Anna smiled hesitantly. “Good morning, Mama. Papa.”
Her father scarcely glanced at her over his morning paper.
A little disheartened, Anna turned to Charles who sat on the other side of Papa. “Good morning, Charles.”
He sent her an apologetic smile and a bright “Good morning” as she passed him on her way to the sideboard.
The aroma of the morning meal lightened her disposition. She selected a plate and piled it high with ham, eggs, toast, and fresh fruit. Anna took a deep, appreciative breath as she returned to the table.
“I see that your appetite has returned, Annabel.” Tentative relief flowed through her as Papa eyed the food on her plate.
“Yes,” she admitted. “This morning, I awoke feeling refreshed and quite ravenous.”
“That is wonderful, my dear.” Mama smoothed a silver strand of her hair and patted Anna’s hand, an enthused smile on her wrinkled lips.
“Whatever has you so animated this morning, Mama? Has a new shipment of fans been delivered to—”
The newssheet appeared before her eyes, and her gaze flicked up to Charles, who wore a scowl fit to rival Mama’s exuberance.
Her gaze flicked about the table, worry gnawing at her. “What has happened?”
“Read this column.” Charles reached across the table and pointed to the opened newspaper before her.
Her heart pounded as she read the article heading. It was a review of the Scarsdales’ ball last evening. She continued reading.
It was an event-filled evening last night at the beautifully bedecked Scarsdale masked ball. The costumes were creative and colourful…
Anna scanned down the column past the dresses and attendance.
By far the most interesting—and scandalous—event of the evening was the hasty announcement, by Lord B and Lady J, of their impending nuptials. This came as quite a shock to the members of society, as most were already anticipating the upcoming wedding of Lord B and Miss A. B.
Lady J already has an infamous past filled with shocking, hoydenish behaviour and illicit liaisons, or so gossip has told us. Could this unfortunate circumstance bring Lord B lower on the proverbial social ladder? This columnist believes so.
But we must think of the woman he left behind. It must have been something of a surprise to Miss A. B. as she reportedly fled the ball on the arm of her brother, the strapping Major B, and Lord D, after coming upon the unsightly scene of her intended and Lady J en flagrante delicto.
* * *
Anna gasped. “How could they have known it was us?”
“I daresay we were difficult to miss upon exiting,” Charles growled. “Or it could have been Lady Freeman. She could very easily have guessed our identities and spread the word around the ballroom of not only what she had seen, but our involvement, as well.”
Fear swiftly replaced the elation she had felt this morning.
“Could this not mean that Lord Boxton will know that we were behind the ill-timed exposure of his depravities and subsequent engagement? Do you not fear that he will take his anger and disappointment out on—” She broke off, unable to voice her fears.
Mama wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Do not worry, my dear. We will keep Charles indoors today as the excitement settles.”
Charles shook his head. “I am afraid that is impossible. I have a luncheon appointment that I cannot miss.” He paused to send a pointed look at Anna. “If your next inquiry is regarding Lane, he will also be unable to remain indoors, as Parliament is in session today.”
Charles had assured her that they would have nothing to fear from Lord Boxton, or his “eyes,” but without learning the details of his plan, Anna could not be certain of its veracity. She must send a missive to Lane.
“Stay safe, Charles.”
He nodded, one cheek puffed with an overlarge mouthful of food.
She cleared her throat, dropping the paper to the table. “I assume that Charles has enlightened you both as to the events of last evening?” She swallowed convulsively. “And the reasoning behind it?”
A shadow of anger covered them.
Papa leaned forward, seemingly incensed. “Yes, Anna. Charles informed us of Lord Boxton’s despicable behaviour. I must say that I am both shocked and appalled. I wish that I had known; I would have refused to allow his courtship of you. The man is a disreputable blackguard, and I am glad to be rid of him.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
“I am greatly displeased that you did not inform me of your attendance at the Scarsdales’ ball last eve. I had not even known that we’d received an invitation until Charles mentioned it this morn.”
Mama took a sip of her tea while Charles and Anna muttered their apologies.
“Was it as beautiful as the columnist implied?” she asked.
Anna swallowed a mouthful of food before replying. “Yes, Mama, it was quite resplendent.”
“Tell me, what did you wear?”
“My emerald evening gown with a black domino.”
Her mother scoffed. “Such a simple costume for such a grand event?”
Anna had thought that it accentuated her generous curves rather well, plain though it was.
Charles dabbed at his lips with a napkin and placed it beside his empty plate. “I fear I must leave you.” He stood and replaced his chair beneath the table, then sketched a bow. “Good day to you all.”
Anna squelched her nervous anxiety and bid Charles a good day as he quit the room. Would Lord Boxton accept his fate with Lady Juliana, or would he attempt to seek retribution by following through with his threats?
She finished her breakfast, not out of a desire for food but for mere distraction, as her mother discussed her latest shopping excursion and teas with her acquaintances. Papa read the paper silently before retreating to the library. Finally, Anna had concluded breaking her fast and excused herself from the table.
In the interest of saving time, Anna sped to her brother’s study. She procured a piece of parchment and a quill and sat at his desk to pen a note to Lane.
Dearest Lane,
I assume that you have read the paper this morning, but in the event that you missed the gossip column, I felt the need to warn you. Our names were revealed in connection to the events of the Scarsdales’ ball last eve, which concerns me greatly. Please be cautious in your activities today, as I fear that Lord Boxton might seek to make good on his threats.
On a more pleasant note, I am always pleased to have your company, no matter the hour.
All yours, with love,
Anna
Anna grinned as she blotted and folded the missive. It was so naughty of her to be so forthright in her desire for Lane. Perhaps she was a hoyden, after all. She sealed it with her brother’s wax and seal.
As she was about to stand, a letter on Charles’ desk caught her eye. She ran a finger over the intricate seal at the bottom of the page. Who in heaven’s name could this be from? The letter was not signed, and the words on the page were nonsensical. She squinted at the delicate writing for several long moments before she shrugged. Charles had some very peculiar friends, evidently.
She strode from her brother’s study and down the corridor into the foyer. An unfamiliar footman stood by the door, and she smiled at him. “Would you have this delivered to Lord Devon, please?”
“Right away, Miss Bradley.” He sketched a bow and left to do her bidding.
In a mere matter of minutes, Anna was settled on the cushioned window seat in the family parlour with a book in her hands. She had come to sit on this very seat as a young girl during the season. She had never truly enjoyed routs, soirées, balls, fêtes, or teas, but had vastly preferred the company of a good book. Or Lane.
Such was fine with her. She rather enjoyed her life, without Lord Boxton in it.
She settled herself comfortably and began to read.
Anna did not know how much time had elapsed since she began, but
all too soon a knock sounded at the door. She looked up as the door crept open and one of their downstairs maids entered.
“I apologize for the interruption, Miss Bradley, but this just came for you.” Henrietta came forward and handed a sealed missive to Anna.
Her heart leapt as she recognized Lane’s handwriting. “Thank you.”
“If I may, miss, luncheon has been prepared. Would you care for a tray?”
“I will take my luncheon in the dining room, if it is not too much trouble.”
“Oh, it is no trouble at all, miss. I will have it set out directly.”
“Thank you, Henrietta.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey and left the room. As the door closed, Anna eagerly tore the seal and opened the missive.
My lovely Annabel,
I appreciate your concern with regards to my safety. I assure you, I remain safe.
As I am sure you are aware, Parliament is in session today, which I shall attend. But you have my word that I shall send you a missive when I return home so you are assured that I am well.
I am delighted that you enjoy my company, as I am rather addicted to yours. I must warn you that I intend to visit more frequently.
All my love,
Lane
Anna’s heart fluttered as she folded the missive. She hadn’t truly thought that he would risk their being caught just to visit her in the night again. A quiver of anticipation rippled through her abdomen at the thought. He must feel for her what she felt for him.
Tonight, she would be ready for him.
Chapter 36
The afternoon moved just as swiftly as the morning. Anna ate a plentiful luncheon, bathed, then sat, inelegantly slumped, in her favoured armchair in her bedchamber.
Sometime in the afternoon, she received a second missive from Lane informing her that he had returned safely to his town house after an uneventful session of Parliament.
Birds chirped outside the window, the bright light of the day slowly fading as evening took its place. She’d heard the faintly muffled comings and goings of her family and the servants shuffling about, completing their duties.
Their housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson, moved about so quietly and discreetly that Anna often forgot that she was there. But this household could not function without the housekeeper’s excellent contributions. When Anna was a little girl, she and Lane would jest that Mrs. Johnson was a myth; that the other servants had created the tale of her work and her office sat vacant below stairs. On more than one occasion, she and Lane would sneak into the bottom floor in an attempt to uncover her empty office. But as ever, there Mrs. Johnson sat, diligently working through the menu for the sennight.
Anna was accustomed to the usual comings and goings of her family and the staff; the noise was comforting to her. She had spent many days in that very seat, and even more in the family parlour below stairs, reading her beloved books and sipping at her hot chocolate. Her family understood that she enjoyed her solitude, just as she understood their need to bustle about.
The past fortnight had felt different, however. She had life growing inside of her. She had fallen in love with her closest friend, been kidnapped and nearly forced to wed an abominable man. She no longer read her books as an outsider dreaming of a life of adventure that she could only attain through fantasy. She was like the heroines in her books!
Now, reading about kidnappings, sword fights, and all sort of escapades no longer seem so foreign. She knew the fear these fictional women would feel; the excitement of running through the forest and into the hands of safety; of loving and being loved. That knowledge lent that much more delight and depth to her books.
Even now, her heart was still rapidly beating after reading one particularly exhilarating description of a fistfight between the hero and villain of Mr. Mystery’s latest novel. It brought to mind the bout between Lane and Frenchie ten weeks ago, which still put fear into her.
A knock pounded her door and Anna jumped in her seat. Charles poked his head through the doorway.
“Oh, hello, Charles.” She smiled at him.
“Good evening, Anna.” He smirked in return. “Will you be joining us for supper?”
“Is it that time, already?”
“I would think that you would have been aware, due to how famished you have been of late.” He winked playfully at her, opening the door fully.
“Of all the nerve!” She stood in mock righteous indignation. “You dare say that to a pregnant woman, you knave.”
The humour in Charles’ countenance faded at the mention of her current state, but he made a valiant attempt to hide it. “I believe we should put our battle of wits to the test, dear sister, and engage in a game of chess after supper.”
“Prepare to be trounced,” Anna warned. “What will I receive when I win?” She put her book on her vacated seat and walked to stand before Charles.
“When you win? I think not, little sister. When I win, you will reward me with the book of my choice from Hatchard’s.”
“Ooh! Splendid choice! That will be precisely what I will accept from you when I win.”
Charles chuckled, and Anna blew out a breath of relief—the tension between them had dissipated. She fell into step beside him as they walked through the corridors toward the dining room.
* * *
Charles silently seethed. He would find the blackguard that impregnated his sister and he would see the man hanged for his crimes.
Anna and Lane’s abductors had, as of yet, eluded him, but he would be damned if he stopped searching. If only he could ride out himself…but no. Anna needed him here.
With Boxton’s men neutralized, he had fewer concerns with his sister, but Boxton himself could still very well be a viable threat. Indeed, he must remain in London.
* * *
Anna ran a brush through her damp hair as she sat before the hearth in her bedchamber. The heat from the fire warmed her through her night rail, and the brocade rug was soft beneath her bottom.
The early evening sun had begun to hide itself behind the plentiful buildings of London town, sending streaks of orange light reaching through her large window.
Her stomach was full of roasted beef and Yorkshire pudding, and her mind was swimming with the night’s events. Mama had monopolized the supper conversation, discussing the new clothing that Anna would be required to purchase once her current wardrobe no longer fit her growing belly.
She was grateful that her parents had not demanded answers as to the identity of the baby’s father. She was not prepared to tell them, yet. Perhaps once she and Lane were properly engaged, or even married. Heaven knew what Charles would do once he learned the truth.
Despite the anxiousness roiling in her stomach, Anna smiled at the memory of Charles’ expression once he’d realized that he would lose their chess game. He had made an admirable attempt at beating her, and he had nearly done so, but the game had concluded with her as the victor. She very much anticipated their excursion to Hatchard’s.
A light laugh escaped her as she continued to brush her hair, stroke after stroke.
“You have beautiful hair.” The low rumble of Lane’s voice sounded behind her.
An unbidden squeak escaped her as she jumped and spun around. “Lane! Good heavens, you frightened me right out of my skin!” She brought a hand up to cover her rapidly beating heart. “How did you enter so silently?”
He lifted the boots he held in his hand. “I have found that when one wishes to be stealthy, lighter feet and soft stockings tend to render one nearly soundless. I waited until I saw the light in Charles’ study ignite before I ventured inside. He will likely spend hours pouring over correspondence and other such paperwork, so we must be quiet.”
Anna nodded. “My parents have been to bed for an hour, at least, and they are able to sleep through anything.”
“So you are aware, I sent your father a letter this afternoon. I am not certain whether or not he has receive
d it, but I hope to seek an audience with him on the morrow.”
Anna’s lips quirked. “He reads his correspondence in the morning.”
His gaze flicked to her brush. “May I?” He notched his chin toward her, and she nodded.
He quickly joined her on the rug, settling himself close behind her. He removed the brush from her loose fingers and stroked it through her locks. She had never had a man brush her hair before. It was a highly intimate and…erotic experience. She could feel the heat radiating off his body behind her, and the grazing of his knuckles on her back as he ran his free hand through her hair after each pass of the brush.
They sat like that for quite some time. Anna closed her eyes, enjoying the bristles massaging her scalp and the arousing scent of cigars, brandy, and soap emanating from behind her. She inhaled, letting her head fall back as Lane’s actions filled her senses.
He slowly slid her hair aside and placed a soft kiss on the side of her neck, sending a shiver up her spine and gooseflesh dancing over her body.
“Mmm…” she moaned.
He kissed her again, sliding his lips leisurely along her neck. He tossed the brush aside and placed his hands on her hips, gliding them over her waist and fisting them in the material. His lips were hot, his hands even more so.
Anna’s breathing became erratic as need wove through her. Abruptly, Lane spun her and dipped to catch her lips on a gasp.
Instinct drove her as she reached for the silver buttons on his grey waistcoat. Lane tugged at the knot of his cravat. Soon, he was on his knees, pulling his white lawn shirt over his head while she reached for the fall of his trousers.
He groaned as she brushed her fingers against the bulging weight of his erect member with every button she unfastened. Finally, his manhood sprang free, and she released a delighted hum. Lane hastily kicked his trousers aside to land in a heap with the rest of his clothes, while Anna enjoyed the sight of him.
Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) Page 23
