Practically Wicked (14 page)

“It isn’t typical for me to be so ill-mannered,” he assured her. “Well, yes, I suppose we both know it is. But I’m generally not so callous with it. I am sorry.”

Anna considered whether or not she wished to accept the apology in full. She truly was more inclined to forgive him now that she understood the source of his animosity, but she hadn’t fully made up her mind on the matter. Rejection was not an acceptable reason for treating a person poorly.

On the other hand, he appeared to have arrived at the same conclusion, apologizing to her whilst still under the impression that she had turned him away in London. That ought to count for something.

“Apology accepted,” she said at last and prayed she wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

He blew out a short breath of relief that Anna found most gratifying. “You’re a patient and forgiving soul, Anna Rees.”

“Am I?” Was she? She’d never been called so before, not even by Mrs. Culpepper, who was always quick to compliment. Her mother, who preferred to be quick with an insult, regularly accused her of being impatient, intolerant, and unfeeling. “You are the first to allege it.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” he countered, catching his hands behind his back. “Both times we have met, I have been inebriated with either drink or anger. And yet you are still willing to speak to me. Patient and forgiving.”

“I’d not thought of it quite that way.” Her lips twitched with amusement. “You have been uncommonly loutish in our encounters, haven’t you?”

“A man does like to make a memorable first impression on a lady,” he returned ruefully.

Her initial impression of him had been quite favorable, until her mother had ruined everything. And then, of course, he’d made everything worse. If only it was possible to go back and make everything right.

“Perhaps we might start again?” she suggested. It was never truly possible to start over, of course. One could no more erase the past than predict the future. But sometimes, a second chance could be had. Perhaps their meeting again, after so many years, was such a chance.

“I would like that.”

“Well, then.” Feeling better than she had in days, she dipped into a quick curtsy. “Lord Dane, I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

He returned the bow. “Miss Rees, the pleasure is entirely mine.”

Anna held back an outright grin. Her spark of hope was fast growing into a small flame of cautious excitement. But there was one troubling matter left that she could not allow to pass without comment or clarification.

“Before we put all the disagreeableness behind us, might I ask you a question?”

“Am I going to like this question,” Max asked warily, “or am I going to be apologizing again?”

“I’ll not pretend to know what you will or will not like, but there’s no need to apologize a second time. Once was enough.”

“Ask your question, then.”

“Do you…” She stopped to find the right words. “Are you truly an amiable drunk?”

She couldn’t possibly become friends with someone who viewed her as “less than,” who thought she belonged to the class of “everyone,” as he had applied the word the night before.

He winced, which was even more gratifying than seeing him relieved. “I feel like apologizing again.”

“If it would help to clear your conscience, by all means, do so.” Though it wasn’t necessary, she was still amenable to a bit of groveling.

“I’m sorry. No, I don’t…That is, I am not an amiable drunk…Well, I am, in truth. I’m quite good-natured when in my cups, in fact. But the implication made last night—”

She held up her hand. “I understood the implication, and I accept the apology.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” He let out a small puff of air, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “Now then, I’ve a question for you. Are you truly Lucien and Gideon’s half sister?”

“Yes, I am.” And now that they were no longer at odds with each other, she no longer felt compelled to pretend she wasn’t fazed by the sudden change in her circumstances. “I don’t fault you for not believing it straight off. It is strange, as you said before. I can still scarce believe it myself. But I have the proof, if you’d like to see it—”

“I would.”

“Oh.” She blinked at that, felt the spark of hope dim a little. She’d only made the offer conversationally. “Right. Well.”

Max had the decency to look a little sheepish. “Please understand, I am grateful for your forgiveness, of course, and happy to have peace between us. But the truth is, Miss Rees, I don’t know you. Aside from your purported desire for a dog, and the fact that you’ve laid a claim on the Haverston family—a family to whom I owe a great deal—I know next to nothing about you.”

She saw the sense in his argument and understood the reasoning behind it, but the words still pricked. After Mrs. Culpepper, Max probably knew more about her than any other person in her life. They were the only two people who knew of her dream to buy a country cottage. And he was the only one to know of her silly wish for a hound.

Which, now that she thought on it, was a sad state of affairs, indeed. She had no better claim to friendship outside of Mrs. Culpepper than a man with whom she’d spent such a nominal amount of time? And who had been ready to toss her bodily from Caldwell Manor only yesterday?

Surely she had more depth of character than what could be mined in the course of an evening. She did not begin and end with her dreams of a thousand pounds, a hound, and a home. She was vastly more complex, far more interesting than that. She had to be. The alternative was too depressing to entertain. Almost as depressing as never having known a friend who’d not been paid to keep her company. But that, at least, could be changed.

She had no intention of spending her visit defending herself to Max, but she could certainly spend her visit coming to know him and Engsly. She could at least try. There were a thousand reasons for why she might ultimately be unsuccessful—her lack of experience making friends being foremost in her mind—but that wasn’t an acceptable excuse for not making the effort.

If she’d intended to be isolated and friendless for the rest of her life, she should have stayed at Anover House. And if showing Max the proof of her lineage would help create a foundation of trust between them—a necessary beginning to any friendship, surely—then she was willing to oblige.

She brushed her hand down her waist in a smoothing manner. “The proof is in a contract, along with a journal and several correspondences between the late marquess and my mother. I presume Engsly’s man of business still has the contract. You may ask to see it, if you like. I’ll not oppose it.”

“And the letters and journal?”

“I retain them, though Engsly’s man has seen them and can verify the existence of the pertinent content. And no, you may not see them. There is much in them that is private.”

“You wish to protect your mother?”

At the moment, she wished she could use the journal to beat her heartless mother about her scheming head.

“My mother is not the only person who would be adversely affected should the contents of her journal and letters be made public.”

“I’m not going to make them public—”

“The answer is no, Lord Dane.” It wasn’t often that she felt compelled to put her foot down on a matter, and it was unfortunate that she had to do so with Max, so soon after determining that they might become friends, but there was no way around it. The journal and letters were filled with material she had no right to share.

Max’s mouth turned down at the corners, but he nodded. “Fair enough. The contract will do. But tell me this—are the Haverstons counted amongst those who might be adversely affected?”

“The letters are from the late marquess to a woman who was not his wife,” she pointed out. “If nothing else, it would be further insult to the late marchioness.”

“I see,” he said grimly. “Is there any chance I could convince you to destroy those letters?”

“Yes. I’ll gladly do so at the first opportunity.”

“Is immediately not an option?”

“They are proof of my parentage,” she said by way of answer.

“And you need the proof to get the thousand pounds.”

“Yes,” she answered and lifted her chin. If he expected her to apologize for the need to feed and house herself, he was in for quite a wait.

He bobbed his head. “Sensible.”

“I…Yes.” She’d not been expecting such ready agreement. “It is.”

His lips twitched. “You were waiting for me to condemn you.”

“…Perhaps.”

“As I said, we do not know each other well.”

“No, we do not,” she acknowledged. “Do you mean to stay on at Caldwell?”

“For a time,” he replied.

It took all her courage and determination to meet his eyes. “Then we’ve time to know each other.”

She’d issued exactly two invitations for friendship in her life, both of them to Max. God willing, this one would fare better than the last.

His smile was slow and perfect. “I do look forward to it.”

This time, when he offered his elbow, Anna took it without suspicion or argument.

 
 
Chapter 8

In retrospect, it may have been wise for Anna to have put up a small argument because two minutes later, she stumbled when her foot met with a sharp rock and he immediately bent down, slipped an arm under her knees, and swung her up against his chest. Apparently without consideration as to whether or not she might appreciate the help.

She did not appreciate the help.

“Put me down,” she demanded, even as her arms went around his neck to steady herself.

“So you can further injure yourself? Or trip, fall, grab at me in a blind panic, and injure us both?”

She sputtered at that bit of silliness. “I…Blind panic?”

“As I said, I don’t know you all that well.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous. If you would just—”

“If you continue to struggle,” he told her casually, “I might well drop you.”

“I highly doubt the fall would prove fatal.”

“No.” He shifted her weight in his arms. “Tremendously embarrassing, though.”

She considered that. If he dropped her now and she wasn’t able to get her feet under herself in time…

“Wise decision,” Max murmured when she went perfectly still.

She wasn’t certain it was wise, but it was preferable to being dropped on her backside. And, in truth, once she allowed herself to relax in his hold, she discovered that it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience.

It reminded her of when she was little and, having fallen asleep in the library window seat or her favorite overstuffed chair, being scooped up by Mrs. Culpepper to be carried back to the nursery.

She’d felt warm and light in those moments, as if she’d been floating.

The rest was, of course, completely different. There had been unconditional love and security in Mrs. Culpepper’s strong arms. Max’s arms promised an entirely different kind of warmth. While she could admit that she found that promise as intriguing as she had the first night they’d met, she made the decision to put aside those feelings for now and concentrate on the simple, more manageable task of simply getting to know the man.

She could do that, she told herself. She wasn’t her mother, to be guided blindly by passion. She could separate a carnal interest from an intellectual interest. They could be friends. With a mental nod of determination, she settled as comfortably as she might in Max’s hold and studiously ignored the small voice in the back of her head that called her a liar and a fool.

Max shifted Anna in his arms and sidestepped an exposed root from a nearby walnut tree.

She felt good in his arms, a pleasant weight. At first. After a solid ten minutes of walking and making polite small talk, however, the weight became less pleasant and more…weighty.

Her scent still teased him, roses and sugar biscuits, same as it had been in the nursery of Anover House. And the soft curves of her legs tempted his imagination toward all manner of ill-advised but delightful imagery. But nine stone was nine stone and the muscles in his arms began to protest the burden before too long. It was a fine reminder of the hidden costs of chivalry and the price of getting one’s own way. It had, after all, been his idea to carry her back to the house.

With the slim remainder of his pride hanging in the balance, he ignored the strain in his arms and back and focused on the pleasurable details of holding Anna Rees—that teasing scent and those soft curves, and the amusing way she held herself stiff and still, pulling away from him as far as her confined situation allowed. To ease aching muscles—and, admittedly, to please himself—he shifted her in his arms, drawing her closer.

Her features remained utterly passive, but he could feel the tension in her body increase threefold. While he found her primness entertaining, he wasn’t looking to make her miserably uncomfortable.

“Enjoying your first visit to the country?” he inquired in an effort to put her at her ease.

The question was so patently absurd under the circumstances that it immediately drew a laugh from her. The sound of it set his skin alight. He’d forgotten how much he’d liked that laugh.