“A walk would do me good,” he said aloud and began his hike down the street, hobbling uncomfortably as he went.
It was a longer walk than he had anticipated, considering he had every intention of going to White’s, but for some reason — one he wasn’t ready to come to grips with yet — he made his way toward Bridget’s house. True, she had said she couldn’t meet him this afternoon, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t casually walk by, just in case she happened to be looking out a window.
Was he truly walking the three miles to her residence in order to stalk her? Apparently. Because his feet continued in that direction seemingly of their own accord. And the closer he came, the broader his smile grew. As he rounded the corner, a very happy-looking Wilde approached from the direction of Bridget’s residence.
“Wilde?” Anthony called out. “What the devil are you doing here?”
Wilde paused a look of pure horror flashed across his face. “Isn’t it obvious? I was out for a stroll.”
“So far from the park?” Anthony squinted and crossed his arms.
“What are you doing out this direction?” Wilde countered.
“If you must know,” Anthony looked away and lifted his arm into the air, “I was taking some fresh air.” He made dramatic effort to breathe in the London fog and coughed aloud.
“Three miles from your residence?” Wilde lifted an eyebrow.
“I needed a lot of… air.”
“Right, I’ll just leave you to it then.” Wilde stepped around him and shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he strolled away.
Anthony felt suspicious. Truly there was no reason for Wilde to be on this side of town. He knew nobody in residence, except…
No. It wasn’t possible. Was it? Would Bridget be meeting Wilde? And for what purpose?
He rested against an iron fence for a moment in thought and turned the corner to stare at Bridget’s house. To his chagrin, he didn’t even try to hide his interest, just stared wide-eyed at the house that held the woman who had caused him to drink himself into a stupor the previous night.
Much to his surprise, on the side of the house directly before him, a gloriously exposed ankle peeked out of the second floor side window.
Transfixed, he watched as another ankle followed and then what appeared to be bed sheets tied together. A fall from that height wouldn’t kill a person, but serious injury would indeed result. His protective instincts kicked in, and he scurried as fast as his body would allow to the side of the building and called up.
“Are you sure you should be doing that?”
With a squeal the girl lost her footing as well as her grip on the sheets and began to tumble out the window, heading straight for him.
“Blasted — Umph!”
Again on his backside, and again in such pain he believed he heard angels calling him home, Anthony blinked twice to see what and who had fallen on him.
An unladylike string of expletives flew from the woman’s mouth. She pushed away from him and shoved him down, unfortunately back onto his bum. The squeal of pain that erupted from his lips was anything but masculine and quite reminded him of an ostrich dying.
“You!” the woman shouted.
He looked up. “Holy Mother of—”
“You could have killed me!” Lady Bridget interrupted with an ear-splitting scream.
“I wasn’t the one crawling out of the window!” he snapped back.
“No, you merely waited until I was halfway down and then startled me!”
Well, when she put it that way…
“Foul!” Anthony argued. “I was trying to keep you from climbing down! I didn’t want you to fall.”
“Well, congratulations, my lord, you accomplished your task admirably I’d say!”
“I…” Anthony snapped his mouth shut. What was she wearing?
“What in heaven’s name are you wearing?”
Lady Bridget looked down and blushed. “That’s none of your concern.”
She made a move to pass him but he grasped her wrist. “It is my concern when a young woman of genteel breeding leaves her house unaccompanied and wearing the attire of a footman.”
“Odd, considering your preference for blindness, I’m surprised you see anything at all!” Her eyes blazed with fury. “Now, sir, let me pass.”
“I don’t believe my conscience will allow that, my lady.” His grip tightened on her wrist.
“Do you mean to insinuate you have one then?”
Anthony smirked, trying to hide the pain radiating through his body. “Only when it seems prudent.”
Her nostrils flared.
His breath grew ragged as his eyes boldly scrutinized the way her pantaloons hugged her thighs. No chance he was going to let her gad about the streets of London on her own. Any man with the benefit of functional eyes could see she was a woman!
“I ask you again, sir. Let me pass.”
“And I’ll tell you again, my lady — or shall I call you boy? Yes, boy seems accurate, since you’re acting immature and senseless — I will not let you pass until you permit me to escort you to your destination.”
The girl offered him an over-sweet smile, but he could plainly see she was mocking him. “Fine. But I warn you, you won’t like what you see.”
Anthony’s eyes scanned her form again as she stepped around him. “Oh, I doubt I’ll take any offense from what I see. Of course, what I hear — that might be an entirely different story.”
“Hmmph.” She thrust her nose in the air with disdain and stalked in the general direction of his townhouse, working perfectly to his advantage.
Awkwardly, Anthony fell into step beside her. Never offering his arm, for what would people say if they saw him escorting a young boy? Even if the boy in question was actually a beautiful woman ripe for the taking.
They walked in awkward silence all the way to the end of the block. Bridget stopped at the house on the corner and followed the path to the front door, and without knocking she let herself in.
“Are you mad! You cannot simply let yourself into someone’s house! Whatever would people think? What would they say—?”
“Bridget, my dear, is that you?” a man’s voice called.
Anthony cursed. “A man? You’re here to meet a man? And dressed as a boy? Could this possibly get worse? You shun my attentions for another?”
“Bridget?” The voice was hoarse and weak.
“Merciful heavens! I will never live this down,” Anthony mumbled to himself as he followed the girl around the corner.