The Chaperon Bride (Harlequin Historical)

by Nicola Cornick

  Annis met his gaze. ‘I heard some of it.’

  ‘I see. Were you deliberately listening?’

  ‘No, indeed! Why should I? I have not been spying on you, Lord Ashwick!’

  Adam’s lips twitched. ‘I beg your pardon. I was not suggesting that you were dogging my footsteps! I merely thought that if you had heard something of interest, you might have stopped to listen.’

  Since this was precisely what Annis had done she felt a little awkward. ‘I…heard a little. Not all.’

  ‘So you know that Woodhouse has offered to furnish me some information about Mr Ingram’s business dealings?’

  ‘I know that you are paying him to do so,’ Annis said coldly. ‘I fear that you are wasting your money, my lord. Woodhouse is three parts disguised for most of the time. I doubt that he has any useful information to sell you at all.’

  ‘We shall see,’ Adam said imperturbably. ‘What concerns me more now is what you intend to do about my activities, Lady Wycherley. Will you tell Lafoy?’

  There was a silence. Annis had not thought that far but now that she did, she realised she had no idea what she would do. She said, with no hint of challenge, more out of simple curiosity, ‘How would you stop me?’

  To her surprise, Adam laughed. ‘My dear Lady Wycherley, I could not begin to try! I can only tell you that whilst it is true I might be interested in information to discredit Ingram, I have no direct quarrel with your cousin, and I beg you to keep quiet.’

  Annis hesitated. ‘If you bring down Ingram, you will inevitably hurt Charles in the process.’

  Adam’s gaze was very direct. ‘That might be true.’

  ‘I cannot agree to that.’

  Adam sighed. He drove his hands into his pockets. ‘I suppose I would not expect anything else of you, ma’am. May I suggest a compromise? I will tell you what I discover—if you will keep my secret.’

  Annis sought his gaze. ‘You will tell me before you take any action?’

  ‘I shall. I give you my word.’

  ‘Then I agree to your terms, my lord. I will keep the secret.’

  There was a pause. ‘As easy as that?’ Adam said, in an odd tone.

  ‘Of course. What did you expect—that I would extract some kind of payment?’ Annis put her head on one side. ‘Now I come to think of it, that would be useful. I am always so lamentably hard up—’

  Adam laughed again. ‘What I meant, as you well know, is that you are a woman of principle. As such I could not imagine you condoning my behaviour. I should be interested to hear your reasoning, ma’am.’

  Annis shrugged. ‘It is simple. I do not approve of Mr Ingram’s methods. As long as you do not hurt Charles—’

  ‘I shall not, I promise you.’ He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you, ma’am. Against all the odds I think you must trust me.’

  His voice was a little husky. Looking up, Annis saw the flash of expression in his eyes, the desire, sensual and disturbing. She tried to pull her hand away. He held her fast. For a second they stood quite still, whilst Annis’ heart started to hammer.

  ‘My lord—’ she began, but he covered her mouth with his before she could say another word. The room shifted and spun and Annis brought her hands up to clutch at Adam’s jacket to steady herself. He kissed her with languorous slowness, teasing a response from her, repressing his own urgency beneath a gentleness that seduced her. Annis slid her hands over his shoulders and tangled them in his hair, pulling him closer.

  Adam needed no urging. His kiss claimed her lips again and this time it was insistent, hot and wild with need. Annis made a little sound of surrender deep in her throat. She was conscious of nothing except the sensation of pleasure he aroused in her, and a deep longing to be closer still.

  A door closed quietly down the corridor and Annis jumped, pulling away as though she had been stung. Adam caught her elbow to steady her. She felt shocked and light-headed. Her hands were shaking and her voice was shaking too.

  ‘This is scandalous behaviour for a chaperon! I am supposed to be preventing Miss Crossley from behaving in just such a fashion rather than indulging in a flirtation of my own in the library! I cannot think what I was doing…I cannot believe…’

  ‘Is that what you think this is, Lady Wycherley? A light flirtation?’ Adam sounded almost as breathless as she. He also sounded angry. ‘Devil take it—’

  Annis looked at him. Adrift with a mixture of disbelief and condemnation for herself, she had not thought how Adam might feel. She took a steadying breath. ‘I beg your pardon. I did not intend to make it sound—’

  ‘Demeaning?’

  Now she was sure that he was angry. She stopped and looked at him, her hazel eyes wide.

  ‘Of course I did not intend to make it sound demeaning! Nor light and frivolous, for that matter. I only meant that I should not be indulging in such behaviour—’

  ‘Should you not?’ Before Annis could guess his intention, Adam moved so that he had his back against the door. He put out a hand and pulled her negligently back into his arms. ‘I am not sure what I should do with you, Lady Wycherley. Kiss you until you admit this is not merely a meaningless flirtation?’

  His lips were an inch from hers. Annis could feel his anger and his desire, latent in the lines of his body. She met the blazing grey eyes.

  ‘Very well, I confess it is no mere flirtation,’ she whispered.

  Adam kissed her hard, then let her go. ‘I feel sure we shall talk of this again, but for now we had better find your charge. But first…’ He scrutinised her and shook his head, the smile back in his eyes. ‘Oh, dear, Lady Wycherley. For once it does look as though it is the chaperon who has been kissed in the conservatory.’ He held the door of the writing room open for her. ‘That is exactly where I should look for Miss Crossley, if I was you.’

  Annis was trying desperately to gather her shattered composure. Later, she told herself fiercely. Later you may think about this and decide what you are going to do. For now you must find Fanny and fulfil your chaperon’s duties. She stole a look at Adam’s face. Being a chaperon had never been quite so difficult as it appeared to be at the moment.

  ‘The conservatory…’ Annis tried to concentrate. ‘I had not remembered that there was one.’ She looked at Adam suspiciously. ‘Did you see Miss Crossley go in there, my lord? You should have told me earlier.’

  ‘No, I did not. It is merely a guess.’ Adam hesitated. ‘I am a little acquainted with Miss Fanny Crossley—or at least with her behaviour.’

  Annis narrowed her eyes. ‘You have said nothing before.’

  ‘Certainly not. I was aware that I could ruin her prospects if I chose and then you, Lady Wycherley—’ Adam sketched her a mocking bow ‘—would not receive your fee!’

  ‘Oh!’ Annis felt cross and curious in equal measure, but curiosity won. ‘Well, I do think it most underhand of you not to tell me, my lord, but you may make up for it now.’

  Adam smiled. ‘Very well. You are aware that Miss Crossley was in London for the Season?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘She managed to attract the notice of the younger brother of a friend of mine.’ Adam sighed. ‘We all thought that John was making a frightful ass of himself over her, but he is young and Miss Crossley can be quite charming when she tries. Alas, when she discovered that he was not the heir to the Canvey title as she had supposed, she threw him over and tried to seduce Lord Burley instead. In the conservatory!’

  Annis shot him an appalled look. ‘Good God!’ She quickened her pace. ‘Does Miss Crossley know that you are aware of her history?’

  ‘I doubt it. I said nothing, but you know how people talk, Lady Wycherley.’ Adam shot her a look. ‘I believe that was the reason why Miss Crossley failed to catch a husband in London. There were plenty interested in her fortune but her reputation was not so sweet.’

  ‘I knew there must be a reason—’ Annis broke off. ‘Sir Robert insisted that there was nothing wrong, but I suspected there was a rea
son why his nieces had not taken.’

  They reached the door of the conservatory and Annis pushed it open. She heard Fanny’s voice at once, impassioned, and very much in the style of Mrs Siddons.

  ‘Ever since we met in London I have been hopelessly in love with you.’

  ‘Oh, lord,’ Annis said, under her breath. ‘If only I had been quicker I could have averted this! I fear Miss Crossley is quite carried away with her own eloquence!’

  Lieutenant Greaves’s fluting tones interrupted Fanny, sounding amused. ‘Lud, Miss Crossley, it was only a bit of fun! If I’d thought you were after anything other than a flirtation—’

  ‘Oh, but you did! You knew I cared for you!’

  The two protagonists were standing behind a rank of huge potted palms and were therefore most taken aback when Annis and Adam Ashwick materialised suddenly beside them. Lieutenant Greaves paled and dropped his weary man-of-the-world stance at once, looking suddenly far more like the young and painfully inadequate youth that he was. Fanny burst into tears.

  ‘Conduct both ungallant and unbecoming to a gentleman in the Light Dragoons,’ Adam said pleasantly, as the luckless Lieutenant Greaves tried to flatten himself against the glass window. ‘I should think twice before toying with a lady’s affections again, lad.’

  ‘Sir, yes, sir!’ The Lieutenant shot Fanny an agonised glance. ‘All a misunderstanding, sir…’

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ Adam said, turning to Annis. ‘Lady Wycherley, are you agreed that this is all an unfortunate mix-up?’

  ‘Yes,’ Annis said.

  ‘No!’ Fanny said. Her face was as red as Lieutenant Greaves’s was pale. It was clear she did not wish him to get away with it—or away from her.

  ‘I think,’ Annis said, iron in her tone, ‘that you will agree it is all a misunderstanding, Fanny, when you have had time to think about it.’

  Adam gave the Lieutenant an ironic bow. ‘Run along, Greaves!’

  ‘Sir!’ The Lieutenant drew himself up ramrod straight, almost saluted, and practically ran out of the conservatory.

  ‘Silly young fool,’ Adam said. ‘I hope that will teach him to be more circumspect in future.’ He turned to Annis. ‘I will leave you to deal with this, Lady Wycherley.’ His gaze softened. ‘I have not forgotten that I am in your debt. At your service, Miss Crossley…’

  He strode out of the room. Fanny started to sob.

  ‘Now, come along, Fanny,’ Annis said briskly, ‘I am sure that you do not wish Lucy and the others to think that you have been crying. Nor Sir Everard, for that matter.’

  Fanny muttered something unintelligible.

  ‘After all,’ Annis continued, shepherding her charge out into the corridor, ‘it would not do for people to think that there was anything wrong. Sir Everard might think that you did not wish to marry him.’

  ‘I do not!’

  ‘Nor wish for a title or the pleasure of dancing at your sister’s wedding as the new Lady Doble!’ Annis finished, playing several of her trump cards in one hand.

  There was a small silence. Annis could tell that Fanny, a practical girl at heart, still found it difficult to abandon her dream, no matter how foolish.

  ‘I want to marry James Greaves,’ the girl said mutinously. ‘You could have made him marry me, Lady Wycherley, if you had kicked up a fuss!’

  ‘I do not think so, Fanny,’ Annis said coolly. ‘Men like Lieutenant Greaves are not interested in settling down. Besides, it was very bad of you to try and entrap him, you know. It grieves me to say so, but you could have ended up as a laughing-stock and with a ruined reputation into the bargain!’

  There was another silence whilst Fanny digested this. Annis took the opportunity to collect their cloaks and to send a maid into the ballroom to fetch Lucy. Eventually, when she thought that Fanny had reached the self-pitying stage, she added mendaciously, ‘Of course, Fanny, you do realise that Lieutenant Greaves is not good enough for you, don’t you?’

  Fanny sniffed, wiping her nose on the edge of her cloak. ‘He is heir to Lord Farmoor. I have only just discovered it.’

  Which explained a good deal, Annis thought. Fanny’s discovery about the handsome Lieutenant had turned him from a flirtation into a marriage prospect, and knowing that she had not very long, Fanny had acted quickly.

  ‘I fear your intelligence is only partially correct, Fanny dear,’ she said. ‘As I understand it, Lieutenant Greaves is Lord Farmoor’s heir at the moment, but his lordship has just married a young bride. It would be a tremendous risk, and just when you have secured a baronet as well.’

  ‘Oh!’ Fanny looked thoughtful.

  Annis sighed. ‘I know it must be very painful for you now, but you will soon see that I am in the right of it to discourage the match. Look at the Lieutenant’s behaviour tonight! It was scarcely that of a gentleman. Oh, no, Fanny dear, it is better this way. Now look—Lucy is coming and Sir Everard. We shall just behave as though none of this has happened, and the day after tomorrow your uncle will be sending the news of your betrothal to the Gazette.’

  Fanny gulped and nodded, rubbing away the evidence of tears. ‘Very well, Lady Wycherley. I can see that your advice is sound. After all…’ she brightened ‘…I may marry a lord next time, may I not?’

  ‘Indeed you may, Fanny,’ Annis said, realising that Fanny already had her widowhood planned before the knot was tied. That is if you can find one to take you! she added silently.

  Later, in the privacy of her bedchamber, Annis removed her turban, unpinned her hair, took off the turkey-red dress and poured herself a generous glass of madeira.

  She felt that she deserved a strong drink for saving both Fanny and herself from disaster. The foolish chit had come within an ace of ruining her own betrothal and Annis’s future into the bargain, but all could now run smoothly. Sir Robert Crossley would be making the journey to Yorkshire the following week to take his nieces back to London for the purchase of their trousseaux. Then Annis would be free to go to Starbeck for a space and take a well-deserved rest.

  She brushed her hair slowly. The long, lustrous strands fell about her face and down to her waist. She knew that the sensible course of action would be to have it all cut off since she spent so much time hiding it, but some spark of vanity prompted her to keep it long.

  Annis paused, hairbrush in hand. Not even the business with Fanny could make her forget what else had happened that evening. She started to think about Adam kissing her, then deliberately forced her mind away and made herself concentrate on the curious scene Adam had had with Woodhouse in the hotel writing-room. Could the man really know something to the discredit of Samuel Ingram—and of Charles? Would Adam keep his word and tell her if he discovered any evidence? Annis shook her head thoughtfully. She was not entirely sure what impulse had prompted her to promise to keep Adam’s dealings a secret. Certainly she deplored Ingram’s behaviour, but anything he did touched Charles too, and she would do nothing to harm her cousin. Annis wriggled uncomfortably. It was odd, but she did trust Adam Ashwick and she did not know why. The same impulse that had prompted her to trust him the night they met in the dark was at work now. And impulses could be so very dangerous…

  Annis finished undressing, climbed into bed and reached for her novel, but she did not read it and soon set it aside, staring instead at the candle flame. It had been blissful to be held in Adam’s arms. His kisses had set her senses ablaze. She could not deny it. And it was not just a light flirtation. She knew it had angered him to have their actions cheapened thus. So now she was being honest. She had never wanted a man as she wanted Adam Ashwick. Truth to tell, she had never really wanted—needed—a man at all. She had thought that she never would. She had been naïve.

  Annis sighed. As far as she could see, there were three courses of action for a woman in a position like hers. She could continue to work for a living, she could become a shady widow living off the generosity of men in return for her favours, or she could marry respectably again. A small smile curved A
nnis’s lips. She had never previously considered becoming a courtesan, but now the idea held distinct possibilities. If she were to be the mistress of such a man as Adam Ashwick…Her smile vanished. She knew enough of the world to know that such arrangements seldom lasted. Was she to become like a parcel, passed from hand to hand, slightly tatty about the edges? That was not so appealing an idea. Besides, she had the strong belief that Adam would not countenance such an arrangement. He wanted her—she knew that he did. Yet she was also certain that he was a man of honour and would propose marriage. She might seduce him, but he would still insist on marrying her. And his will was as strong as hers.

  Marriage. Annis’s gaze narrowed. Most women would not think twice. Most women would be delighted. She was not most women. She shuddered to remember the horror of her marriage to John Wycherley and the way he had tried to control even the smallest aspect of her life. Preserving her independence was the only answer and she would do well to remember that.

  She picked up her book again. Before long, her eyelids were drooping and the book fell from her hand to rest on the coverlet. It was left to Mrs Hardcastle, tapping at the door because she could see that there was still a light burning, to blow out the candle on the nightstand and leave Annis to sleep.

  ‘There’s a letter for you this morning, Miss Annis.’ Mrs Hardcastle, pin neat in black bombazine, held the missive out to Annis as though it was in somewhat questionable taste. ‘Tom Shepard brought it. Tom the younger, that is. Apparently his father is laid up with the lumbago.’

  ‘Dear me.’ Annis unfolded the letter. As though there were not enough difficulties to deal with at Starbeck, without Tom Shepard falling ill. ‘Did Tom the younger not wish to come in?’

  Mrs Hardcastle looked shocked. ‘He came into the kitchen, ma’am! He certainly would not come in here.’ Mrs Hardcastle gave the drawing-room a disapproving look. ‘Why, he might have met one of your young ladies!’

  ‘I am sure that they would have been delighted to meet him,’ Annis said drily. Tom Shepard the younger was exceptionally good looking and as a farmer’s son would have a certain rustic appeal to the Misses Crossley.