Her blue gaze glittered.
“You’re wearing it,” Lane noted lamely.
She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Of course.”
Lane returned her smile with an absurdly exultant one of his own, just before she leaned down to kiss him.
“What the devil is going on here?” Charles’ outraged voice came from the doorway, startling Anna into a fit of coughing.
Lane rubbed a concerned hand on her back until she finished.
“How long has this been going on?” Charles and Lane asked in unison.
Anna looked between the both of them, then laughed breathily. “I do believe you mean different things.”
“Of course we do, Anna,” Charles muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing in here? How long has this been going on? Do you two meet in the evenings while pretending to be ill during the daytime hours, just so I am forced to keep Lord Devon under my roof?”
Anna let out a bark of a laugh, startling both men. Lane had never heard such derision directed at Charles from her before.
“Not that it truly matters to you, Charles, how I feel or what I do, but I have been sneaking in here at night to keep an eye on Lane. His fever had been quite severe, and I monitored him to ensure that he survived the nights. Last night was his first truly restful night, and I confess, I fell asleep while keeping him company.” Her eyes warmed as she turned to look down at Lane. “To answer your question, my love, I have been coughing since the fire. It has improved, however, as I no longer cast up my accounts while doing so.”
Concern gripped him. “How is the baby?”
“Well, so Simon informs me.” She began to lean down for another kiss, when Charles took a step further into the room.
“This is all so very touching,” he sneered, “but if Lord Devon is recovered, then I believe he should return to his own home.” He sent an angry glance at Anna. “You should be in your own bed. Off with you.”
Despite her brother’s disapproval, Anna gave Lane a quick kiss. She then slid off the bed and left the room, sending Charles a frown as she did.
Charles closed the door behind Anna, then turned to face Lane, his arms crossed and his expression irate.
“I thank you for your hospitality, Charles,” Lane said, his voice still rough like gravel. “I understand that there is something you wish to discuss with me, however at the moment, I must answer nature’s call.” Lane struggled to a seated position then gasped, a cold sweat beading on his skin. The blood drained from his face, and black spots danced before his eyes.
“Are you with me?” Charles hovered over him with Lord Simon Claridge, heir to the Earldom of Merrington, standing behind him, an odd air to his startlingly blue eyes.
“With you?” Lane frowned. “When did his lordship arrive?”
“Please, call me Dr. Claridge. And I happened to arrive shortly after you fainted, which I assure you—”
“Fainted? You mean to tell me that I swooned?”
The doctor tilted his head sideways in an odd shrug of his shoulder. “Medically speaking, your loss of blood caused your bout of dizziness, but yes, you fainted. It is nothing to be ashamed of, I assure you.”
“Have you ever fainted, Dr. Claridge?”
“No, but—”
“Then I would not speak of embarrassment to me.”
The man nodded. “Very well, I concede the point.”
Lane swallowed his pride as he asked, “Is it possible for me to use the facilities?”
“Indeed.”
The two men assisted Lane to his unsteady feet, then walked with him until he reached the necessary, at which point Lane insisted on continuing on his own. It was humiliating enough having them aid him that far; he needn’t have them hovering while he performed his ablutions.
What was it that Charles had wished to discuss with him? He had appeared distinctly put out when Dr. Claridge had insisted that Lane receive a meal, then rest in silence for the remainder of the day. Curious, indeed.
Chapter 43
Anna stood at the altar, waiting for her turn to speak her vows. Mason Hall’s chapel was as quaint as it was beautiful. The cream ceiling bordered in gilt arched high above them, while countless tall, narrow stained glass windows divided the cream walls with colourful partitions. The sun shone through from the outside, scattering a rainbow of hues over the floor and their guests.
The wedding dress that Katherine had created was magnificent; it had a soft pink underskirt with a sheer cream overlay and a pale-pink ribbon just under the bust. It had softly rounded capped sleeves, trimmed in pink lace to match the hem. Anna had finished off her ensemble with cream, elbow-length gloves, pale-pink slippers, and artificial cherry blossoms woven into her chignon. Kat had created the gown in such a way that permitted Anna to forego the use of a corset, and allowed for comfort where her stomach had grown over the past several weeks.
Anna glanced sideways at Lane, taking in his impressive physique. Kat was, indeed, a wondrous creator of men’s clothing as well. Lane wore a deep-blue cutaway tailcoat, cream waistcoat with silver thread woven through, cream breeches—which, Anna noted, fit his muscular thighs and buttocks in an incredibly desirable manner—and polished shoes.
He was a remarkable specimen of a man. She could scarcely wait until they were alone. She smiled to herself as she returned her gaze forward.
An odd, nervous flutter rippled low in her stomach. Strange, she did not feel nervous at all. In fact, she was rather excited. Anna froze. Could it be? Anna’s eyes widened as she realized that the flutter she felt was not nerves at all; it was the baby!
She could not enjoy this moment alone, even at the cost of an interruption their wedding service.
As slowly—and inconspicuously—as she could, Anna sidled closer to Lane, until their shoulders were touching and no one in the pews behind them could see their hands. She carefully grabbed Lane’s hand and brought it to her abdomen, twisting his wrist so his palm faced down.
The fluttering continued, tiny bubbles of movement proving that life grew inside her.
She looked up into Lane’s glistening brown eyes, their depths wreathed with meaning. He wore a breathtaking half smile, though it carried a ripple of emotion. Anna’s heart skipped a beat, and the baby’s quivering intensified.
The rector stopped talking to watch Anna expectantly. Awareness dawned, and she quickly uttered, “I do.”
He nodded and continued, turning to Lane for his response. “I do.” His voice was deep and rough with emotion as their baby continued to move.
* * *
Lane’s anticipation knew no bounds. His and Anna’s wedding ceremony had concluded splendidly. Bridget stood up with Annabel, and Charles had stood with Lane, both startlingly pale for the joyous occasion.
After signing the register, they had walked the short distance to Mason hall, his familial estate, and began their wedding breakfast.
Anna had planned a spectacular meal. There was a variety of hot bread rolls, coddled eggs, roasted pheasant, and an overabundant table of desserts and chocolate.
Lane’s gaze sought Anna, where she stood conversing with her parents, his mother, and sisters. My wife. He was certain that he had a ridiculous grin on his face, but he did not care. He was a married man and was incredibly pleased with that fact. He had waited far too long to make Anna his bride. His closest friend, his confidante… It was an incredible accomplishment, indeed.
He was startled out of his musings as a loud commotion came from the entrance hall. The buzz of conversation in the room stopped, and several gasps rose above the crowd as one man forced his way into the room.
Lane became instantly alert as he recognized Lord Boxton. The man had changed greatly in the weeks since Lane had last seen him. He appeared drawn, grizzly, and…intoxicated. But that did not make him any less of a threat.
A small, trembling hand entered his and squeezed. He needn’t see Anna’s fa
ce to know she was frightened. This man was a monster who’d mistreated her dreadfully. Lane hated him with a passion.
“I object!” Boxton shouted, stumbling. “Stop the wedding!”
Incensed, Lane released Anna’s hand and stepped before the foxed viscount. “I’m afraid you are too late, old man.” He slapped him hard on the shoulder. “We are well and truly wed.”
The blackguard wavered on his feet and let out a belligerent bellow. “Well, I have some think…somestin…some things I wish to say.” His breath reeked of whisky and cheap ale.
Charles came to Lane’s side. “I believe you have said enough, Boxton. Perhaps you should return home.”
“No!” He weakly pushed both Lane and Charles. “I need everyone to be made aware of some inster…interesting news that I learned about dear, shweet Annabel.”
Lane growled and stepped forward, but Charles’ arm stopped him from pummelling the viscount’s jawbone.
“I suggest you leave now, Boxton,” Charles said smoothly, his voice low and rippling with a dire threat, “before you get what my new brother by marriage and I have been sorely wishing we could give you for some time.”
Lord Boxton’s face turned a mottled red and he looked angrily about the room. He’d turned almost purple before he burst out in a verbal explosion.
“Shle… she,” he pointed at Anna, “is the reason I was forced to marry stupid Juliana! I hate that woman! She makes me insane with her inces…insss…incessant pestering! She was just supposed to be a good romp, but this—this harlot interfered! I dunno how you did it, but you got me!” He shrugged his shoulders and gestured wildly with his hands. “My network of m-men are all gone!” He burped loudly, then his gaze fixated on Anna. “Little did the g-gossipy wen…wenches of the ton know that the perfect Miss…Miss Annabel Bradley had…”
Both Lane and Charles’ fists connected with Boxton’s jaw simultaneously. The man fell to the floor with a whomp like a felled tree.
Gasps and exclamations of shock rippled through the room, while Lord Boxton lay on the ground, groaning in pain.
Anna appeared at their side. “Would you both please do the honours of helping him out? Lane? Charles?”
* * *
“Anything for the bride.” Charles smiled wickedly, reminding Anna of the man she sorely missed.
She followed as both men reached a hand under the viscount’s arms and dragged him from the room, past the entrance hall and passel of wide-eyed servants and guests, and out the double front doors. Satisfaction surged through her as Lord Boxton struggled to his feet, holding a hand over his jaw. The sun brightened his auburn hair until it nearly flamed a bright red.
“Bloody hell! What is the matter with you?” He spat blood on the ground, causing Anna to cringe.
Anna stepped forward, cutting off Charles and Lane. “The matter is, Lord Boxton, that you interrupted a very pleasant wedding breakfast in a drunken stupor. I am rather pleased to hear that your marriage is dreadful. Please give our best to Lady Juliana.”
Boxton looked her up and down with an unnerving astuteness. “My God, you’ve grown f-fat.”
Anna reacted before she truly considered her actions. Her fist connected with Lord Boxton’s nose with a resounding crunch. Blood splattered his face as he fell, his feet lifted over his head as he rolled.
Anan had read of women being aggressive in such a way but had never realized how gratifying it was to be the woman defending herself. It smarted a great deal more than she would have expected, however. She rubbed the back of her hand and shook it out.
Charles likely patted her back. “Good form, Anna. I begin to think I have underestimated you.”
She sent a small smile to Charles before leaning over the viscount’s groaning form on the ground, his hands folded over his bloodied nose. “I do hope that was a lesson learned, Lord Boxton; never discuss a woman’s weight.”
Charles pulled the man to his feet and returned him to his carriage, blood dribbling on the ground behind him.
Lane wrapped his uninjured arm around Anna and leaned down for a kiss. “I will brave your wrath to say that I quite adore every inch of you.”
Anna smiled up at him. “Thank you.” She cupped his jaw. “And I would never punch you, Lane. I am far too fond of your handsome face.”
Lane barked a laugh. “You never cease to amaze me, my love.”
“Good. Now, shall we return to our guests? I would very much like to have another piece of that specialty confectioner’s chocolate.”
Lane smiled indulgently. “As you wish, dearest.”
* * *
Anna’s muscles twitched as Lane kissed a path across her abdomen. She lay in nude repose on the bed in the master bedchamber of Weston Hall. Lane had arranged to use of Lord Simon Claridge’s second country home, located just outside of Wheathampstead, which happened to be a short distance from both of their familial estates.
Lane had planned for a skeleton staff to prepare the bedchamber and main rooms of the house. He informed her that he had requested the larder and their wardrobes be stocked for a full month’s stay.
One full month! One month of shared baths, private meals, alfresco luncheons, walks in the grand garden, making love by the firelight… Anna could scarcely contain her excitement.
“Right here,” Lane murmured, kissing the spot between her belly button and pubic bone, where the small, hard lump of their baby had recently formed. “Right here is where our baby is growing.” He looked up at her with adoration in his eyes. “Which do you fancy it is? A boy or a girl?”
“A boy.”
He blinked. “You seem very decided on that fact. How are you so certain?”
She shook her head, further mussing her hair against the pillow. “I am not sure I wish to tell you.”
“Whyever not? I am your husband now, you know. And still your friend, I hope.” He pressed a kiss to her baby bump, sending her skin into gooseflesh. “You may tell me anything.”
She easily relented. “I realize that this is silly, but, I had a dream.” She reached down and ran her fingers absently through his blonde hair. “It was a lovely dream. The baby was already born; he was a handsome little boy with green-and-brown eyes, and his papa’s blonde hair. We were both smiling down at him, admiring what we had made together. The amount of love I felt for you both was nearly overwhelming, but when I awoke the next morning, I felt certain that we would have a baby boy.”
Lane’s eyes warmed during her tale, and his smile grew. “I would very much like the picture that you have painted.” He turned his face into her palm.
“Truly?”
“Truly.” He leaned down and kissed the baby lump once more, before rising and slipping his arms into his green silk robe. He handed Anna her scarlet one. “Come. I have something to show you.”
“What is it?” Anna’s mind ran through the possibilities.
“A surprise. Now, come along.”
Anna slid off the bed and hurried into her robe, tying the rope tightly around her waist.
“Follow me, Lady Devon.”
A shiver of excitement ran through her as she accepted his hand and allowed him to lead her into the hall. “Lane!” she pulled his hand, forcing him to stop.
“What is it, darling?”
Her gaze darted about. “What of the staff?” She sent a pointed look at their attire, then back into his smiling eyes.
“Fear not, love, they know not to disturb a newly married couple. Besides, one look at your delectable ankles and the aging butler would faint dead away.”
“Lane!” Anna gasped in mock outrage.
He laughed. “You know I love to tease you. There is nothing to fear, Anna. I informed the staff that they were free to retire for the evening.”
She playfully shook her finger at him. “You rascal!”
He grinned wolfishly at her before leading her further down the corridor. They wound their way through the halls and down
a winding staircase until they reached a drawing room.
The room was fashionably appointed, with rich purple and gilt tones.
Lane strode forward and gestured dramatically to the space below the grand window overlooking the gardens. Anna gasped as she spotted the chess board that had formerly stood in the family parlour of Lane’s town house.
“You brought this here for me?”
He nodded. “For us. I also requested the newest works of Mr. Mystery and several other novels by your favourite authors. I had thought that we could read them aloud to one another.”
Joy burst in her chest and she lifted on her toes to throw her arms around Lane’s neck, kissing him with the full force of her love. His arms encircled her waist. It was such a simple gesture, but the small ones were often the biggest ones. “I love you, Lane,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank you so much.”
His eyes crinkled in the corners. “You are welcome, my darling.”
“This is a pleasant moment,” she sighed, stating the obvious.
Lane grinned wickedly. “I daresay I am the maker of moments.”
Anna’s head fell back on a hearty laugh, recalling that long-ago jest.
“Now,” Lane pulled back to look down in to her smiling eyes. “Shall we play a game? I am confident that I shall be victorious this time.”
Anna left the comfort of his arms to sit at the chess table. “I fear that this will not be your day, but I shan’t abuse your pride.” She winked at him. “Have a seat, my love, and name your stakes. But please, oh please, let it be naughty.”
Epilogue
Major Charles Bradley sat at his desk in his study, opening the day’s correspondence. He expected Annabel, Lane, the Mason sisters, and the Dowager Countess to arrive any moment; tonight they were to eat dinner and engage in a bit of frivolity by playing charades.
Charles had come to accept that Anna would settle for no less than a marriage with Lane. However, he did not take kindly to the fact that in his sister’s two months of marriage, he was obliged to see Bridget on several very discomfiting occasions.
Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) Page 28
