Penelope felt the weight of his gaze and met it without hesitation.
Finally, "How considerate of you," he said without breaking his gaze from her.
"She is my sister."
"Indeed," he said, his attention returning to Francesca. "Then I am glad to hear Miss Anderson is recovering."
"I am perfectly well," Penelope said, the frost in her voice going unnoticed.
Anthony's mouth curved faintly. "I am pleased to hear it."
Penelope could not decide whether she wanted to throw her teacup at him or admire the remarkable ease with which he lied.
Francesca, entirely unaware of the tension between them, looked down at the bracelet. "I was rather upset when I discovered it was missing."
"I can imagine."
"It was a… gift from my father,"
Something in Anthony's expression softened, but Penelope noticed how slightly the way his jaw ticked. "Then I understand why you were upset."
Francesca smiled, grateful. "Thank you."
"You are welcome."
