The mixed berry scone was the best thing he ever tasted, and the most annoying thing he had ever eaten.

As soon as he bit on the pastry, the jam had spread in his mouth. Some oozed out of the corner of his lips due to his inability to fully close his mouth. He had to dab his mouth with a napkin before the spreading liquid spilled onto his crisp white cravat.

He wasn't fastidious about his clothing, but really, a dark-colored jam on his white cravat?

And drat the woman, she had laughed at him!

Granted, she laughed rather adorably when she saw the dark-colored jelly creep itself to the corners of his mouth, but he would have appreciated a warning.

Sarah Jane laughed with abandon. She threw her head back which allowed the hair bun to loosen once again. She had muttered something that suspiciously sounded like "practice" and "you'll get better" but he didn't intend to remark upon it.

They promptly ended breakfast after the sweet treat. He had a certain way of eating, he realized. Salty before sweet, like any normal and decent person in England. And as he was halfway through the sausage that he took from the platter to smother it with bean sauce, Sarah Jane had, in his opinion, forcibly thrust the sweet pastry on his hand.

With his plate full of salty meat, he couldn't bring himself to put the scone down next to them. Because of the lady's urging, he had to eat it immediately, there was no way around it. He hadn't particularly relished leaving food on his plate, but the savory meat would be disgusting after the berries had overpowered his palate.

Wonderfully, his headache had completely gone and was in the disposition to enjoy the lady's company. After all, they were already friends. It was apparent that he would soon be spending much of his time with her.

Anthony was sure that Kinsmen Place wasn't as grand as the estates she had lived in. But the quiet elegance of the house was something to be proud of. He had mentioned that his mother had decorated Kinsmen Place, and everyone knew that Lady Killsworth had been the classiest of all women of the ton.

Everything she did was up to standard, and more.

His mother's clothes were all bespoke and measured to the liking of polite society. She had all colors, and jewels to match them. She had never ever done anything disgraceful that would cause a scandal.

That was Lady Killsworth, and that was Anthony's mother. She chose to reside in London whereas her son had fled, quite remarkably fast, to Trowbridge.

Shaking his head to rid of the thoughts of his mother and his past, he quickly took Sarah Jane's hand and placed it on his arm. Her hand was delightfully warm, and almost as inviting as her exotic jam.

Sarah Jane stifled a yawn. "Will you take me around your house, Anthony?" She smiled, an expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. The lady was tired.

"I was about to. Do you want me to show you your bedchamber instead?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized that he did not really know where the footmen had brought her bags.

"To retire, that is. I imagine your day was very tiring." Imagine that, his day was just starting.

"Oh!" She nodded and they ascended the stairs. Lady Sarah Jane trailed her other hand on the elegant railing, her fingers lightly touching the hardened paint.

"Your home is really lovely." Another yawn.

Anthony was intercepted by a maid in the hallway, and he hurriedly asked for the location of the lady's guest room.

The maid pointed him to the west wing. It was the biggest guest room, not to mention nearest to the private quarters—his room was just a door from hers.

"Thank you," he said with a nod, as they proceeded to the west side of his house.

Her neck craned at the huge window that was at the end of the hallway. "I should like to have a room in the east wing. The sunrise, I assume will be loveliest there."

"We are in the west wing." He smiled thoughtfully. If not for that comment, he would never have guessed that she was an early riser. Sarah Jane just didn't strike him as a morning person.

No one else was in the house, why not give her what she wants? "I am sure that a room in the east wing could be arranged." It would be disappointing if she wanted to sleep as far as him as possible, after all, the master suite was also at the west side.

Her head bobbed a little bit, tiltling slightly to the side as she wondered, "where is your room?"

"I—"

His gait missed a beat, as he recovered from the girl's question. "My room is at the end of the west wing."

He looked at her curiously. Was she trying to tell him something?

She stopped, and in his opinion, she looked a bit deflated when she said, "never mind then."

He raised one brow. She needed to explain what she meant.

"Was there a reason why you inquired upon my room?"

With a sigh, they continued walking, as she remarked that it would be impossible for her to sleep in a room that was far from the host.

Her smile wobbled uncomfortably. "It will be too far from you."

Anthony couldn't help but chuckle at that. Clearly, this woman did not know what she was about.

"My, my... If I hadn't known any better, I would think that you are flirting with me, dear Sarah Jane."

She stopped in her tracks all-too-suddenly that he was almost thrown forward.

"I beg your pardon." She flustered, incoherent words tumbling from her lips as she tried to wake herself up. With big owlish eyes, she looked at him pointedly. "I wasn't."

She didn't even know how to flirt. How could that remark be flirtatious? She rather thought that she was merely being friendly.

"Pity." He grinned. Anthony was already beginning to feel that he was regaining his lost famous charm.

"I wasn't," she ground out.

Then as if it wasn't enough, she glanced around for any onlookers, her eyes narrowing at him suspiciously.

"Pray, tell me, where is your room?" She did not want to be too far from him since they were the only ones living there, but also significantly, she did not want to be too close either. She hadn't the chance to peruse his character!

Anthony pulled the woman and swiftly brought his wide strides toward the end of the hall. "This, Sarah Jane, is my room." Then just to tease her further, he added, "would you like to come in?"

She gasped.

But oh, her heart was traitorous. It fluttered mercilessly as his eyes stared her down with mirth dancing in his blue pupils.

Sarah Jane wanted to see what the room looked like, to see how this Earl's room—or this Viscount's room that is—looked like. But she felt hot, incredibly warm that it was starting to get uncomfortable. Her cheeks grew heated, as she thought about the mystical connecting door.

Where is her room?

"Where is my room," she demanded, hands on her hips, as she tried to imitate how Mathilda looked like when she was scolding her.

Anthony crossed to the hallway and pulled the lever to a room. "This is yours."

He smiled wickedly and added, "may I come in?"

"NO!"

She was sure that even her neck was blushing when she stomped like a 3-year-old to the doorframe. Her eyes scanned the room, and she saw that it was huge, and it had an awful lot of doors in it.

Abruptly, she turned around to face him. Smoke, she was positively sure, was steaming out of her nose as she glared at the man. "Is there a connecting door?" Her hands still on her hips.

Anthony guffawed, his voice reverberating through the empty halls. This was a very interesting woman, indeed. "Would you want one?"

As if it were possible, she grew positively redder. "NO!"

She held his gaze for another half minute. "I'll have you know, my lord, I have weapons in my bag. Weapons! And I will not hesitate to use it if you sneak into my room."

She swiftly entered the room with purposeful strides and proceeded to open the doors without hesitation. She found two to be empty storage spaces, one was a closet with shelves and the other two to be a bath and dressing room each. Surely, there wasn't any need for these many rooms.

Anthony had dutifully remained in the hallway. He might have fallen a step back when she seemed so intent on hurting him.

Sarah Jane seemed like she meant every word of her threat. If she did have weapons, then there must be a reason why she had them.

His lips involuntarily turned down into a frown. Did she have unwanted intentions from other guardians? Of course she didn't have the protection of a father, nor any man, but she was a happy girl, surely...

Unless...

Unless, she was really bent on killing off the Lord Rosenbergs until she reached someone whom she felt was up to her liking to remain as the Earl. Now that was a little funny.

That chit with a big and lovely mouth holding a stake and running after old portly lords? The picture was priceless. It could be a cover of a gothic novel.

It was a surprise that he hadn't fallen into a pit of fits yet.

Stepping forward to her side, he carefully adjusted his tone, dropping low, his voice was a husky warning. "I assure you, Sarah Jane," He used her name to caress her.

His finger lightly tipped her chin to face him. He leaned low and close enough for her to likely expect a kiss. "I never sneak into a woman's room. I am merely invited."

There was once a time that his smirk had reportedly sent scads of women swooning in a London ballroom, and he fully intended to unleash its power now.

He blew on her lips to befuddle her, but he soon realized that it was he who had become dazed with the familiar clenching of his desire.

Their romance was short-lived.

"And I assure you," she said with a huff and swatted his hand away from her face. "I did not give you an invitation. I never will." She pushed him from the room and slammed the door in his face.

Was that a challenge? He smiled.

Anthony couldn't seem to remove his smile from the moment the chit entered his home. Hell, he had smiled more today than in the past year that he had been tucked silently away in Kinsmen.

He was about to leave her when the door violently swung open.

"I must tell you, I am good, excellent even, at pistols." Sarah Jane knew that that was a blatant lie. She had been horrible with pistols, but he didn't need to know that, did he?

"I won't hesitate one—"

"Are you insinuating a duel with me to defend your honor, Lady Sarah Jane," he mocked, his brow rousing her to a challenge.

"I am." Her teeth clamped together in frustration. She had no one to defend her honor, and she must endeavor to defend it herself. "I will do so if you provoke me!"

"I do not engage in duels with silly females." Anthony knew his voice was a teeny bit condescending, but the expression on her face was a good reward for it. Her eyes were wide enough for a bee to sting in, and her jaw dropped low enough that he was sure that another jam-filled scone would fit perfectly in it.

Her outrage had silenced her. Satisfied, Anthony walked away, whistling a carefree tune.

Having Sarah Jane in his home would prove to be an interesting endeavor, of that he had no doubt.

Now kissing her would be a totally different endeavor. And he will savor each and every moment of it.

———-
A/N: After writing this chapter, I've taken a habit of drinking English Breakfast Tea or Earl Grey with a splash of milk. Sometimes I take some digestives with it and fancy myself to be English. Lol don't look at me like that, we all do it, we just choose different niches :P

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