lively blue eyes and light brown hair. Even though she was dressed plainly, he could see she had become a very attractive woman.
She took a step back, her hand going wildly out to the white doorframe. For a brief moment, he watched a smile play upon her lips until she looked behind him and clamped her mouth shut. “I do not know who you mean. And I am sure we have never met before.” She curtsied quickly and said, “Good day, sir,” before brushing past him. “Hello, Hansen. Are you feeling well today?”
Turning in her direction, Anthony was startled to see her speaking to an old man just behind him.
“Aye, Miss. Thank you. My rheumatism has not acted up at all this morning.”
“That is good to hear. You make sure you use that oil at least twice a day. I would not want Lady Dashlund to find out. Please let me know if you need anything. Come to me first.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please?”
His craggy smile lit up his worn features. “Aye, Miss. Only a fool would go to your step—uh—” he stopped mid-sentence, the old man’s glance looking straight at Anthony before he finished lamely, “—er, Lady Dashlund first.”
Anthony watched Ella’s head nod a short nod and saw the man smile once more; she appeared to whisper something to him before the two parted. The prince waited for her to turn around and address him again, but she did not. Instead, she hurriedly made her way to the back of the house—no doubt going through the servants’ entrance.
“Wait, Ella!” he called out as he rushed toward her.
She stopped and turned on her heal. “Shh!” she shushed him. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. A moment of your time, perhaps.”
She placed a hand on her hip and looked over to the outbuildings. “I cannot right now, I am extremely busy.”
Anthony grinned. “Are you really turning me down?”
Ella looked at him incredulously. “Yes. I have a lot to do this morning and I do not have time to waste chatting with someone I do not remember.”
“Well, then!” He could not help himself—his grin grew. “Now I know what this feels like.”
“What? People not having time for you?”
“Essentially, yes. And not wanting to have anything to do with me either.” He took a step closer to her. “So much so, they lie about remembering me.”
“I did not lie! I do not remember you.”
“And yet another falsehood slips from your mouth.” He stepped forward again. “What are you trying to hide from me?”
She sighed and folded her arms. “Why would I have anything hide?”
His gaze slowly made its way from her wispy hair, pulled back in a hurried bun, down the length of her servant’s attire, all the way to her dirty shoes and then back up to her face again. He did not say a word, his heart a slow sympathetic beat for her.
Ella raised her chin higher. “Yes? Is there something you would like to know?”
One eyebrow rose as a challenge. “Ella Woodston, daughter of Lord Dashlund—one of the wealthiest merchants in the kingdom—why are you dressed as a servant? What has happened to you?”
She threw her hands in the air in an act of disgust and turned on her heel again. This time making her way past the house into the small orchard behind it. The pretty trees were in full blossom. “You are still the same nosy boy you were back then—I am positive you have not changed a bit!”
“Ah-ha! So you do remember me! I knew you did!”
“Of course I remember you, John .” She paused and picked a few pink flowers from one of the stems. “How could I forget the only boy who actually cried when I beat him at the races?”
CHAPTER THREE
“CRIED? I DID NOT cry!” John sputtered.
Ella giggled and plucked at another branch, glad she could get under his skin. “What are you doing here with the duke, anyway?”
“I am his outrider.”
It was her turn to take a good long look at him—her eyes inspecting the fine clothes and expensive boots. “He dresses his
She took a step back, her hand going wildly out to the white doorframe. For a brief moment, he watched a smile play upon her lips until she looked behind him and clamped her mouth shut. “I do not know who you mean. And I am sure we have never met before.” She curtsied quickly and said, “Good day, sir,” before brushing past him. “Hello, Hansen. Are you feeling well today?”
Turning in her direction, Anthony was startled to see her speaking to an old man just behind him.
“Aye, Miss. Thank you. My rheumatism has not acted up at all this morning.”
“That is good to hear. You make sure you use that oil at least twice a day. I would not want Lady Dashlund to find out. Please let me know if you need anything. Come to me first.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please?”
His craggy smile lit up his worn features. “Aye, Miss. Only a fool would go to your step—uh—” he stopped mid-sentence, the old man’s glance looking straight at Anthony before he finished lamely, “—er, Lady Dashlund first.”
Anthony watched Ella’s head nod a short nod and saw the man smile once more; she appeared to whisper something to him before the two parted. The prince waited for her to turn around and address him again, but she did not. Instead, she hurriedly made her way to the back of the house—no doubt going through the servants’ entrance.
“Wait, Ella!” he called out as he rushed toward her.
She stopped and turned on her heal. “Shh!” she shushed him. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. A moment of your time, perhaps.”
She placed a hand on her hip and looked over to the outbuildings. “I cannot right now, I am extremely busy.”
Anthony grinned. “Are you really turning me down?”
Ella looked at him incredulously. “Yes. I have a lot to do this morning and I do not have time to waste chatting with someone I do not remember.”
“Well, then!” He could not help himself—his grin grew. “Now I know what this feels like.”
“What? People not having time for you?”
“Essentially, yes. And not wanting to have anything to do with me either.” He took a step closer to her. “So much so, they lie about remembering me.”
“I did not lie! I do not remember you.”
“And yet another falsehood slips from your mouth.” He stepped forward again. “What are you trying to hide from me?”
She sighed and folded her arms. “Why would I have anything hide?”
His gaze slowly made its way from her wispy hair, pulled back in a hurried bun, down the length of her servant’s attire, all the way to her dirty shoes and then back up to her face again. He did not say a word, his heart a slow sympathetic beat for her.
Ella raised her chin higher. “Yes? Is there something you would like to know?”
One eyebrow rose as a challenge. “Ella Woodston, daughter of Lord Dashlund—one of the wealthiest merchants in the kingdom—why are you dressed as a servant? What has happened to you?”
She threw her hands in the air in an act of disgust and turned on her heel again. This time making her way past the house into the small orchard behind it. The pretty trees were in full blossom. “You are still the same nosy boy you were back then—I am positive you have not changed a bit!”
“Ah-ha! So you do remember me! I knew you did!”
“Of course I remember you, John .” She paused and picked a few pink flowers from one of the stems. “How could I forget the only boy who actually cried when I beat him at the races?”
CHAPTER THREE
“CRIED? I DID NOT cry!” John sputtered.
Ella giggled and plucked at another branch, glad she could get under his skin. “What are you doing here with the duke, anyway?”
“I am his outrider.”
It was her turn to take a good long look at him—her eyes inspecting the fine clothes and expensive boots. “He dresses his
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