Falling for Anthony

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A single glimpse at the disarray in Colin's bedchamber and, the valet's harried expression was all Anthony Ramsdell needed to determine that his best course of action would be to exit, and quickly. Colin Ames-Beaumont, the younger son of the Earl of Norbridge, could not be hurried in his dress—neither the most pleasurable entertainment nor the most beautiful woman could ever induce him to leave the house before every fold of his cravat lay perfectly in place—and anyone who happened to be in his vicinity at that time could be subject to his valet's attentions, should Colin judge that person unfashionable in any way.

Anthony had made that mistake more than once, and though his green waistcoat, black coat, and tan breeches might pass Colin's inspection, his linen lacked the proper amount of starch and was no longer blindingly white. His evening shoes, though he'd done his best to shine them, were scuffed from regular use. His chestnut hair had grown too long in the front; Colin had chided him the week before for letting it fall into his eyes like a schoolboy—a look, Colin had observed, that ruined his own sartorial perfection by association. As Colin had only been half-joking, Anthony was certain if he stepped into the room the valet would have scissors out in a trice.

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