“Are they so wealthy?” she asked.
Mary nodded with a grin. “Oh, yes. Captain Wenworth gained fortune in the navy, Anne. From rewards for capturing enemy ships.”
This didn’t surprise her, not really. Though she’d made an effort to avoid all talk of the navy in the past years even she’d heard of riches made in such a manner. Patrick had been determined to make a name for himself five years ago, and rising to the rank of captain while earning a fortune was most fitting.
“Captain Benton has a good fortune as well, though he is blessed with more than money in my opinion,” Mary went on.
“Is his friend well-favored, then?” Anne asked.
Mary nodded. “Oh, he is quite a pretty gentleman. He was most attentive to Louisa, and a more charming man I hadn’t met in ages.”
“And they are to attend the picnic,” Anne murmured.
“Yes! It was a stroke of genius on Charles’s part, for certain.”
Anne marveled at that. Well, she had no more desire to be in the pretty gentleman’s company than she had to be in Patrick’s.
“I shall tell Cook what to ready,” Mary said. “You’ll help me with the preparations, Anne?”
Anne faced her, seeing the worry around Mary’s eyes. The company they kept in Abbotsbury was quite confining and having two war heroes to their picnic was an event to be sure. Perhaps Mary was beginning to think of her as more than convenient child care. “Of course, Mary.”
Mary let out a sigh of obvious relief and fell upon her breakfast. As she chattered about menu and games and the like Anne fought the growing urge to scream at her. What did any of those things matter when Patrick was coming? Perhaps she would focus her attentions on his handsome friend. Pleasant conversation and happy company would surely ease the pain of passing any time in Patrick’s company.
Leaving Mary to finish her breakfast alone, she stepped outside to walk the path toward the bit of wilderness set to one side of the house. She rather liked it, which was a good thing as she would undoubtedly live here with Mary and Charles all of her days. When she was out of doors she could imagine the property belonged to her and she was beholden to no one. That she was independent and had only her own concerns to worry her. No sister and brother-in-law to placate, no sweet little boy to take her attention. A pang struck her. She would like to have a child of her own, however.
The nearby village proper beckoned, and she adjusted her bonnet and stepped out onto the road toward High Street. The village of Abbotsbury was not without its charms, with a few shops that carried as close to the latest fashions as could be expected in the country. Anne generally didn’t give much care to fashions, late or otherwise. She was well and stuck in so many ways.
She was dependent on her sister’s affections and Charles’s condescension. She was beholden to the father she hardly saw as he kept himself among the fashionable in town all the year now. She was even indebted to Lady Russell, though the fate her aunt had saved her from may not have been so awful.
Patrick had been without fortune true, but not without prospects. What if her aunt learned of his change in circumstance? No doubt she soon would, with Mary and Charles singing his praises for all to hear. Would Lady Russell regret putting such pressure on Anne all those years ago? Or should Anne take all of the blame for her present situation?
Several people nodded and waved their greetings, as the family was much respected in their region. She absently returned their salutations, her mind in a muddle and her spirits disturbed. She breathed in the warm air and tried to focus on nothing more than a pleasant stroll among familiar people. Counting the cobblestones beneath her half-boots, she walked on.
A tall figure blocked her path and she nearly lost her footing. A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders to steady her and her breath left her in a rush as she stared up at the blond gentleman before her.
“Are you all right, miss?” he asked, his dark blue eyes showing concern.
His hands felt right on her somehow, the contact sending tingles through her body. She stared at his well-formed mouth, licking her lips as she wondered at his taste. Her heart pounding, she stepped away from him. “Yes, thank you,” she rushed out.
His cheeks reddened a bit, and then he smiled. “Good. Forgive me, but I am learning my way about Abbotsbury this morning. I’m afraid I might have been preoccupied.”
She had never seen such a handsome man before. He had none of Patrick’s raw masculinity, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to this stranger. Well dressed, affable, handsome. Learning his way. He was dressed quite smartly, with his trousers sharply creased and his neck cloth tied with military precision. Military. The realization nearly felled her.
“You are a friend of the Cosgroves,” she said.
“Why, yes.” He blinked at her. “Forgive my rudeness. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Captain Jonathan Benton. My father and the elder Mr. Cosgrove are good friends.” He tilted his head. “Have we met? You seem familiar to me somehow.”
There was nothing else for it. He would know her connections, not only to Mary and Charles but to Patrick as well. “I am Anne Ellis.” She sucked in a breath, drawing his fresh soapy scent into her lungs. “I believe you met my sister last evening.”
He smiled again, a dazzling expression that no doubt had caused Louisa Cosgrove’s heart to flutter last night. Goodness, he had a fetching dimple in his left cheek.
“Yes indeed,” he said. “Truth be told, had I known you were as beautiful as a sunrise over morning dew I would have begged to make your acquaintance directly.”
She felt the impact of his compliment, even though it was buried within poetic prose. “Thank you.”
He ran his eyes over her and she could guess the conclusions he made from her dress. She was dressed simply as usual, her clothing fine but without much adornment. Despite embarrassment, she felt those tingles again. His gaze settled on her breasts. She gasped as her nipples peaked beneath her stays and her drawers grew damp!
“Are you about urgent business in the village this day?” he asked.
She could barely attend his question, still lost in a riot of feelings. Not since her short time with Patrick had she encountered such fluttering within. She let loose with a laugh, unable to refrain. She’d thought her body as good as dead after their broken engagement and had put such physical yearnings aside. Now, to think she could want again, and with a man so closely connected to Patrick?
“Miss Ellis?”
She held her arms stiff at her sides in an effort to quell her trembling. “Yes?”
He smiled again. “You seemed so far away for a moment there.”
She couldn’t help but return his sunny expression with a smile of her own. “Forgive me, Captain Benton.”
“Nonsense. So you are Anne Ellis.”
His tone spoke volumes. She doubted Mary or Charles had talked much of her last evening. Patrick must have, then. Now embarrassment mingled with the heated feelings of a moment earlier. “I thought we had established that,” she said in what she hoped was an even tone.
“I believe we are to attend a picnic at your home.”
“Y–yes.” She knew she should ask after Patrick. Her breeding allowed nothing less, blast it. “And your friend will accompany you?”
A contemplative expression came into those blue eyes. “Captain Wenworth will join me, yes.”
Neither of them would speak of her connection, albeit broken, to Patrick. She knew this as sure as the day of the picnic would dawn bright and sunny with no excuse to stay indoors with little Charlie.
“Well, I have detained you from your excursion, I’m certain,” he said at last.
She stared at him a moment longer, then nodded. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Captain Benton.”
He tilted his head. “Jon, please. I believe we shall get to know each other quite well.”
Whatever could he mean by that?
Her throat too tight to speak, she nodded again and made her way int
o the nearest shop. Only when she took several deep breaths did she realize she stood in the milliner’s. She gave a short laugh. It was a very good thing she hadn’t been outside the stables when she’d run into Captain Benton. Surely she’d be standing in a pile of horse manure now instead of being surrounded by the loveliest bonnets she’d ever seen.
She fingered the worn edge of her straw bonnet and sighed. No doubt Mary would wish her to look her best for the picnic. A new bonnet would go far in making her feel worthy of Captain Benton’s lingering looks. As for Patrick? Shouldn’t she look her best when faced with the man who had every reason in the world to hate her? It mustn’t do to appear as if she’d been pining for him these past five years.
“I shall rise above all of it,” she vowed softly.
It was too much to consider that a flirtation with a naturally gregarious gentleman would lead anywhere but frustration. But the diversion would be worth the disappointment that would undoubtedly follow.
In the meantime she would purchase a new bonnet. She smiled to herself. And perhaps a new pair of gloves.
Chapter 3
Jon walked slowly away from the woman in the window of the milliner’s. Miss Anne Ellis was quite pretty despite her simple attire and somber expressions. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Patrick wouldn’t have asked a homely woman to marry him.
She’d looked worried when he’d come upon her. Her delicate brows drawn together over downcast eyes, her cupid’s bow mouth turned down in a slight frown. The very picture of feminine disturbance. His heart had twisted slightly at the then-unknown woman’s plight, whatever it might be.
He recalled his talk with Patrick after dinner last night. This particular woman had broken Patrick’s heart, surely. His friend had all but admitted it. She didn’t appear to be a bitch, quite the opposite were he to guess, but his friend had put a sharp point on it.
He couldn’t deny his own attraction. That was certain. Her glossy brown hair shining in the sun beneath her straw bonnet, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the day, her green eyes sparkling as she obviously held in the urge to tease him for his flowery speech. Hell, that was one of the reasons he made such pretty speeches. He wanted to gauge a lady’s reaction to frivolity as well as the carefully-couched words of seduction. Miss Anne Ellis had not fallen into giggles at his words. No. It had been obvious that the mind behind those pretty green eyes was sharp. There was indeed something to the lady beyond her quick mind and pretty face, though. And her pleasing figure, he mentally added.
“Randy fool,” he cursed to himself. She was Patrick’s, even though the man might believe that ship has sailed. How close had they gotten? Had Patrick seen the flush of desire on her creamy bosom beneath her fichu he’d glimpsed today? Had he smelled the unmistakable scent of female arousal coming from beneath her simple day gown as he had?
He’d accompanied Patrick on several pussy raids over the years, and knew his friend wouldn’t have denied himself the pleasure if it had presented itself. Perhaps she’d withheld her favors. That might explain his youthful exuberance in asking her to marry him. He himself would promise anything to taste the passion he knew she hid within.
He walked stiffly now, as eager to gain their rented rooms as he was to lose the erection that throbbed in his trousers. When her full lips had parted, when she’d gone speechless there before him for the space of a heartbeat, he’d been seized with the desire to pull her against him. To trace every enticing curve of her body as he plundered her mouth with his. To lift her simple skirts and touch her sweet pussy. Damn, he should stay away from that blasted picnic.
He’d thought Patrick would be the one to rue that day. Now it appeared he would be forced to hide the fact that he was very taken with one Miss Anne Ellis, both from his friend and from the lady’s relatives. He longed to verbally spar with the lady, and then kiss her once he emerged victorious.
“Ho there, Jon!”
He felt a flush of guilt cover his cheeks and chest as he spied Patrick striding toward him, a smile on his face.
“Patrick,” he said, doffing his hat to hold it in front of his cock. “Out shopping?”
The other man barked out a laugh. “Hardly. I just thought to explore as you had spoken of all the lovely sights you’d hope to see in Abbotsbury.”
Jon had urged him to join him earlier, but Patrick had demurred. “I can attest to one beautiful sight I encountered this day.”
Patrick peered past him but Jon refrained from glancing over his own shoulder. He looked Jon in the face, his eyes narrowed. “I see nothing out of the ordinary.” He tilted his head toward the public house. “The Pig and Whistle should be open by now. You have the look about you of a man who could use an ale. Or something.”
Jon nodded and followed his friend into the pub. The serving maids grinned as they entered. Surely they counted on ample tips from the wealthy visitors. They each ordered an ale and Jon waited for the right moment to mention his chance meeting with Anne Ellis.
“Forgive my ill temper of last evening, Jon,” Patrick said. “And of this morning. I should not give that bitch a thought, but I cannot seem to help myself. It’s just that knowing she is so close…”
“Closer than you think,” Jon said.
“What?”
Jon folded his arms on the table. “She is here in the village.”
Dark clouds flooded Patrick’s face. “Never say that you saw her.”
“Saw her and spoke with her.” And desired her.
Patrick seemed to war with himself before he fixed that familiar mask of detachment over his countenance. Jon knew him too well, however. It was his battle face, and he knew what Patrick hid behind it. Fear and pain and regret.
“I take it the years show on her face, then?” he asked.
“If they do I didn’t see them,” Jon admitted.
Patrick looked down as the serving girl delivered their tankards. When she left the table again he let out a sigh. “She was bloody beautiful when I met her,” he said in a low voice. “And seemingly unaffected by it.”
“I can’t speak of her looks then, but she is more than pleasing now.”
Patrick narrowed his eyes again. “You’re smitten with her.”
“Smitten? No. She is an angel in rags to my mind, wearing plain clothes when she should be dressed as the goddess she is.”
Patrick snorted. “And you are not smitten.”
“I know you loved her,” Jon said. “I know you hate her now. I would never do anything to risk our friendship.”
“Anne is a singular lady, or she was. I have no feelings about her at all now, Jon. Depend upon it.”
“I know you, Patrick.” When Patrick opened his mouth to protest again, Jon held up one hand. “No need to argue with me. We shall go to the picnic and see what we shall see.”
“And if you want her, I say be my guest. I have no claim on her, nor do I want one.”
Jon imagined holding the woman in his arms for a moment, stripping off everything including the expression of worry on her face and giving her a climax to curl her toes.
“She isn’t the prettiest girl I’ve seen,” he told Patrick. “But there is something about her. A strength of spirit, perhaps?”
Patrick snorted again and drank deeply of his ale. “You are being fanciful. She is still passable I’m sure. She was then and it has only been five years.”
“And yet, consider how altered we are in that space of time.”
Patrick shrugged. “Court her if you like. Her family will approve the match, I’m certain.”
“The match? You are putting too fine a point on it.”
“Then fuck her. I’m sure she hasn’t been without lovers since our parting.”
Again, images of Anne spread beneath him filled his mind. His mouth went dry and he took a sip of his ale. “You had her, then.”
“No, more fool me. I thought to taste only her kisses, not her hot, wet cunt. To anticipate our wedding night. I admit that more than once
I went home with my balls heavy enough to anchor a ship.”
Patrick fell silent, and Jon wanted to believe him unaffected, both by the woman’s close proximity and Jon’s desire for her. Damn his eyes, he couldn’t ignore his friend’s pain.
“She was very nearly your wife, Patrick. I won’t touch her without your express permission. After the picnic, when you can better gauge your feelings. You have my word.”
Relief crossed Patrick’s face before that mask slipped back into place. “As you wish.” He signaled to the serving girl. “Now what say you to another ale and a bit of something for lunch?”
Jon agreed, and the two of them said nothing more of Anne. He’d given his word to his best friend. How difficult could it be to ignore the lure of a woman not meant for either one of them?
He suspected they would both learn precisely how difficult at that blasted picnic.
* * * *
Anne stood before the cheval glass, more careful with her appearance as she hadn’t been in years. She’d pilfered some of Mary’s dresses yesterday, and her maid had done a fine job of altering them to fit her more shapely figure. The bodice still showed more bosom than she might have wished, but the day promised to be warm and this way her fichu would add adequate modesty and little heat.
Mary was at sixes and sevens, hosting an event like this. Of course she’d enlisted Anne’s assistance, which she’d been happy to give for once. She, too, wanted the day to go well. Yes, Patrick would attend. There was no way out of that particular hazard. But Captain Benton would come as well, and she couldn’t think of a more handsome target of her attention as she sought to keep from looking at Patrick at all.
“Oh, I do hope Cook has those tarts ready,” Mary said as she dashed past her on the stairs. She stopped and ran her gaze over Anne’s pretty yellow frock. “You look very handsome.”
Anne took the compliment as it was given, with a touch of surprise. “Thank you.”
“I daresay the nurse will have to keep an eye on Charlie without your assistance?” Mary asked.
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