Beauty and the Baron. Deborah Hale

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      They turned into the long lane that wound its way to Netherstowe. Before Angela could think of another topic of conversation, the gig had drawn to a halt before the front entrance.

      Lord Daventry climbed out, then came around to Angela’s side of the carriage to help her down. In spite of the rain, they stood there for an awkward moment of parting, forgetting to release each other’s hand.

      Angela stared up at the baron, pondering the mysteries guarded by his inscrutable green gaze. “If you ever need to kiss me again…I won’t mind.”

      A flash of savage intensity blazed in his eyes just then, like a jagged bolt of lightning across a dark sky. “Let us hope the need will never arise.”

      If he had spit in her face, Angela could not have felt more thoroughly mortified. Wrenching her fingers from his grasp, she ran into the house and slammed the door behind her for the second time that day.

      Had Lord Daventry thought she was begging him for something he could not give her? Well, she hadn’t been!

      Had she?

      Angela wished she could be certain.