A Little Mischief by Amelia Grey Page A

they would think her insane.
    She didn’t know why she’d accepted the dance with Mr. Bradford Turnbury. She really didn’t like the man. He always smelled of liquor. But when he’d asked her to dance in front of Lord Colebrooke, something unexplainable had come over her. She’d had this maddening feeling that she wanted to make the earl jealous. Where that had come from she had no idea. The very thought of it was ludicrous.
    Lord Colebrooke had repeatedly let her know he had nothing but disdain for her. He couldn’t care less who she talked to or with whom she danced. She had to get over this peculiar infatuation she had developed for him. It was disturbing her peace of mind and making her behave in the oddest manner.
    And to make matters worse, now she had the headache. Too many perplexing things had happened today. Thinking Mr. Throckmorten was dead was bad enough, but then she was scorned unmercifully by Lord Colebrooke and later to see Mr. Throckmorten looking well-turned-out and charming as ever was just too much. She passed by the man not half an hour ago, and he smiled at her as if he’d never been found dead cold in her garden.
    There was nothing to do now but go home and lie down. Tomorrow would be better. Yes, she would find Auntie Pith and make her excuses. They would go home and put an end to this most unusual day.
    Isabella interrupted the ladies and said her good-byes. She lowered her forehead to her hand and rubbed it as she walked out the door. Not watching where she was going, she immediately bumped into someone. She looked up and found herself staring straight into the golden brown eyes of Lord Colebrooke.
    “Oh, excuse me,” she said, feeling that odd fluttering sensation in her stomach again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
    “Another bad habit, Miss Winslowe?” he asked.
    She was not up to matching wits with him but neither could she let his rude comment pass without answer. She lifted her chin and her shoulders a notch and answered, “I’m just full of them, my lord, and no doubt you will see each one.”
    His eyes narrowed and he spoke slowly and low. “I’m ready for anything you have.”
    Isabella couldn’t believe she’d said such an outlandish thing. What was she doing issuing a challenge to the most popular earl in London? This was no way to become as well-respected in Town as her aunt. She should learn to curb her tongue when this man was around.
    She had all intentions of walking away without further comment, but as she made to brush past him, he touched her upper arm and stopped her. Even through the thickness of her evening gloves, Isabella felt as if a red hot heat had pierced her skin.
    Isabella looked up into his eyes again, and something tangible passed between them. It made her tremble, but she didn’t know what it was. The surprise she saw in his eyes let her know that he had felt it, too, and was just as shaken.
    Lord Colebrooke dropped his arm to his side and cleared his throat before saying, “Excuse me, Miss Winslowe, but before you go, could you tell me if my sister is in there?” He pointed to the room that had been set aside for the ladies to have privacy and rest.
    In order to break the spell of staring into the mesmerizing depths of his eyes, she looked away from him and to the room she’d just vacated.
    She felt the need to clear her throat, too. “No,” she answered. “Gretchen isn’t in there.”
    Concern flashed across the earl’s face.
    “Is something wrong?” she asked.
    “No. I’m sure not. I’m ready to go to another party, but I can’t find Gretchen. I’ve looked the house over.” His brows drew closer together. “Are you sure she isn’t inside?”
    Isabella watched him closely, feeling his distress. “I’m quite sure. Must I insist again that I would not lie to you regarding your sister or anything else?”
    His brow softened a little. “All right, I’m sure I’ve just missed her. I’m worried about her