ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13)

by Jane Keeler

  When Friday came around, she repeated her routine of getting ready, making sure to create a formal look for her hair so that she would hit the right note. This time she was all the more surprised when the knock at her door came not from the chauffeur but from the helicopter pilot.

  “It would take too long by car,” he explained. “We’ll be in the air for about half an hour.”

  Her father walked to the end of the road to watch her get into the helicopter, expressing a few concerns about her safety, but she kissed him on the cheek and assured him she would be fine. This helicopter wasn’t any different from the ones that came down from the mountain. It was here to rescue her.

  It was the most exciting night of her life. It was so odd to fly over the trail and the mountains, to see them from a new angle after living near to them for her whole life. Then they were gone, and they passed over towns and cities, the miles falling away before them in no time at all.

  At last they arrived over a big city, sought out one particular building, and touched down, Sydney’s stomach flipping inside her at the sensation of the helicopter sinking through the air. She was a little unsteady on her feet when she stepped outside, but Branson was there to meet her. He embraced her quickly, and in the warmth of his arms she felt steady once more.

  “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded yes.

  They stepped off the helipad and into the top floor of a very tall building, right in the middle of the city. An elevator took them down to the bottom floor, where they stepped out into a sudden buzz of chatter, cameras, lights, and countless well-dressed people. This was the entrance to the gala, where they spent the next hour or so mingling with all of the other guests. Sydney did her best to keep up; everyone wanted to talk to Branson, but most of them were complete unknowns to her.

  “The live entertainment is about to begin,” he murmured in her ear after they had been there for around an hour. He turned her slightly with a hand on the small of her back, so that she could see a small stage at one end of the hall. It was occupied by a four-piece band, who were just setting up their instruments. They looked familiar even from this distance, and when they struck up the notes of their first song she gasped out loud.

  “I liked that CD a lot,” Branson said, by way of explanation.

  Sydney grinned. It was the band from the demo! She grabbed Branson’s hand and pulled him to stand in front of the stage, cheering them on. During the second song he pointed out to her a couple of record producers and executives that he had invited to the gala, who were looking out for new talent to sign. The band were good. Sydney knew he had probably guaranteed them a record contract.

  Thrilling with excitement, Sydney held on to him tightly as they watched the show, drinking free champagne from trays carried around by attentive waiters. Perhaps it was the bubbles getting to her, or perhaps his gesture with the band, but suddenly she wanted him. It was as much as she could do not to grab him there and then, so she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

  “Is there somewhere private we can go?”

  He looked down at her with surprise, looked around quickly, and then nodded. He glanced at her once or twice more to be sure he had read her intentions correctly, then led her by the hand back to the elevator.

  A couple of floors up were some empty offices. He found one without any windows opening to the corridor, then grabbed up all of the papers from the desk and threw them onto the floor. She laughed.

  “Won’t we get in trouble?” she asked.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned, picking her up and setting her down on the edge of the desk. “I own this building.”

  Even though it was not the money that had first attracted her to him, Sydney had to admit that a man who could say things like that was a big turn-on. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, deep and passionate, that soon turned to the frantic undressing of their last liaison. He lifted her up again momentarily to shift the hem of her dress up over her hips, and his fingers sought out her pleasure as she fumbled to get his belt undone.

  She had never done anything this exciting before. Anyone could walk in at any moment, with no lock on the door. Maybe even the person who worked at this desk. The thought almost drove her into a frenzy. She needed him inside her, and he responded with an urgency that confirmed their mutual feelings. His expensive designer suit trousers dropped to the floor out of the way, and she wrapped her legs around him to pull him in as far as possible.

  He was deep inside her and thrusting hard when the distant, but still clear, music of the band stopped, and someone began speaking over a microphone. In between groans, Sydney managed to make out:

  “… Speech from our founder, Branson Raine!”

  They stopped moving at the same time, both hearing his name with shock. He was supposed to be giving a speech. For a moment they stared at each other in silence, and then, helplessly, they burst out laughing.

  “I don’t care,” he laughed. “They can wait.”

  She did not need to agree – it was obvious that there was no way they could stop now. Both of them were close to the edge, driven on by the connection they felt and the absurdity of the situation.

  They took their time in finishing and then cleaning themselves up, making sure that it was not obvious where they had been or what they had been doing. They returned to the gala hand in hand, and Branson made up an excuse about having a call from an overseas investor. He made his speech at last, and the next morning Sydney saw her own face in the city paper, walking out of the gala on his arm.

  “Do you mind?” he asked, handing her a cup of coffee and settling down next to her on the couch. They had gone back to his penthouse for the night, as it was too late in the evening for her to fly home. Now she was happy to stay for as long as he would let her. The plush furnishings and the views out over the city looked like her dreams.

  “I’ll get used to it,” she said, and he leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth.

  “You will,” he confirmed, and they sat sipping coffee together and reading about the billionaire and his mystery girl.

  *** THE END ***

  Back to Contents

  Book Fourteen

  Back to Contents

  THE LADY’S SECRET

  By Jane Keeler

  Lady Staunton stood in the doorway of Annalise’s bedchamber, her normally placid face wearing a worried frown. She said, “It’s a very long ride to London, and…oh with you in this condition I fear we might encounter some difficulties on the road.”

  “It’s half-a-day.” Annalise said as she pulled her long and very full cloak around her body, “And, to be terribly honest, I grow very weary of being forced to rest this way.”

  Lady Staunton sighed and said, “I know it’s not easy on you Annalise dear. You’re so naturally exuberant.”

  The last was not a compliment, and Annalise knew it. Her ‘exuberance’ was often deemed quite unladylike, and she knew it would be again too. She said, “Just think, when all is said and done I shall be able to go about the Season like anyone else. And I shall feel much better soon, the doctor said so.”

  “Yes, he did.” More worry formed on her face. “Perhaps this is wrong. Maybe we should let you rest here at home and you could go for the next Season. That would probably be…”

  “No, no, the arrangements are already made and it seems a shame to waste such a glorious wardrobe.” Annalise hated the wheedling tone that had cropped dup in her voice but she let it stay. “Those clothes are stunning and they will be out of style next year!”

  “Oh I don’t know, they’re from Paris after all and they are so ahead of London when it comes to fashion, of course they were bought and fitted at a time when your figure was different…”

  “Oh but people know I have been ill.” Annalise let her slender arms and shoulders show for a moment and then she sighed. “If they fit poorly people will blame the illness Auntie.”

  “Yes, I suppose they will.” It was clear she was frettin
g and indecisive. “Still it seems such a risk…”

  “There is no reward without risk.” Annalise thrust her chin out. “Besides, I shall ride in the carriage every single day and I shall recover eventually, and quickly at that.”

  “You’re right. By the time you step a foot into a ballroom you shall already be the toast of the town. Your face alone can capture their hearts and your being ill will give you a sheen those others don’t have. Men love to rescue us, after all.”

  Lady Staunton drew her arms across the watered silk that covered her rather vast bosom and nodded her head so adamantly that all three of her chins wobbled.

  Annalise didn’t need to be rescued. Nor did he want to be.

  What she did want was to see henry again.

  Henry, Lord Wallace. Even his name was enough to send little shivers down her spine. He was the most handsome man in the entire world and she was nearly desperate to see him again.

  Next year might be too late! He might finally choose a bride from among the throngs of debutantes and other young women crowding into London to find a husband and make a match that their families would not only approve of but benefit from.

  Her mood soured. The idea of being paraded around like a dressed calf at a market didn’t appeal to her very much and she’d always said so, but the idea of seeing Henry again, no matter how briefly, most certainly did.

  Well, she would, perhaps, see Henry and she would definitely avoid being dragged out to the balls and dinners and tiresome events she didn’t want to go to.

  It was almost perfect.

  **

  “Dear God Henry, have you seen the amount of cards left behind by ladies and their mothers? Every husband-hunting mother in town must have stopped by here this morning to call on your mother.”

  Lord Henry Wallace gave his father, Oscar, a fond look. “I daresay they did. It’s the what, third day of the Season? There’s a rather big ball coming up tonight. Everyone’s in a hurry to get their daughters seen so they can get their dance cards filled.”

  His words held a mocking edge. His mother Lady Wallace heard it too as she swept out of the parlor where she had been holding court all day. There was a vexed expression on her pretty face and her hair had begun to show signs of disrepair. Her icy-blue day gown was perfectly fitted and trimmed with yards of delicate lace at the sleeves and throat, but there was a large brown spot near the hem.

  She said, “Do you know that awful Clarice Woolridge had the audacity to bring all five of her daughters to call today! The youngest is barely fifteen and already out! I suppose they have Clarice’s uncle to thank for that. He likely decided to pay for one Season and so they are all crowding into London in the hopes of marrying quickly before his charity runs out.

  “And the eldest, Marianne, spilled her tea right on my hem then giggled mindlessly. Can you imagine? Oh Oscar, give me those cards. For heaven’s sake.”

  She swept past him to take up the enormous stack of cards from the silver dish on the small stand near the front door then she headed up the stairs, her skirts trailing and her voice still raised in a mutter.

  When she’d vanished from sight Henry said, “Well at least I know I shan’t risk Mother’s disapproval if I slight the Woolridge daughters.”

  “You should,” Oscar said. “Their father has pushed the family right into debt. His only hope now is for his daughters to land rich husbands who will be willing to pay off some of his creditors. If they had a better title than they do that would not be so large a consideration but it they don’t and it is. I hear Duke Rivington’s daughter is out for her Season as well, and he’s also hoping for a good monetary match. She’d be much more suited to you, and she’s very lovely from what I hear.”

  Oscar walked away and Henry sighed. Marriage was business, and while he thoroughly enjoyed business he did not see where he had to court a woman like he was mounting a full-scale financial plan.

  Only that was precisely the way that it was.

  He would do well to remember that he was a very rich man, and while he had money what he did not necessarily have was the most-respected of titles.

  His paternal great-grandfather had been a merchant, of all things, and while his thriving businesses had made him very rich he had not been content with that.

  He’d married the daughter of minor and very indebted lord and when his father-in-law passed away with no other heirs he’d inherited the title. He’d kept his businesses though, and through the generations it had only grown larger and more prosperous. When Henry had been twenty he had also gone into the family business, and branched out as well, turning his already rather shockingly large allowance of ten thousand pounds a year into a stunning forty thousand.

  In other words, he and his family were entirely wealthy, and being that he was a noble, and a very rich one, he had become a target for every eligible young woman in London.

  He’d managed to escape marriage so far and at twenty-four he was considered a confirmed bachelor, and something of a rake. His mother often despaired and his father urged him to marry a woman whose title would bring more luster to their own.

  Henry thought that foolish. They were welcomed everywhere in the country, and if anyone even remembered that his family had come up from the merchant-class they conveniently forgot to be disagreeable about it in light of the money that spilled from their coffers.

  He headed up the sweeping staircase, his shined boots making barely a sound on the runners. He entered his bedchamber, a vast and wide room furnished with dark and masculine furniture where he was greeted by his manservant Clark.

  “Shall I take your coat Sir?” Clark inquired politely.

  Henry glanced at the mirror. He was taller than average, standing well over six feet in his stockings, and his shoulders were wide and broad. His waist and hips were narrow however and his legs lean thanks to the exercise he believed in so firmly and the dark brown breeches, well-tailored shirt and brown waistcoat, adorned with gold trim and buttons along with the snowy ascot gave him a dashing air.

  He said, “Yes, please. I do believe I shall go for a ride in the park.”

  Clark nodded and began to help him out of the clothes and into a set more appropriate for horseback. Once ready henry headed out again, calling for someone to bring his horse.

  Lady Wallace, on her way into the kitchens to supervise the activity there paused and said, “Henry, do me a favor please. Do not go riding that horse through park like you’ve no manners at all.”

  He grinned. “I shall endeavor to be polite Mother.”

  She gave him a quelling look. “You must know that every young lady who watches you ride through that park as though you’ve taken leave of your senses becomes instantly infatuated with you and then comes to call on me.”

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, teasingly, “I would wager that they’d come to call if I rode a donkey through the park while singing nonsense songs Mother.”

  “Oh you,” she flapped her hands at him. “Oh, have I told you the news?”

  “Let me guess. There’s another ball. Or someone has become engaged already though the Season’s hardly started. Or perhaps someone wound up face-down in a punchbowl filled with social disgrace.”

  She flapped a hand at him. “No. The Stauntons arrive today and they are bringing their niece.”

  He blinked. “Annalise?”

  His mother smiled. “You remember her then.”

  Of course he remembered her. She’d come to visit the Stauntons at their country estate a few years before. Like their London townhouse the Staunton’s country estate sat close to the Wallace’s, and Annalise had come riding across the borders of the Wallace estate hell-bent for leather on a wild and charging stallion. Her reddish-gold hair had escaped its bounds and when she flew past him he’d been stunned into muteness, sure he was witnessing the earthly ride of a fabled Valkyrie.

  She’d been young then, only sixteen, and as impudent and saucy as a child. She’d driven her aunt and u
ncle to near-madness with her escapades. He recalled all too vividly the day she’d climbed up an apple tree to save a stranded cat, giving him a glimpse of frothy white petticoats and stockings as she did so.

  “I see,” he said slowly.

  Lady Wallace sighed. “The girl will be lucky to land a husband with her reputation. She does have good title however and she did inherit a large allowance from her father’s estate.

  “I hear her brother, who’s so much older than she, and his wife are very fond of her and would likely be happy to allow her to stay there as an old maid forever. Oh, that reminds me, the brother’s wife, drat I can never recall her name, is with child and I must be sure to remember that when I go to call.”

  Henry lifted an eyebrow. “Reputation?”

  “Oh yes, I’m afraid she’s quite the bluestocking and once, at a dinner party in the country, she even interjected herself into a conversation on politics! And not only did she tender her opinion on the matter she debated her position quite clearly long after she should have excused herself so the gentlemen could enjoy their port and cigars.”

  Henry said, in as mild a voice as possible, “Quite shocking.”

  Her head bobbed up and down. “Yes, it is. She doesn’t draw or paint or play an instrument either. Her education seems to be solely in books.”

  “And politics,” Henry put in, knowing he was going slightly too far.

  She shook her head warningly and said, “You! Yes, that too. Ah well, anyway they arrive today and I thought since you and she had struck up something of a friendship you’d be happy to pay her a call.”

  “I see.” He kept his voice neutral.

  Lady Wallace said, “Not to put too fine a point on it Henry, you must marry, and soon. We are not getting any younger, your father and I, and you are the only child I was ever allowed to bear. There has not been one young woman that you’ve taken a liking to over the years and quite frankly I am beginning to despair ever seeing you happy.”