“I shall await your return, Miss.”
Anna waved a hand through the air. “Please do not trouble yourself, Marie. I will manage on my own. You may have the evening to yourself.”
The maid thanked her profusely and made her exit.
Anna held the side of her scarlet skirts as she strode down to the main floor. Charles and their Mama stood at the base of the stairs, talking to Lord Boxton; Papa was likely at White’s, engaged in a game of cards. The three of them looked up at her entrance, then froze.
“There you are, Annabel. I am pleased that you are ready.” Anthony sketched a shallow bow over her gloved hand, then wrapped her palm around his elbow.
Mama and Charles still stared with wide eyes at her audacious gown, and Anna resisted the urge to cover her bosom.
“Shall we depart?” she asked. “The Merringtons await.”
She knew she did not appear as herself, nor would she, now that her new wardrobe had arrived from Madame Adriane’s and replaced her wardrobe of old. She felt exposed and ridiculous.
Anthony’s voice whispered, hot and revolting, in her ear. “Wipe that discomfited expression from your face or I shall remove it for you.”
Anna smiled brightly as he led her out the door. The evening was dark, but the air held warmth from the day; but Anna was ice inside—a living statue of marble continuing the façade while her heart and mind were elsewhere.
The carriage emblazoned with Boxton’s family crest rolled into motion. Anna blinked heavily over her tired eyes. She scarcely recalled entering.
“How kind of you to allow us the use of your fine equipage this evening, Lord Boxton,” Mama said into the silence.
“It is my great pleasure, Mrs. Bradley. Your daughter is a delight; I am truly a fortunate man.” He smiled down at Anna and gave her hand a heavy pat.
He seemed so sincere, but Annabel knew what lay beneath his gentlemanly veneer.
If only she had accepted Lane’s proposal when he had asked. They could have travelled to Gretna Green rather than return to London. What would her life be like if they had? Anthony would not have been able to force her into an engagement. Would she be within Lane’s warm embrace or curled by the fireside reading to one another? Or perhaps they would be engaged in a rousing game of chess.
She suppressed a sigh. Any of those scenarios was vastly more appealing than where she currently sat.
The carriage rocked gently as it righted itself from a corner, and Anna felt her stomach churn uneasily. She should have requested a tray of tea before readying herself for the ball, for her empty stomach felt distinctly unsettled.
“Are you well, Annabel? You look rather pale.” Charles’ concerned voice echoed from across the carriage.
“Yes, you look quite ill.” Mama leaned forward to put a hand to Anna’s knee.
Anna quickly nodded and turned her attention out the window. Lord, but she hoped she did not disgrace herself in this carriage. As they neared the Merringtons’ large home, the streets grew increasingly crowded. Anna discreetly held her stomach as the carriage jolted forward, slowed, and then jolted again as they awaited their turn to disembark.
Finally they pulled to a stop. The door swung open, and Anna breathed a deep sigh of relief. The air was perfumed with the pungent scent of manure, but it was preferable to being confined in the rocking carriage.
Anthony exited first then helped her down the step, his hand needlessly tight on her own. The Merrington ball appeared to be the event of the season. There were carriages and people in abundance.
They made their way up the steps and into the grand foyer, following the other finely dressed ladies and gentlemen as they joined the receiving line to greet their hosts.
Lord and Lady Merrington were pleasant people, with greying hair and stout figures. Their son, Simon Claridge, heir apparent to the Earldom, was a very gentlemanly man. He had briefly courted Annabel, but they had agreed that they suited much more comfortably as friends than husband and wife. He was a handsome man with black hair and crystal-blue eyes. Many women swooned in his presence, but Anna felt nothing but warm friendship for the man, infrequently though they saw each other.
Lord Simon Claridge kept himself very busy with his “diversion” of doctoring. Annabel knew, however, that he took his position far more seriously than his parents. They did their utmost to dissuade him from continuing, but he was very persistent.
As Anna had predicted, they were greeted with warmth and congeniality by their hosts. Anna, Anthony, Mama, and Charles expressed their appreciation for the invitation, smiled, and continued to the ballroom.
Anna stared with wide-eyed wonder as they strode into the ornately decorated room. The chandeliers hung high and blazed with light. The walls were draped with gilt and violet hangings. She lowered her gaze to the mass of colour and flourishing silks, satins, and lace. It was quite the sight to behold, disappointing as it was that she had to attend on the arm of the evil man beside her.
“What a crush!”
“It is, indeed, Mama.” Charles bowed to them. “If you will excuse me, I see a friend with whom I wish to speak.” He turned to Annabel. “Save a dance for me?”
She felt Anthony’s arm tense beneath her hand, but she could not very well refuse a dance with her brother. She smiled. “I would be honoured, Charles. Thank you.”
He nodded and left to seek out his friend.
“Oh! There is Mrs. Humphery.” Mama waved a delighted hand. “I must speak with her about her new gardener. I must know where she found him! Will you be all right, dears?”
A knot of apprehension formed in her stomach. She did not wish to be alone with Anthony.
“I would prefer—”
“We shall be fine, Mrs. Bradley.” Anthony smiled amiably at her mother. “Thank you for your concern. Seek out your friend, and enjoy your evening.”
Mama smiled and disappeared into the crowd.
Dread crept up her spine as Anthony turned to whisper in her ear. “If you think for one moment that being in the company of your ridiculous relations will release you from our bargain, you are sadly mistaken.” He bit her ear, causing an intense, sharp pain. It took all of her will to avoid a flinch. Good Lord, had he drawn blood? “You will not give a dance away to anyone but myself. The dance you foolishly promised to your brother cannot be avoided, however.”
“Yes, Anthony.” She smiled at a passing couple.
“Splendid.” He straightened. “Shall we get a refreshment?”
“That would be lovely, Anthony,” was her automatic reply.
They wove through the milling members of the ton and found the refreshment table. Annabel eyed the pastries and decidedly alluring lemon tarts but selected only a glass of champagne, as dictated by Anthony. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she only had to follow Anthony’s rubrics until she found a way out of the engagement. But for now, she did this for her family. For Lane.
“Very good,” Anthony said under his breath. “Before long you will not require my guidance to make the correct choices.”
“Yes, Anthony,” she said meekly. She very dearly wished she could say more. Much more.
“Good evening, Lord Boxton, Miss Bradley,” a familiar, trilling voice said from behind them. Anna grimaced. Lady Juliana.
Anna turned, smiling convincingly. “Lady Juliana, what a pleasant surprise.” She dipped in a curtsey, as was due the lady’s station.
Anthony followed suit, his greeting far more effusive.
“You would not believe what I learned from my dear friend, Lady Darling, this morning.” She smiled smugly, evidently overjoyed to be spreading rumours and gossip. “It is to her understanding that Miss Clarke is the bastard daughter of a certain Lord of the realm. A duke to be precise.”
Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Lady Juliana continued her tale. She could not abide the mindlessness of such things. It was no wonder that Bridget had attempted to mentor Lady
Juliana. Sadly, the lessons never took.
Anthony’s booming laugh shook Anna back into the present. She forced a smile.
“Oh, there is Lady Ellis. I must share my delicious news with her. Please excuse me.”
Anthony bowed, and Anna curtsied as the lady dipped quickly and left them.
Anna sipped at her champagne and gazed about the room. She spotted Ladies Bridget, Emaline, and Katherine, and the Dowager Countess of Devon speaking with a group of young gentlemen. No matter how embarrassed Anna still felt in Bridget’s company, she wished she could speak with them. She had briefly exchanged missives with Bridget, but they had not discussed anything of consequence. She too had not spoken with Lane since his departure.
Bridget seemed to excuse herself from the group and slipped into the corridor toward the ladies’ retiring room. Now might be her only opportunity to speak with her!
She turned to smile at Anthony. “Would you mind terribly if I excused myself to use the retiring room?”
He heaved a sigh and nodded with obvious reluctance. “Very well, but do not be long. The first waltz of the evening will begin shortly, and I require you here to partner me.”
“I will not be long,” she promised. “Thank you.”
A strangely exhilarating anticipation ran through her as she strode toward the corridor. Anthony had kept her so long from conversing with her friends and acquaintances without his presence that she scarcely knew how to contain her joy at the prospect of being alone with someone else.
An odd sensation prickled at the back of her neck, and she slowed her steps down the hall. Her gaze darted from side to side as the feeling of being observed intensified. Who could it—
Before she could complete the thought a heavy hand clamped over her mouth and another wrapped around her elbow. It dragged her into an empty room, closing her into the pitch dark.
The hands released her, and Anna prepared to scream, her lungs taking a long, deep breath.
“Anna.” Lane’s voice echoed in the small space.
Her breath left her in a whoosh, and tears sprang foolishly to her eyes. “Lane!” She felt for his shoulders and pulled him into her embrace. “I have missed you, my dear friend.”
He was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat, pulling away. “And I you, Anna.”
“Do you intend to remain for supper?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Anna squinted through the darkness, cursing her eyes for not adjusting quickly enough. She wished she could see his face.
“Are you well?” she asked.
“Quite well, thank you. I had urgent business to attend to at the estate. We are testing a new till and different seeds this year. I hope for a plentiful crop.”
“Oh, good!” She smiled into the darkness, wishing she could speak to him form her heart. As trivial as the conversation was, however, she was simply pleased to speak with him again.
“How have you fared, Anna?” His voice lowered a fraction.
“Well, indeed. I have been quite busy planning the wedding,” Anna lied. Her heart ached.
She heard him swallow. “Have you set a date, then?”
Chapter 24
Lane held his breath as he awaited Anna’s response. His heart thundered in his ears. Her greeting had thrown his intentions off course. He had planned to confess his love, but Anna’s greeting of friend had cut him short.
“We have not, but once my gown has been fitted, we shall.”
His breath hitched, but he managed to exhale.
“Anna.” He hesitated. Perhaps this was not the time or place in which to profess his love. “Would you care to join me for a stroll on the morrow?”
It was her turn to be silent. He could hear her toying with the fabric of her skirts. “I would love to,” she said haltingly.
Relief swept him. “Shall I come for you at ten of the clock?”
“I—I would prefer to meet at the cherry blossoms, if that is sufficient.”
Lane’s gut clenched. The last time they had met at those trees, his life had been torn apart. “They are no longer in bloom,” he stated baldly.
Anna’s lemon scent swept over him. He had to bite his inner cheek to keep his body under his control. Anna would not appreciate being rumpled in front of her affianced…the blackguard.
Anna shifted. “I quite enjoy their purple leaves.”
“Very well.” Lane’s lips formed a thin smile. “We will begin our promenade at the cherry blossom trees.”
His nerves jumbled and his heart flipped over as Anna pulled him into her embrace once more.
He’d missed her dreadfully—her charm, her wit, her humour, her unique perspective on life. Which books had she been reading lately? She was so clever; she always found the best novels.
“I must go,” she whispered.
Lane nodded, foolish though the action was in the darkness.
“Until tomorrow,” he replied.
She opened the door and slipped into the hall, leaving Lane distinctly bereft without her company. They had discussed nothing of consequence, and yet he felt lighter merely having been in the same space as her.
He was a fool for leaving London. He should not have marred their friendship with his hurt heart. He should have… No. There was no sense in wasting time on regrets. He must focus on the present and the future. He would walk with Anna on the morrow and give her both his heart and the truth. Pride and fear be damned.
* * *
Anna’s steps faltered as she neared the ballroom and heard the familiar chords of the waltz. The sickening knot in her stomach that had formed while she spoke to Lane tightened. She breathed a deep lungful of air, the scent of melting beeswax and the nauseating mixture of perfumes and colognes assailing her senses.
She smoothed her skirts with trembling fingers and rounded the corner into the grand ballroom. She saw Anthony immediately. He was hovering nearby, his expression vacant and his complexion a mottled red. Oh, no. He was furious. Anna could not miss the glinting rage in his eyes as he noticed her entrance.
Anna braced herself for a verbal thrashing and walked toward the devil. Before she reached his side, he came forward with a congenial smile. He put a hand on her arm and gave it a painful squeeze, though to anyone observing it appeared to be a solicitous gesture.
“Where have you been, my dear?” The steel behind his kind demeanour could not be mistaken.
Anna’s smile turned brittle as she looked up at him. “In the retiring room, darling.”
Anthony eyed the doorway to the corridor and stiffened. His hand tightened its grip, his fingers digging deeply like talons into her soft flesh. His head lowered, and his mouth touched her ear. Anna disguised her flinch by turning her head.
Oh, Lord. Lane had entered the ballroom, his gaze finding hers.
“You lying whore,” Anthony hissed in her ear. “How dare you tell me falsehoods? Do you have any idea what I could do to you?”
Anna tore her gaze from Lane’s and faced the furious Anthony. “I apologize. He surprised me in the hallway,” she confessed.
The muscles in his jaw tightened, and a thick vein bulged on his forehead, running through its center as a bolt of lightning would the sky.
“A word in the gardens, if you please.”
Anna fought to keep the quaver from her voice. “Of course.”
He roughly wrapped her hand around his elbow and strode purposefully between mingling members of the haute ton and out the French doors to the terrace. She struggled to keep up with him as he moved swiftly past the terrace and into the darkness of the garden. They traversed the winding paths of fragrant rosebushes, orchids, and foxgloves to a secluded part of the garden hidden by shrubberies and trees.
Anthony released her arm from his grip, spun around, and slapped her hard across the face. Anna’s vision spotted as she fell to the ground.
“You dare to lie to me, not once, but twice?” he sna
rled. “You will learn your lesson, wench, and it will be my pleasure do be the one to teach it to you!”
Anna held a hand to her smarting cheek as she blinked back the dots. She moved to stand but Anthony pushed her back to the ground. She stared, aghast, as he removed his coat and draped it over a bush before lowering himself atop of her.
The realization of what he intended dawned on her as his hips pressed hard into hers.
“No!” She bucked her hips and pushed at his chest, but she was powerless against the strength of his heavy body.
“You will learn to adore this, I promise you. Not as much as I, but that is not my concern.”
Anna squirmed, kicked, and bucked, but Anthony’s weight would not yield.
“It is more pleasurable for me if you resist, my dear.” He licked her ear, the loud lapping sound making her stomach flip over in disgust. “Your movements excite me.”
Anna stopped, the champagne churning in her stomach. “Please,” she pleaded, helpless to do anything but. “Please wait until our wedding night. I will be more prepared for you then.”
He sneered at her as he ground the ridge of his erection into her pelvis. “I don’t give a bloody damn if you are prepared or not. I am having you tonight.”
Anna held back a gag.
He trailed his tongue down her neck and along the décolletage of her gown and a shiver of revulsion travelled through her. She let out a squeak of protest and swallowed another gag as one of his hands slid up her waist and cupped the underside of her breast. He laughed cruelly at her as he lifted her skirts with his other hand and ground his member into the soft juncture between her thighs.
Oh Lord, I’m going to be sick! Anna turned her head in time to cast up her accounts on the grass beside her.
“Ugh!” Anthony leapt off her in abhorrence. “You disgust me.” He checked himself to ensure he was clean of vomit and, upon clear inspection, pulled on his coat.
Despite her illness, Anna was relieved to have him off of her. She rolled to her side and shivered in the cool air of the late June evening.
Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) Page 16
