“It’s highly ironic for you to be mentioning inappropriateness, or wasn’t that you who kissed me in the library earlier?”
Jordan cracked a smile and inclined his head. “Guilty.”
That was it. Annie clamped her lips together and stared out the window. There was no reasoning with this man. He was convinced he was completely right. And he wouldn’t stop. She realized that now. He intended to hunt her down on a daily basis like a hound chasing a fox. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She tapped her fingertips along her elbows. If only Arthur would get on with it and ask her to marry him. If she were engaged, she would have no cause to act inappropriately. Why, she could be as proper as anyone.
She settled back into her seat and tried to think through things calmly, rationally. Why wasn’t Arthur coming up to scratch? Was Lord Ashbourne right after all? Was Arthur wrong for her? Lily thought so, but Lily of course was biased and Lord Ashbourne agreed with his friends. Annie trusted Lord Medford completely but he’d been maddeningly vague when she’d asked his opinion.
Oh, she didn’t know what to believe anymore.
When the coach pulled up in front of Devon’s town house, Annie reluctantly allowed Lord Ashbourne to help her down. She gathered her reticule in one hand and her skirts in the other and hopped to the ground.
Lord Ashbourne escorted her to the front door. “Miss Andrews,” he said while Annie searched for the key in her reticule. She’d learned to take a key with her. Evans was often asleep by the time she came home. “You might consider acting a bit less … rambunctious.”
Annie gave him a tight smile. “You would know about acting rambunctious, Lord Ashbourne.”
He returned her smile. “Yes. I would. Quite a bit, actually. And I know how much trouble can accompany it.”
She slipped the key from her reticule and jammed it into the lock. “Don’t let me keep you from your pastimes, my lord. I’m sure there’s some sort of dissolution going on somewhere that is missing you.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention his mistress, but a lump formed in her throat at the thought.
Her key clicked in the lock just then, and Annie pushed the door wide, marched inside, and shut it in his face.
* * *
Staring at the closed door, Jordan let out his pent-up breath. Two weeks and five days couldn’t come soon enough to rid himself of that hoyden. No doubt it would be the longest fortnight of his life. Dissolution indeed. She knew nothing of dissolution.
He shook his head. It had become clear to him tonight that Annie Andrews was not about to change her ways and make things a bit easier on him. She intended to make a fool of herself over Arthur Eggleston and it was Jordan’s nightmare to stop her. He’d tried reasoning with her and he’d tried logic. Now, all he could do was track her like a hound. And that’s exactly what he intended to do. The
ton
was gossiping about her and he had to make that stop. The chit thought she could outsmart him, but she was sorely mistaken.
Bloody hell. Why exactly had he agreed to this impossible task in the first place? Colton had better be having a damned good time on his honeymoon trip.
And why the deuce Jordan had kissed her again was anybody’s guess. Something about the way she’d said the word “predictable,” turning it into a taunt, a challenge. For some blasted reason she brought out his competitive side.
Returning to the street, Jordan hoisted himself into the coach and rapped on the door that separated the interior from the coachman.
“Miss Nicoletta’s house, milord?” the coachman asked.
Jordan paused a moment. Damn it, Annie Andrews was responsible for more than just turning him into a preoccupied chaperone. Now she was ruining his sex life. “No, John. Not tonight. Take me to the club.”
He sat back against his seat and the coach jolted into motion.
Jordan expelled his breath. Blast it. Tomorrow he’d have to go shopping on Bond Street. For jewelry.
CHAPTER 15
Ah, the theater. Annie had only been there one other time, but she adored the theater. Tonight she’d managed to somehow elude the Earl of Ashbourne when he’d called on her earlier to inquire after her plans for the evening. She’d sent Mary down with a note informing him that she wasn’t feeling well and would be spending the evening in her room, resting. Of course, Mary was known for her forgetfulness, so when Lord Ashbourne had pressed the maid for details, she was able to honestly answer that she wasn’t entirely sure of her mistress’s symptoms. But the note indicated she was ill and that was clear enough.
In fact, it was Evans, hovering outside the drawing room door, who had to tell Annie exactly what the earl had said as Mary was unable to recall those details either. But in the end, the earl had left, apparently slapping his leather gloves against his thigh as if he were perturbed. Annie, when informed of his departure, breathed a sigh of relief, then picked up Bandit and Leo in each arm and kissed the little furry babies upon their heads. Dash rested in his basket under the dressing table. The little fox’s paw had steadily healed and he now favored it only occasionally.
After the baffling night at the Roths’, Annie had decided that she needed to stay away from Lord Ashbourne for a different reason altogether. As far away as possible. He’d confused her with his kiss. And she’d been thinking about that kiss more and more often lately. Too often. What was that about? It made no sense. No, she needed to stay far away from the man and evading him was the only way she could think of to do so. She’d managed to elude him these last days since the incident at the Roths’. They had two weeks and two days remaining until Lily returned. It couldn’t be that difficult to continue to keep her distance, could it?
Yes. She was quite proud of herself for having slipped away from Jordan Holloway tonight. Aunt Clarissa was enjoying an evening of cards with some friends. Annie had come to the theater with Frances and her mother. And she was intent on thinking of neither man this evening, Lord Ashbourne or Arthur Eggleston.
They’d both been causing her nothing but trouble lately.
Lord Ashbourne had nearly convinced her the other night that Arthur felt nothing for her. Unfortunately, the earl had a point. Arthur was maddeningly evasive. One moment he was more than happy to leave with her for Gretna Green and the next he was declaring that they should be in no rush to marry.
And Annie was sick of it. She refused to be the fool chasing around a man who had little concern for her. She’d die a childless spinster before she made a cake of herself any longer. Tonight was for fun. A large ivory sash graced the empire waist of her blue gown, and with her ivory kid slippers and matching gloves, she was positively presentable. Besides, she’d always enjoyed the theater and she was here with her closest friend in the world. Who needed men?
Frances’s mother was off chatting with friends before the performance started, so the two young women sat in the Birminghams’ box alone.
“Frances.” Annie turned to her friend. “I’ve decided I shall neither think nor speak of either Arthur or Lord Ashbourne tonight. Mark my words.” She gave a decisive nod.
“Ooh, speaking of Lord Ashbourne, have you managed to find anyone to tell you the story of his past?” Frances asked.
Annie sighed. “What did I just say?” She laughed. “And no, I have not, but not from lack of trying.”
“Me too,” Frances admitted. “I’ve inquired of nearly everyone who’s crossed my path. I swear if they didn’t think I was madly obsessed with Lord Ashbourne before, the
ton
certainly does now.” She shook her head. “But it would be worth the gossip to find out that tidbit.”
“Keep trying,” Annie replied, squeezing her friend’s hand. “This town adores gossip. Surely it’s only a matter of time before we find someone who knows. All right. From now on. No more talk of either man. I mean it.”
Frances bit her lip. “Um. Anne.”
“Yes?”
“What if … Mr. Eggleston is … here?” Frances whispered.
Annie’s head snapped up. “What? Where?” She glanced around.
Frances pointed her fan a bit to the right, indicating a box at the far end of their row. Not a particularly enviable view, but any box was better than a seat on the floor, of course. Annie strained her neck to see into Arthur’s box. There he sat, a pleasant smile on his always pleasant face, his peaked-looking sister propped up in a chair by his side.
Annie pushed up her chin. “I had no idea he would be here tonight,” she sniffed. “But I do not care.”
Frances gave her a skeptical look. “You don’t?”
“Not a bit.” But Annie couldn’t help glancing back over at him. “Do you think he’s seen us?”
“I’m not sure he can from where’s he’s sitting.”
“It’s for the best then.” She turned to look at the stage, praying the performance would begin and spare her from the uncertainty of whether Arthur knew she was there.
“I think you should go greet him,” Frances said.
Annie’s mouth dropped open. “Frances! No. Why should I? If he wanted to see me, he would come over here.”
“But he hasn’t seen you, obviously,” Frances reasoned. “I’m sure he’d like to know you’re here.”
Annie bit her lip. Was it rude of her not to greet him? No. No. She’d already decided that she would not throw herself at him ever again. “No. I refuse to be the one—”
“I’ll go with you,” Frances whispered.
“Frances.” Annie plunked her hands on her hips and gave her friend an exasperated look.
Frances winked at her. “I know. I know. But if you’re a hopeless romantic, I’m an even more hopeless one and I’ve always believed Mr. Eggleston loves you. You must give him a chance to prove it.”
“Why? What has he ever really done to prove it?” Annie asked, Lord Ashbourne’s words echoing in her head.
“Let’s see. Let’s make a list.”
Annie nodded. Indeed, a list. Perhaps it was just the thing she needed to decide whether Lord Ashbourne was right and she was making a fool of herself over Arthur.
“First of all,” Frances began, “he told you you were beautiful. That proves his intelligence.”
Annie had to smile at that.
“Secondly, he did attempt to take you to Gretna Green. And while we can all agree that wasn’t the best idea, it proves he truly wanted to marry you.”
Annie nodded. She couldn’t deny that.
“And lastly, didn’t you tell me that he told you in the Lindworths’ gardens that he does indeed still intend to marry you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Yes, but nothing. Your future husband is sitting right over there, Anne, and you’re refusing to go speak with him.”
Well, when Frances put it like that, it did seem a bit petty of her.
“Now, do you want me to go with you or don’t you?” Frances asked, settling the matter.
Annie glanced around. She supposed she could just pop over quickly and be back before the performance started. It wouldn’t be so very awful, would it?
“I’ll go,” Annie said. “But just for a moment. You stay here.”
“Good luck.” Frances gave her a conspiratorial grin. “But do hurry back before Mother arrives. She’ll wonder where you’ve gotten to.”
“I’ll hurry.” Annie squeezed her friend’s hand and stood to leave, but she bit her lip and sat back down quickly on the edge of the seat.
Annie’s heart pounded. She searched Frances’s face. “So you really, truly think Arthur … cares for me?”
Frances’s eyes were wide. “Why, of course he does, Anne. Who wouldn’t love you?”
“Thank you, Fran.” She stood and gave Frances an encouraging smile and a wink just before she pushed the curtain aside and slipped out of the box.
Annie took a deep breath and walked the thirty or so paces down to Arthur’s seat. She pressed her hand to her belly to calm her nerves just before she pushed the curtain aside. “Good evening, Mr. Eggleston, Miss Eggleston. So good to see you.”
* * *
Jordan Holloway glanced across the theater and looked twice. He was sitting with Nicoletta, who was absolutely not pleased with him of late. He’d spent the last several nights noticeably absent from her life and her bed while he traipsed about the city, chasing around a certain incorrigible brunette. Tonight he was taking a long-awaited and much-needed break from doing so. Or at least he’d intended to.
Jordan had made some inquiries and discovered that Eggleston would be at the theater tonight. That suited Jordan’s purposes fine. He could take Nicoletta out for a long overdue evening’s entertainment and he could keep an eye on Annie’s prey at the same time. After all, if she were going to appear, it would no doubt be here. But even she must have the sense not to chase the man to the theater when he obviously hadn’t invited her. Or so Jordan had thought.
When he’d stopped by Devon’s town house to see Annie earlier, he’d certainly been more than skeptical about the state of her health and the note she’d sent, but it was not as if he could have stalked up to her bedchamber and called her a liar. He supposed there had been a large part of him that had wanted to believe the story. Wanted to assume she’d be safely at home all night and not out roaming the streets hunting down that ridiculous Eggleston.
Jordan glanced across the theater again to the row of seats at the end of the opposite gallery. There she was. Her bright blue dress shining like a beacon in the box of none other than Arthur Eggleston.
Jordan expelled his breath. Hard. She had lied to him. She had thwarted him. But most importantly, she was making a fool of herself. Again. Did the girl have no concept of the rumors swirling about? He was worried for her reputation. Why didn’t she seem to be? The entire
ton
was agog over the way she appeared to be throwing herself after Mr. Eggleston, ever since her sister left town.
And Jordan had been the one following her around like a bloody lady’s maid, trying to convince her to see reason. He’d even gone so far as to deliver a deuced chivalrous speech on the matter in an attempt to convince her. And he was never chivalrous. What the hell had he become?
“Ah,” said Lady Cranberry from one box over. “There goes that Miss Andrews again. If her new dowry hasn’t attracted that Eggleston lad by now, she hasn’t much hope, does she, poor dear?”