Secrets of a Runaway Bride (11 page)

Jordan slapped his gloves against his thigh with a loud snap. “Allow me to explain something to you. Men aren’t that complicated. If they’re interested, they show their interest.”

Annie sucked in her breath. “Frances says he only has eyes for me when I’m not looking.”

Jordan let some of the frustration drain from his voice. He could tell by the way she’d sucked in her breath that his remark had hurt her. “Frances is your friend. She may merely be telling you what she knows you want to hear. “Besides, I’ve been hearing increasing amounts of gossip about you lately. Lady Cranberry said some things I won’t repeat in polite conversation. Your reputation is in danger whether you know it or not.”

*   *   *

Annie expelled her breath and wrapped her arms around her middle. Was it possible Lord Ashbourne was right? She didn’t want to believe it but she had to admit it was possible. Did Frances only tell her these things to make her happy? Was she being a fool? Was the entire
ton
gossiping about her?

She looked him square in the eye. “Is that what you really think?” she asked him quietly. “That Fran is just saying what I want to hear?”

Lord Ashbourne’s countenance softened. “I think whatever his true feelings for you, Eggleston doesn’t treat you half as well as you should be treated.”

Annie’s heart flipped in her chest, then it pounded rapidly.

Lord Ashbourne didn’t stop to take a breath. “You should have a young man chasing you about,
not
the other way around. I’ve seen this before. It’s incredibly frustrating. Women love a challenge. They always want what they cannot have. Bah. That’s what is ridiculous. The fact is that you’re chasing around a man who doesn’t care whether you catch him. You deserve better than that, Annie.”

It was the use of her Christian name that brought the unexpected tears to Annie’s eyes. She swallowed hard and looked up at him; their gazes met. A spark leaped between them.

But just as quickly, the mood was shattered. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” he said. “And I’m attempting to do you a favor. If you weren’t so stubborn and sure of yourself, you’d realize that.”

Making a spectacle of herself? Annie splayed a hand across her middle. An awful sinking feeling had begun in the pit of her stomach. An awful sinking feeling that Lord Ashbourne was actually right. But she couldn’t let go of her argument so easily. Lord Ashbourne was perfectly right. She’d always been stubborn. “You
are
just like Lily,” she threw at him. “Completely predictable. Every time one of you meddlers tries to control another person, you use the same old excuse that you’re doing it for my own good. Of course you know better. You know best. You know everything!” She stalked past him, intent on leaving him alone in the library.

Lord Ashbourne’s hand shot out. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. “Damn it. Why do you refuse to listen to me? You’re making me insane. By God, you’re more sure of yourself than … I am.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “How can I make you see reason? You make me want to yell. You make me want to pound my fist through the wall. You make me want to…”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes still shooting fire at him. “I make you want to what?”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “If you weren’t so damn stubborn you’d have let me finish what I was trying to say earlier. I know a spectacle when I see one because the exact same thing happened to me, an age ago. I made a complete fool of myself, if you must know. If I could do it over again, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’m older than you and I’ve seen more than you, so in this case, yes, I do know better and I do know best. As for being predictable—”

He tugged her into his arms and kissed her.

*   *   *

It was
anything
but predictable. Annie’s hair nearly caught fire. His lips swooped down to capture hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. Her head tilted back and her eyes closed of their own volition. She clung to him. His mouth, which had begun demanding, softened into an insistent invasion. His thumb brushed across her cheek. His fingertips skimmed her hairline. The taste of him, like heat and hazelnuts and spice, flooded her senses. She never wanted it to stop.

She’d made him angry, she knew. Angry enough to … kiss her? It made no sense, but at the moment she didn’t care. His hot, insistent mouth probed at her lips and she opened to him, allowing his tongue to brush inside, own her, possess her. The man had a way of making her feel all melty. Like molasses and caramel and chocolate. She shuddered. He shouldn’t be doing this but neither should she. If she could summon just an ounce of resistance, she would push him away, but the strong, hard heat of him was intoxicating and all she wanted to do was keep kissing him forever.

Endless moments later, Lord Ashbourne shuddered and pulled away. Annie breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made her feel as if her heart might beat out of her chest. His face was harsh and handsome in the glow of the candles. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was breathing heavily too.

He set her away from himself. His eyes shone like molten silver. “Now, if you’d stop acting like a brat, you might just realize what is good for you. And that is to take my advice.”

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Annie turned her head away and pressed her fingertips to her burning lips.

The Earl of Ashbourne had just called her a brat.

But even more shockingly he’d just kissed her again for no good reason.

No good reason whatsoever.

CHAPTER 13

Annie tapped her finger against her cheek. She and Frances stood in the corner of the Roths’ ballroom. Annie had just finished telling her friend the details of her encounter with Lord Ashbourne in the library, minus the small matter of their (ahem, second) kiss.

“I’m telling you,” Annie said. “It simply makes no sense. The man is like the statue of David. Made of stone. I just cannot imagine him ever deigning to grace a mere mortal with his earthly presence. I cannot fathom who he would make a fool of himself over.”

Frances sighed. “Whoever the woman from Lord Ashbourne’s past was, she had to be a complete idiot. Only a fool would turn down David … or Jordan Holloway.”

Annie snorted. “Perhaps it was because he’s rude, arrogant, controlling—” But even as she said the words, her mind was betraying her with thoughts of their kiss in the library. She couldn’t even summon anger at his having called her a brat.

She hated to admit it but he was right. She had been behaving like one.

Frances shook her head. “Tall, dark, and handsome,” she added.

“Oh, who cares?”

“I do.”

Annie grimaced at her friend. It was true, the earl’s perfect veneer had cracked just a touch when he’d admitted to her that he’d made a fool of himself over someone years ago, but it still didn’t change the fact that he was overbearing—Frances was right about his being tall, dark, and handsome, but overbearing trumped all three of those pesky truths.

So she’d seen a crack in his armor, one that made him seem the faintest bit human for a few moments. She bit her lip. Was Lord Ashbourne right? Was Arthur really completely wrong for her?

True, it was absolutely none of Lord Ashbourne’s affair. Just as his past was none of hers. But she couldn’t help but be intrigued by the thought that some woman had caused him to make a fool of himself. Lord Ashbourne, more than Lord Colton even, had a reputation for being completely untouchable. The man had three younger brothers all nearly as handsome as he, and he’d famously declared he would never marry and produce an heir. But it caused one to wonder, did it not? Had Lord Ashbourne always been so staunchly against the institution of marriage? Or was the woman he’d made himself a fool over responsible for his feelings on the subject?

And why, oh why, had he kissed her like that?

Annie turned to her friend. She bit her lip. “Frances, may I ask you something?”

Frances stopped and placed her hand over Annie’s. “Of course. Anything.”

“Do you tell me things you think I want to hear?”

Frances’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, Anne?”

“I mean about Arthur. Do you truly think … he cares for me?”

Frances squeezed her hand. “Why, of course he does, Anne. He told you he loves you, didn’t he?”

Annie nodded.

“And he said he wants to marry you?”

Another nod.

“He cares for you. I’m sure of it.”

Annie gave her friend a small smile. “Thank you, Fran. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She smiled back, then clapped her hands. “Now, how can we learn the story about Lord Ashbourne’s past?”

Annie glanced about. “There must be someone we can ask.”

Frances’s face held a bit of a pout. “I know no one of an age who is in a position to know what happened. My sisters are both too young and I just asked Mother and she said she had no earthly idea what I was talking about.”

Annie shook her head. “Of course Lily and Devon probably know, but they are gone.”

“What we need to do is find a gossip, someone who is older than we are and who isn’t above sharing the details.”

“Good idea. Let’s scan the ballroom. We’ll meet back here at half past.”

“Good plan,” Frances replied with a wink.

They took off in opposite directions. Annie made her way around the perimeter of the ballroom, her eyes scanning the crowd for the biggest gossip she could find.

“Anne, there you are.”

She turned toward the voice of her old friend.

“Lord Medford, good to see you.”

James Bancroft was tall and lean with sandy brown hair and penetrating hazel eyes, a sharp nose, and a straight brow. The man was undeniably handsome and was as rich as anyone save the king himself, but Annie had always known him as her sister’s good friend. He was like an older brother to her. And they remained friends, despite Lord Colton’s obvious antagonism toward the viscount.

“What are you up to?” Lord Medford asked, a conspiratorial grin on his face.

She shot him her innocent look. “Up to? I don’t know what you mean.”

His grin widened and he shook his head. “Just like your sister, and let’s just say I can always tell when she is up to something as well.”

Annie bit her lip. “I’m not up to anything.”

“Out with it, miss.”

Annie scowled. Lord Medford had always been too smart by half. “Very well, come with me.” She pulled him behind a potted palm and glanced about to ensure no one was watching them. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What do you know about Lord Ashbourne making a fool of himself over some young woman years ago?”

Medford scratched his head. “Is
that
what you’re up to? Investigating Ashbourne?”

She shrugged. “He mentioned it. I’m merely curious.”

Medford crossed his arms over his chest. “But he didn’t see fit to tell you the details, did he?”

Annie scowled at him. “Do you know what happened?”

Medford shrugged. “Actually, I’m quite happy to say I do not. Not that I would share the gossip if I knew it. Ashbourne’s been a confirmed bachelor for a great many years.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Lord Medford. I happen to know about your printing press. You’re not above gossip.”

He winked at her. “Believe me, I’d love to have something I could hold over Ashbourne’s head. But I don’t know anything about it.”

Annie tapped her finger against her cheek. “Whom could I ask?”

“You could always ask Colton when he returns,” Medford offered with another grin.

“I cannot possibly wait nearly three weeks.”

Medford he shook his head. “How did I know you would say that?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Do you know what I find interesting about this, Anne?”

Annie eyed him carefully. “What?”

“I came here tonight expecting to find you hovering about Arthur Eggleston. Instead I find you attempting to ferret out gossip about Ashbourne.”

She raised her chin. “First of all, I do not ferret. And secondly, I don’t hover.”

He gave her a look that implied he didn’t believe either claim.

Annie straightened her shoulders. “Truly. I expect Arthur to ask me to dance at any moment and I…” She paused and bit her lip. “Lord Medford. May I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he answered gamely. “Anything.”

“Do you think Arthur is the right man for me?”

Medford flashed a smile. “Don’t worry, Anne. I think you will end up with the exact right man for you.”

Annie had no time to contemplate that vague answer before a footman approached, interrupting them. “Miss Andrews?”

Annie glanced up. “Yes?”

“Lord Ashbourne requests that you gather your cloak and meet him in the foyer. He intends to escort you home immediately.”

CHAPTER 14

Annie allowed Lord Ashbourne to help her up into the carriage before jerking her arm from his grasp. She plopped into her seat and stared at him, her lips tightly pressed together, as he settled in across from her. Thankfully, her irritation with him made it easier to forget about their kiss in the library.

“Now who was making a spectacle?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You embarrassed me back there.”

Lord Ashbourne watched her through half-lidded eyes. “It was hardly a spectacle. But the fact is, you’ve proven yourself to be untrustworthy. I’m taking you home.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “Untrustworthy? How?”

Lord Ashbourne relaxed back in the seat as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You promised me you’d stop cavorting with Mr. Eggshell and act appropriately.”

Annie folded her hands in her lap. “I promised no such thing. I merely agreed not to meet Mr.
Eggleston
out in the gardens. And I did nothing of the sort.”

Lord Ashbourne groaned. “Even worse than I thought, a woman who cavils over details. Now I’m going to have to watch you twice as closely.”

Annie ground her teeth. “Twice as closely? Are you mad? Besides, I have Aunt Clarissa to watch over me.”

His brow shot up. “I think we both know the audacity of that claim.” He let out a long breath. “Besides, can’t you consider making my task easier and just wait nicely until your sister returns before you act inappropriately?”