Anthony did not offer his hand. He did not even move. His legs remained crossed, one ankle resting casually over the other, while he watched her struggle with the enormous amount of wet fabric she had somehow managed to drag through the doorway.
It took nearly ten seconds.
Ten humiliating seconds.
By the time Penelope finally settled herself on the seat opposite him, she was breathing harder than she cared to admit.
Anthony looked at her, then at the skirts gathered around her, then back at her face.
He said nothing.
Penelope glared at him. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You are looking at me," She stated, clearly displeased.
He gave a light shrug. "I have eyes."
"Then use them elsewhere." She deadpanned.
His mouth twitched.
Penelope immediately looked toward the window, unable to stand his gaze.
The next second, Anthony tapped twice against the carriage roof. The coachman gave the horses their command, and the carriage began to move.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
