“Let us hope not.” Mrs. Shelby grinned. “That would be quite dull.” She glanced about and added quietly, “I have a tidbit of my own to share about him. His old amour, the former Miss Jane Farthington, is here. The now-widowed Lady Stratford. They were apparently quite attached to one another before she married.” It was true then—perhaps Lady Carlton hadn’t exaggerated.
“Why is she in Somerset?” Anna asked.
“Supposedly, she came to visit with a cousin. Of course, everyone says it is all an excuse to meet Lord Wareton again.” Mrs. Shelby smiled and raised one thin, red brow. “After seeing him myself, I can understand why.”
Anna slowly made her way through the ballroom with Mrs. Shelby. Even as she spoke with people, she constantly watched for Lord Wareton, noting where he was in the room and whom he spoke to. She watched as he took to the floor for the first dance with Agnes Dunbury. He was graceful, confident, and so handsome that the eyes of nearly every woman in the ballroom lingered on him. Anna found it difficult not to stare herself.
A short time later Mrs. Shelby was telling her the latest gossip about the Dunburys when she abruptly stopped speaking.
“Here comes Mrs. Lutton,” Mrs. Shelby whispered, frowning. “I was hoping she wouldn’t attend.” At the mention of Mrs. Lutton, Anna’s mood dropped even further. There was no time to escape without making a scene, however. She turned, forced a polite smile, and greeted Mrs. Lutton along with Mrs. Shelby.
Mrs. Lutton was small, thin, and at age sixty looked ten years older due to her perpetual scowl. Mrs. Lutton greeted Mrs. Shelby politely, but barely nodded at Anna, never acknowledging her by name. Anna ignored the snub. She’d become accustomed to Mrs. Lutton’s rudeness over the past year. She’d resigned herself to being ignored for the remainder of the conversation when she was unexpectedly rescued by, of all people, Lord Wareton.
“Pardon me,” he said, “but I simply must ask Miss Colbrook for a dance. Would you honor me?” Astonished, Anna accepted his hand. Even a set with him would be better than Mrs. Lutton's company. She felt slightly dazed as he led her to the center of the ballroom. A moment later she was in his arms, his hand on her back as he guided her across the floor.
“You are surprised,” he said. “Miss Madeline implored me to ask you to dance. She believed you desperately needed rescuing from that unpleasant looking old woman. Is it true?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She studied his face. He was so handsome tonight. The rugged line of his jaw held a hint of stubble, and she had the sudden urge to touch that roughness, to feel his skin beneath her fingers.
“Who is she?” he asked.
“Mrs. Lutton.” Her heart beat faster than it normally would for a waltz. She’d never been so close to him for so long, not even when he’d carried her across the stream. She looked away from his face, trying to distract herself.
“And why does Mrs. Lutton dislike you?” he asked.
“It is unimportant.” She stared at his shoulder, trying not to think about how delightful his hand felt against her waist and how gently his warm, strong fingers pressed against her own. His touch was so disconcerting that she nearly tripped as they made a turn on the dance floor. If he noticed her clumsiness, he gave no sign.
“The price of my rescue is that you tell me,” he said, smiling down at her, “or else when the set is over I shall take you right back to her and insist on being introduced.”
“She is the wife of Mrs. Hunter’s former landlord,” she said, unable to resist looking at his face again. Why was he being so pleasant and playful?
“Ah. She was less than pleased when you took in her tenant?” Again, he gave her a teasing smile.
She couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, especially when I rented her a much larger cottage for a quarter the price.”
He laughed. He looked so happy and relaxed. She suspected even more that Lady Stratford was the cause of his good mood. He must still have feelings for her after all this time.
“You have kept very busy with charities and running the estate these past years,” he said. “Is that why have you haven’t married?” He shifted his hand slightly on her back. Despite the respectable distance between them, she felt exceedingly conscious of their bodies, as if they were dancing too close.
He wanted to marry her off and be rid of her. That was why he was suddenly being friendly again, and why this afternoon he’d been so interested in what had happened with Mr. Harley. The idea that briefly sprang to mind, that he might be simply be interested in her, she immediately dismissed as preposterous.
“I told you,” she said, “I will not be pressured into a match. I prefer to wait for Madeline to marry.”
“But you might have married and taken her with you to your new home,” he said, looking doubtful, as if he didn’t quite believe her reasons.
“Wareton is her home,” she said, “and she belongs there. And I have always wished to see her happily settled first.” The words came easily. She’d repeated them so many times to Madeline and to her friends and neighbors. She’d even convinced Madeline they were true.
But Lord Wareton was different. He watched her too closely, and he saw too much. He sensed she was hiding something.
And after years of having never spoken the truth to anyone, she suddenly wanted to tell him everything.
“So you have discouraged suitors these past six years?” He still looked skeptical. “And you have simply not allowed yourself to become attached to anyone?”
It was true, or it had been true. Until she’d met him again. But she said nothing. She would be a complete fool not to try to conceal her feelings for him. He was hopelessly far above her in rank and situation, making any honorable relationship impossible. He was her stepsister’s guardian. He had a reckless, disreputable past. He currently had a mistress, perhaps two.
And yet, he’d answered Madeline’s plea to rescue her. He was kind, so handsome, and tonight he was as warm and friendly as the day they walked together.
Slowly, his eyes moved over her hair and her face. Was she imagining it, or did his gaze linger on her lips? Surely after this afternoon he knew that he affected her, so what on earth was he doing?
He pulled her closer, until only a few inches separated them, a barely respectable distance. She dropped her gaze to his shoulder, too startled to look into his eyes any longer. His fingers moved on her back, brushing briefly above her waist, the touch feeling as decadent and warm through her silk gown as if he touched her bare skin. Was it merely an absent movement of his fingers, or was he deliberately caressing her?
The waltz was ending. As they slowed for the final notes, he drew her even closer.
“Six years, Miss Colbrook,” he whispered, his breath warming her hair, “is a long time to hide from the world.”
Hide from the world?
The music stopped. He released her and stepped back, his face once again a mask of polite indifference. She was suddenly aware of the dozens of people nearby, some glancing at them curiously.
She curtsied quickly, hoping the other guests were merely interested in the new earl and that she hadn’t betrayed her feelings to the entire ballroom.
“Adrian!” Lady Carlton marched up to him and grabbed his arm. Cecelia and Madeline followed in her wake. Despite the cool breeze where they stood near the open windows, Lady Carlton flapped her black fan furiously.
“You must come with me and meet some very important people.” Lady Carlton glanced disapprovingly at Anna. “You must not be wasting your dance sets, either.”
Lord Wareton inclined his head at Anna, a flash of anger in his eyes, but he allowed his aunt to lead him away. Lady Carlton commanded Cecelia to follow. Madeline took Anna’s arm, and they strolled out of the ballroom into an antechamber where several small groups of people were escaping the crush.
“She is so ill-mannered,” Madeline said. “I cannot believe how she speaks to you.”
“She is ill-mannered to everyone,” Anna said. They stopped in a
quiet corner, watching guests pass by on their way to the refreshment table in the adjoining room.
“Yes,” Madeline said, “but she is particularly rude to you.” Madeline’s face was unusually grave. “She is angry with me for asking Lord Wareton to save you from Mrs. Lutton. Why do you think that is?”
“You dared to interfere with her plans of whom he should dance with.” Anna looked away. “Is that not reason enough?”
“It is not only that.” Madeline stepped closer and lowered her voice. “When you were dancing together it rather looked like...” Madeline hesitated and glanced around before adding, “Are you growing fond of him, Anna?”
“Who?”
“You know perfectly well who,” Madeline whispered. “Lord Ware—”
“Do not be ridiculous.” Guilty as she felt for lying, she couldn’t tell Madeline the truth. Admitting her foolish feelings would make it far too real, and she wasn’t even sure how real it was. She was simply indulging in a pointless infatuation, while the strongest emotion he likely felt was amusement at discovering how much he could unnerve her.
“I thought not.” Madeline sighed with relief. “I told Lady Carlton about Sir Neville but she hardly seemed reassured. She believes you are distracting Lord—”
“What did you tell her about Sir Neville?” Anna asked.
“Do not be angry. Anyway, she would see for herself soon enough.”
“You mustn’t say things like that, especially to her. Sir Neville is my friend, nothing more.”
Madeline shook her head, sighing. “If you hadn’t told him that you refused to marry before I do, he probably would have declared himself already. I do not understand why you insist on denying the obvious.”
“Madeline—”
“He was so despondent after his wife died, yet you were the one who drew him out from his grief. He has become devoted to you, it is evident to everyone. And I believe you like him as well. He is a wonderful gentleman, if you would only let him know you are agreeable to an offer—”
“I am not agreeable to an offer,” Anna whispered. “I will not consider it until you are happily settled.” The familiar answer came easily, but she felt a pang of uneasiness. Lately she’d wondered if it wasn’t time that she told Madeline the truth about why she hadn’t married. Madeline was old enough now that, as much as the terms of the settlement would upset her, Anna might be able to convince her that she wasn’t to blame. But to reveal the secret after so many years made her exceedingly uncomfortable. Soon, she vowed, she would tell Madeline. Soon, but not yet.
“But I shall likely be married before long,” Madeline said, “now that I am out. And until then, I have Miss Cecelia and Lady Carlton to keep me company.” Madeline took Anna’s hands in her own. “I will miss you terribly, but I will feel even worse if you continue to delay your happiness on my account.”
“But if I choose to—”
“You would not be far away at all.” Madeline stood taller. “And besides, I am not a child anymore.” It was true. Madeline’s head would never reach above Anna’s chin, but there was no mistaking her for a girl any longer.
Lord Wareton’s final words during their waltz repeated in her mind. He might not know anything about the terms of her inheritance, but she had a horrible feeling that he was right all the same. After so long without risking her emotions, was she hiding?
“Sir Neville should arrive soon,” Madeline said as she squeezed Anna’s hands. “Perhaps tonight you will let him know how you feel?”
“I do not know how I feel,” Anna said. She hadn’t been sure of her feelings for Sir Neville before Lord Wareton’s arrival, and ever since, she’d given Sir Neville little thought. Shamefully little, considering how attentive he’d been to her over the past months.
“Remember, gentlemen as fine as Sir Neville are rare.” Madeline sighed. “I might fancy him myself were he not so obviously devoted to you.”
“Would you?” Anna said, surprised. Madeline had always admired Sir Neville and had seemed especially sad for him after his wife died. Yet he was more than a decade older than Madeline, and it had never occurred to Anna that her sister might have any romantic interest him. Surely, she was only saying that and meant little by it?
Madeline released her hands. “But I must go; I am promised for the next dance. It is only with Mr. Stanhope.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Still, a dance is a dance. Think on what I said,” she added before hurrying away.
Anna watched Madeline return to the ballroom. She wasn’t ready to face Sir Neville. She turned in the opposite direction and slipped out an open door that led outside.
The veranda was empty. Lanterns cast a soft glow along the balustrade and illuminated the central garden path, with everything beyond it falling into darkness.
She stood in the center of the terrace, staring out into the shadows, and considered what Madeline had said. Did Sir Neville truly wish to marry her?
She’d known Sir Neville for over fifteen years, ever since moving to Wareton, but it was only in the past year that they’d become close friends. She’d been the first to persuade him to socialize again after his wife died, and he’d sought out her company more and more.
Over the past few months, since he’d officially come out of mourning, his attentions had increased. Proper as he was, the signs of his interest were subtle, but they were becoming harder to deny.
What puzzled her was why she wished so strongly to deny that Sir Neville liked her.
To have captured the attention of a man of his rank and situation was unlikely enough, but at her age, it was practically a miracle. Sir Neville was a renowned hero, considerate, intelligent, and wealthy enough to marry a wife with no money if he wished. He was handsome too.
And if he did want to marry her, she should probably leap at the chance to secure such a match.
A man stepped through the doorway on the far side of the veranda. He strolled to the edge and leaned forward, his long arms resting on the railing. With the dim glow of a lantern directly behind him, he was little more than a silhouette, but she immediately recognized Lord Wareton’s tall form.
Apparently, he hadn’t seen her in the shadows. He leaned forward even more, resting his elbows on the railing, allowing his head to drop. He’d seemed so happy earlier, so excited about seeing his former love again, but now he looked weary, even troubled. What could be distressing him?
She felt guilty for watching him without his knowledge, and oddly uncomfortable to see him appearing so vulnerable.
She moved, intending to slip back inside unseen, but her shoes clicked against the stone floor. He straightened and turned towards her. All signs of weariness had disappeared.
“Hiding out here, Miss Colbrook?” he said quietly. It was the second time that evening he’d accused her of hiding. For some reason, it made her feel terribly out of sorts.
“I might say the same of you,” she said.
“You would be correct.” He walked towards her. As he passed through a circle of lantern light she could see that he was smiling. “But I fear I will not be safe from my aunt for long.”
He was right, and should Lady Carlton hunt him down and find them together outside in the dark, it would be extremely unpleasant for everyone. Anna most of all.
“If you will excuse me, I’ve had enough fresh air.” She turned toward the nearest doorway.
“Running away?” He sounded amused. “Do I frighten you?”
She stopped. Yes, she thought, even more than your aunt does. And that was saying quite a bit.
“No,” she lied, turning to face him. He stood only a few paces from her. “Why should you frighten me?” He knew very well that he unnerved her. How could he not, after her ridiculous display that afternoon in the sitting room?
“A good question.” He stepped closer. “Why should any gentleman frighten you?”
“They do not.”
“I think they do.” He stopped barely an arm’s length away. She stood at the edge of a
circle of lantern light. If she moved backwards one step, she would be in the shadows. “And I believe I know why.”
What was he about? Was he trying to coerce more information out of her in his attempt to marry her off?
“I’m sure your theory is terribly fascinating,” she said, “but I have no wish to hear it.”
“The old earl refused Mr. Harley, and it broke your heart.” He spoke casually, as if it were a game to him. Why had she ever told him the old earl had turned down Mr. Harley, not her? What had made her confide in him when she should have known he might use it to try to push her to marry?
“And now you use Madeline as an excuse,” he added, “and you hide yourself in plain gowns—”
“Plain?” She crossed her arms. “How charming you are—”
“All because you are afraid.” He moved forward until she was forced to step back into the dark to maintain a respectable distance. He stood at the edge of circle of lantern light, his face now in shadow. “Do you fear some gentleman might desire a kiss?”
She inhaled sharply. “Why fear it, when my plain dresses will clearly prevent such attentions?”
“That sounds like a challenge,” he said softly. He stepped even closer. He was almost as near to her now as when they were dancing. This time she didn’t step away.
Was he only trying to frighten her, or did he truly want to kiss her? Would he dare?
They stared at each other in the low light, the music and sounds of conversation from inside seeming to fade. He stepped forward into the shadows, closing the slight space that remained between them, his legs brushing the skirt of her gown.
Only a complete fool wouldn’t turn and run inside this moment. If anything should happen between them, he would only wish to find her a husband even sooner once he regretted his actions. And he would surely regret them. As would she.
Then he reached out and slowly, he cradled her face in his palms. The music from the ballroom seemed even quieter, softer than the calls of insects in the garden and the whisper of their mingled breathing. His breath smelled faintly of brandy, sweet and warm.
Undone by the Earl Page 8