Ian could imagine Travener's inward response to that suggestion. Whatever Doyle felt about Anne's invitation, however, he hid it well as he quickly turned to Ian and added his second. He even managed to make it sound sincere.
"We should be honored if you would accompany us, sir."
"Not today, thank you," Ian said.
Despite what he had told Elizabeth, he didn't really intend to play duenna on Anne's outings. He wasn't perfectly certain he was up to the challenge.
"Perhaps you'll join us one day when you are feeling more the thing," Travener said, his relief almost palpable. "I shall wait for you in the hall, Miss Darlington. I want to step out and make sure my tiger is walking the horses. Major Sinclair," he said, bowing slightly.
"I think since it has been so very long since I was Major Sinclair," Ian said, "we might do better without the title."
Whatever Travener's intent, the phrase "when you are feeling more the thing" had grated.
"Of course," Travener said. "Using your title was simply a sign of my respect, sir, I assure you, but if you prefer..."
Ian inclined his head, his mouth tight with suppressed anger. Travener turned, cupping his hand possessively under Anne's elbow. Her eyes met Ian's briefly before she allowed herself to be led out of the room.
Ian waited until the door of Dare's library, which he had commandeered as his own retreat when they had first come to London, had closed behind them. Then he eased down in his chair again, stretching out his aching leg and mentally reviewing every word of the conversation.
Anne had seemed just as she always did. She had treated Travener as a friend rather than a potential suitor. And if it hadn't been for the look she had exchanged with him last night as she drank the wine he'd selected, Ian might have been able to put the handsome ex-soldier out of his mind.
Whatever had been in Anne's eyes when she had looked over the rim of her glass seemed burned into his consciousness, however. And it was still painfully there, as he listened to Dare's butler greet Anne on her return from the ride, something Ian had waited impatiently to hear for more than two hours.
***
"Ian?" Anne whispered.
She had come back to the library after she had changed to tell him she was leaving for Lady Laud's. She knew that she was cutting the time very close, and she feared Ian's godmother might never forgive her if she were late. She had not, however, been able to resist the impulse to look in on her guardian.
When she had opened the door, she had found Ian in his chair, his head against the back, his eyes closed. She had hovered on the threshold a moment, wondering if she should disturb him or let him sleep. And then, compelled by the same feelings that had caused her to spend too many hours last night thinking about children who would have hazel eyes and kind smiles, she tiptoed across the room to stand looking down on him.
The light from the tall windows highlighted his features. Robbed of their normal animation, they were far more revealing than they had been this morning. He looks exhausted, she thought.
Unbidden, there appeared in her mind's eyes the image of Doyle Travener's virile, sun-darkened features. Unconsciously, she contrasted them to these, which were no less handsome, but underlain by both pain and now fatigue. She fought the urge to put the tips of her fingers against Ian's forehead, to soothe away the strain that even sleep could not erase.
Her eyes still on his face, she stooped beside his chair and put her gloved hand on his, which lay relaxed on the arm. His eyes opened slowly to focus on her face, which was now level with his. His long fingers closed tightly around hers. Responding to that pressure, and almost without her conscious direction, her hand caught his, bringing it up so that she could press her lips against the back of it.
The hazel eyes widened. They were more aware now. And she knew with a painful catch of her heart that if Ian had been fully awake when he'd opened his eyes, he would never have touched her hand like that. He eased his fingers from hers.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowed.
"I'm leaving for Lady Laud's. I looked in on my way out and found you asleep. You looked almost too peaceful," she said.
She smiled at him, forcing back the surge of emotion she had felt at seeing his vulnerability exposed. A vulnerability he would never have wanted to reveal. Not to her. Not to anyone.
"So I thought, of course, that I would disturb you," she finished, deliberately injecting humor into her voice, which had thickened with the constriction of her throat.
"No rest for the wicked," he said, returning her smile.
"That's no rest for the weary, I think," she corrected, her own brow wrinkled as she tried to remember the correct phrasing.
"How was your drive?"
"Pleasant enough," she said.
She used the arm of his chair to push herself to her feet. The fact that Ian had been forced to pull his fingers away from hers was embarrassment enough. To continue to kneel at his feet could only add to it.
"It could only have been enhanced by a glass of wine," she added, smiling down at him.
His eyes had followed her rise, and at the smile, his mouth relaxed. "I should imagine the same might be said of Italian sopranos."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I understood from my godmother that was to be the afternoon's entertainment."
"Good grief," Anne said faintly, "and to think I gave up wiping Sally Eddington's nose for this."
She smiled at him again, hoping that if they bandied enough nonsense, he would forget the revealing caress of her lips against his fingers. Romantic and impulsive, she chided herself. And when you have fallen madly in love with a man who considers you little more than a child and nothing but a responsibility, that could indeed prove a humiliating combination. As it had this afternoon.
"If I don't leave now," she said, "I may miss part of the performance. Are you sure you can't think of some reason to delay me?"
"Have a good time," her guardian said uncooperatively.
"You really have the best of it, you know," she said, looking around the library as she pretended to straighten her sleeve. "What could be better than a pleasant fire and a good book?" Her eyes touched on the leather-bound volume on the table beside him.
"Ah, but you..." Ian said straight-faced. "You shall have Mr. Travener and the soprano."
"You surely don't think Mr. Travener will be there, too, do you?" she asked, trying to indicate her dismay over that possibility. "He doesn't strike me as being musically inclined."
"Simply opportunistic," Ian said. "I suspect Mr. Travener will begin to appear at whatever occasion you frequent. My godmother likes him. And he's personable enough that he won't have any difficulty procuring invitations to all manner of events. After all, a single man is always a welcome addition."
"The marriage mart," she said, her eyes holding his. "I had forgotten."
Someone to fight my battles for me. And she knew, with more certainty than she had ever felt before, that the only man she would want in that role was the one man in all of London who would probably never consider himself for it.
Not by word or deed had Ian Sinclair ever indicated she was anything to him other than a responsibility. Nor had he indicated that he wanted her to be more. He had certainly not courted her, and it was only now, considering the face before her, forever marked by experiences she could only imagine, that she thought she knew why.
Even if Ian Sinclair found her attractive, he would never reveal that attraction. She was his ward. And as foolish as it seemed to her, he truly believed she should be happier paired with someone as shallow as Doyle Travener.
She had promised Mrs. Kemp that she would be guided by Mr. Sinclair's wisdom. She hadn't promised, however, that when Mr. Sinclair was being so patently foolish, she wouldn't attempt to change his mind.
"I must confess," she said, gathering her courage, "that I should much prefer to spend the afternoon here with you."
His eyes reacted, the dark pupils expand
ing a little into the rim of color. He said nothing for a heartbeat, and then he smiled. It was the same annoyingly avuncular one he had once bestowed on Margaret Rhodes.
"Only think how disappointed Mr. Travener should be by your non-appearance. Not to mention Lady Laud."
"I doubt either of them would give a fig," she said.
"But Elizabeth should," Ian reminded her. "After all, she has worked very hard to make you a success."
"A success so that I can make a good marriage," she said. "Or is that 'good' marriage in and of itself the success she has worked for?" The edge of bitterness in the words seemed obvious, but Ian's eyes didn't change.
"Of course," he said.
"And what if my idea of a 'good' marriage, a successful marriage, is very different from that which the ton holds?"
"No one will ever force you to marry someone you don't love and want to spend the rest of your life with," Ian said. "All Elizabeth and I are trying to do is provide an opportunity for you to meet that man."
And if I have already met him? The words were on the tip of her tongue, and yet she hesitated to voice them. And into the small pause, came the sound of Elizabeth's voice.
"I thought you had gone," the Countess of Dare said.
Anne turned her head and found Elizabeth standing in the doorway. She held a book in her hand, and her questioning eyes moved from Anne's face to her brother-in-law's.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked, her voice puzzled.
"Nothing more serious than a discussion of Anne's newest suitor," Ian said. He sounded slightly relieved at Elizabeth's intervention. "I was telling her that she can probably count on him dancing attendance at whatever events she chooses to attend."
"Well, you shall miss him this afternoon, if you don't hurry," Elizabeth said. "I don't think Lady Laud will like to be kept waiting."
Rebellion flared briefly in Anne's breast. After all, she really would rather spend the afternoon here.
She tamped it down, however. Remembering all that these two people had done for her, she knew she couldn't now refuse to follow through. She had been brought to London expressly for entertainments such as this. And she had allowed her guardian to spend an enormous amount of what she now believed to be his own money on her coming out. It would be the height of ingratitude to refuse to go through with it now.
"Of course," she said aloud. "How thoughtless of me. I shall see you both at dinner, I hope."
She glanced again at Ian, but she could tell nothing from his face. His eyes were still fastened on Elizabeth.
And the countess did make a very compelling picture, Anne acknowledged. Coolly elegant and always serene, she was exactly the kind of well-read and intelligent woman who would appeal to Ian Sinclair. Just as she had obviously appealed to his brother.
How did she think she might compete with women like this for Ian Sinclair's interest? Anne wondered.
"Of course," Elizabeth said, seeming surprised by the question. "And now I really must insist, Anne."
She stepped into the room, clearing the passageway for Anne and giving her no choice but to go through it. As she crossed the hall outside, Anne could hear the countess's voice from the library behind her.
"I thank you for your recommendation of the Voltaire, my dear," she was saying to her brother-in-law. "If you have time, I should love to discuss some of his views with you."
"I have nothing but time, Lizzie, as you well know, and there is nothing I should enjoy more than a matching of wits with my erudite sister."
"You make me sound like a bluestocking," Elizabeth said, laughing.
By that time, Dare's butler was holding the front door open for Anne. Heartily regretting that she was not allowed to at least sit and listen as the two of them talked about something far more substantial and interesting than boot-blacking recipes and blood stock, Anne Darlington stepped outside as reluctantly as if the fate that awaited her was far more dire than Mr. Travener and an Italian soprano. At that moment she truly couldn't imagine any fate that might be worse.
***
"Anne, I should like to introduce you to my brother, the Earl of Dare," Ian said.
Apparently he was becoming proficient at lying because there was nothing about this introduction he liked. He had been dreading it since his brother had made known his feelings about "Darlington's chit." It was not that Ian didn't share Dare's disdain for George Darlington, but in the weeks he had known Anne he had found nothing of the father reflected in his daughter.
"Val, may I present my ward, Anne Darlington."
He held Dare's eyes as he said it, warning him to guard his tongue. Surprisingly, the earl seemed amused as he returned that brotherly look. When his gaze finally focused on the woman standing before him, Dare made a rather pointed assessment of her before he even acknowledged the introduction.
"Miss Darlington," he said. Dare's voice, thankfully, betrayed none of the contempt he had previously expressed.
"My Lord Dare," Anne said, dropping a graceful curtsy and holding out her hand.
"Bravo," Elizabeth said.
Dare's gaze lifted to his wife's face. "A test, I presume. Should I be honored or insulted to be its subject?"
"I was complimenting Anne on handling the introduction so beautifully," Elizabeth said. "It's a shame, my dear, that your manners are not so polished."
"Indeed," Dare said, with a small bow in her direction before he turned back to Anne. "I'm charmed, Miss Darlington," he said with an obvious vein of sarcasm.
"The pleasure is all mine, my lord," Anne said, her dark eyes as mocking the earl's. And then she added, "I am sure from your demeanor that it must be."
There was a small silence.
"Your kitten has claws," Dare said.
"Be glad you aren't a highwayman," Ian said.
Silently he applauded Anne's refusal to be intimidated by the earl. And if there was anything designed to win Dare's approval, it was a quick wit and someone brave enough to challenge him at his own game.
"You almost make me wish I had been there that night," the earl responded.
"No, I assure you, you do not," Anne said. "I've never spent a more terrifying few minutes."
"I understand from my brother that you saved his life."
"Your understanding is flawed, my lord. Quite the reverse, as a matter of fact. Mr. Sinclair saved mine."
"Since you have been thrust together by the terms of your father's will, I suppose it's only to the good that the two of you are so mutually admiring. But it does makes it difficult for an outsider to ascertain the truth of what happened."
"The truth is that your brother came to my rescue at a cost to himself of which you are very well aware," she said softly.
"Indeed I am aware of it. I wasn't sure that you were."
"Believe me, my lord, I am very cognizant of the debt I owe my guardian. My understanding is not flawed."
"Are you always so forthright, Miss Darlington?"
"I hope so, my lord," Anne said pleasantly. The glint in her eyes left no doubt that she knew she was being goaded and was determined to give as good as she got.
"Then I'm afraid I have come on a fool's errand," Dare said.
"I am sorry for it if you have," she replied, sounding almost sincere. "With the recent rains, the roads must be a nightmare. What was the errand that brought you to London, Lord Dare? Simply to remind me of what I owe my guardian?"
"I had intended to retrieve my missing wife," Dare said.
"Then perhaps I should be the one to ask why that is a 'fool's errand.'" Elizabeth said.
"I understood that you were here to prepare Miss Darlington for her entry into society. I had thought that by now that instruction must be complete. I see I was mistaken."
"That's quite enough, Val," Ian ordered, imbuing his voice with an amusement he didn't feel. "Forgive my brother's manners, Anne. Perhaps we can persuade Elizabeth to undertake his training in the social graces."
"She has been attempting that since o
ur marriage," the earl said. "I take it you consider that she has failed."
"Perhaps with you, but believe me, Elizabeth's work here has been quite successful. The proof stands before you."
Ian had left instructions with Dare's major domo that he should usher Anne into the library as soon as she returned from the afternoon's musicale. She was still wearing the pale blue gown she had chosen for that.
It was a shade that both accentuated and complemented her coloring. Since the dress had been fashioned in the latest style and cut by the master hand of the modiste whom Dare himself had recommended, Ian believed his brother would be hard-pressed to find fault with Anne's appearance.
And despite her willingness to match the earl barb for barb, there had really been nothing about her manners that his brother might legitimately criticize. Anne had held her own without becoming rattled by Dare's obvious attempt to intimidate her.
The earl's eyes remained on Ian's face a long time before he turned back to Anne. The corners of his mobile mouth had moved into a smile, and he gave her the same small half-bow he had just made to his wife.
"My compliments to you all," he said. "Miss Darlington is indeed a diamond of the first water."
"I may forgive you after all," Elizabeth said. "Anne, would you help me pack?"
"Of course," Anne said, smiling at her. "I hope I shall see you again before you leave, my lord."
"Do you? Perhaps you truly are a paragon. Please forgive me if I've offended you, Miss Darlington. I confess to being overprotective of my brothers. I only have the two, you know, and both are prone to reckless acts of valor. It's very wearing on the nerves."
"I should never have thought that a nervous disposition was an affliction from which you would suffer, my lord. Although I quite understand your concern," Anne said.
For the first time since she had entered the room, she allowed her eyes to rest on Ian's face. And at what was in them, his pulse accelerated. There was no physical contact this time to explain the sudden rush of blood into his groin. Aware of the potentially embarrassing consequences of his reaction, he pulled his gaze away, focusing it on his sister-in-law's face instead.
At the same time, he commanded his mind to concentrate on something else. Anything else. Anything other than what he had just seen in the eyes of his ward.
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