Secrets of a Runaway Bride

by Valerie Bowman

  “You are very beautiful, my lady,” the highwayman said once she stood facing him. He, however, was still cloaked in darkness.

  Annie narrowed her eyes. “How can you tell? It’s dark as sin out here,” she replied. “Besides, flattery seems a bit much for someone threatening to shoot me, don’t you think? Let’s get on with it. What do you want, exactly? I’ve already told you, I have no jewels.”

  “What is your business at Colton House?” the highwayman asked again.

  Annie pursed her lips. “If you must know, I need to tell the man I love that I love him and no one is going to stop me.”

  “Is that so?” The highwayman slid from his horse. She could hear his maneuverings in the darkness. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that love was invented by poets and fools?”

  A vague memory triggered in her brain.

  “You don’t have a rabid fox with you, do you?” the highwayman asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”

  “Because you bit your lip and glanced away, and those are your tells.”

  He took a step forward then and a shaft of moonlight illuminated his face. Annie’s breath caught.

  Jordan.

  He had come for her. Come after her. She tossed her pistol aside, expelling her breath in a rush. She couldn’t stop her smile, nor the tears that flooded her eyes.

  She shook her head. “So I’ve been told, my lord. But I never believed it.”

  “So you plan to tell the man you love that you love him, eh?”

  “Yes,” she managed through her tears. “And I demand that he tells me he loves me too.”

  Jordan held out his arms and Annie rushed into them. He scooped her up and kissed her, swinging her around.

  Annie wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. “Oh, Jordan, I overheard you telling Charlie that you have no intention of marrying me,” Annie said. “But I love you, and I know you love me whether you’ll admit it or not.”

  Jordan stopped then and stared her straight in the eye. “Love, what you overheard was me telling Charlie I had no intention of marrying Georgiana.”

  Annie’s eyes went wide. “Oh. And what did you tell Georgiana on the terrace?”

  “That she was far too late to win me back. Seems I’m hopelessly in love with an adorable brunette. I love you,” he whispered against her ear. “Very, very much.”

  He set her gently back down on the ground and fell to one knee in the soft grass in front of her.

  “Annie Andrews, will you marry me?”

  CHAPTER 52

  Jordan and Annie came galloping up to the front of Colton House on the chestnut stallion.

  The front door of the manor house flew open and cracked against the side of the door frame. Devon came barreling out, Lily close on his heels. An entire group of guests and servants filed out behind them, including those notorious gossips Lord and Lady Cranberry, and Aunt Clarissa, who had arrived specifically for the ball tonight.

  Devon raced up to the horse. “Where is that fool Eggleston? He’ll be lucky if I don’t snap his neck.”

  “Eggleston’s on his way back to London,” Jordan replied, helping Annie down from the stallion with Devon’s assistance. “And you can rest assured he won’t bother Annie again.”

  Lily came scurrying up, her hand at her throat. She hugged her sister. “Are you all right, Anne? I don’t know what made Mr. Eggleston think he was welcome here. The Marchioness of Blakely has left, thank heavens. I was busy or I would never have allowed either her or Mr. Eggleston through the door.” She pushed Annie to arm’s length and searched her face. “Oh, Anne, I can only imagine what you’ve been through. What nerve he had, coming into our home and abducting you.”

  Annie hung her head. “He didn’t abduct me, Lily. I went with him.”

  Jordan nodded. He swung himself off the horse and tossed the reins to a nearby groom. “And she came back by her own choice as well.”

  Lily squeezed Annie’s hand. “Oh dear. I was so worried.”

  Annie nodded. “I know and I’m sorry. I’ll never worry you again, Lily. I’ve acted like a child but that’s all over now.” She stepped over to Jordan and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Devon’s eyebrows shot up and he gave Jordan a menacing glare. “Ashbourne? What is the meaning of this? Tell me you didn’t do anything improper with Anne.”

  Annie’s hands dropped. She looked away. Fear clutching her chest, she bit her lip.

  Jordan pulled Annie back into his arms and hugged her close. Annie turned in Jordan’s arms and leaned up to kiss him. Jordan’s mouth came down to meet hers.

  Devon leaped forward, pulled Annie out of Jordan’s arms, and pushed him into the dirt. Devon jumped on him, throwing punches that Jordan deflected as he struggled to shove his friend away.

  The two men fought, delivering blows in the dusty gravel, while Annie pressed her hands to her cheeks. “This isn’t necessary,” she called out. But it was apparent neither man was listening.

  “I’m afraid they’re just going to have to have it out,” Lily said, patting Annie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’re quite equally matched. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this.”

  Annie turned wide eyes to her sister, before glancing back anxiously to the fight.

  Devon growled. “I demand you give up your stupid vow of not marrying, Ashbourne. Because you’re damn well going to marry Anne after kissing her like that in front of the entire houseful of guests.”

  Devon hauled back his fist to deliver another punch.

  “I have every intention of marrying her,” Jordan answered, smiling despite a split lip.

  Devon’s fist remained suspended in midair. He looked twice. “What did you say?”

  “I want to marry her, Devon,” Jordan replied.

  Devon’s fist fell harmlessly to his side.

  Jordan shoved Devon off him and scrambled to his feet. “I plan to marry her, but not because you said so. I’m marrying her because I love her and because I’ve already asked for the honor of her hand and she accepted.”

  Devon stood there with a stunned expression on his face. “What are you talking about? Has the entire world gone mad?”

  Lily clutched her chest. “Oh, thank heavens!”

  Devon turned to stare at his wife. “Thank heavens? The entire world has gone mad.”

  Lily shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “No. No. This is perfect. I’d been hoping for weeks this would happen. It’s the reason I chose Aunt Clarissa to be Annie’s chaperone. Aunt Clarissa is sweet, of course, but hardly an apt companion. I knew Annie would be a handful and Jordan would be forced to chase her around.”

  At that moment, Aunt Clarissa toddled up with a half-empty bottle in her hand. “You’re welcome,” she said to Annie, winking at her, hiccupping, and then blending back into the crowd.

  They all watched her go with looks of incredulity on their faces. Then Devon blinked and glanced back and forth between Jordan and Annie. “I can scarcely believe what I’m hearing. Any of it.”

  “Believe it, old chap,” Jordan said, tugging his handkerchief from his coat pocket and pressing it to his bloody lip. With his other hand, he pulled Annie close and wrapped his arm around her.

  Devon made another move toward him and Lily leaped forward, stopping her husband with a hand to his chest. “Think about it, Devon. We didn’t want her to marry that fool Eggleston, did we? How can you be angry? I love Jordan. You love Jordan. He saved your life once. If he and Anne marry, he will really, truly be your brother.”

  Jordan gave Devon an innocent look and a shrug.

  “I thought you didn’t want to marry?” Devon asked, his eyes narrowed on Jordan.

  Jordan shrugged again. “You of all people should know that sometimes love can play havoc with the very best of intentions.”

  Devon still eyed him suspiciously. “And you’ve never wanted any children. Anne wants a score of them.”

  Jordan leaned his head ba
ck and laughed. “Changed my mind. Now I want a house full of them.” He looked at Annie and his face shone with love and wonder. “All with their mother’s shiny dark hair and beautiful brown eyes, of course.”

  Lily sighed and put her hand over her heart.

  A wide smile spread across Devon’s face. He shook his head. “By God, you’re right. You will really and truly be my brother now.”

  The two men shook hands and slapped each other on the back while Annie and Lily let out matching sighs of relief.

  Annie jumped into Jordan’s arms.

  “Excellent. We must begin planning the wedding immediately, Anne,” Lily squealed. “It will be such fun.”

  Annie let her arms fall away from Jordan’s neck and she turned around to face her sister. “Call me Annie, please. That’s always been my name and I realize what a fool I’ve been, trying to change it.”

  The front door opened then and Frances came running out. She glanced around at the group of people on the drive. “Lady Catherine told me this would happen, but I must say I didn’t believe it.”

  Annie crossed over the gravel to her friend. “Frances, there’s something I must tell you. Lord Ashbourne and I are to be married. Please tell me you’re all right with that.”

  A slow smile spread across Frances’s face. Finally, she was grinning from ear to ear. “You are? Truly?” She glanced between the two of them and they both nodded.

  Frances shrugged. “I suppose I shall be constantly distracted by how handsome your new husband is.” She sighed. “But I’m quite willing to attempt to accept it. Besides—” She winked. “I’ve seen Lord Ashbourne’s brother Charlie and he remains quite eligible, does he not?”

  They all laughed. “Oh, Frances,” Annie said, laughing through the tears that were now streaming down her face. “Thank you for being happy for me.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “And I shall arrange an introduction to Mr. Charles Holloway at your earliest convenience.”

  “It shall be a beautiful wedding.” Lily sighed. “And Frances, you must help us plan it.”

  Frances nodded happily. “I daresay it will be the only wedding in London history to include a dog, a raccoon, and a fox.”

  “And the most beautiful bride in the world,” Jordan said, running a hand over Annie’s hair.

  “I daresay the most beautiful groom,” Annie replied, and the two of them stared longingly into each other’s eyes.

  Devon cleared his throat. “Yes, well, seems the wedding cannot happen soon enough.”

  “Agreed,” both Jordan and Annie said simultaneously.

  “We must marry as soon as possible,” Jordan said, squeezing Annie’s hand in his.

  “Why is that, my lord?” Annie replied with a smile.

  “Because, my love, I’m not about to give you the chance to run away again.”

  Annie leaned up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I am going to be the author of a top-selling pamphlet on the subject.” She winked at him. “But I would never run from you, my lord. Never run from you.”

  Read on for an excerpt from Valerie Bowman’s next book

  Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

  Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  The Tower of London, December 1816

  The large metal door to her cell scraped open and Kate closed her eyes. Then she stepped forward, summoned from one cold dank room into another. She had a visitor. Her first since she’d been taken to the gaol.

  She opened her eyes. The harsh winter light filtered through the only window in the antechamber. The yeoman warder wore a blank expression on his face. He and the other guards always gave her the benefit of respect due her title. Whether they liked it or not.

  The guard stepped aside, revealing the room’s other occupant. Interesting. Her visitor was a man. She narrowed her eyes on him. Who was he and what did he want with her? He stood with his straight back to her. He was tall, that much she could discern. Tall and cloaked in shadows.

  The smell of mold and decay, rife in the Tower, made her stomach clench. The unforgiving winter wind whipped through the eaves, raising gooseflesh across her arms. She shivered and clutched her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

  “Ye ’ave ten minutes an’ not a moment more,” the gaoler announced before wrenching open the door and clanging it shut behind him as he left. The loud scrape and subsequent clank sealed Kate and the stranger in the small room together. She took a step back. A small rickety table rested between them. She was glad for that bit of separation at least. Whoever the man was, his clothing marked him a gentleman. He had better behave as one.

  The tall man turned to greet her. He doffed his hat, but she still couldn’t make out his face. He wore a dark gray wool overcoat of considerable expense. A stray beam of sunlight floated through the dirty air, let in by the one small window nestled in the stone wall across from them.

  He executed a perfect bow. “Your Grace?”

  Kate cringed. She detested that title. “Bowing to a prisoner?” she asked in a voice containing a bit of irony. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

  He smiled and a set of perfectly white teeth flashed in the darkness. “You’re still a duchess, Your Grace.”

  She pushed the hood from her head and took a tentative step forward. The stranger’s eyes flared for a moment and he sucked in his breath.

  Kate’s stomach clenched. No doubt she looked a fright. She hadn’t bathed in days and could only imagine her own smell. Her hair, normally piled properly atop her head, was a mass of tangled red curls around her shoulders. She might be grimy and in trouble, but she wasn’t broken. And she refused to let the stranger see that his reaction affected her. She pushed up her chin and eyed him warily.

  He stepped forward then, into the light, and Kate narrowed her eyes on his face, rapidly assessing every detail. She didn’t know him. But whoever he was, the man was handsome. Devastatingly so. Perhaps in his early thirties, he had dark-brown cropped hair, a perfectly straight nose, a square jaw. But his eyes were what truly captivated. Hazel in color, nearly green, assessing, knowing, intelligent eyes. They stole her breath. Lower, the faintest hint of a smile rested upon expertly molded male lips.

  “Do you know who I am?” His voice splintered the quiet cold like a hammer hitting ice.

  She regarded him with a steady stare. “Are you a barrister? Come for my defense?”

  The man furrowed his brow. “You haven’t yet been given access to a barrister?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “I’ve been … waiting.”

  The stranger’s captivating eyes narrowed on her. “From what I understand, you’ve been in gaol for at least a fortnight. I find it difficult to believe a lady of your station has not yet met with a barrister.”

  She lifted her chin. “Be that as it may, I have not.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint, Your Grace, but no, I am no barrister.”

  “Not a barrister? Then who are you and why have you come to visit me? Please don’t tell me it’s just to see the spectacle of a duchess accused of murder.”

  His gaze remained pinned to her face, his eyes still assessing, wary. “I am here to assist you, Your Grace.”

  “Assist me?” she scoffed, stepping forward to get a closer look at the man. “I rather doubt that. Assist yourself perhaps. Tell me, how much did you bribe the gaoler to let you see the infamous duchess who shot her husband?”

  The stranger arched a brow. “Did you? Murder your husband?”

  She clenched her jaw. Then she laughed. “Oh, but of course. Didn’t you know? My husband, the Duke of Markingham, made it public that he intended to seek a divorce. Being divorced would have caused a horrible scandal. I couldn’t allow that. So, naturally…” She squeezed her fists against the fabric of her shawl, twisting it so tightly that her fingers ached. “Naturally, I decided to shoot him, causing an even worse scandal. Makes perfect sense. Don’t you agree?”

  The corner of the stranger’s mouth quirked up. �
��My apologies, Your Grace. It was not my intention to offend. I assure you, I’m not a common gossipmonger come to witness your degradation. I intend to assist you. And yes, in return, there is something I want.”

  She lifted both brows. “So, tell me then. What is it?”

  He swept another bow. “I’ve come to make you an offer, Your Grace. One that can benefit us both.”

  Pulling her shawl over her shoulders more tightly, Kate crossed her arms over her chest. “Forgive me if I am a bit doubtful, sir. I’ve seen enough deception in my twenty-eight years to be highly skeptical of the promises of men.”

  His head quirked to the side and he regarded her with an inquisitive look. Her statement had obviously surprised him. “I understand, Your Grace. And I fully intend to explain. But first, I must ask for your discretion. If we are to help each other, I cannot reveal my identity unless you promise to keep what I am about to tell you entirely secret.”

  She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes on him. “Secret? Are you a spy?”

  His brow rose, and tension seemed to radiate through his body. “Would you aid me if I were?”

  She pointed toward the door. “Get out,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Pardon?”

  Her nails dug so hard into her shawl she was certain she would rip the fabric. “I may be accused of a murder I did not commit, but being called a traitor to my homeland is not an insult I will bear. If you are seeking my aid in that manner, you most certainly have come to the wrong person. I am not, and never will be, that desperate.” She turned toward the door to call for the gaoler.

  The stranger quickly held up a hand. “I assure you, Your Grace. I am no spy.”

  Kate snapped her mouth closed and turned back to him, still eyeing him warily. “Then what exactly do you want from me?”

  He nodded slowly. “Your promise, first?”

  She watched him, assessing him from the top of his handsome head to the tips of his precisely polished—and obviously expensive—top boots. Apparently, this man was willing or desperate enough to trust an accused murderess, too. Interesting. She had absolutely no reason to trust him, however. Every reason not to, actually. But conversing with a handsome stranger about whatever daft idea he had was preferable to counting the cracks in the walls of her cell or writing letters to … nobody. “Very well, you have my promise. Now tell me, who are you and why are you here?”