Ashlyn, her face a mask of humiliated fury, took a blind step forward, her hand raising as if to strike the small boy who had so utterly ruined her moment.
But before she could act on the impulse, her mother, Lady Anita, caught her arm in a firm, warning grip. Ashlyn shot her a look of furious disbelief, but her mother's eyes were cold and commanding. Not him, the look said. Never him.
Anita's expression then melted into one of pretentious warmth as she looked at Ryan. Her smile was a masterpiece of social grace, designed to erase the last few minutes of ugly emotion. "My, my," she chuckled, her voice a little too bright. "It's all just a big misunderstanding, young master. This is your mother's home. How could anyone possibly bully her here?"
