Kent marched toward the carriage, gritting his teeth and eyeing the loathsome scamp standing beside it. Sawkins. A wide grin sat upon his insolent lips, revealing sparkling white teeth. Ignoring Kent, he bowed, reached for Isabel's hand, and raised it to his mouth. Hair the color of wheat was slicked back and gathered in a cavalier tie behind him. "You must be Lady Ashton."

A blush consumed Isabel's cheeks.

Kent stepped between them. "We were to meet at the Ship ...