The anger visibly faded from Charles’ expression. “Oh. I see.” He nodded at Anna. “My apologies, Annabel.”
“Accepted, Charles.”
“As to the question of your ruination, you have nothing to fear in that regard.”
Anna’s brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
Charles waved a hand through the air. “We informed your beau that you had come down with the headache on the first morning of your absence. After the first day, we informed those who would spread it around that you had received an urgent letter from our Grandmamma requesting your presence at her home in the North.”
“That’s positively brilliant!” Anna exclaimed in unison with Lane’s panicked “What?”
Profound relief swept through Anna. “Thank you, Charles.” She reached across the confined space to place a hand on her brother’s knee. “You have saved the family a great deal of grief.”
Charles shrugged. “It was what had to be done, Anna. I am simply grateful that we managed to find you. I confess, I was quite fearful for your safety.”
Anna smiled reassuringly. She had not realized quite how deeply their abduction had affected her until she had recounted the tale. Her emotions had entirely gotten away from her. She feared that her reaction might have given her brother further cause for concern. “I am perfectly fine, Charles. We are returning to London and shall resume our routine come the morrow.”
But it would not be the same. Not to Anna. Because she had given her maidenhead to Lane, she could not, in good conscience, allow Anthony to continue to court her. In fact, her hopes were quite altered in that respect.
She discretely slid her gaze toward Lane. He sat rigidly in his seat, staring out the window, his hands fisted in his lap. Perhaps his muscles ached; hers certainly did. She resisted the urge to reach over and hold his hand.
Anna turned to gaze out her own window, her eyes blind to the passing scenery.
She must arrange a meeting with Anthony—Lord Boxton—on the morrow. Would he be cross with her for not writing to him? Would he be terribly disappointed with her for ending their courtship?
Anna sighed, the heat from her breath fogging the window’s glass. She reached a hand up to draw a squiggle in the fog, holding back another sigh. It would not be a pleasant task, letting the Viscount down, but the outcome would be beneficial to all involved, she was certain.
* * *
Lane gazed sightlessly out the window as anxiety clutched his chest. Annabel was not ruined in society. Hell and blazes!
Would Anna return to Boxton and continue their courtship? Or would she throw him over for Lane? Surely she would break the courtship; Anna would not allow one man to bed her if she intended to wed another.
No matter what he assured himself of, part of him still feared the worst. He did not know what he would do without Anna in his life.
She shifted beside him, and a ripple of desire went through him. Blazes, that was decidedly not how he should react at the moment. Her brother was sitting across from them, for God’s sake.
Lane cleared his throat. “Charles, have you by chance heard any news from my staff or family?”
“Nothing particularly interesting. They merely mentioned that you were expected to be ‘out of town’ for an undisclosed amount of time. Your family has carried on in your absence. I have not seen any of them, though before I departed in my search, I heard that your mother and sisters had been keeping themselves busy with shopping excursions and teas with friends and acquaintances.” An odd expression that Lane could not recognize crossed Charles’ features, then was instantly gone. Charles has become distinctly odd since his return from war.
“Good.” Lane nodded in satisfaction. “I had not wished for them to worry. Especially Bridget; she has not been feeling well of late.”
Charles’ eyes sharpened. “Not well? Whyever not?”
“We are not positive as to the reasons behind her decline, but should it continue or affect her overall health, we will consult a physician.”
Charles’ frowned fiercely. “Why wait? Why not have a doctor come to see her right away? It seems careless, does it not?”
Lane matched the man’s frown with one of his own. “I do not think so. I believe what she is experiencing is more emotional than physical. She has become short-tempered and weeps very easily. The additional crying and melancholy gives her the headache; consequently, my staff, family, and I have been doing what we can to avoid a fit of tears.”
Charles sat back against the poorly padded seat cushion and gazed out the window, his jaw tight and his hands fisted. Charles and Bridget had been friends for nearly as long as Lane and Annabel, but since his return from war, he had distanced himself.
Every friendship had its periods of distance and connection, of course, just as his and Annabel’s had. It appeared, however, that something had occurred between Charles and Bridget that had caused their discord. It must have been sizeable for it to create such a large rift in what had previously been a very close bond.
Anna shifted beside him once more, stirring the heat in his blood. Damn, but he wished he could have this time to speak with Annabel privately. Should he beg her once more for her hand? Profess his love? Hell, he didn’t know. At the very least, he should arrange to speak with her father on the morrow to seek permission to court her.
Fields, trees, and shrubbery passed by the window in a blurry haze of green. The sun shone brightly in the sky as the carriage wheels trundled down the road, and the clip clop of horses’ hooves floated on the air. It would be a few short hours before they returned to London. He had best utilize that time preparing his speech for Mr. Bradley.
Chapter 18
Annabel was ready to weep with relief when the hack pulled up to the front of the Bradley town house. Night had long since fallen, and the windows glowed with warm, welcoming light.
Home! She gazed longingly at the tall building, anticipating a long soak in a steaming bath filled with lemon zest, a hot cup of chocolate while her hair dried by the fire, and her favourite book. She nearly sighed.
A footman opened the door, a gust of cool night air rushing in and ruffling her yellow skirts. Charles leapt out then reached a hand in to assist Anna. Lane followed, and paid and thanked their driver. A groom untethered Charles’ horse from the rear of the hack and walked him toward the stables, but Lane called to him before he had gotten too far.
“Hold, if you please.” He looked questioningly at Charles. “I assume my gelding is being held in your stables?”
Charles nodded tersely, the sound of rattling wheels and clopping horses’ hooves cutting through the silence.
Lane turned back to the waiting groom. “Have my gelding saddled, if you would. I intend to ride him home.”
The groom bowed and did as he was bade.
“Thank you for protecting my sister, Lane.” Charles extended his hand, and Lane shook it.
“I was doing as any man would do for his friend.”
“It was more, and you know it.” Charles eyed him.
“This manly discussion is lovely,” Anna interjected, “but I would dearly love to get inside and begin soaking in a hot bath.”
An odd, arrested expression passed over Lane’s face as he stared back at Anna. Charles stood mutely.
“What has gotten into the both of you?” Anna put her hands. “No. Do not answer that question. I have had enough excitement. I am going inside.” She met Lane’s brown, piercing gaze. “Thank you for…everything. You saved my life on more than one occasion. You are wonderful.”
She rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, his four days’ growth of beard tickling her lips. With one last smile, she turned on her heel and strode up the front steps and into her London home.
A rush of warmth greeted her as she entered. She was absurdly grateful for the silence. As much as she longed to see Mama and Papa, she could not abide another moment of answering questions.
/> “Welcome home, Miss Bradley.” Tim’s comforting voice echoed in the foyer.
She sent him a toothy grin. The poor man had been readying himself for bed; his livery was crooked, and he wore his nightcap over his grey hair. “Thank you, Tim. It is very good to see you again.”
“Shall I arrange for a meal and hot chocolate to be brought up to your bedchamber, miss?” The light from the foyer glinted off of his spectacles.
“You know precisely what to say to a woman, Tim.” Her smile grew. “Yes, please. And a hot bath, if you would.”
He bowed. “As you wish, Miss Bradley.”
Anna made her way up the stairs. She took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of her home. It was nearly enough to bring a tear to her eye. My, but it feels good to be back!
* * *
Despite the dreadful ache in his body, Lane relished the feel of his horse beneath him as he rode toward his Mayfair home. He had missed riding Pegasus.
The warmth that the springtime sun had lent the air had all but gone, leaving a chill to the night. Lane needed the cool air, particularly after the way Anna had left him. It was commonplace for him and Anna to be familiar with one another, but part of him feared that Charles suspected something. Not only had her mention of bathing sent wild images of her naked, wet body through his mind, but her kiss had also heated his blood nearly to boiling.
Charles did not seem to take note of the maypole in Lane’s trousers, but he unquestionably perceived his internal reaction to Annabel, if his threat was any indication.
“I know you protected my sister during this ordeal, Lane,” Charles had said, “and I thank you for it. But Annabel is very dear to me, and I will not have you engaging in any tomfoolery in my home. So wipe that lustful gaze off your face when you look at her, and we will get on just fine.” His jaw had twitched. “You are Annabel’s closest friend, and I would hate to have to kill you if you hurt her. It would make her cross with me, and I am not fond of the thought of that.”
Lane had looked Charles directly in his deep, blue eyes. He did not owe the man a damned explanation. He was not Anna’s father, curse it. The only man he would speak to on the subject of his courtship of Anna would be Mr. Joseph Bradley, not her overbearing, overprotective bear of an older brother.
He had put as much meaning in his glance as he could. “Likewise,” he’d spat, furious at the man for implying that Lane would hurt Anna when Charles had done the same damned thing to Bridget.
Charles’ Adam’s apple had bobbed as he swallowed. Good. Lane’s response had hit its mark. The man had turned and followed Anna up the steps, disappearing into the warm glow of the town house and leaving Lane alone with his thoughts until the groom returned with his horse.
Lane’s jaw clenched as his home came into view. Most of the windows held only a dim, flickering light, but they were a beacon through the darkness of night. He pushed his gelding harder until he reached the front steps. His head groom came out to hold the reins as he leapt smoothly to the ground.
He fleetingly wondered what new animals Emaline had brought into the house during his absence. She had a penchant for helping sick animals, just as Bridget had a habit of beginning friendship with horrid people in the hopes that she could change their ways. Both sisters would have him go mad if he were not careful.
“Thank you, Jenkins,” Lane murmured to the groom before he bounded up the front steps to his town house.
Geoffrey held the door open for him as he reached the top. “Welcome home, m’lord.”
“Thank you, Geoffrey. It is good to be back.” Lane continued across the foyer toward the wide, curved staircase. “Would you be so kind as to have a bath and a meal brought up to my chambers?”
“Right away, your lordship.”
“Oh, and Geoffrey, do have a physician summoned at first light, will you?”
“Of course, m’lord. Shall I inform the ladies of the household that you have returned?”
Lane halted half way up the staircase and turned to face the butler. “They are not yet to bed?”
“Ladies Katherine and Emaline have retired for the evening. The Dowager Countess and Lady Bridget are in the drawing room.”
He had told his staff and family that he would be away meeting with farmers and business owners, doing research for the best farming equipment for the familial estate. If his mother and sister saw him dressed as he was, there would be far too many questions for him to answer without revealing the truth.
“I will refresh myself before I greet them. If you could keep my return home quiet until then, I would be much obliged.”
“Not at all, your lordship. I will have the footmen prepare a bath directly.”
“Oh, Geoffrey?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Are there any new members of the household of which I should be made aware?” Lane preferred to not be surprised by an unexpected houseguest.
“Lady Emaline has acquired one new puppy she has aptly named Soot, and an injured bird she is calling Tweeters.”
“I see. She has certainly been busy in my absence.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
Lane nodded and continued up the stairs, through the maze of corridors, and into the master chambers. His bath would be brought to his personal sitting room that adjoined his bedchamber, as was usual. The room was decorated minimally; several sitting chairs and a chaise lounge were positioned in the center of the room, around a low, rectangular table, a brocade rug beneath them. To his right was the double-door entry to his bedchamber, and to the left was a massive fireplace. He had several bookshelves filled with books, most of which were on loan from Annabel. On the far side of the room were a writing desk and his Tantalus, filled with liquor decanters. He had chosen dark colours while decorating; deep reds, greens, and blues, coupled with dark, rose-hued wood.
Lane poured himself two fingers of brandy while he waited. It was several minutes before the footmen entered with the tub and hot water, and by then he had finished his drink, its heat settling nicely in his stomach. His valet, Peters, arrived carrying a fresh towel while the brass tub was being filled.
Lane quickly requested his solitude, smiling at his servants as they quit the room. He wasted little time divesting himself of his clothes and entering the steaming water. He sank deeply, resting his head on the back of the tub as he allowed his aching muscles to relax.
Closing his eyes, he recalled the last time he had been sitting thusly in a bath, Anna had joined him—nude, wet, and sultry. She was reminiscent of Venus de Milo rising from the water, though with larger breasts and buttocks made for squeezing.
A lustful shiver ran through him. Making love to Anna had certainly not been a part of his original plan, but he was elated that he had.
His body reacted predictably to the course of his thoughts, and he grimaced.
He now knew the reason for his inability to complete the act of sex with another woman. It was his heart. Unbeknownst to him, he had been hopelessly in love with Anna for years, and deep down, he had not wished to be with anyone else.
He was a fool for not seeing it sooner. He could have courted her long ago, been married…had children. Bloody hell, he was a fool!
The wait for Anna had been worth it, however. She was remarkable. He had never thought making love could be so powerful, so beguiling. He would speak with her father on the morrow, begin a proper courtship, and have her pregnant with his babe before the year was out.
The thought of making love to Anna over and over had him hard once more. He would take her slowly, then quickly; he would guide her in riding him; he would bend her over his bed and take her as a stallion does a mare. Blazes. He wanted to do so much to her, for her. He would teach her the delights of lovemaking while experiencing them fully for the first time himself.
Lane’s hand crept toward his throbbing cock, gripping it firmly to ease the ache that had begun there.
“Lane?” A soft
voice and a knock sounded at the door.
“Damn it!” Lane shot up from the bath, sending water sloshing over the rim, his heart hammering in his chest.
“I am sorry for disturbing you, Lane. I will see you in the morning.” The quiet voice called, muffled by the door.
“No, no, Bridget. Just a moment.”
He hurriedly dried himself, his once proudly erect cock sadly flagging at the disturbance. As much as he wished to continue what he had scarcely started, he did wish to speak with Bridget.
He dressed quickly, foregoing his coat, cravat, and stockings, and opened the door to admit his younger sister.
“Bridget.” Lane smiled and pulled her in for a hug.
Bridget was his closest sister, both in age and in camaraderie. After their father had passed away, she and Lane had become much closer.
“Please come in.” He stepped aside for her to pass. A small tabby followed her in, making itself comfortable on a chair by the fireplace.
“I apologize for disturbing your bath, Lane. I had no intention of bothering you.”
Lane shook his head. “Do not concern yourself, Bridget. I am pleased that you came to see me.
“I am as well, big brother.” Her lips pulled back in a smile, but her green eyes lacked their sparkle of old.
“Please, do be seated.” Lane gestured toward the tray of food sitting on the low table. “I hope you do not mind that I eat; I have not yet had supper.”
Her white-blonde eyebrows rose. “Not at all! Please, eat.”
Bridget sat on the chaise, straightening the skirt of her lavender dinner dress. She looked impeccable tonight, with her white hair done up in the latest fashion, ringlets framing her thin, heart-shaped face.
Lane sat opposite her and began to eat with gusto.
Bridget waited patiently as Lane consumed his meal. He ate quickly, then wiped his lips with a napkin and sat back in his chair.
“Apologies,” he susurrated. “I was very hungry.”
Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) Page 12