Cocky Mister

by Annabelle Anders

  Even if she did love him, no doubt it would prove to be fleeting. Hell, he’d saved her from Culpepper. Likely she was experiencing nothing more than a temporary bout of hero worship.

  What he failed to comprehend, however, was why she’d allowed him to make love to her after she’d remembered.

  Three times during the night and once again when they’d stopped.

  Even if he couldn’t see her out of the corner of his eyes, he could feel her fidgeting. Touching her bonnet, smoothing her sleeves, fussing with her bodice.

  “I didn’t go with Culpepper just because I want people to envy me.” She broke the silence. “I know everyone thinks I was just mad about winning a duke, but there’s more to it than that.” She sounded broken, defeated.

  “Why don’t you explain it to me then?”

  “Months before his death, my father wanted to travel to London to take Westerley to task. He’d been hearing that my brother’s exploits had gotten… out of hand. Bethany was visiting Felicity, and Mother had been ill.”

  Stone kept silent, sensing where this might be going.

  “I didn’t want to stay at home to keep my mother company. I told my father that I needed to stay at Lady Agatha’s school. I insisted that I couldn’t miss the term if I was going to become a duchess.”

  Stone frowned. “And…?” There had to be more to it than that.

  “And then my father died. He died, Stone!”

  Good God. These Westerleys took the notion of guilt to unsurmountable heights.

  “His death had nothing to do with you.” In fact, Stone had been present at the duel when her father was killed. “You must know it was because of Westerley, that it was because he’d, er, associated with the wrong married woman.”

  She was shaking her head vehemently. “He wouldn’t have done that if my father had not stayed home with my mother.” She turned and pinned her caramel-colored gaze on him. “So that I could stay at school. And that left Westerley without my father’s guiding hand. ‘You won’t regret it, Papa,’ I told him. ‘Because your daughter is going to be a duchess.’ Those were my last words to him.” She covered her hands with her face. “My Last words, Stone! And now I’ve broken my promise.”

  She bent forward.

  He pulled Poppy to a halt, dropping his arm around her back. He’d half expected this but…

  Stone shook his head. “You do realize Westerley blames himself?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She dropped her hands. “It never would have happened if I hadn’t been so selfish.”

  “I suppose your sister blames herself in some way as well.”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Stone stared at her. “You’re as bad as your brother.”

  “It just got out of hand… all of it. Becoming a duchess began as a promise but then I could think of nothing else. And…it doesn’t make sense… The way I treated you—anyone who didn’t meet my standards—it was unforgivable.”

  It was hard to stay angry with her when she was like this. But he did not expect to hear the next words that came out of her mouth.

  “I’ll tell him I’m untouched, if you want an annulment.” She stared ahead lifelessly.

  “Is that what you want?” He felt numb.

  “I know you never wanted any of this,” she answered just as the village came into sight.

  A wave of unrecognizable emotion swept over him, and he clenched his fists around the leather strap.

  Because this emotion wasn’t unrecognizable. It was fear.

  And damned if he knew what to do about it.

  Chapter 24

  It’s Complicated…

  “First whisky.” Chase slid a tumbler across the smooth wooden table in Stone’s direction and another toward Westerley. “Then ale.”

  Stone doubted he was going to benefit from drinking that evening, sitting around a tavern table with two men who’d been some of his closest friends: Tabetha’s brother and Chaswick, who’d married the other Fitzwilliam sister earlier in the season. But he might as well give it his best try anyhow.

  Creighton, whose ankle was only half-healed, sat at the opposite end nursing a cup of tea.

  Stone downed the contents of his glass in a single swallow.

  What was she doing now? The moment they’d crossed the threshold of the Pig and Hen, Westerley’s countess and Lady Chaswick had swept her upstairs, safe from his clutches.

  Chase poured a second tumbler and sent it shooting across the table almost before Stone could reach down and stop it from landing in his lap.

  “So,” Chase smirked. “Are congratulations in order then?”

  “What the hell?” Stone swung his gaze over to Tabetha’s brother.

  Westerley shrugged. “I couldn’t be sure, but Culpepper accepted a quarter of what Tabetha’s dowry would have been. I figured it was the only way he’d give up on that so easily. Westerley met his gaze. “Are they in order, then? Did you marry my sister?”

  Stone tossed down the contents of his glass a second time. “Yes.” But divulging that was only the tip of the iceberg.

  “I’m surprised Tabby went along with it.” Westerley watched him closely. “Culpepper was fit to be tied when he told me you kidnapped her. I can hardly believe my sister is even talking to you.”

  “Bethany had hoped Tabetha would come to her senses after spending a few days alone with that bounder—duke or not.” Chase ignored his own drink to roll a cigar back and forth between his fingers.

  She knew exactly who I was last night, and she made love with me anyway.

  How many times had she told him she loved him? And earlier today, he’d asked her where she would prefer to live. I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.

  Was it possible Tabetha had not been playing a game but had been as confused as he was? And if they were both confused, which part of their relationship was real?

  “Was she fighting mad when you tore her out of Culpepper’s coach?” Westerley punched his arm. “Stone?”

  Tore her out…? Stone glanced up.

  “How did you get her to agree to it?” Westerley asked.

  Stone shook his head. “I didn’t kidnap her from Culpepper. She was already running from him. Lady Chaswick was correct in thinking she’d come to her senses.” He stared down at the few drops of liquor remaining in his glass, remembering the moment he’d dragged her onto the horse, Archie’s claws digging into her backside.

  “So you rescued her?” Chase turned to smile at Westerley. “That’s twenty pounds you owe me. I knew the blackened eyes on Culpepper’s men looked familiar.”

  Westerley grimaced but then turned his attention back to Stone, nodding and looking marginally pleased. “Good to know my sister has an ounce of sense—even if it is only an ounce.”

  Stone stiffened. Tabetha had more than an ounce of sense. She was clever, smart, sweet, and more loyal than anyone could ever guess.

  “Culpepper charmed her,” Stone argued. “I don’t know many London debs who would have turned him down.”

  Westerley cocked a brow. “Are you defending her? I’m surprised you haven’t strangled her yourself by now.”

  “Exactly whose idea was it to wed?” Chase narrowed his eyes at him, almost as though he suspected there was more to Stone’s marriage than he was letting on.

  Which, of course, there was.

  “Mine. I realized it was the only way I could be sure of her safety.” Stone tightened his fists. “Not that I doubted my abilities, but I was outnumbered, and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “And my sister went right along with this?”

  “With a little Scottish motivation.” Stone lifted his glass meaningfully.

  “That’s priceless.” Chase was laughing. “Getting her drunk so that she would marry you.”

  “Damn sight more respectful than how you landed your wife.” Stone sent a meaningful glance in Westerley’s direction. Chaswick’s nuptials were likely less conventional than his a
nd Tabetha’s had been.

  “Touché.”

  The three men lifted their glasses to one another, acknowledging the eventual good fortune that had come along with what could have been a most unfortunate situation, and then fell silent as they sipped their drinks thoughtfully.

  “So—this marriage—it was only for her protection, then. I suppose you’ll be seeking an annulment?” Chase mused. “If you have troubles, no doubt Blackheart can pull the necessary strings.”

  Stone had anticipated having this discussion with Westerley alone. He’d had every intention of confessing that an annulment wasn’t possible.

  Furthermore, what kind of a man lied to the church?

  “I’ll need to speak with… Lady Tabetha,” he answered.

  Westerley was watching him closely. Stone could give her an annulment, if it was something she wanted. He wasn’t certain that it was.

  It couldn’t be.

  He pictured her selecting pastries in the store, laughing up at him, dressing Archie in those ridiculous dresses, naming her chess pieces.

  But she could also be serious. Sensitive. Asking about his family. Listening to his boxing stories. And last night…

  Beneath him, above him, begging him to love her.

  And he did! God help him, he did!

  A middle-aged woman arrived and set baskets of bread around the table. “Rabbit stew and potatoes will be out shortly.” She glanced at the almost empty bottle sitting in front of Chaswick and raised her brows questioningly.

  They all nodded.

  “The ladies upstairs requested their meal be sent up to Lord Westerley’s chamber and asked me to pass along that they are disinclined to be interrupted for some time.” She winked and reached into her deep apron. “Lady Westerley sends this along with their apologies.” The flask she withdrew was a familiar one.

  “Many thanks to my wife.” Westerley grinned and flipped a coin in the woman’s direction. “And you as well, Madam.”

  Stone dared not imagine what Tabetha was telling her sister-in-law and her sister. He was going to have to get her alone. If she refused to talk with him, he had another, much more satisfying method to resolve their situation.

  One he doubted she would resist.

  But, damnit, he’d have to get her alone first, and from the sound of it, the ladies didn’t intend to allow him near her anytime soon.

  “Peter told us to give you hell for failing to give him a proper send-off. He left for Brighton the evening before we left London.” Chaswick bit into a piece of the crusty bread. “Bethany said he was seen driving Lady Starling last week.”

  His brother? And Lady Starling?

  Stone glanced at Chase questioningly. Because before marrying Lady Bethany, Chaswick had had something of a torrid affair with the notorious widow at Westerley’s mother’s house party.

  “Likely, it was only out of courtesy.” Chase pinched his lips together. He obviously had more to say but was unwilling to discuss the widow in front of Westerley, his wife’s brother.

  Peter, who’d dedicated most of his life to learning and playing the cello, was likely the most innocent amongst the lot of them.

  “Courtesy or not, it won’t amount to anything,” Stone said. “The apprenticeship in Brighton isn’t over until the holidays. And after that, my mother suspects he’ll be asked to tour with Sir Bickford-Crowden himself.”

  “Of course, your mother would say that.” Westerley laughed.

  But no one contradicted the prediction. Peter played his instrument like he’d been born to it. He’d even named the damn thing, by god. Rosa.

  No, Lady Starling wouldn’t be sinking her talons into Peter.

  Two maids delivered an assortment of aromatic and steaming foods. Stone had gone nearly two days without a hot meal and, lovesick or not, needed food to sustain a body such as his.

  Taking a bite, and finding the dish adequate but almost flavorless, he realized nothing was the same without her. Last night, their fare had tasted like manna and the wine like nectar.

  Had she felt the same?

  “The curricle’s repairs were completed yesterday.” Creighton spoke up for the first time, not at all used to dining with a baron and an earl.

  Westerley winced, and Stone jumped on the opportunity to discuss anything that might distract him from contemplating the meaning behind everything that had happened over the past week. He regaled Westerley and Chase with a detailed tale of the calamities he and Creighton had met after they’d left London together.

  Westerley shared some of his journey as well.

  “Halfway to Culpepper’s country estate, with not a scrap of evidence of a ducal entourage having driven through before us, I took a calculated risk that you’d been right all along. Thought you might need a hand.”

  What would he and Tabetha be doing this instant if Westerley hadn’t made that decision?

  “I’m glad you did,” Stone said. But he would have appreciated another day alone with her. And another night.

  “Hand me that bottle,” he added.

  Chapter 25

  Girl Talk

  “I’m biting my tongue to keep from saying ‘I told you so.’” Bethany tipped a pitcher of warm water over Tabetha’s head while Charley, Westerley’s American wife, sat nearby, holding Archie and petting him affectionately.

  The last time Tabetha had bathed, she’d been in Gretna Green. She’d been plain old Tabetha Chester, and her life had been so much less complicated. The time before that, Stone had assisted her.

  She bit her lip. He had been his annoying self when he’d shown up to rescue her, but he’d also been surprisingly sweet. Now she realized that she’d been the luckiest girl in the world when he appeared on that dusty road.

  “I can’t believe you kidnapped Culpepper’s cat.” Charley giggled. “And how is it that I’m so fond of such an atrocious-looking creature?” She leaned forward and kissed the top of Archie’s head. “No offense, sweetheart.”

  The memory of Culpepper’s hand clutching Archie’s collar flashed in Tabetha’s mind.

  “Culpepper is a beast,” she said. It was doubtful he would have treated her any better.

  Bethany had been right to warn her.

  “But he is a duke,” Bethany pointed out.

  “Did Mr. Spencer really kidnap you from him?” Charley asked, her startling green eyes wide with curiosity.

  “Stone didn’t kidnap me. Whatever gave you that idea?” But then she realized. “Culpepper.”

  “Yes.”

  Tabetha disabused her sister and sister-in-law of the falsehood, confessing how she’d changed her mind when they’d arrived at the blacksmith’s. She told them everything that happened from the moment she took off on her own, to the point where she and Stone had arrived in Gretna Green. She particularly enjoyed the dramatic telling of how Stone had beaten Culpepper’s men handily and then thrown her on the back of Poppy and carried her away to safety.

  All the while, her sister had massaged soap into Tabetha’s hair, rinsed it out, and was now smoothing a brush down her back, having worked out every last tangle.

  “And how,” her sister asked quietly, “did you come to marry Stone… rather, Mister Spencer? And are you planning on obtaining an annulment?”

  “You know?”

  “Jules says Culpepper wouldn’t have left you behind otherwise,” Charley said.

  That had been her and Stone’s initial reasoning, Tabetha remembered. Stone had sat patiently in the mercantile while she’d asked his opinion on various items of clothing.

  He’d teased her for requiring so many garments but complimented them anyhow. They’d both consumed a so very much whisky, but not so much that she hadn’t managed to select two gowns that would show her at her best, as well as a reticule and shoes and the exact undergarments she required.

  In addition to a small wardrobe for Archie.

  All of which she’d shockingly allowed him to pay for.

  “I lost my valise and m
y money.” Tabetha drew her knees up to her chin and shivered.

  Bethany stood beside the tub with a clean towel. “Out before you catch your death.”

  Her sister draped the soft material around her, and Charley held up a night rail, which both of them assisted her into.

  “Sit here.” Charley indicated a chair set before a vanity. “I want to braid it. You don’t know how many times I wished my hair was your color.”

  “You know we love your hair,” Bethany countered. Charley’s hair was the same red as a ladybug. “And I believe Westerley’s come to appreciate it as well.”

  Charley smiled a secret smile, and Tabetha spied a similar one on her sister’s lips.

  She had wondered before—wondered what she might miss out on by marrying for position rather than love.

  She’d come dangerously close to never knowing.

  “I don’t want an annulment,” Tabetha admitted.

  Bethany and Charley both gaped at her. “You’ll never be a duchess,” Bethany said.

  “I know.” The admission was a painful one. “And I hate that I even care.” She wiped at her eyes. “Why do I even care?” she mourned, making a dismal attempt to stifle her tears.

  Bethany crouched on the floor before her. “It’s because of Father. I’ve tried to talk sense into you before, but you are as stubborn as the rest of us. And it’s not as though he didn’t influence me as well.”

  “But I promised him.” Tabetha sniffed. “It was the last thing I said to him before he died.”

  Bethany took Tabetha’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Father was a wonderful man. I loved him with all my heart. But I’ve realized… he had a way of… defining each of us. I doubt he realized how his influence…” She laughed ruefully. “Caused each of us so much trouble.”

  “Westerley too?”

  Charlie was nodding. “The arrangement with Felicity’s father had him tied up in knots.” She stared at Tabetha in the mirror and tapped her hand to her heart. “Honor, you know. A man’s honor is everything.”

  Tabetha held Charley’s gaze and nodded. She knew this about Westerley. But he hadn’t always been that way.