An Affair to Remember (27 page)

Charlotte’s hands curled into fists, her nails biting into the
tender flesh of her palms. For the last two days she’d been trying to find a way to tell Mama that she had no wish to marry Greyley. For the first time in her life she was in love, and she wanted Rupert or no one.

Now it seemed that even that choice was stripped from her. She gazed at the small red pillow that adorned the settee. She and Mama had embroidered it only last week. “My marriage to Greyley will save the house?”

Lady Putney gave her hands one last pat. “It will save everything. Once you are a countess, your family will be beyond the touch of any moneylenders, no matter how powerful they are.”

Dear God, but this was horrible. Her family was in dire straits, so serious they dared not tell her, and all the while, they were counting on her to save them. It was horrible. Yet the thought of not being with Rupert was agony.

The door opened and Mama rustled in, greeting Lady Putney and admonishing Charlotte to serve the tea. As she did so, Charlotte watched her mother with a careful eye. She finally decided that Lady Putney was right. Mama didn’t look well at all, and twice she made a reference to the cost of Charlotte’s wedding gown, a fact that made Lady Putney look at her with a significant air.

If only Rupert had a fortune! She knew he’d save her and her family. But he was not a wealthy man. He’d already told her of his lack of expectations, his hopes of living in the cottage in Derbyshire. For the last week Charlotte had dreamed of living in that quaint cottage. She’d help with the household expenses, too, and perhaps raise a sweet little goat for milk and cheese. Rupert would have been so pleased with her and they would have been blissfully happy.

Charlotte closed her eyes, a faint trembling in her legs that made her glad she was sitting. The truth of her situation was
obvious. As much as she loved Rupert, she would have to marry Greyley. The thought left her gray and cold, like ashes in the bottom of the fireplace.

Mama and Lady Putney talked for the better part of a half hour while Charlotte helplessly mulled her way through her new circumstances. She was so preoccupied that she barely noticed when the butler announced a visitor, and it was a shock to see Lord Greyley escorted into the room.

In the past, she’d always seen him with a tentative air, part of her not really believing that they would actually be wed one day. And if they were, the day was so far removed that Charlotte was able to allay her fears and anxieties. But today, looking at his broad shoulders and noticing the way he dominated the room without even trying, made her feel small and insignificant. Her heart fluttered when the earl bowed over her hand and pressed his lips to her limp fingers.

It seemed as though Greyley was looking at her more intently than usual. Charlotte managed a perfunctory smile and murmured something incoherent. That seemed to be all he expected, for he turned his attention to her mother and Lady Putney.

Charlotte stared miserably down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. What could she do? She couldn’t imagine life without Rupert, but there was no help for it. She would marry Greyley and be a proper wife, yet every night she would dream of Rupert and his cottage in Derbyshire.

Feeling like the most miserable person alive, Charlotte tried to think of the bright side of her situation. She would be a married lady and a countess, which would give her social standing in London. Perhaps she could become a leader of fashion, and host a number of elegant parties. Charlotte imagined herself as a dashing young matron of society in a futile effort to cheer herself up.

“Charlotte,” Mama’s voice broke in on Charlotte’s musings, a note of reproof lingering in the air, “the earl has asked you no less than two times what you think of the weather.”

“Oh!” Charlotte said, forcing herself to take note of her surroundings. She glanced at the earl and found him disturbingly close, his dark eyes almost hawklike. “I-it has been unusually warm,” Charlotte stammered miserably. “I’ve heard that it is even warmer in London.” Rupert had told her that, Charlotte remembered with a pang.

“You need not worry about London. I daresay we’ll never go there.”

Charlotte paused. “Never?”

“Oh, once every five or six years, perhaps. But only when the season is over. I find it too crowded otherwise.”

Lady Melton gave an uncertain laugh. “Lord Greyley, surely you’ll go more often than that. After all, you have an impressive town residence and—”

“I’m selling it.”

Charlotte blinked. She loved the Greyley London house. Located in Mayfair, it was the most stylish establishment on the street. “You…you cannot sell it!”

“Cannot?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair, looking astonishingly self-satisfied. “I can do anything I want.”

Anger rallied Charlotte’s spirits somewhat. Oh, how she wished she were more like Anna. Anna would have made sure her feelings were known. Charlotte glanced at the earl from beneath her lashes, noticing the way he watched her, his lids lowered, a faint smile on his face. He was insufferable, Charlotte decided. And she was to marry him. The thought made her furious.

For one instant, Anthony thought he’d managed to raise Miss Melton’s ire enough to get her to engage in a good,
healthy argument. But as he watched, the flash of irritation melted away, to be replaced by her usual anxious look.

Charlotte had never been very comfortable in his presence, Anthony reflected with irritation, wondering how he’d ever come to the conclusion that he would be happy with such a lackluster bride.

Suddenly anxious to see this charade at an end, Anthony said loudly, “I’m also thinking of moving from Greyley House.”

Lady Melton’s mouth dropped open while Charlotte gasped. “You cannot mean that!” she said. “I would miss Mama and—”

“You’ll be my wife, Charlotte. You won’t need your mother any longer.” There, he thought with satisfaction. That should settle things. Lady Putney was frowning and even Lady Melton, that implacable statue of calm, was beginning to look disturbed.

“Lord Greyley,” she said now, “you cannot mean to whisk Charlotte away.”

“Once she’s married, she’ll have far too much to do seeing to my needs.”

“Your…needs?” Charlotte said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“Mine and the children’s, of course.”

Lady Melton managed a smile. “I thought the children would be going to live with Lady Putney.” She looked at Lady Putney as if seeking assurance.

It was not far in coming. “I’d love to have the children live with me once Greyley’s married! Charlotte could never handle all five of them.”

“She’ll have plenty of help from the servants,” Anthony said. “And once we have a few children of our own, five or six perhaps, then she’ll—”

“Five or six…” Charlotte stood, one hand pressed to her stomach. “My lord, may I speak with you in private?”

Lady Melton looked astounded. “Charlotte, that is highly improp—”

“Mama,” Charlotte said, an unexpectedly firm light in her eyes. “I will speak with Lord Greyley on the terrace. We will remain in sight at all times, but I
must
have private speech with him.”

Anthony raised his brows. He’d never heard Charlotte speak with such resolution. Perhaps it was a good sign. He wasted no more time. “We will stay within sight of this window.”

Lady Putney immediately chimed in, “An excellent idea, Greyley.” She turned to Lady Melton and said in a smooth voice, “The impetuousness of youth! I daresay Lord Melton was just as impatient a suitor, wasn’t he?”

Lady Melton nodded, though she looked far from assured. “I suppose.”

Anthony went to the door that led to the garden and opened it. Charlotte passed by in a nervous rustle of lace.

The last thing Anthony heard as he shut the door was Lady Putney’s pleased titter. “Such love birds,” she said.

Anthony stifled a spark of annoyance and walked quickly to the nearest bench, careful to remain in sight of the terrace door. He had no wish to be forced to wed Charlotte because of a breach of etiquette.

As soon as they reached the bench, he motioned for Charlotte to sit. Instead of taking his place beside her, he remained standing. “What did you wish to say?”

Charlotte twisted her hands together. “My lord, I…” She swallowed as if unable to go on.

“Yes,” Anthony said, a bit more kindly now. This was certainly awkward, and he felt a momentary pang to cause the
child such discomfort. But it really was for the best. “Charlotte, if there is something you wish to tell me that is difficult, perhaps I can guess—”

“No,” Charlotte said quickly. “I have something very important to say and I will say it now.” She took a deep breath, lifted her eyes to his. “My lord, I am very glad we are to wed.”

Anthony almost recoiled a step. “You won’t mind living away from your parents?”

“I-I shall miss Mama. But it is my duty as your wife to live where you will.”

“And the children? You would take care of them all? If we have six of our own, it will make eleven in all.”

Charlotte bent her head. “Yes,” she whispered.

Damn it! This wasn’t what he wanted. Anthony took an impatient turn on the terrace, coming to a halt directly in front of her. “I will expect my wife to be obedient, too.”

He tried to imagine saying such a thing to Anna and couldn’t even begin to picture it. She’d have burned his ears with her opinion on that topic.

Charlotte didn’t seem to like it, either. She suddenly stood, arms crossed in front of her, an expression of irritation on her heart-shaped face. “Wollstonecraft was right when she said that society considers women as nothing more than chattels of society. I, for one, do not wish to be a chattel. We will marry, my lord, and I will try to be a good wife, but don’t expect me to—”

“Wollstonecraft?” He couldn’t imagine Lady Melton condoning such a work in her daughter’s hands.

“Miss Thraxton lent me her works.” Charlotte shot him a dark glance from beneath her lashes and tossed her head. “I found her to be very enlightening. Anna has been bringing me books and essays and—”

“That little—” Anna’s morning rides suddenly took on a
new meaning. “So the busy Miss Thraxton has been visiting you often, has she?”

“Yes, she has. And I enjoy talking to her very much.”

“I wager you do.”

“She’s been most generous. I wanted to be ready for our marriage. If it weren’t for her I don’t know if I’d have had the strength to—” Charlotte stopped and looked away.

A slow anger simmered through Anthony’s veins, then exploded to a roaring boil. If Anna hadn’t stuffed Charlotte’s head full of nonsense, Anthony was sure he would now be a free man. But thanks to Anna and her tendencies to attend to everyone’s business but her own—He made an abrupt bow to Charlotte. “I’m sorry to leave you, but there’s something I must do.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and strode out of the garden, calling for his mount as he went.

“I
have a splinter,” Selena said, holding her finger in front of Anna’s face, so close that Anna couldn’t see anything but a blurry blob.

Anna held the child’s hand away and then grimaced. “You’re going to have to wash those grimy fingers if you want me to see anything.”

Selena stuck her finger in her mouth, pulled it out, and wiped it on her dress. “There. All clean now.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Anna said dryly. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped Selena’s hands. “Now let me see.”

She turned the child’s finger this way and that. Finally, frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t see a splinter.”

“That’s because Desford has already gotted it out for me. I just wanted you to see where it was.”

“Oh,” Anna said, smiling in spite of herself. “I daresay you were very brave.”

“Yes, I was. I only screamed a little.”

The little girl beamed so proudly that Anna chuckled and swooped her into her lap. Selena obediently snuggled against her, the faint scent of lemon lifting from the child’s hair.

She rested her cheek against Selena’s curls and watched the other children playing Catch the Cat. It was late afternoon and the sun shone across the lawn, casting long shadows. It was cooler now and all the children wore coats. Elizabeth’s and Marian’s long white dresses fluttered against the deep green grass as they ran. Richard was chasing Desford, both of them laughing loudly. Anna sighed. Her time at Greyley House was at an end.

The children were doing well, even Desford had settled in somewhat, though she still detected an occasional flash of rebellion in his eyes. Lily had worked out well and the children loved her. Usually by the time Anna reached this stage with her charges, she had already found her next employment. But for some reason she hadn’t written a single letter of inquiry. Tomorrow, perhaps, after the children presented the play, she’d start making preparations to move on.

She caught the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter and a feeling of sadness weighted her. In the short time she’d been at Greyley House, she’d grown to love these children—more than she should. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been more open to them, knowing they were under Anthony’s care, or if they were just dearer. Whatever it was, it made her throat tighten painfully to think of leaving.

“You’re holding me too tight,” Selena said, shifting in Anna’s arms.

Anna loosened her hold. “Sorry, sweetheart. I was just thinking.”

“’Bout what?”

Anna rubbed her chin against the child’s curls and didn’t answer. As much as she would miss the children, she would miss Anthony more. But as much as it hurt to leave, it would kill her to stay.

“Uh oh,” Selena said suddenly. “Lord Greyley is coming and he appears angry. Do you think he’s remembering all his lost shoes?”

Anna followed the child’s gaze across the lawn. Anthony strode toward her with long, purposeful steps. The dark expression on his face made her heart sink.
Oh dear, what has happened now?

He stopped before her, his gaze hot. “I want a word with you.”

She waited.

His gaze flickered to Selena and then back to Anna. “Not in front of the children.”

Anna stiffened at the preemptory voice. “Lord Greyley, as you can see, I’m busy. Selena has a splinter in her hand.”

Always willing to garner attention, Selena held out her finger toward Greyley.

A scowl crossed the earl’s face. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore,” Selena answered.

“I’ll give you a shilling to go and play.”

Selena pursed her lips. “Two shillings.”

“Done.”

Selena hopped out of Anna’s lap. “I think I’ll go play Catch the Cat,” she announced, then held out her hand.

Face grim, Anthony dug into a pocket and produced two shillings.

The little girl examined the coins carefully before placing them in her pocket. Then she turned to Anna. “If you need me, yell loud. I’ll find a big stick.”

“Thank you,” Anna said, touched by this show of loyalty.

Selena sent a dark look at the earl, then marched off.

“Greyley, there was no need for you to be so rude. The children are—”

His hand clamped about her wrist and he hauled her to her feet. Anna was instantly aware of the heat of his grasp. “Release me at once.”

“You can either come with me now, or I’ll pick you up and toss you over my shoulder. You and I have something to discuss.”

Anna yanked her arm free. A welter of emotions stirred inside her, upsetting her peace and sending hot sparks through her. “I will not be threatened in such a manner. If you wish to speak to me, you will ask me nicely or—”

One moment she was standing in front of him, her feet on solid ground, and then she was upside down as Greyley marched across the lawn, Anna hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She beat on his back with her fists and tried to kick, but all that won her was his hand placed more firmly on her bottom, and his low growl of displeasure.

“Damn you, Greyley! Release me now!”

“No.” He continued to march on, unaffected by the stares of the children.

“Lily!” Anna called.

“Yes, miss?” came the tentative answer.

“Take the children back to the nursery and see that they get their dinner.”

“Yes, miss!”

Anna tried to shake the hair from her eyes. Marian and Elizabeth had their hands clasped before them, a beatific expression on their faces as if they were witnessing the dramatic close of a romantic play. Selena was sucking on her
finger and shaking her head, as if chastising them for their improper behavior. Desford and Richard wore huge grins.

“This is absurd, Greyley,” Anna hissed. “Everyone can see.”

“I don’t care about everyone,” he returned, striding across the terrace as if she weren’t hanging over his shoulder. “We’re going to talk and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.”

“If you’ll put me down, I’ll gladly meet you in the library!”

He opened the door and entered the house. “And be interrupted by your grandfather? Or Rupert? Or Lady Putney? Or one of those blasted children? Every time I try to have a word with you, someone interrupts us. I’m not having any more of it.”

He was mounting the stairs again and she closed her eyes and prayed that he did not drop her. “Greyley, please let me down.”

“No,” he said, reaching the top of the stairs and striding down a long hallway. “Not yet.” He reached a doorway and kicked it open, then carried Anna across a dark room. Suddenly, she was flying through the air. She landed on her back with a startled “oof” on something soft. Greyley left her to lock the door. Then he began opening curtains.

Anna lifted herself on her elbows and shoved her hair from her face. She lay in the middle of a large, red curtained bed, so big that it could have easily slept six people. “Good heavens, this is your bedchamber!”

“So it is.” He came to stand by the bed, staring down at her with such an intent expression that hot color touched her cheeks.

She collected her wits and scooted off the bed, trying to right her clothing with trembling hands. “Are you mad?”

A strange light glinted in his eyes. “Oh, I’m mad. I’m beyond mad. And it’s all your fault.”

Anna couldn’t draw a breath. She stood facing him, intensely aware of the bed behind her. “Anthony, this is foolish. I’m leaving.”

“No,” he said, moving forward so that his knees held hers against the edge of the bed. “You aren’t going anywhere. We, my troublesome little governess, are going to settle this thing between us once and for all.”

Anna shoved him as hard as she could. Caught off guard, he staggered back a step. It was all Anna needed. She ran, making it halfway to the door before she was unceremoniously picked up, carried back to the bed, and tossed onto the counterpane again. This time Anthony joined her on the bed, his body covering hers.

She tried to push him away, but he captured her hands and held them over her head, his broad chest blocking the light from the windows. He leaned across her, his face inches from hers. “Stop it, Thraxton.”

“I’m not discussing anything in your bedchamber.”

“Fine. Then we’ll do something other than talk.” His gaze traveled down her face, lingering on her mouth, her chin, then below. “But you and I are staying here until we reach an agreement.”

“An agreement about what?” she asked through clenched teeth. His body heated her through her gown.

“We cannot ignore what is between us, Anna.”

Anna jutted her chin. “I am not attracted to you, Greyley.”

A warm smile settled on his lips. “Aren’t you?” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, his heated breath sending hot chills across her skin. “Not even a little?”

She closed her eyes, but that made her immediately aware of how his chest rubbed against hers, of his hands about her
wrists and the power of his body as it brushed her. She was burning with need, with the desire to touch him and be touched.

The silence about them grew and thickened. Anna moved restlessly, her hips pushing against his.

His breathing grew more strained. “God, Anna. Do you know what you do to me?”

“No,” Anna gasped, trying hard to still the thundering of her heart, the restless heat that was growing inside her. “We’ll talk,” she blurted out, suddenly desperate to put some space between them.

Anthony placed a single, warm kiss on her cheek. “I just came from seeing Charlotte. She has been reading some interesting books of late.”

Charlotte
. Anna tried to ignore the fact that Anthony was now placing feather light kisses on her neck. “Mary Wollstonecraft wrote some marvelous—”

“I know what she wrote.” He lifted his head to look at her. “Why, Anna? Why did you visit Charlotte?”

“Because she was obviously ill-suited to be your bride. Someone had to watch out for her interests.”

A frown settled between his brows. “And you were going to help her?”

“Something like that,” Anna said uneasily. “I just wanted her to be able to stand up for herself. I thought it would make her better suited to be your countess.”

“What you made her is obstinate.” He cursed softly, his eyes glinting. “Do you have any idea what you did, you and your interfering?”

She hadn’t interfered. She’d helped. And once Greyley wed Charlotte, he would be glad she had—though the thought brought Anna no pleasure, only pain.

She couldn’t think about that unless she wanted to burst
into tears in front of Anthony. And that, she vowed, would never happen.

She risked a glance at him through her lashes. He was regarding her with a peculiar mixture of frustration and something else…something like…desire. For an instant Anna imagined what it would be like to have Anthony make love to her, to be with her and no one else. The thought warmed her, swelling her breasts and peaking her nipples, making her skin quiver in anticipation.

The time had long come for her to leave. Lily was more than capable of taking care of the children, and Anthony would be marrying Charlotte soon. Nothing held Anna at Greyley.

The thought was strangely freeing, and to still the emptiness of her heart, she lifted her mouth to his. He froze for a moment, startled. But she didn’t let that deter her. She increased her efforts, slipping the tip of her tongue over his lower lip.

He moaned and opened his mouth, the kiss searing. Heat flared and Anna wanted more. She wanted Anthony with her, beside her, inside her. She wanted to leave Greyley House with something that was just hers…a memory of a moment when she was more than just the governess.

Anthony groaned against her mouth, his hands tangling in her hair. Anna lifted her hips and rubbed them against his, instinct pressing her further and further. Anthony broke the kiss and lifted himself on one elbow. He untied her gown and tugged it down until only her thin chemise separated them. Then he was undoing his own cravat.

Within moments, his coat, cravat and shirt lay on the floor. Anna splayed her fingers over his skin, savoring the feel of him, of his warm skin, of his muscled body. Every inch of her trembled with excitement as he undid the lacing on her chemise and bared her breasts.

His gaze flickered to hers. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

“So have I.”

He kissed her, his mouth devouring hers, his hands on her arms, her breasts, teasing her nipples to readiness. Anna ached against him, wanting more. Needing more. Anthony lifted just enough to pull her dress and chemise free and then she was naked beneath him.

Anna wrapped her arms about him and let the feeling wash over her. She was intensely aware of everything—of his warm scent, of the feel of his hard muscled arms about her, of the rough feel of his breeches against her bare legs…every inch of her skin tingled with awareness. Her stomach tightened as heat built inside her and she linked a leg over his and pulled him to her. “Anthony, give me…”

It was both a plea and a cry. A shaky laugh escaped him and he raised on one elbow to look down at her. “I shall give, my love, until you can take no more.” Within seconds, his breeches were gone and he lay atop her. “Anna, I want to be gentle, but you have to—”

She placed her fingers to his lips. “No talking.” She moved her hips against his, feeling the strength of his arousal. “I want this,” she whispered, opening her legs to him and running her hands over his arms, his shoulders, to his back and lower.

Anthony buried his face in her neck and groaned. She had no idea what she was doing to him, and he was helpless to resist her. Teeth gritted, he rose over her and positioned himself between her thighs. She waited, her hands curled about his arms, her head tilted back, the lovely line of her throat exposed. God, but she was beautiful. He’d imagined her there, her glorious red hair spread over his pillows, her naked skin gleaming in the late afternoon sun, but the reality was so much sweeter, so much more that it overwhelmed his senses.

But he could not take her without readying her, making sure she received the full enjoyment of the moment. He placed his hand on the plane of her stomach, kissing her neck as he touched her softly, gently, stroking her nether curls with a feather-soft touch. She gasped when his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh and then found the delicate folds. Moist heat dampened his fingers and he gritted his teeth with the urge to bury himself inside her.