Annie straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Two actions she often seemed compelled to do in Lord Ashbourne’s company. “Not that I expect you to believe me, but I really hadn’t any intention of actually climbing inside Arthur’s window.”
Lord Ashbourne gave her a dubious look. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“That would be
much
too scandalous,” she continued. “And despite my sister’s insistence, I
do
have a care for my reputation.”
Lord Ashbourne narrowed his eyes on her. “Let me see if I have this right. You believe climbing up the side of a house in the middle of the night consists of having a care for your reputation?”
She tossed her hands in the air. “I didn’t expect to get caught, obviously.”
“I see. But that hardly explains why you were climbing up the shrubbery in the first place.”
Annie folded her hands serenely. “As you know, Arthur and I are courting and—”
Lord Ashbourne put up his palm to stop her. “Courting? Is that what you call it? What I know is that you have been making a spectacle of yourself chasing Eggleston around while he demonstrates remarkably little interest.”
Annie swallowed. That hurt. But she wasn’t about to allow the arrogant Lord Ashbourne to see it. “I don’t expect you to understand, Lord Ashbourne, but Arthur and I are in love.”
“Forgive me for pointing it out, Miss Andrews, but I daresay if Mr. Eggleston returned your affections, you wouldn’t be forced to attract his attention by climbing up the side of his house. You’re not Romeo. And if anyone should be doing insane things like scaling the side of a town house, it’s him, not you. If anyone other than Eggleston had been the one to see that, you’d be an outcast by now.”
Annie winced. Why did Lord Ashbourne have to make so many good points? “I admit, it was poorly done. I should have thought about it more, before I…” She glanced down at the tips of her slippers, convinced her face was an outrageous shade of pink by now. “It’s just that Arthur hasn’t quite come up to scratch the way I’d hoped he would and…” Oh, this explanation was hopelessly inadequate. She might as well just stop talking.
Lord Ashbourne leaned a hand against the countertop and regarded her as if he were speaking to an idiot. “You don’t see anything wrong with that? If Eggleston loves you, why would you need to make a fool of yourself over him?”
The “fool” part hurt too. Annie clenched her jaw. Last spring, Arthur had been eager to marry her. Yes, it was true that the bit about her having no dowry had become public knowledge and his affections had cooled temporarily. But that had been because of his father’s misgivings, not Arthur’s. They’d found each other again and run off to Gretna Green unsuccessfully.
Now, months later, she had an indecently large dowry settled upon her, thanks to her new brother-in-law, but Arthur appeared to be taking his time. He escorted her on a ride through the park every afternoon and called upon her, but he’d made no move to offer for her formally. Annie was convinced it was a combination of his fear of Lord Colton, who obviously disapproved of him, and his desire to please his own father, who obviously disapproved of her. And it didn’t help matters that Arthur spent an inordinate amount of time escorting his spinster sister to Society events. Sigh.
The problem was, Arthur tended to listen to whomever he was with at the moment, and whenever Annie had convinced him that they should marry, he’d return home and speak with his father, and his father would convince him to keep his options open. Arthur was only two and twenty, after all, and didn’t need to settle down so quickly. It was all Annie could do to dissuade Arthur from listening to his father.
But despite all of that, Arthur loved her. She knew it. He’d told her so. He was the only man who’d ever paid her so much attention, ever told her she was lovely, ever thought of her as something more than just a good friend. And she wasn’t about to let go of him.
Besides, Lord Ashbourne couldn’t possibly understand. The man could get any woman in the country—well, any woman but
her
—with a crook of his handsome finger. He knew nothing about the rigors of the marriage mart or her relationship with Arthur.
Very well. That was not
entirely
true. In addition to tonight’s unfortunate incident, Lord Ashbourne did know
one
thing about her relationship with Mr. Eggleston. The one thing she desperately wished he didn’t know. That she’d run away with him. Another sigh. Again, always an idiot in Lord Ashbourne’s presence. With. Out. Fail.
Annie squeezed her hands together. “I’m very sorry for any inconvenience I’ve caused you, Lord Ashbourne, but you should know better than anyone that Mr. Eggleston is indeed interested.”
He reached out and plucked a leaf from her hair. “If you’re referring to your ill-advised trip to Gretna Green last spring, yes, I remember.”
Annie cringed. Oh, now she was sure her face was bright pink. As pink as the trim on her favorite bonnet.
Lord Ashbourne pushed his hat firmly atop his head. “I’m leaving now. No damage was done, thank God, but if something like this happens again, I’ll be forced to inform Aunt Clarissa.”
Annie hid her smile. Aunt Clarissa could barely ensure her shoes were on the correct feet, let alone keep Annie from doing exactly as she pleased.
Lord Ashbourne pulled open the back door and tossed over his shoulder, “Miss Andrews, please. Have a care for your reputation. If not for your own sake, for your sister’s.”
“I will consider everything you’ve said, my lord,” Annie replied. No, she wouldn’t. But she nodded as she watched him go. Then she shut the door behind him, locked it, and pressed her back against it. She let out a long breath. Just like Lily, Lord Ashbourne didn’t understand. It wasn’t that Annie didn’t have a care for her reputation. She simply prized following her heart over silly things like Society rules and strictures.
She peeped out the window to see Lord Ashbourne swing up onto his mount. She narrowed her eyes and tapped a finger against her cheek. Perhaps it was no coincidence that Lord Ashbourne happened to be wherever she was of late. She might just have to take a bit more care to not be such a ninny in his company. The man was … imposing. She touched her fingertips to her waist where his strong hands had lingered minutes earlier. A shudder coursed through her.
Lord Ashbourne was a famous rakehell, a dashing rogue, a confirmed bachelor, and her brother-in-law’s oldest and closest friend. He ran with a fast set and did as he pleased. He was handsome, charming, and completely the opposite of what Annie was looking for in a mate.
But, oh my, being pressed against him when he’d pulled her from the vine had been … delicious.
CHAPTER 3
“Arthur! Stop the coach!”
Arthur’s handsome blond head swiveled around. Obligingly, he pulled on the reins, braced his booted feet against the wooden slabs, and yelled, “Whoa!”
The phaeton jerked to a skidding halt, bumping along the gravel path in Hyde Park and coming to a rest with a solid thud.
“Why did we stop?” he asked, breathing a bit heavily.
One hand fixed atop her bonnet, Annie gestured frantically with the other toward the bushes they’d just passed on their afternoon ride through the park. “I saw a fox.”
“A fox?” Arthur’s eyes were wide. He shook his head. “I hardly think a fox is something we ought to—”
“Shh.” Annie pressed a finger to her lips. “We mustn’t scare the poor creature.”
Sitting up straight, she pulled her kid gloves tight. Thankfully, Arthur hadn’t mentioned her episode with Lord Ashbourne last night. He seemed quite content to pretend it had never happened, and for that she was immensely thankful. She’d spent the better part of the hour they’d been out riding attempting to get Arthur to kiss her. Having failed miserably, she had let her attention wander and she’d caught a glimpse of bright red fur peeking from the bushes as they’d dashed past.
Craning her neck, Annie kept her eyes trained on the little fox she’d seen crouched in the hedges several paces away. A cluster of berries marked the small animal’s spot.
Annie began to climb down the side of the coach.
Arthur placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Here, now. Do you really think you ought to—”
Annie slipped out from under his hand and hopped to the ground. “He may be hurt, Arthur. I must see to him.”
Looking chagrined, Arthur snapped his mouth shut and watched as Annie tiptoed through the grass toward the hedgerow. He clucked to the horses, who, no doubt alert to the scent of the fox, twitched their ears and flared their nostrils.
When she was close enough, Annie bent down, flicked up her skirts, and crawled on her hands and knees on the grass toward the fox. Its little whiskered head peeped out from behind the berries and tilted inquisitively to the side.
Annie eyed the fox carefully. She’d rescued enough strays in her time to know when one was particularly sick or rabid, and this animal looked perfectly healthy. And he was just a baby too. Her brow wrinkled. A baby who didn’t seem to be frightened by a human. Odd.
Just then, a glint of sunlight glanced off a bit of metal and the fox limped forward, dragging a small trap that was secured to his tiny paw. Annie sucked in her breath and turned her head back toward the coach. “Oh, Arthur, just as I suspected. He is hurt.”
Facing the tiny animal again, she slowly tugged off her glove, cupped her palm, and presented it to the fox to show him she meant no harm. “You poor little thing. Let me help you, darling.”
She eyed the trap carefully. It was somewhat rusty. Perhaps merely prying the prongs apart would do the trick. She bent low, her hands braced on the soft earth to get a good look at the contraption.
On the other hand, forcing the jaws open might only serve to hurt the little fox’s paw even more. She snapped her fingers. “A hairpin. Of course.” She plucked a pin from the back of her coiffure, little caring that one unruly dark curl bounced free, and carefully inserted the pin into the hinge on the side of the trap. Her brow furrowed, she poked out her tongue, intent on her work.
She pushed the pin into the hinge as far as it would go, then slowly twisted it back and forth.
Sweat beaded on her forehead. The fox stared at her dolefully, his little sherry-colored eyes blinking. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll get it. I’ll get—”
The hinge popped open with a click. The fox leaped backward, then froze, staring at her. His ears perked and his whiskers twitched. He licked his paw.
Annie edged closer. The fox eyed her.
She edged forward again. The fox’s eyes darted back and forth.
She reached out a hand. Slowly. Slowly.
The fox sniffed at her.
Finally, Annie scooted close enough to scoop the tiny fox into her arms, careful not to touch his sore paw. At first he tried to dart away, but she petted him softly and cooed to him. Finally, he settled into her arms, allowing her to hold him.
She stood up and turned back toward the coach. “I have him,” she called cheerfully to Arthur. “But the poor thing’s paw was caught in a trap. Who would do such a thing? And in a public park, where children might stumble upon it and get hurt too.”
“Who indeed?” Arthur shook his head, an inscrutable look on his face.
She made her way back to the coach with the fox cradled in her arms.
Arthur had descended from the coach and stood ready to help her back up. “You don’t intend to keep that thing, do you?”
Annie blinked at him. “I intend to take him home and treat his paw. I have a recipe for a poultice for just such occasions. That and a bandage will help it to heal much more quickly.”
Arthur frowned. “Do you really think that wise?”
“What do you mean?”
Arthur plunked a hand on his hip. “Taking a wild animal into your home is hardly something propriety dictates.”
Annie glanced down at the fox. “But he”—she turned the animal over carefully and glanced down—“yes,
he
needs help.”
Arthur gave her a doubtful look. He assisted her back into her seat, the fox cradled in her arms. “I don’t know that I recommend it. Not to mention a fox like that should be on the run from a pack of hounds, not having his paw wrapped in a London town house.”
Annie’s mouth fell open. “Hunted? You cannot be serious, Arthur. Please tell me you don’t condone that awful sport.”
Arthur settled back into the seat next to her and shifted his eyes away uncomfortably. “Very well. Take him home if you will.”
Annie straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Thank you. That’s exactly what I intend to do.” She cuddled the baby fox, trying to get a better look at his sore paw.
Arthur laughed. “Now that you’ve got the fox to worry about, at least you won’t be so intent upon asking me for a chance to take the reins.”
He clucked to the horses again and headed for the park’s entrance, while Annie contemplated the afternoon’s turn of events. It was true. After the kissing bit had failed, Annie had turned her attentions to convincing Arthur to allow her to drive his father’s phaeton. He’d said no. Again. Annie sighed. Arthur was under the mistaken impression that she didn’t know how to drive. The fact was, the groomsmen at her family’s country house had spent hours teaching her when she was a girl. Her parents had always been much more concerned with Lily and her schooling, her beauty, her future prospects. They’d left their younger daughter to become a complete tomboy. And that’s exactly what she’d done. Every boy she’d ever met treated her like an unruly friend. That’s why she loved Arthur so. He’d been the first man who’d ever paid a compliment to her beauty. The first man to ever treat her like a
girl
. But that meant Arthur didn’t realize what she was capable of, either. If she were only given a chance to drive, their afternoon outings wouldn’t be a
complete
waste. Though today, at least, she’d saved a fox.
“Since you brought it up, Arthur, won’t you allow me to drive when we go riding tomorrow? I’m really quite—”
He puffed up his chest. “We’ve discussed this, Anne. A team like this is hardly something just anyone can handle.”