Secrets of a Runaway Bride

by Valerie Bowman

  “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?”

  Jordan clenched his jaw.

  “I daresay,” replied Lord Cranberry. “Colton’s obviously going to have to settle a bit more on the gel before Eggleston comes up to scratch.” The corpulent man chuckled.

  That was it!

  Annie’s reputation was being ripped to shreds on his watch, and while Jordan might not relish his role as a chaperone, he had absolutely no intention of failing at the task. Not to mention he’d be forced to explain the embarrassing situation when Devon and Lily returned.

  But blast it, there was something else. Something that clenched in his chest every time he saw Annie throwing herself at Eggleston. It was the same helpless emotion that grabbed him every time he thought about the hapless twenty-five-year-old lad he once had been, mooning over Miss Georgiana Dalton. It was the same blend of disgust and regret he felt each time he wished he could go back and talk to that young lad, tell him to stop it, tell him what a huge mistake he was making. He already knew talking to Annie would get him nowhere. She
was so sure of herself and her supposed feelings. She refused to listen to him. And she was making a blasted huge mistake.

  Eggleston wasn’t good enough for her and it had nothing to do with his lack of either title or fortune. Eggleston wasn’t good enough for Annie simply because he didn’t adore her in the way every single person deserved to be adored by the one they intended to dedicate their life to. True, he personally didn’t believe in love and all of that nonsense, but Annie did. And when someone believed that strongly, they deserved a partner who believed too.

  And there was another emotion there, Jordan realized, rising to the surface and blocking out all the others like a black cloud on the horizon before a thunderstorm. Anger. He was angry with Eggleston for being such a blind idiot. He was even more angry with Annie for refusing to see the obvious. But he was most angry with himself for giving a bloody damn.

  Jordan surged to his feet, his jaw still tightly clenched. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  Nicoletta glanced at him with a wary look in her dark eyes. “Certamente,” she replied with a short nod.

  Jordan stalked down the corridor, down the steps, through the lobby, up the opposite steps, and into the corridor on the other side of the theater, his anger eclipsing all rational thought. He ripped open the curtain to Eggleston’s box and lunged inside.

  The heads of the box’s three occupants snapped up to look at him. Annie’s eyes were moons. The engaging smile that had been on her face turned to a cold frown. Surprise briefly registered on her face. Then her hand flew to her throat.

  Jordan stared her down and he spoke through clenched teeth. “Miss Andrews, it seems you’ve made a miraculous recovery from your previous condition this evening.”

  She cleared her throat, her eyes cast downward. “Yes, well, I—”

  “Miraculously recovered?” he taunted.

  “Something like that,” she murmured.

  Jordan sensed she didn’t want him to embarrass her in front of the Egglestons, but he was beyond caring.

  “I’m sorry to have interrupted your evening, Mr. Eggleston, Miss Eggleston.” Jordan nodded briefly to the siblings before turning his attention back to Annie. “Miss Andrews, gather your things; I’m escorting you home. Now.” The last word was growled through clenched teeth.

  She didn’t look at him, but the pink glow that spread along her cheeks indicated both her embarrassment and her anger. “Thank you for the kind offer, Lord Ashbourne, but I intend to stay.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “It was not a request.”

  She turned to face him head-on. Her fists clenched at her sides. “No. You misunderstand me. I’m not leaving.”

  His smile was tight, his voice low and dark. “Don’t make me drag you out of here, because I swear I will.”

  Annie gasped. Miss Eggleston looked as if she might need to inhale an entire vial of smelling salts. Mr. Eggleston stood up and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Look here, Ashbourne,” he said in what was no doubt the bravest voice the man could manage. “I must admit I tended to discount it when Miss Andrews told me she thought you were following her about, but given your behavior here tonight, it seems she may not have been exaggerating in the least and it concerns me greatly.”

  Jordan turned to face the slightly shorter man and glared at him. “Eggleston, if I were you, I would stop talking. There’s every possibility further conversation between the two of us might end over pistols at dawn, and I think we both know who the victor in such a circumstance would be.”

  Miss Eggleston murmured something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. Without waiting for a response, Jordan turned back to Annie. “Are you walking out of here with me or do I have to carry you?”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Miss Eggleston reached out a small, white hand and tugged at Annie’s sleeve. “Go, dear, go.”

  Annie, apparently aware of the scene they were causing, turned on her heel and left without saying another word. Jordan followed her into the corridor.

  “I can hardly countenance the fact that you’ve followed Eggleston to the theater,” he growled.

  She glared at him. “Not that I expect you to believe me but I did not—”

  Jordan held up a hand. “Spare me. This entire episode is only one old randy goat and a misdirected house-party key away from becoming a farce. You chasing Eggleston around, me chasing you around. It’s ridiculous.”

  Annie clenched her teeth. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t know Mr. Eggleston would be here and—”

  “Enough. Meet me outside in front in five minutes,” he commanded.

  She spun away from him sharply. “I must gather my cloak and tell Frances and Mrs. Birmingham I’m leaving.”

  Jordan turned in the opposite direction. “I suggest you make it quick. I’ll have the coach brought round.” He turned to face her again. “Five minutes,” he repeated in a menacing voice.

  She stomped down the corridor.

  “Annie,” he said, and she stopped short. “I promise you will not like the consequences if you’re not there.”

  Without another word, he stalked away.

  * * *

  Annie rushed down the corridor, unshed tears of pure anger threatening to spill from her eyes. She’d turned away from him abruptly so he wouldn’t see her cry. The absolute nerve of that man. How dare he chase her down and humiliate her. Again! She could go nowhere. Do nothing. It was as if he were employed by the war office. He seemed to know everything about her whereabouts. And of course he assumed she’d followed Arthur here tonight. He’d never believe it had been a mere coincidence. Especially not when he found her standing in his box. Blast it all. That part had been unfortunate. But that ass refused to listen to reason.

  She flew into the Birminghams’ box just as the performance was beginning. Frances jumped up. “There you are, Anne. I was about to come look for you.”

  “I cannot stay,” Annie answered in a wooden voice.

  Frances’s brow furrowed. “What? Whyever not?”

  “Lord Ashbourne,” she ground out. “Insists on taking me home.”

  “What?” Frances’s eyes nearly popped from her skull. “Lord Ashbourne’s here?”

  “Yes. He’s here and he’s making a complete nuisance of himself. As usual.”

  Mrs. Birmingham stood up and patted Annie’s hand. “Would you like me to speak with him, dear?”

  “No. No. I’ll be fine,” Annie replied. No sense in dragging poor Mrs. Birmingham into her humiliation. “He just wants to prove a point. I’ve never seen anyone so set on being right. Well, save for Lily.”

  “Are you quite certain you’ll be all right, dear?” Mrs. Birmingham responded.

  Annie nodded.

  “Can I come with you?” Frances pleaded. “Please?”

  “No, Frances. Stay. Enjoy the performance.” Annie grabbed up her shawl and reticule and said her good-byes, then she hurried back down the corridor, down the staircase, and into the lobby. She made her way outside and glanced about for Lord Ashbourne’s coach.

  The conveyance sat across the courtyard, Lord Ashbourne’s magnificent matched black horses at the bit, his fancy liveried coachman and two footmen waiting attendance. Lord Ashbourne stood next to it, a decidedly angry look chiseled on his annoyingly handsome face. When he saw her, his stance relaxed, but only a bit. She stalked over to him.

  “Happy?” she asked with a false smile as she allowed him to assist her up into the coach.

  “Not particularly,” he replied.

  He hoisted her up with one hand and she entered the coach and settled on the seat across from where he usually sat. Her chest heaving with indignation, she considered all the things she would verbally hurl at him as soon as he sat down.

  She took a deep breath to prepare for her tirade.

  A glint of light caught her eye.

  She glanced across the seat. The candlelight in the lantern secured to the side of the coach reflected off a dazzling amethyst ring. />
  Curled into a perfect, sensual ball in the corner of the seat, wearing an exquisite fur wrap and a deep purple satin gown, reclined the most gorgeous and exotic-looking woman Annie had ever seen before.

  Annie sucked in her breath.

  Lord Ashbourne’s mistress.

  CHAPTER 16

  Annie blinked at the beautiful woman sitting across from her. Perhaps the goddess was a figment of her imagination and would dissolve before her eyes. No one could really be that beautiful, could they? Why, she nearly made Lily look plain.

  The woman uncurled from the corner and raised a lovely brow. Her hair was midnight black, her eyes were dark orbs. She had finely drawn cheekbones, a perfect point of a nose, and lips the color of dark cherries. She had a beauty mark on her cheek and she eyed Annie warily from behind long, luxurious lashes.

  No. Not a figment of her imagination. Not at all.

  Oh, perfect. This is all this evening calls for.

  Lord Ashbourne’s mistress looked like she’d just descended from Mount Olympus. Or Cleopatra. Though Cleopatra, Annie decided, had nothing on this beauty. Her heart sank when she thought of Jordan alone with this woman, kissing her.

  Her own inexperienced pecks must have been laughable to him if this creature was the company he normally kept. Annie glanced down at her own bright dress. She was inadequate, like a little girl playing dress-up. She eyed the woman without saying a word before Lord Ashbourne climbed into the coach and sat next to Cleopatra.

  “So, you’re the signorina who’s been occupying so much of Jordan’s time lately?” Cleopatra asked.

  Annie flinched at the barely concealed anger in the woman’s beautiful Italian-accented English. Annie didn’t like the way she called him Jordan, for one thing, and she certainly didn’t like the way Cleopatra made “occupying his time” sound positively indecent.

  “I’m Anne Andrews,” she replied steadily, lifting her chin.

  “Yes. I know. Good for you,” Cleopatra replied with a tight smile.

  Lord Ashbourne cleared his throat and Annie, glad for the reprieve from the woman’s prying eyes, turned her attention to him. “I cannot believe you pulled me out of there like that.”