Secrets of a Runaway Bride

by Valerie Bowman

  * * *

  It was anything but predictable. Annie’s hair nearly caught fire. His lips swooped down to capture hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. Her head tilted back and her eyes closed of their own volition. She clung to him. His mouth, which had begun demanding, softened into an insistent invasion. His thumb brushed across her cheek. His fingertips skimmed her hairline. The taste of him, like heat and hazelnuts and spice, flooded her senses. She never wanted it to stop.

  She’d made him angry, she knew. Angry enough to … kiss her? It made no sense, but at the moment she didn’t care. His hot, insistent mouth probed at her lips and she opened to him, allowing his tongue to brush inside, own her, possess her. The man had a way of making her feel all melty. Like molasses and caramel and chocolate. She shuddered. He shouldn’t be doing this but neither should she. If she could summon just an ounce of resistance, she would push him away, but the strong, hard heat of him was intoxicating and all she wanted to do was keep kissing him forever.

  Endless moments later, Lord Ashbourne shuddered and pulled away. Annie breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made her feel as if her heart might beat out of her chest. His face was harsh and handsome in the glow of the candles. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was breathing heavily too.

  He set her away from himself. His eyes shone like molten silver. “Now, if you’d stop acting like a brat, you might just realize what is good for you. And that is to take my advice.”

  He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Annie turned her head away and pressed her fingertips to her burning lips.

  The Earl of Ashbourne had just called her a brat.

  But even more shockingly he’d just kissed her again for no good reason.

  No good reason whatsoever.

  CHAPTER 13

  Annie tapped her finger against her cheek. She and Frances stood in the corner of the Roths’ ballroom. Annie had just finished telling her friend the details of her encounter with Lord Ashbourne in the library, minus the small matter of their (ahem, second) kiss.

  “I’m telling you,” Annie said. “It simply makes no sense. The man is like the statue of David. Made of stone. I just cannot imagine him ever deigning to grace a mere mortal with his earthly presence. I cannot fathom who he would make a fool of himself over.”

  Frances sighed. “Whoever the woman from Lord Ashbourne’s past was, she had to be a complete idiot. Only a fool would turn down David … or Jordan Holloway.”

  Annie snorted. “Perhaps it was because he’s rude, arrogant, controlling—” But even as she said the words, her mind was betraying her with thoughts of their kiss in the library. She couldn’t even summon anger at his having called her a brat.

  She hated to admit it but he was right. She had been behaving like one.

  Frances shook her head. “Tall, dark, and handsome,” she added.

  “Oh, who cares?”

  “I do.”

  Annie grimaced at her friend. It was true, the earl’s perfect veneer had cracked just a touch when he’d admitted to her that he’d made a fool of himself over someone years ago, but it still didn’t change the fact that he was overbearing—Frances was right about his being tall, dark, and handsome, but overbearing trumped all three of those pesky truths.

  So she’d seen a crack in his armor, one that made him seem the faintest bit human for a few moments. She bit her lip. Was Lord Ashbourne right? Was Arthur really completely wrong for her?

  True, it was absolutely none of Lord Ashbourne’s affair. Just as his past was none of hers. But she couldn’t help but be intrigued by the thought that some woman had caused him to make a fool of himself. Lord Ashbourne, more than Lord Colton even, had a reputation for being completely untouchable. The man had three younger brothers all nearly as handsome as he, and he’d famously declared he would never marry and produce an heir. But it caused one to wonder, did it not? Had Lord Ashbourne always been so staunchly against the institution of marriage? Or was the woman he’d made himself a fool over responsible for his feelings on the subject?

  And why, oh why, had he kissed her like that?

  Annie turned to her friend. She bit her lip. “Frances, may I ask you something?”

  Frances stopped and placed her hand over Annie’s. “Of course. Anything.”

  “Do you tell me things you think I want to hear?”

  Frances’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, Anne?”

  “I mean about Arthur. Do you truly think … he cares for me?”

  Frances squeezed her hand. “Why, of course he does, Anne. He told you he loves you, didn’t he?”

  Annie nodded.

  “And he said he wants to marry you?”

  Another nod.

  “He cares for you. I’m sure of it.”

  Annie gave her friend a small smile. “Thank you, Fran. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She smiled back, then clapped her hands. “Now, how can we learn the story about Lord Ashbourne’s past?”

  Annie glanced about. “There must be someone we can ask.”

  Frances’s face held a bit of a pout. “I know no one of an age who is in a position to know what happened. My sisters are both too young and I just asked Mother and she said she had no earthly idea what I was talking about.”

  Annie shook her head. “Of course Lily and Devon probably know, but they are gone.”

  “What we need to do is find a gossip, someone who is older than we are and who isn’t above sharing the details.”

  “Good idea. Let’s scan the ballroom. We’ll meet back here at half past.”

  “Good plan,” Frances replied with a wink.

  They took off in opposite directions. Annie made her way around the perimeter of the ballroom, her eyes scanning the crowd for the biggest gossip she could find.

  “Anne, there you are.”

  She turned toward the voice of her old friend.

  “Lord Medford, good to see you.”

  James Bancroft was tall and lean with sandy brown hair and penetrating hazel eyes, a sharp nose, and a straight brow. The man was undeniably handsome and was as rich as anyone save the king himself, but Annie had always known him as her sister’s good friend. He was like an older brother to her. And they remained friends, despite Lord Colton’s obvious antagonism toward the viscount.

  “What are you up to?” Lord Medford asked, a conspiratorial grin on his face.

  She shot him her innocent look. “Up to? I don’t know what you mean.”

  His grin widened and he shook his head. “Just like your sister, and let’s just say I can always tell when she is up to something as well.”

  Annie bit her lip. “I’m not up to anything.”

  “Out with it, miss.”

  Annie scowled. Lord Medford had always been too smart by half. “Very well, come with me.” She pulled him behind a potted palm and glanced about to ensure no one was watching them. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What do you know about Lord Ashbourne making a fool of himself over some young woman years ago?”

  Medford scratched his head. “Is that what you’re up to? Investigating Ashbourne?”

  She shrugged. “He mentioned it. I’m merely curious.”

  Medford crossed his arms over his chest. “But he didn’t see fit to tell you the details, did he?”

  Annie scowled at him. “Do you know what happened?”

  Medford shrugged. “Actually, I’m quite happy to say I do not. Not that I would share the gossip if I knew it. Ashbourne’s been a confirmed bachelor for a great many years.”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Lord Medford. I happen to know about your printing press. You’re not above gossip.”

  He winked at her. “Believe me, I’d love to have something I could hold over Ashbourne’s head. But I don’t know anything about it.”

  Annie tapped her finger against her cheek. “Whom could I ask?”

  “You could always ask Colton when he returns,” Medford off
ered with another grin.

  “I cannot possibly wait nearly three weeks.”

  Medford he shook his head. “How did I know you would say that?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Do you know what I find interesting about this, Anne?”

  Annie eyed him carefully. “What?”

  “I came here tonight expecting to find you hovering about Arthur Eggleston. Instead I find you attempting to ferret out gossip about Ashbourne.”

  She raised her chin. “First of all, I do not ferret. And secondly, I don’t hover.”

  He gave her a look that implied he didn’t believe either claim.

  Annie straightened her shoulders. “Truly. I expect Arthur to ask me to dance at any moment and I…” She paused and bit her lip. “Lord Medford. May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course,” he answered gamely. “Anything.”

  “Do you think Arthur is the right man for me?”

  Medford flashed a smile. “Don’t worry, Anne. I think you will end up with the exact right man for you.”

  Annie had no time to contemplate that vague answer before a footman approached, interrupting them. “Miss Andrews?”

  Annie glanced up. “Yes?”

  “Lord Ashbourne requests that you gather your cloak and meet him in the foyer. He intends to escort you home immediately.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Annie allowed Lord Ashbourne to help her up into the carriage before jerking her arm from his grasp. She plopped into her seat and stared at him, her lips tightly pressed together, as he settled in across from her. Thankfully, her irritation with him made it easier to forget about their kiss in the library.

  “Now who was making a spectacle?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You embarrassed me back there.”

  Lord Ashbourne watched her through half-lidded eyes. “It was hardly a spectacle. But the fact is, you’ve proven yourself to be untrustworthy. I’m taking you home.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “Untrustworthy? How?”

  Lord Ashbourne relaxed back in the seat as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You promised me you’d stop cavorting with Mr. Eggshell and act appropriately.”

  Annie folded her hands in her lap. “I promised no such thing. I merely agreed not to meet Mr. Eggleston out in the gardens. And I did nothing of the sort.”

  Lord Ashbourne groaned. “Even worse than I thought, a woman who cavils over details. Now I’m going to have to watch you twice as closely.”

  Annie ground her teeth. “Twice as closely? Are you mad? Besides, I have Aunt Clarissa to watch over me.”

  His brow shot up. “I think we both know the audacity of that claim.” He let out a long breath. “Besides, can’t you consider making my task easier and just wait nicely until your sister returns before you act inappropriately?”

  “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.”