"Lord Hawley ..."
As the coach door shut behind him, Cass snapped her mouth shut in advance of asking what he wanted. After all the last time she'd asked him that, look at the resulting mess. Anyway nothing would stop her leaving.
"Checking for stolen silverware, are you?"
In reply he eased his limbs, long and lean in immaculate fawn breeches and a robin's-egg colored coat, onto the seat opposite. Good God, what had he done to his face? Two of the worst nicks she'd ever seen sliced his wonderfully chiseled cheekbones.
He canted his jaw. "That depends on where the hell you're going, Miss Armstrong."
Although she gave a little laugh, it took every ounce of her self possession not to open the other door, gather her skirts, and leap out onto the driveway. Going? Where indeed was far enoug
