One Rogue Too Many (21 page)

The duchess’s eyes darted from one girl to the next while they gazed back at her like sad pups.

“Oh, sugar biscuits,” she said with a soft stomp of her slipper. “Very well. I shall walk slowly to the carriage, and I expect you to catch up to me in a moment.”

Gabby’s sisters beamed.

“Thank you, Vivi. We knew you were the perfect one to help us,” Lady Elizabeth said.

A flush spread over the duchess’s face. “You mean I’m the only fool you know.” There was a ring of affection in her words. “Don’t be long, ladies.”

As soon as the door closed, Lady Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Gabby needs you. She doesn’t want to marry Lord Thorne, but she feels she must.”

Anthony shook his head with a weary sigh. “Gabby has made her decision, and there is nothing I can do to change her mind. I tried.”

Lady Katherine held up the letter her sister had taken from the duchess. His name was scrawled across the front. “Do you know what this is, my lord? It is your wedding invitation. Gabby stole it from Mama’s pile, because she couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering while she exchanged vows with Lord Thorne. Just like she suffered when you married Lady Ellis.”

His breath lodged in his throat. Had his marriage ceremony truly hurt her so badly? She had seemed fine. Better than fine, actually. She had smiled brightly, laughed often, and wished him well with a vigorous hug.

“Oh, God,” he mumbled. How had he not seen it? She had been too happy for the occasion. He had wanted to believe he’d made the right decision by discouraging her. He’d grasped on to the belief he had been nothing more than a passing fancy, and she would thank him for acting with honor.

Lady Katherine carried the invitation to him. “If she didn’t care for you, why would she spare your feelings?”

Anthony took the envelope and trapped it in his fist.

“There are only two days left until she marries the baron. You must do something, Lord Ellis. Our sister has suffered too much in her life already. She deserves to be happy.”

He looked up into Lady Katherine’s unwavering gaze. She possessed the wise eyes of a person four times her age.

“She won’t listen to me,” he said.

Lady Elizabeth bounded from her seat. “You must
make
her listen. And if she won’t, you need to make the correct decision for her.”

His hollow laugh echoed off the ceiling. “What would you have me do? Abduct her?”

Lady Elizabeth’s thin brows lifted suggestively.

“You are joking.”

When he glanced at Lady Katherine, she slowly shook her head. “Some situations call for drastic measures, my lord.”

“This is insane,” he said and pushed from his chair to pour a brandy for himself. “You should both go. The duchess will be waiting for you.”

He kept his back to Gabby’s sisters as the swish of their skirts indicated they were leaving.

“If you come to your senses,” Lady Katherine said, “she is attending the theatre this evening. Lord Thorne sent word this morning that his mother and sister would collect her at eight, and he will meet her there. The session at the House of Lords is expected to run late.”

“It can be difficult to tell carriages apart in the dark,” Lady Elizabeth added.

With that being their final words, Gabby’s sisters quietly slipped from the drawing room and left him to wrestle with his thoughts.

Difficult,
my
arse
. As soon as Gabby spotted the coat of arms on his door, she would know the carriage didn’t belong to Thorne. And Thorne’s servants wore old-fashioned blue livery while Anthony’s dressed sharply in gold. Apparently the baron and Anthony’s grandfather shared the same tired tastes, for he recalled his grandfather’s footmen wearing almost the same livery.

The door swung open and Pierce entered with a silver coffee service. “The footman is bringing the tea as we speak.” His eyebrows drew together as he looked around the room.

“The guests had somewhere else to be.”

“Do you still want coffee, milord?”

He waved his valet into the room and waited for him to close the door. “I have a different task for you.”

“Yes, milord?”

Damnation, was he really considering this? Anthony plowed his fingers through his hair, noticing Pierce’s horrified expression. Anthony didn’t care. Ruffled hair was the least of his concerns.

How had time slipped away? In two days, Gabby would be lost to him forever. Unless he did something drastic. Something that could cost him the best friends he’d ever had or at the extreme, could get him killed.

But life without Gabby made him feel dead already.

“Search the trunks in the attic and find the old blue livery my grandfather preferred.”

Twenty-two

Gabby and her mother were entertaining Lady Thorne and Sebastian’s sister when the butler interrupted. He stood uncertainly inside the threshold, tossing a quick glance at the guests.

“Is something the matter, Wesley?” Mama asked.

“I don’t believe so, Your Grace. I have a message for Lady Gabrielle.”

Gabby blinked. “Oh? Has Lord Thorne sent another note?”

His mouth turned down as he eyed Lady Thorne and her daughter. “No, milady.”

Mama reached for the silver teapot and smiled politely. “Perhaps you should step out with Wesley, my dear. Lady Thorne and I have much to discuss about the wedding.”

“Of course, Mama.” Gabby caught Eve Thorne’s eye, but the lady looked away as she fidgeted with her reticule. This evening would be the poor girl’s first venture back into society since her abandonment at the altar, and it seemed her nerves were a bit frayed.

Sebastian—Gabby had finally capitulated and begun using his given name, even though it still sounded odd to her—had been exceedingly grateful to Gabby for inviting his mother and sister to tea and for agreeing to accompany them to the theatre that evening. His praise had been lavish indeed. It had been the only time during their betrothal that she felt truly good about something.

It warmed her heart to think she might be able to help Miss Thorne. And if Gabby were to be bound in marriage to the lady’s brother, she preferred to begin on good footing with his kin.

“I won’t be long,” she said then followed the servant from the drawing room, closing the door quietly behind her. “What is it, Wesley?”

“Lord Ellis is requesting a word with you, milady.”

Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t seen Anthony since the Sorins’ ball, and she hadn’t spoken with him since the night she had gotten herself into this mess with Thorne. “Where is he?”

She mentally scolded herself for sounding too eager.

“I showed him to the blue drawing room. He insisted I retrieve you or he threatened to barge in on your tea.”

High-handed man
. She frowned. What could he possibly have to say that they hadn’t already discussed? A wise woman would send him away without an audience, but she wouldn’t put it past him to make good on his threat. “Thank you, Wesley. I will see what it is Lord Ellis wants. You may go.”

The butler nodded and left her alone in the corridor. She made her way to the second drawing room, stopping outside the door to rub a palm over her heart. It knocked against her breastbone, proving it still had life in it.

When she had gained composure, she yanked open the double doors and glided inside, exuding as much confidence as she could manage.

“You are interrupting a lovely tea, Anthony.”

He was standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a mutinous scowl on his face. “Are you truly planning to marry that twit in two days’ time?”

Her answer caught in her throat.

“And you didn’t invite me to the wedding.” He dropped his arms and strode over to her. “I have known you all your life, and I’ve been excluded from the guest list.”

A blanket of heat wrapped around her. It was stifling and too heavy. “I—I didn’t think you would want to come.”

He stood too close. His scent beckoned her closer, but she resisted. His mouth twitched up at the corners. “I don’t want
you
to go either.”

A shocked laugh burst from her. “It’s customary for a bride to be present at her wedding. Of course I’ll be attending.”

He cupped her elbow and drew her to him. He looked down at her through thick golden lashes, his eyes a deeper shade of blue-gray. Her lips were suddenly dry and she licked them.

He groaned under his breath. “You should be marrying me, my love, not Thorne.
We
belong together. Why can’t you admit it?”

Her legs quivered. Oh, how she would love to toss aside her honor and throw herself into his arms, but she couldn’t. She had made a promise to Lord Thorne, and her stance on putting her brothers’ lives before her happiness hadn’t altered.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. “I am marrying the baron. I’m sorry, but I can’t go back on my word.”

“At least have the courage to tell me the reason. Tell me you prefer him. That you love him and want to spend your life with him.”

She shook her head and took another step back. If she said those things, she would be lying.

Anthony’s hand on her stopped her retreat. Dizziness kept her from pulling away again. His touch kept her from sliding to the floor.

“Do you have any feelings for him, Gabby?”

“I—I’m fond of him.”

“Fond? Just fond of him? That is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard from you.”

His insult snapped her out of the spell he’d woven. Her hands landed on her hips. “Yes, I
like
the man I’m to marry. That is more than many ladies can say.”

“You’re not like other ladies. Your heart rules you; it always has.”

And therein lay the problem. In all her memory, she couldn’t recall a time when following her heart had ever led to good.

He tipped up her chin. “How long do you think you’ll be happy when you are only fond of your husband?”

“What does it matter? Fondness is enough for now. Perhaps I can learn to love him as I—” She caught herself before she blurted out the truth.

He caressed her cheek and she fought the urge to turn into his palm. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch. “As you love me, sweetheart? Say it. Admit you love me. It’s not too late to cry off.”

A horrible pain seized her heart. It had been a mistake to grant him an audience. She was too weak. “I can’t. I have given my word. Please, leave me in peace.”

His hand dropped from her face and she was left wanting. “Then I’m afraid you leave me no choice.”

She blinked, alarmed by the stubborn tilt of his chin. “No choice? What is your meaning?”

“Thank you for seeing me, Lady Gabrielle. This has been an enlightening conversation.”

She called after him to wait, but he stalked from the room like a man marching to war.

***

Anthony decided to join Annabelle and Miss Teague for an early dinner. He had more than a few misgivings about leaving his daughter for several days, but he’d spoken with his butler and had confidence in the man. No one would be allowed to enter Keaton Place during his absence, not that he truly expected Annabelle’s sire to show his face in London.

His bigger concern was being absent from his daughter’s life again. He was already furious with himself for hiding in his chambers these past days. He’d despised his mother for isolating and shutting him out, and yet he had done the same thing in his grief.

Hell.
He’d wanted to be better than his mother, to rise above his childhood circumstances. And he would. No more feeling sorry for himself.

Annabelle and Miss Teague were already seated at the small table in the nursery when he arrived. For his daughter’s comfort, he’d thought it best to enter her territory rather than dragging her to the dining room. Annabelle clung to Miss Teague’s side as she did every time he came within shouting distance.

Miss Teague offered a smile. “Good evening, milord.” She had taken more pains with her appearance this evening, dressing in one of the nicer gowns he had purchased as part of her wages. Their arrangement involved a roof over her head until Annabelle was married, food, a decent wardrobe, a modest allowance for her personal use, and a pension when her services were no longer required.

Everything he’d done was with Annabelle in mind. To her, Miss Teague was her mother. It didn’t seem right to treat her as a servant, although jealousy from the other servants might have caused tongues to wag. How else would Thorne know about the circumstances of Annabelle’s birth?

“Miss Teague, have you any knowledge of anyone on staff holding a grudge against you?”

She blinked, her blue eyes clouded by confusion. “No, milord. Has someone made a complaint against me?”

“Nothing like that. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He pulled out the tiny chair and eyed it. Oak was a sturdy wood. It would hold his weight, he hoped. His confidence faltered when the chair creaked and groaned.

The corners of Annabelle’s cupid-bow mouth turned up slightly. “Papa is too big.”

His heart leapt at hearing her refer to him without being prompted, even if she was pointing out a glitch in his plan to dine with her. He grinned. “You are an observant young lady, Annabelle.”

Her smile slid from her face and she leaned against her aunt again. Perhaps sitting on one of her chairs was acceptable, but speaking to her was not. Duly noted.

Miss Teague picked up her fork and smiled sympathetically. “She is still a bit shy, milord. Please don’t take offense.”

He shrugged it off. “I don’t take it personally.” But he did. He wasn’t proud of the fact, but he didn’t see how rejection could be taken impersonally.

Snatching his fork, he dug into his buttered carrots. His knees nearly up around his ears made eating with grace a difficult feat. Annabelle smothered a giggle with her tiny hand when he bumped his elbow and spilled on his lap.

Her green eyes sparkled in her perfect little face as she whispered something to her doll, Lady Poppy. Her reaction made him even more eager to please her, so he purposefully fumbled his fork and turned dining into quite the spectacle. He was little more than a trained bear when treated to her laughter.