The Wicked Wallflowers: Regency Boxed Set (Chronicles of a Bluestocking)

by Tammy Andresen

  But Annabelle, he could protect her. Make sure she stayed away from dangerous men. His insides twisted at the thought of another man touching her hip the way he’d done today, kissing those lush lips. His mother was gone now, but Annabelle was very much alive and full of spirit. A woman like that should be nurtured, not crushed.

  He tightened the knot of his cravat. He was well aware that it wasn’t his place to protect her. He’d told her the truth when he’d said she wasn’t a good candidate for his wife. Honestly, he didn’t give a fig about a woman’s dowry. Annabelle was of good breeding. But she challenged him too much for his comfort. He was a quiet man, serious and stoic…much like his father.

  Completing his wardrobe, he stepped back. Normally, his manservant would help him dress but he needed quiet today, a chance to order his thoughts.

  He made his way downstairs while calling for his carriage.

  As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard his butler open the door. “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Lord Harding,” a man answered. Why did he recognize that voice?

  But as he turned the corner, he wished he’d waited. Because Pierce Marksman stood in the foyer. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling. Why was that man here?

  “There he is,” Pierce called, placing his hand on his heart. “The very man I wanted to see, and he’s dressed to go out even. Where are you going? Does this have anything to do with the lovely Lady Annabelle?”

  He started down the stairs. “I am dressed to go out and leaving momentarily. If you wish to speak with me you can make an appointment—”

  “Nonsense,” Pierce cut in. “How about I ride with you and we can discuss it on the way?”

  “No,” he answered as he reached the bottom step. He stayed on it, towering over Mr. Lowry and Pierce.

  Pierce smiled widely and wagged his finger. “You can get the interview over with if you just let me come with you.”

  “No,” he said again. Then Pierce would be at the dinner with him, he’d weasel his way in even if he didn’t have an invitation. The man had already expressed interest in Annabelle multiple times.

  Pierce shrugged. “Fine. I’ve no choice but to follow you then.”

  Damn it all to bloody bullocks. “Then I’ll have no choice but to publicly beat you.”

  Pierce took a small step back. “It’s not as though I mean any harm.”

  “I don’t know that.” Luke stepped off the stair, crossing the room to stand just in front of Pierce. “And I don’t care. I am not going to enable you access to Annabelle.”

  Pierce licked his lips. “I need water access to ship my goods. I’ll pay well. The sort of money that could give Lady Annabelle a dowry, help her marry and-—”

  Luke straightened his jacket. This conversation had some merit after all. “Very well then. We can take my carriage. Have yours follow.”

  Pierce reached out and slapped him on the back. “That’s a good chap.”

  Luke’s irritation rose again. “I’ll see what I can do provided you don’t touch me again.” He didn’t like men touching him ever. That’s what happened when a boy’s father beat his mother. Even then the man he’d become lived inside the boy and he’d felt the need to try and protect her. He’d caught more than one blow.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re prickly?”

  Luke gave him a dead stare. “Never.”

  Pierce shook his head as he let out a long breath. “Oh well, let’s get to it then. Say. Who is going to be with Lady Annabelle?”

  Luke started for the door, ignoring the question. He didn’t know why Pierce was infatuated with Annabelle’s group of friends and he didn’t care, provided Pierce kept his hands to himself. “You are not to do anything untoward to those ladies.”

  Pierce raised his hand as though to clap him on the shoulder again but then must have thought better of it and dropped the hand again. “I already told you. I’ve nothing but respect for them.”

  Luke hustled down the steps as Pierce managed to stay just a step behind. The footmen snapped open his carriage door and Luke entered, taking his preferred seat. “I’m holding you to that.”

  “Fine,” Pierce said, settling into a seat.

  Luke glared at the other man. “Break your word and it won’t be fine.” His sole purpose in attending this god-forsaken dinner was to protect Annabelle. He wasn’t going to bring the very man who helped bring about her ruin.

  Hell and damnation. What had happened to his life?

  Chapter Six

  Annabelle sat between Chloe and Caroline. Since the dinner was hosted by close friends of Chloe’s she’d been able to secure invitations for her less-fortunate friends. Though Annabelle was no longer sure why she’d bothered to come. She wasn’t fond of social gatherings, she’d simply wanted to meet a rake for research. To hear tell, London teemed with men of loose morals. But despite Annabelle’s best efforts, she’d met none.

  Turning to Caroline, she bit her lip, worry bubbling up into her throat. Caroline had the sort of classic features that men were drawn to. Deep in her heart, she thought there was still hope for her friend.

  But other ladies in attendance weren’t helping. Whispers followed Caroline about, ladies’ fans snapping up to cover their mouths as Caroline passed. And though women weren’t openly hostile, they ignored, they glared over their fans in condemnation, and they whispered with open stares. Men, on the other hand, found her condition quite fortunate and often were emboldened to behave less than appropriately.

  Annabelle winced. Caroline often left these events in tears, which is why she’d simply stopped attending. Guilt niggled along her spine that she’d even brought Caroline tonight, although Caroline had insisted. She wanted to help write this book, said it was important to save women from making the same mistake she had. Still, Annabelle hated to watch Caroline go through this.

  “I have the book in the carriage for you,” Caroline whispered. “Penny gave it to me over the holidays. I read Chloe and Penny’s entries.” She shuddered. “I wished my story with a rake ended the way theirs did. They are both so happy and here I am.” Her chin tucked into her chest.

  No, no, no, she chanted mentally as her stomach twisted into knots. Caroline could not cry already. “Stop. Your story is not over.” She lifted her friend’s chin. “You’re beautiful and charming. One day a man is going to see those qualities in you and not care about a single kiss in the garden that happened two years ago.”

  She blinked away tears. “Do you really think so?” she asked, then she straightened. “I just have to find a good man. Not one that might be ill-intentioned. No marks on his reputation.”

  Annabelle folded her hands. “Well, funny thing about that is that men who are so pure often want a woman who is even more so. That might not be the type—”

  “No. I feel it.” Caroline touched her chest. “I can be redeemed if I just choose an honest man. A man of excellent standing and reputation. One who would never be associated with impure behavior.”

  Annabelle refrained from mentioning that Caroline’s behavior had been impure and so he might very well reject her too. “A man free from sin?” Did such a man exist?

  “Yes. After the book is finished. No more rakes. I’ll find a man who will cleanse my soul with his good deeds.”

  Annabelle bit her lip. She wanted to say more. This was not the best idea, though she was glad that Caroline wasn’t crying.

  “A man of good deeds?” a familiar voice rumbled next to her. “I am eager to meet him. In all my twenty-eight years, I’ve yet to meet such a fellow.”

  Her head snapped back. Lord Harding stared down at her with his glittering black eyes. Heat travelled across her skin. What was he doing here? “Perhaps you have the wrong sort of associates.” Then she peeked around him to see Lord Marksman just behind Harding. Her skin bristled like a cat’s. He’d been to see her father no less than three times attempting to buy their ocean property. Her ocean property
. She pointed at Marksman. “You clearly have poor taste.”

  Lord Harding looked down at her, a smile like she’d never seen spreading across his face. Then he let out a rusty-sounding chuckle before he bent over holding his stomach laughing. Several guests stared and Marksman let out a loud huff. “Most ladies think I’m quite charming.”

  Caroline stood. Her classic features twisted into an angry mask. “In that case, Annabelle is exactly right. Charming is another word for rogue.” She stepped closer to him. “Be gone, sir.”

  Harding laughed all the harder, his hand resting on the back of her chair.

  Annabelle stood too, confused by the sudden racing of her pulse. And she needed to calm Caroline down. Lord Marksman was exactly the sort of man they should be researching, though she didn’t want him anywhere near her father. Honestly, he might very well go back on his word and sell the property out from under her. He’d been working especially long hours, which meant he was engrossed in an invention and likely in need of money. She hadn’t asked many questions, she’d given up on that long ago. “Stop laughing.” She poked Harding in the shoulder. Then she gave Caroline a meaningful look. “Research,” she mouthed.

  Caroline’s spine straightened up and her mouth snapped closed. But she stopped talking.

  Harding was still chuckling to himself as Chloe and Dryden also rose from their chairs to join the group.

  Annabelle poked Harding again. “What are you doing here?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Attending dinner. And you?”

  Her lips pressed closed. He was using her favorite trick on her. “Very funny. Now off with you. Enjoy your meal.”

  He raised a brow. “I don’t intend to go anywhere. That is to say, I’m going to visit with my dear friend, Dryden.”

  Her eyes snapped to Fin’s and he winced in response. What was the meaning of this? “Did you tell him I would be here?”

  Fin shrugged but said nothing, not meeting her eye. Something was afoot.

  “Why would you think I’m here for you? I can socialize—”

  She crossed her arms. “You hate socializing.”

  “True,” he frowned a little. “But Dryden and I have more to discuss with our joint venture.”

  “You’re not going to do that here.” She stepped closer, lifting her chin to give him a glare. He was lying and she’d prove it. “You’d meet at one of your homes.”

  His brows furrowed. “We have other connections that needed to be made. Lord Marksman here, for example, is in need of shipping partners and it’s the perfect opportunity for all of us to meet.”

  She stared at him for several more seconds. He was lying. He’s stared at her from the first moment he’d arrived all the way across the room. But how could she prove it? There had to be a way.

  Why had Luke just said that? Pierce slapped him on the shoulder. “What an excellent thought. I had no idea you wanted to bring me in on a partnership.”

  Annie slanted him a look. She knew he was lying and now he was going to be stuck with Marksman in some business proposition for his sin. This was why he didn’t participate in such affairs.

  Annie put a smile on her face and stepped toward Pierce. “Lord Marksman, shall we take a turn about the room?”

  Pierce quirked a brow. “Of course, my lady. You know I’ve wanted an audience for some time.”

  Harding let out a low noise, rumbling through his chest.

  She glanced over at him. “You are a tiger.”

  “What does that mean?” he rumbled, but she ignored him and threaded her arm through Pierce’s elbow. The man gave Caroline a long look before he started walking with Annie. Luke never took his eyes off of them as they began walking, their heads bent low. What were they saying? Only one way to find out, he followed.

  Annie’s voice drifted back to him amongst the crowd. “I spoke to my father on your behalf.” She leaned closer and jealousy ripped at his insides. “The land is already spoken for. I’m sorry.”

  Luke let out a long breath. The conversation was appropriate at least. “Spoken for? Which lord has put in an offer? I can top it, I’m sure.”

  Annie caught her lip between her teeth, as she stared up at Pierce. “I doubt it, my lord. You see, the plot has become my dowry.”

  Luke pulled his head back in surprise. Really? This was an interesting development. Someone tapped his shoulder and he looked back to see Dryden just behind him. “Why are we following Marksman? It’s perfectly appropriate to take a public walk.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Luke muttered. Truth be told, it was ridiculous, and they looked even sillier. Pierce wasn’t going to do anything untoward in front of the thirty people attending the dinner. But he couldn’t say more and listen.

  “So in order to get the land, all a man need do is marry you?” Pierce had stopped and so Luke stopped too, Dryden bumping into his back.

  “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” Annie was not herself. She seemed to be fumbling through this conversation rather than artfully mastering it like a puppeteer pulling strings. What was wrong with her? Then he looked at Pierce’s handsome profile. Was she attracted to the man? His gut clenched in an unwanted jealousy. His own hand reached up and touched his scar. Of course she wasn’t flustered when she spoke to the scarred marquess. But put her in front of the handsome Lord Marksman and she fumbled through the conversation.

  “How did you mean it then, Lady Annabelle?” Pierce asked starting to walk again.

  Annie’s shoulders straightened. “Tell me Lord Marksman, have you ever kissed a woman in the garden?”

  What in the bloody hell? Blood rushed through his ears at the thought of Pierce and Annie alone in the garden. He took two extra steps and clapped Pierce on the shoulder. “My turn for a walk about the room.”

  “What?” Pierce frowned. “We’ve only walked ten feet. Perhaps less.”

  But Luke had slipped his hand through Annie’s other arm and gave her a tiny tug. The woman was mad. He wasn’t doing this because he was jealous. Ignoring the part of his mind that screamed if Pierce touched her, he’d rip his hand off, he pulled Annie to his side. She needed to learn how dangerous a man could be.

  Chapter Seven

  Annie stared at him with her brow drawn low. What was wrong with Harding? Not that she was complaining. She’d made a mess of the conversation with Marksman. When it came to her land, she’d had a difficult time thinking logically. That place meant everything to her.

  Harding pulled her through the crowd and out through the open doors of the terrace. Spring was in the air and the cool breeze hit her skin like a blast of reason. Why had she faltered? Couldn’t she just have told Marksman that she was not interested in him as a candidate? It was the truth. Though terribly handsome, he wasn’t nearly as appealing to her as the man currently dragging her along the patio.

  She halted, drawing them both to a stop. When had she decided that Harding was appealing? She supposed since the first moment she’d seen him. There was something so strong and magnetic about him.

  “Why have we stopped?” he asked.

  She didn’t move. “Where are you taking me?”

  His mouth twitched down. “I need to have a more private word with you.”

  “Private?” she asked, one of her brows rising up. “I don’t think so.”

  He let out another of those rumbling tiger breaths that cut straight through her, leaving her almost weak in her knees. He glanced about the crowd and then, seemingly satisfied, pulled her into the shadows. “Annie,” he grated out. “I don’t trust that man. There is something he’s not saying and I don’t like it.”

  “Lord Harding,” she addressed him between clenched teeth. “There is something you’re not saying, and I like it even less. Lord Marksman is a man I can easily handle. You, however…” He stilled, then slowly pulled her closer. Why was she allowing this? Her body didn’t listen to her mind, however, as her knees grew weaker still and her heart thudded in her chest.

  “My nam
e is Luke,” he said, his breath fanning out over her face, making her pulse jump. Such a nice name for him. Strong yet pleasing. “And I need you to understand that you should not go chasing after rakes. Smart as you are, men are stronger, I’m afraid, and you could find yourself with one who could do you real harm.”

  “Are you going to do me harm?” she whispered, her face turning up to his in the dark. She’d never been less afraid. Excited, exhilarated even. The scientific part of her brain had a driving need to know what lesson he wanted to teach her. Something told her she would like it very much.

  “I would never hurt you.” He slid his fingertips along her face and then cupped her cheek with his palm. “But not all men are scrupulous. And if you found yourself alone like this with another, you’d be at his mercy.”

  Then, as if to prove his point, he bent down and captured her lips with his. No man had ever touched her this way and her knees finally gave. She didn’t fall however, his muscular arm about her waist held her to his massive chest. She spread her fingers out on his jacket, feeling the ridges and valleys of his flesh that his clothing hid. Delicious.

  He raised his lips a bit only to dip back down and press his to hers again. Harder and longer until her own breath caught, and she blazed a trail to his neck. She slid her fingers along the top of his cravat and then laced them behind his head as he kissed her again and again.

  Finally, he lifted his head, his breathing as ragged as hers. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the beat of it entwining with hers. “Do you see how easy it is to fall into a kiss like this? To lose yourself and forget that people are milling in the light just feet from where we stand?”

  She gasped, cold reality washing through her and she tried to jerk away but he held her tight. “Let me go,” she hissed. His words had both made her remember where she was and the agenda he seemed to have. He hadn’t wanted to kiss her, he was intent upon teaching her a lesson. Why was that? Why would he want to help her?