Slowly she devoured the little cake, lick by luscious lick, bite by tiny bite.
A groan threatened to rise in his throat. He forced it down.
She glanced up, saw him watching and blushed. “These cakes are delicious. My compliments to your cook.”
“I don’t have a cook yet.” Leo’s voice sounded hoarse. “My majordomo will have purchased them.”
“Matteo?” She arched a silky dark brow. “I must ask him where he found them, then. He’s a treasure, isn’t he? He wassowelcoming when we arrived.”
Was that an indirect comment on the lack of welcome he’d given them? He muttered something innocuous. She leaned toward the plate of cakes, and Leo turned abruptly back to face her sister before the wench could demolish another cream cake—and his self-control.
Miss Studley, too, was in the process of eating a cream cake with every appearance of enjoyment, but she posed not the slightest threat to his composure. Leo glanced at the plate, sighed and took the last cake. It was gone in two bites. He drained his teacup and said, “Now, if you’ve finished your tea, I’ll take you to meet my aunt.”
Chapter Two
She couldn’t make him out, Izzy decided as Lord Salcott ushered them out. Was he one ofthose—the sort of person who looked down on people whose birth was irregular? Or was he simply a bit awkward and stern and gruff with women?
If he was the former, he’d soon learn that she would have none of it. She’d had quite enough of that sort of treatment in her life, and things here in London were going to be different. She was determined on it.
Illegitimate people—illegitimate girls, especially—were supposed to be quiet, self-effacing and humble, grateful not to be openly scorned by their betters, who were superior by virtue of their parents having married.
She’d learned that lesson young. She’d run to help another little girl who’d fallen over. The girl’s older brother had yanked Izzy backward, yelling at her, “Don’t you dare touch my sister, you dirty little bastard!” And he’d shoved her in the mud and then spat on her, while some other children laughed.
That was the first time she’d heard the wordbastard. She was four years old.
So, Lord Salcott, with his handsome face and his cold gray eyes, seemed to be the sort who prided himself on doing what he considered to be “the right thing,” which in this case was squashing what he imagined to be Izzy’s pretensions.
Like it or not Miss Burton will not be accepted by society, and you will be making your come-out alone.
So that was his plan. To freeze her out. Ignore her.
Izzy refused to be frozen out, by him or anyone. And Lord “I Dare You to Defy Me” Salcott would learn that Izzy was not someone to be ignored.
Much to her surprise, Lord Salcott directed them toward the back of his house. Did he keep his aunt in a shed in the back garden, then? She wouldn’t be surprised. She almost asked him—she knew it would annoy him. But she resisted the temptation.
“Oh, look, Izzy, a garden!” Clarissa exclaimed as they passed through the gate at the back of the house. “And it’s huge, almost a park. Hiding here behind all these houses! Oh, isn’t it lovely?”
“The garden is shared by the residents of the houses that surround it,” Lord Salcott began, but Clarissa wasn’t listening. She wandered off, enchanted, exclaiming with delight over each discovery.
Izzy smiled. It was lovely to see Clarissa so pleased. She had been quite nervous about coming to London—not that they’d had any choice. She’d put on a good show in front of Lord Salcott, pretending she was looking forward to visiting famous places and exploring the shops, and Izzy knew she would end up enjoying them. Eventually. But her enthusiasm about the garden was spontaneous and genuine.
“I gather Miss Studley is fond of flowers,” Lord Salcott said when it became clear that Clarissa wasn’t returning anytime soon.
Was he being sardonic again? Izzy wasn’t sure.
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps while your half sister is exploring the garden I could have a quiet word with you, Miss Burton.”
Izzy didn’t respond. He’d been asked to call her Miss Studley or Miss Isobel, and if he chose to ignore it, so be it. It was, perhaps, a little childish, but she would ignore him.
“Miss Burton?” he repeated.
As if he hadn’t spoken at all, Izzy examined a dainty fuchsia bush with every sign of fascination.
“Miss Burton!”
She glanced around vaguely. He frowned at her. “You are not deaf, I presume.”
“Oh no,” she said blithely. “I didn’t realize you were talking to me, that’s all. I don’t answer to that name, you see.” She gave him a sweet smile.
