’d challenged him. And even when he’d pushed her back, she’d shoved harder by arriving at his home to visit his mother.

And she’d smiled.

She’d always worn a smile. But he’d never noted her dimples before, and he’d never seen her as a woman.

Until he had.

Now, there was no unseeing that sight. There was no purging her or that discovery from his mind.

His inability to do so was yet another mark upon his black soul.

Because she was absolutely the last woman he’d any right to be thinking of. And imagining.

Anthony urged his mount, Pegasus, over a slight rise and then drew back slightly on the reins.

As if he’d conjured her, Lettie sat perched on the edge of the Serpentine. Her boots lay strewn about haphazardly, each article some several feet apart as if they’d been discarded in haste. A different hat than the one he’d rescued yesterday, but just as big and covered with just as many artificial satin roses, lay beside her.

He did a search for her maid.

Her head bent, Lettie remained completely absorbed in the book she held.

He dug deep for the will to turn his mount and head off in the opposite direction. After all, he’d advised her—nay, instructed her—to stop coming ’round.