Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) (20 page)

The only true thing that Lane had done was aid his solicitor in overseeing the agricultural projects and have runners investigate his and Anna’s kidnapping. All of the men had come back with nothing to report. It was as though Billy, Frenchie, Toby, and the scarred, red-haired man had all but evaporated into nothingness.

He tapped the paper on his desk as frustration rode him.

According to the gossip rags, Anna and her fiancé had been quite busy about town. No date had been set for their wedding, but Lane would wager that an announcement was forthcoming.

He shook his head against the backrest of his chair, regret burning inside him. He had not even expressed his love for her! She would marry Boxton, have a passel of children with the bastard, and forget about Lane entirely.

His heart stalled in his chest, his breath freezing. He could not allow that to happen. Anna was his confidante, his love, his…his friend. He could not lose her.

He cursed foully, the awful words echoing off his expansive study walls. What the devil was wrong with him? He was hiding away like a coward! He needed to tell Anna his feelings. He needed to hand her his heart and give her the power to make an informed decision.

Bloody hell
. He could not live without her; sexless friendship with Anna was better than living as he was now. If she refused him, he would gratefully accept a position as a confidant in her life.

He stood and tugged on the gilt rope that hung near his study’s door.

Moments later, his housekeeper, Mrs. Buttersworth—whom they affectionately call Mrs. Butter—entered.

“You rang, my lord?” She wrung her hands, distinctly uneasy.

He smiled reassuringly. He’d been a bear of late. “Yes. I am feeling more the thing, Mrs. Butter. I require a bath sent up to my room, as well as my valet and two footmen. I intend to return to my house in town posthaste.”

Her expression instantly brightened. “Right away, your lordship.” She hesitated then placed a thick hand on his arm. “I am right glad that you are feeling more yourself, my lord. We were all worried about you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Butter. It feels good to be back.” It certainly did.

Lane strode from his study and wound his way through the long, wide corridors, and entered his chambers. A rare anticipation tingled up his spine as he thought of confessing his love to Anna. Would she break her engagement to be with him? She hadn’t when he’d begged her to marry him, but what of love? Would she choose love over a marriage of convenience?

He tossed his rumpled waistcoat over a chair and unknotted his loosened cravat. The anticipation rushing through him intensified. He had an outstanding debt to settle with Anna for winning their last game of chess.

Chapter 23

Annabel gazed at her pallid reflection in the mirror of her dressing table while Marie styled her long, dark-blonde hair. She would prefer to remain in this evening, but then, she did every evening. Anthony would be very cross if she chose to snub him, however. She must attend.

Her gaze lowered to her attire. She wore a new, daringly cut, scarlet evening dress, as dictated by Viscount Boxton. It was a pleasing enough frock, but rather bold for her taste, as it exposed nearly all of her large bosom. Of course, it wasn’t her taste; Anthony had taken control of the appointment—from corsets and lace to slippers and nightdresses. He had chosen it all.

She must find a way out of this engagement or this could very possibly be what the remainder of her life would be like. Anthony would tell her what to eat, wear, and do. She would no longer be Annabel, but Lady Boxton; perfect, docile, and submissive in every way.

Anna refused to become one of the ladies of the
ton
whose husbands dictated their lives. They were soulless, walking, talking versions of their husbands, spouting opinions that were not their own. They may be living, but they were not alive.

She dearly wished that she could confide in her brother. But God help her, she couldn’t. Lord Boxton was a frightening, mad man, most particularly when holding a weapon. She daren’t put her loved ones in the path of such dangerous insanity.

Marie tugged on a lock of her hair, and Anna grimaced as her gaze dropped to her décolletage.
Goodness!
If her bosom giggled at such a small movement, Lord knew what society’s matrons would make of her attire this evening. She would be on all the wagging tongues on the morrow. Most particularly since Lady Juliana had peculiarly observed her at every function she had attended since her impending nuptials to Anthony had been announced. Anna had spotted her not merely attending said engagements but watching Anna. It was baffling and, quite frankly, disturbing.

Lady Juliana was a shrill woman of low morals, if the gossip was to be believed. She had been engaged to the elderly—and obscenely wealthy—Lord Whitmore, but had purportedly been caught nude in his bed on the night that he had died. Rumour stated that he had died atop her while engaged in the marital act. Since that scandal, no man had deigned to court her, and her parents held her bedchamber under tight guard.

“There you are, Miss Bradley. Pretty as an angel.” The sweet maid clasped her hands to her chest.

“Thank you, Marie.” Anna gave an indulgent smile as she stood and made her way to the door. Anthony would be cross with her if she were late to arrive below stairs, and heaven forbid she face his wrath.

“I shall await your return, Miss.”

Anna waved a hand through the air. “Please do not trouble yourself, Marie. I will manage on my own. You may have the evening to yourself.”

The maid thanked her profusely and made her exit.

Anna held the side of her scarlet skirts as she strode down to the main floor. Charles and their Mama stood at the base of the stairs, talking to Lord Boxton; Papa was likely at White’s, engaged in a game of cards. The three of them looked up at her entrance, then froze.

“There you are, Annabel. I am pleased that you are ready.” Anthony sketched a shallow bow over her gloved hand, then wrapped her palm around his elbow.

Mama and Charles still stared with wide eyes at her audacious gown, and Anna resisted the urge to cover her bosom.

“Shall we depart?” she asked. “The Merringtons await.”

She knew she did not appear as herself, nor would she, now that her new wardrobe had arrived from Madame Adriane’s and replaced her wardrobe of old. She felt exposed and ridiculous.

Anthony’s voice whispered, hot and revolting, in her ear. “Wipe that discomfited expression from your face or I shall remove it for you.”

Anna smiled brightly as he led her out the door. The evening was dark, but the air held warmth from the day; but Anna was ice inside—a living statue of marble continuing the façade while her heart and mind were elsewhere.

The carriage emblazoned with Boxton’s family crest rolled into motion. Anna blinked heavily over her tired eyes. She scarcely recalled entering.

“How kind of you to allow us the use of your fine equipage this evening, Lord Boxton,” Mama said into the silence.

“It is my great pleasure, Mrs. Bradley. Your daughter is a delight; I am truly a fortunate man.” He smiled down at Anna and gave her hand a heavy pat.

He seemed so sincere, but Annabel knew what lay beneath his gentlemanly veneer.

If only she had accepted Lane’s proposal when he had asked. They could have travelled to Gretna Green rather than return to London. What would her life be like if they had? Anthony would not have been able to force her into an engagement. Would she be within Lane’s warm embrace or curled by the fireside reading to one another? Or perhaps they would be engaged in a rousing game of chess.

She suppressed a sigh. Any of those scenarios was vastly more appealing than where she currently sat.

The carriage rocked gently as it righted itself from a corner, and Anna felt her stomach churn uneasily. She should have requested a tray of tea before readying herself for the ball, for her empty stomach felt distinctly unsettled.

“Are you well, Annabel? You look rather pale.” Charles’ concerned voice echoed from across the carriage.

“Yes, you look quite ill.” Mama leaned forward to put a hand to Anna’s knee.

Anna quickly nodded and turned her attention out the window. Lord, but she hoped she did not disgrace herself in this carriage. As they neared the Merringtons’ large home, the streets grew increasingly crowded. Anna discreetly held her stomach as the carriage jolted forward, slowed, and then jolted again as they awaited their turn to disembark.

Finally they pulled to a stop. The door swung open, and Anna breathed a deep sigh of relief. The air was perfumed with the pungent scent of manure, but it was preferable to being confined in the rocking carriage.

Anthony exited first then helped her down the step, his hand needlessly tight on her own. The Merrington ball appeared to be the event of the season. There were carriages and people in abundance.

They made their way up the steps and into the grand foyer, following the other finely dressed ladies and gentlemen as they joined the receiving line to greet their hosts.

Lord and Lady Merrington were pleasant people, with greying hair and stout figures. Their son, Simon Claridge, heir apparent to the Earldom, was a very gentlemanly man. He had briefly courted Annabel, but they had agreed that they suited much more comfortably as friends than husband and wife. He was a handsome man with black hair and crystal-blue eyes. Many women swooned in his presence, but Anna felt nothing but warm friendship for the man, infrequently though they saw each other.

Lord Simon Claridge kept himself very busy with his “diversion” of doctoring. Annabel knew, however, that he took his position far more seriously than his parents. They did their utmost to dissuade him from continuing, but he was very persistent.

As Anna had predicted, they were greeted with warmth and congeniality by their hosts. Anna, Anthony, Mama, and Charles expressed their appreciation for the invitation, smiled, and continued to the ballroom.

Anna stared with wide-eyed wonder as they strode into the ornately decorated room. The chandeliers hung high and blazed with light. The walls were draped with gilt and violet hangings. She lowered her gaze to the mass of colour and flourishing silks, satins, and lace. It was quite the sight to behold, disappointing as it was that she had to attend on the arm of the evil man beside her.

“What a crush!”

“It is, indeed, Mama.” Charles bowed to them. “If you will excuse me, I see a friend with whom I wish to speak.” He turned to Annabel. “Save a dance for me?”

She felt Anthony’s arm tense beneath her hand, but she could not very well refuse a dance with her brother. She smiled. “I would be honoured, Charles. Thank you.”

He nodded and left to seek out his friend.

“Oh! There is Mrs. Humphery.” Mama waved a delighted hand. “I must speak with her about her new gardener. I must know where she found him! Will you be all right, dears?”

A knot of apprehension formed in her stomach. She did
not
wish to be alone with Anthony.

“I would prefer—”

“We shall be fine, Mrs. Bradley.” Anthony smiled amiably at her mother. “Thank you for your concern. Seek out your friend, and enjoy your evening.”

Mama smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

Dread crept up her spine as Anthony turned to whisper in her ear. “If you think for one moment that being in the company of your ridiculous relations will release you from our bargain, you are sadly mistaken.” He bit her ear, causing an intense, sharp pain. It took all of her will to avoid a flinch.
Good Lord, had he drawn blood?
“You will
not
give a dance away to anyone but myself. The dance you foolishly promised to your brother cannot be avoided, however.”

“Yes, Anthony.” She smiled at a passing couple.

“Splendid.” He straightened. “Shall we get a refreshment?”

“That would be lovely, Anthony,” was her automatic reply.

They wove through the milling members of the
ton
and found the refreshment table. Annabel eyed the pastries and decidedly alluring lemon tarts but selected only a glass of champagne, as dictated by Anthony. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she only had to follow Anthony’s rubrics until she found a way out of the engagement. But for now, she did this for her family. For Lane.

“Very good,” Anthony said under his breath. “Before long you will not require my guidance to make the correct choices.”

“Yes, Anthony,” she said meekly. She very dearly wished she could say more.
Much
more.

“Good evening, Lord Boxton, Miss Bradley,” a familiar, trilling voice said from behind them. Anna grimaced.
Lady Juliana
.

Anna turned, smiling convincingly. “Lady Juliana, what a pleasant surprise.” She dipped in a curtsey, as was due the lady’s station.

Anthony followed suit, his greeting far more effusive.

“You would not believe what I learned from my dear friend, Lady Darling, this morning.” She smiled smugly, evidently overjoyed to be spreading rumours and gossip. “It is to her understanding that Miss Clarke is the bastard daughter of a certain Lord of the realm. A
duke
to be precise.”

Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Lady Juliana continued her tale. She could not abide the mindlessness of such things. It was no wonder that Bridget had attempted to mentor Lady Juliana. Sadly, the lessons never took.

Anthony’s booming laugh shook Anna back into the present. She forced a smile.

“Oh, there is Lady Ellis. I must share my delicious news with her. Please excuse me.”

Anthony bowed, and Anna curtsied as the lady dipped quickly and left them.

Anna sipped at her champagne and gazed about the room. She spotted Ladies Bridget, Emaline, and Katherine, and the Dowager Countess of Devon speaking with a group of young gentlemen. No matter how embarrassed Anna still felt in Bridget’s company, she wished she could speak with them. She had briefly exchanged missives with Bridget, but they had not discussed anything of consequence. She too had not spoken with Lane since his departure.