Secrets of a Runaway Bride (10 page)

Annie gave him a wary look, no doubt suspicious about his quick shift in topic. “Dash is healing quickly and should be perfectly right in no time.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Jordan stood and bowed to her. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Annie smiled then, no doubt relieved that he was going. “Leaving so soon? Aren’t you going to drink your tea?”

“I’m more of the brandy sort.”

Her smile was tight. “Not a surprise.”

He made his way to the door. “Just to be clear, do you promise not to abscond to the gardens with Eggleston?”

She wore a decidedly impish look on her face. “Yes. Do you promise not to kiss me again, Lord Ashbourne?”

Apparently, she thought she was being funny. He turned to face her, an eyebrow quirked. He doffed his hat. Some devil on his shoulder prompted his answer. “Miss Andrews, I never make promises I cannot keep.”

CHAPTER 11

The Roths’ affair turned out to be much more diverting than Annie expected. Most likely due to the fact that Lord Ashbourne was noticeably absent. It had worked, her earnest attempt to appeal to his selfish side. When she’d offered to save him from his chaperone duties by requiring that he appear only later in the evening, she truly hadn’t expected the rogue to agree. But here it was, halfway through the evening, and her bothersome chaperone had yet to appear. She didn’t even have to watch for him. Frances had eagerly taken on that particular task.

Unfortunately, Frances would have liked nothing more than to actually find him, while Annie desperately hoped he would not arrive. She’d spent the evening pleasantly preoccupied with Arthur, who showed her a markedly higher level of interest since his sister had stayed at home with a head cold. It was true, Annie had to suffer through nearly constant sighs from Frances as that young lady held vigil for Lord Ashbourne, but Annie had danced twice with Arthur, he’d offered her a glass of punch, and he kept her laughing with his stories. Yes, all in all, the evening was a smashing success. So much so, that Annie had decided to be especially daring.

Her kiss from Lord Ashbourne replayed in her mind like a traitorous tune. It had distracted her all day. While she’d been receiving calls, walking in the park, and even when she and Mary had gone shopping on Bond Street, which was normally one of her favorite activities now that there was money with which to actually purchase items. But the shopping spree had turned into a nightmare of memories and Annie couldn’t shake the image of Lord Ashbourne swooping in and kissing her. And when the man had pushed her up against the side of the house … Why, he’d nearly singed off her brows.

And what had he been about, teasing her? Saying he wouldn’t promise never to kiss her again. Why, the very idea made her … Oh, she didn’t want to think about what the idea made her.

She’d spent the entire day contemplating the matter, and she’d come to a most logical conclusion. If her kiss with Lord Ashbourne had been unforgettable and he meant nothing to her, then her kiss with Arthur, who meant everything to her, would be one for the history books.

Annie was extremely eager to prove her theory correct. But Arthur wouldn’t like the idea of sneaking off alone with her two nights in a row. He’d been reluctant enough last night. They might not have such a fortuitous evening again, nor such a perfect opportunity. His sister’s absence was rare, of course, but even more promising, that spy Ashbourne was blissfully inattentive for one night. Yes, she must act quickly.

“What are you planning to do?” Frances asked when Arthur had gone off to speak with some of his mother’s acquaintances across the room.

“What makes you think I’m planning something?” Annie did her best to replicate her sister Lily’s infamous innocent face. It had been their mother’s invention and Lily had managed to
perfect
it.

Frances crossed her arms over her middle and twisted back and forth at the waist. Annie eyed her. She could not get away with pretending in front of Frances. Her friend knew her too well.

“Very well, if you must know…”

“You know I must,” Frances replied with a conspiratorial grin.

Annie lowered her voice to a whisper and glanced back and forth over both shoulders to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I intend to ask Arthur to kiss me.”

Frances’s eyes went wide. She clutched at Annie’s hands. “You’re jesting. Oh, please tell me you’re jesting.”

“Have you ever known me to jest about such a thing?” She gave her friend a devilish grin.

“No,” Frances whimpered. “And that is what frightens me.”

Annie winked at her. “There is no time like the present, don’t you know?”

“Why don’t you ask Lord Ashbourne to kiss you? Now
that
would be a kiss.”

Annie bit her lip. She’d studiously avoided telling Frances about her interlude with Lord Ashbourne. For one, it was completely irrelevant. It would certainly never be repeated. And two, she just might have to face poor Frances’s envy. Why upset her friend over something so insignificant? She skipped over Frances’s comment.

“I think tonight’s perfect. Don’t you? Miss Eggleston and Aunt Clarissa aren’t here, and Lord Ashbourne apparently found something better to do this evening than dog my steps.”

“No doubt he’s off with his mistress,” Frances said with a doleful sigh. “I heard she’s very beautiful. They say she’s an opera singer from Venice. He met her one night at La Fenice.”

Annie’s head snapped up. “Mistress?” An unfamiliar tightness crept into her chest. It couldn’t be jealousy. Could it? But Lord Ashbourne had a mistress? And not just a mistress, but a very beautiful Italian opera singer mistress? Oh, of course he did. No doubt his mistress was an ethereal beauty. A man like Ashbourne would only be seen with the most gorgeous woman on earth.

“Yes, mistress,” Frances repeated, dropping her voice even lower. “You know? A woman of ill repute.”

Annie scowled. “I know exactly what a mistress is, Frances. I’m not a baby. I just had no idea Lord Ashbourne had one. Besides, how do you know so much about it?”

Frances slapped at her with her fan. “I happen to be excellent at eavesdropping,” she announced. “And of course Lord Ashbourne has a mistress, silly. All the noblemen do. Except for Lord Colton and a handful of others who are truly in love with their wives, that is. But the unattached good-looking ones like Lord Ashbourne get their pick of the lot. He may have more than one, as rich and handsome and dashing as he is.”

Annie blinked. Since when did Frances know more about scandalous things than she did? She was the sister of the author of
Secrets of a Wedding Night,
for goodness’ sake.

“A mistress?” Annie repeated in a daze as if the concept would seem more real to her if she continued to say it out loud.

“I told you Lord Ashbourne is a rakehell. Keeping a mistress is probably the least of his sins.” Frances winked at her.

Annie bit her lip. She refused to consider the tightening in her chest when she thought of Lord Ashbourne with a mistress, but there was something else on her mind. Something that made her throat close and her breathing hitch.

“You don’t think Arthur has a mistress, do you?”

Frances clapped her hand over her mouth and it took Annie a few moments to realize her friend was … laughing. Giggling, actually. Apparently the idea of Arthur with a mistress was comical to her.

“What?” Annie asked, giving Frances a condemning glare. “Arthur might have a mistress.”

“I don’t think either his mother or his sister would allow it.” The giggling continued.

This time, Annie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Frances. The laughing subsided.

“Oh, Anne, don’t take this amiss, but Mr. Eggleston’s not … He’s just not … the type of man to have a mistress.”

Annie shrugged and pushed up her chin. “Why should I take it amiss? I should think it a sign of great character to not employ a mistress.”

“Yes, well, there is that, but I rather meant he doesn’t quite have the … er … situation a mistress requires.”

Annie sighed. “You mean because he isn’t rich or titled?”

Frances nodded. “Yes, precisely, in addition to being of the highest character, of course.”

Annie sniffed. “If being wealthy and titled leads to debauchery, it’s just as well Arthur is neither of those things.”

“Ahem, speaking of debauchery,” Frances replied, “how do you intend to get Mr. Eggleston to kiss you?”

Annie gave her friend a sly smile. “I’m going to
ask
him. And there’s nothing debauched about it. I intend to be happily married to Arthur in the very near future and one kiss is nothing compared to that.”

“One kiss is nothing
after
you’re married,” Frances corrected. “Before you’re married it is quite a bit of something.”

Annie waved her hand in the air, dismissing the subject and trying not to remember the kiss she’d shared with Lord Debauchery himself last night.

“Where exactly do you intend to have this kiss? I thought you said you promised Lord Ashbourne you wouldn’t take off alone with Mr. Eggleston?”

The innocent look again. “I promised Lord Ashbourne I wouldn’t take off into the
gardens
with Arthur and I have no intention of doing so. Besides, the Roths’ gardens aren’t much to visit, to be honest.” She shook her head.

Frances gave her a warning look. “Anne, are you quite certain you want to defy Lord Ashbourne?”

Annie fought the urge to grind her slipper into the marble floor. “I’m not defying him. I just explained it all to you. But even if I were defying him, who is he to tell me what to do? He’s neither my guardian, my relative, nor my husband.”

“Oh, how I wish he were
my
husband.” Frances sighed.

Annie shook her head. “Look, I must be quick. Arthur will be returning soon. When he asks where I’ve gone, tell him you’re not sure.”

She turned to leave, but Frances’s hand on her sleeve stopped her. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“Why, to the library, of course.” Annie winked at Frances and left in a flash, skittering out the door to ensure her exit before she encountered Arthur.

She made her way down the shadowy corridors of the Roths’ town house until she came to the door she remembered as the entrance to the library. She’d been to the house several times before, once for an impromptu musicale that was held in this cozy room. In fact, if she remembered correctly, there was a large green velvet sofa that would be just perfect for a first kiss. Well, a second kiss … No, that other kiss hadn’t counted. It had been a mistake, one she was about to rectify.

She spent a few minutes nervously waiting in the hallway before a footman happened by.

“May I bother you for a quill and some parchment?” she asked the young man who smiled from ear to ear and hurriedly ushered her into the room, sat her down at the desk, and waited while she penned a note to Arthur asking him to meet her in the library posthaste. When she finished, she folded the sheet, wrote Arthur’s name on the outside, and delivered it into the footman’s hands.

“For Mr. Eggleston,” she said, watching as the servant pulled a silver tray from a nearby divan and deposited her note atop it.

“Right away, miss,” he replied, hurrying from the room.

Annie watched him go and sucked in her breath. Her elbow braced on the desktop, she rested her chin in her hand and drummed the fingers of her opposite hand along a leather-bound tome sitting in front of her. Next, she stood and paced across the plush carpets. She found a looking glass on the wall and glanced at her reflection. She’d always looked her best with her hair in a chignon. She pulled one wide curl down to hang against her temple. She pinched her cheeks to pinken them, then puckered her lips at the mirror. Oh, she was hardly as beautiful as Jordan Holloway’s seductive mistress no doubt was, but it would just have to do.

“Kiss me, Arthur. Kiss me,” she whispered. Then she laughed at her own silliness. She turned back to face the room and hurried over to the green sofa. She had remembered it correctly, and it was even more soft and inviting than she recalled. She settled herself into a corner of the furniture, her back to the door, and spread her violet skirts around her. She pulled down her décolletage, ensuring that she presented the most fetching picture. When Arthur saw her he wouldn’t be able to resist. Would he?

A slight knock sounded at the door and Annie’s breath caught in her throat.

“Come in,” she called, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

The knob turned and the door creaked open. It was shut soon after and the telltale clip-clop of boots on the floor told Annie he was coming toward her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. This was it. Now or never.

“Oh, Arthur, don’t say anything. Just kiss me,” she breathed.

“The best-laid schemes of mice and men do often go awry.”

Annie’s eyes snapped open. She knew the line to the Robert Burns poem. She’d read it a dozen times.

But it was not Arthur’s voice quoting it.

Slowly, she turned her head.

Just as she’d thought.

Towering over her, a mocking smile on his lips, was none other than Jordan Holloway.

CHAPTER 12

Annie scrambled up from the sofa and whirled to face Jordan with her hands on her hips and an accusing gleam in her eye. “What are you doing here? Why must you forever be nosing around in my affairs?”

“Might I remind you that you agreed to behave yourself tonight?” he drawled.

Annie tapped her slipper on the carpet. “If you were the smallest bit agreeable you would look the other way and we might be friends rather than adversaries.”

Jordan ran a hand across the back of his neck. He’d tried. He really had, to keep his nose and his opinion out of her affairs, but the chit didn’t make it easy on him. He’d arrived at the Roths’ intent upon nodding and smiling at her, before taking her up on her offer and getting on with his own … pursuits. But the moment he’d arrived, unable to locate Annie, he’d intercepted a footman who was carrying a note from her to Arthur Eggleston. Apparently, she’d decided it was a good idea to have a clandestine meeting with the bloke in the library. Of all the … The girl seemed intent upon ruining her reputation. Which would be perfectly fine with him
if
Jordan weren’t currently responsible for protecting it. Annie Andrews needed to see reason and she needed it now.