Secrets of a Runaway Bride (13 page)

Jordan clenched his jaw.

“I daresay,” replied Lord Cranberry. “Colton’s obviously going to have to settle a bit more on the gel before Eggleston comes up to scratch.” The corpulent man chuckled.

That was it!

Annie’s reputation was being ripped to shreds on his watch, and while Jordan might not relish his role as a chaperone, he had absolutely no intention of failing at the task. Not to mention he’d be forced to explain the embarrassing situation when Devon and Lily returned.

But blast it, there was something else. Something that clenched in his chest every time he saw Annie throwing herself at Eggleston. It was the same helpless emotion that grabbed him every time he thought about the hapless twenty-five-year-old lad he once had been, mooning over Miss Georgiana Dalton. It was the same blend of disgust and regret he felt each time he wished he could go back and talk to that young lad, tell him to stop it, tell him what a huge mistake he was making. He already knew talking to Annie would get him nowhere. She was so sure of herself and her supposed feelings. She refused to listen to him. And she was making a blasted huge mistake.

Eggleston wasn’t good enough for her and it had nothing to do with his lack of either title or fortune. Eggleston wasn’t good enough for Annie simply because he didn’t adore her in the way every single person deserved to be adored by the one they intended to dedicate their life to. True, he personally didn’t believe in love and all of that nonsense, but Annie did. And when someone believed that strongly, they deserved a partner who believed too.

And there was another emotion there, Jordan realized, rising to the surface and blocking out all the others like a black cloud on the horizon before a thunderstorm. Anger. He was angry with Eggleston for being such a blind idiot. He was even more angry with Annie for refusing to see the obvious. But he was most angry with himself for giving a bloody damn.

Jordan surged to his feet, his jaw still tightly clenched. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Nicoletta glanced at him with a wary look in her dark eyes.
“Certamente,”
she replied with a short nod.

Jordan stalked down the corridor, down the steps, through the lobby, up the opposite steps, and into the corridor on the other side of the theater, his anger eclipsing all rational thought. He ripped open the curtain to Eggleston’s box and lunged inside.

The heads of the box’s three occupants snapped up to look at him. Annie’s eyes were moons. The engaging smile that had been on her face turned to a cold frown. Surprise briefly registered on her face. Then her hand flew to her throat.

Jordan stared her down and he spoke through clenched teeth. “Miss Andrews, it seems you’ve made a miraculous recovery from your previous condition this evening.”

She cleared her throat, her eyes cast downward. “Yes, well, I—”

“Miraculously recovered?” he taunted.

“Something like that,” she murmured.

Jordan sensed she didn’t want him to embarrass her in front of the Egglestons, but he was beyond caring.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted your evening, Mr. Eggleston, Miss Eggleston.” Jordan nodded briefly to the siblings before turning his attention back to Annie. “Miss Andrews, gather your things; I’m escorting you home. Now.” The last word was growled through clenched teeth.

She didn’t look at him, but the pink glow that spread along her cheeks indicated both her embarrassment and her anger. “Thank you for the kind offer, Lord Ashbourne, but I intend to stay.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “It was not a request.”

She turned to face him head-on. Her fists clenched at her sides. “No.
You
misunderstand
me
. I’m not leaving.”

His smile was tight, his voice low and dark. “Don’t make me drag you out of here, because I swear I will.”

Annie gasped. Miss Eggleston looked as if she might need to inhale an entire vial of smelling salts. Mr. Eggleston stood up and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Look here, Ashbourne,” he said in what was no doubt the bravest voice the man could manage. “I must admit I tended to discount it when Miss Andrews told me she thought you were following her about, but given your behavior here tonight, it seems she may not have been exaggerating in the least and it concerns me greatly.”

Jordan turned to face the slightly shorter man and glared at him. “Eggleston, if I were you, I would stop talking. There’s every possibility further conversation between the two of us might end over pistols at dawn, and I think we both know who the victor in such a circumstance would be.”

Miss Eggleston murmured something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. Without waiting for a response, Jordan turned back to Annie. “Are you walking out of here with me or do I have to carry you?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Miss Eggleston reached out a small, white hand and tugged at Annie’s sleeve. “Go, dear, go.”

Annie, apparently aware of the scene they were causing, turned on her heel and left without saying another word. Jordan followed her into the corridor.

“I can hardly countenance the fact that you’ve followed Eggleston to the theater,” he growled.

She glared at him. “Not that I expect you to believe me but I did not—”

Jordan held up a hand. “Spare me. This entire episode is only one old randy goat and a misdirected house-party key away from becoming a farce. You chasing Eggleston around, me chasing you around. It’s ridiculous.”

Annie clenched her teeth. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t know Mr. Eggleston would be here and—”

“Enough. Meet me outside in front in five minutes,” he commanded.

She spun away from him sharply. “I must gather my cloak and tell Frances and Mrs. Birmingham I’m leaving.”

Jordan turned in the opposite direction. “I suggest you make it quick. I’ll have the coach brought round.” He turned to face her again. “Five minutes,” he repeated in a menacing voice.

She stomped down the corridor.

“Annie,” he said, and she stopped short. “I promise you will not like the consequences if you’re not there.”

Without another word, he stalked away.

*   *   *

Annie rushed down the corridor, unshed tears of pure anger threatening to spill from her eyes. She’d turned away from him abruptly so he wouldn’t see her cry. The absolute nerve of that man. How dare he chase her down and humiliate her. Again! She could go nowhere. Do nothing. It was as if he were employed by the war office. He seemed to know everything about her whereabouts. And of course he assumed she’d followed Arthur here tonight. He’d never believe it had been a mere coincidence. Especially not when he found her standing in his box. Blast it all. That part had been unfortunate. But that ass refused to listen to reason.

She flew into the Birminghams’ box just as the performance was beginning. Frances jumped up. “There you are, Anne. I was about to come look for you.”

“I cannot stay,” Annie answered in a wooden voice.

Frances’s brow furrowed. “What? Whyever not?”

“Lord Ashbourne,” she ground out. “Insists on taking me home.”

“What?” Frances’s eyes nearly popped from her skull. “Lord Ashbourne’s here?”

“Yes. He’s here and he’s making a complete nuisance of himself. As usual.”

Mrs. Birmingham stood up and patted Annie’s hand. “Would you like me to speak with him, dear?”

“No. No. I’ll be fine,” Annie replied. No sense in dragging poor Mrs. Birmingham into her humiliation. “He just wants to prove a point. I’ve never seen anyone so set on being right. Well, save for Lily.”

“Are you quite certain you’ll be all right, dear?” Mrs. Birmingham responded.

Annie nodded.

“Can I come with you?” Frances pleaded. “Please?”

“No, Frances. Stay. Enjoy the performance.” Annie grabbed up her shawl and reticule and said her good-byes, then she hurried back down the corridor, down the staircase, and into the lobby. She made her way outside and glanced about for Lord Ashbourne’s coach.

The conveyance sat across the courtyard, Lord Ashbourne’s magnificent matched black horses at the bit, his fancy liveried coachman and two footmen waiting attendance. Lord Ashbourne stood next to it, a decidedly angry look chiseled on his annoyingly handsome face. When he saw her, his stance relaxed, but only a bit. She stalked over to him.

“Happy?” she asked with a false smile as she allowed him to assist her up into the coach.

“Not particularly,” he replied.

He hoisted her up with one hand and she entered the coach and settled on the seat across from where he usually sat. Her chest heaving with indignation, she considered all the things she would verbally hurl at him as soon as he sat down.

She took a deep breath to prepare for her tirade.

A glint of light caught her eye.

She glanced across the seat. The candlelight in the lantern secured to the side of the coach reflected off a dazzling amethyst ring.

Curled into a perfect, sensual ball in the corner of the seat, wearing an exquisite fur wrap and a deep purple satin gown, reclined the most gorgeous and exotic-looking woman Annie had ever seen before.

Annie sucked in her breath.

Lord Ashbourne’s mistress.

CHAPTER 16

Annie blinked at the beautiful woman sitting across from her. Perhaps the goddess was a figment of her imagination and would dissolve before her eyes. No one could really be that beautiful, could they? Why, she nearly made Lily look plain.

The woman uncurled from the corner and raised a lovely brow. Her hair was midnight black, her eyes were dark orbs. She had finely drawn cheekbones, a perfect point of a nose, and lips the color of dark cherries. She had a beauty mark on her cheek and she eyed Annie warily from behind long, luxurious lashes.

No. Not a figment of her imagination. Not at all.

Oh, perfect. This is all this evening calls for.

Lord Ashbourne’s mistress looked like she’d just descended from Mount Olympus. Or Cleopatra. Though Cleopatra, Annie decided, had nothing on this beauty. Her heart sank when she thought of Jordan alone with this woman, kissing her.

Her own inexperienced pecks must have been laughable to him if this creature was the company he normally kept. Annie glanced down at her own bright dress. She was inadequate, like a little girl playing dress-up. She eyed the woman without saying a word before Lord Ashbourne climbed into the coach and sat next to Cleopatra.

“So, you’re the
signorina
who’s been occupying so much of Jordan’s time lately?” Cleopatra asked.

Annie flinched at the barely concealed anger in the woman’s beautiful Italian-accented English. Annie didn’t like the way she called him Jordan, for one thing, and she certainly didn’t like the way Cleopatra made “occupying his time” sound positively indecent.

“I’m Anne Andrews,” she replied steadily, lifting her chin.

“Yes. I know. Good for you,” Cleopatra replied with a tight smile.

Lord Ashbourne cleared his throat and Annie, glad for the reprieve from the woman’s prying eyes, turned her attention to him. “I cannot believe you pulled me out of there like that.”

His voice was flat. “I cannot believe I had to. Have you learned absolutely nothing?”

Annie crossed her arms over her chest. “I was merely talking to him. It was hardly inappropriate. His sister was there, for goodness’ sake.”

Lord Ashbourne clenched his jaw. “That is entirely beside the point. First, you lied to me earlier when I came to your house, and second, you need to stop chasing Eggleston around like a lovesick schoolgirl. You’re making a fool of yourself. The entire
ton
is talking about it. You should have heard what Lord and Lady Cranberry said.”

“Lady Cranberry is a notorious gossip,” Annie replied, but tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She fiercely bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She refused to look like a baby in front of Lord Ashbourne and his goddess. But Lord Ashbourne’s words rang true all of a sudden. Were people talking about her? Saying she was chasing Arthur around like a fool?

“You went to her house earlier?” Cleopatra asked Lord Ashbourne. One finely drawn eyebrow rose.

Jordan tossed his mistress an unamused look.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your … friend?” Annie asked, wanting to die of shame.

Lord Ashbourne looked nothing if not completely bothered. He spoke with his jaw clenched. “By all means. Miss Annie Andrews, this is Signorina Nicoletta Monrovia.”

“Cannot say it’s a pleasure,” Nicoletta said, her eyes narrowed to slits.

Annie just glared at her. Leave it to Ashbourne to have a mistress as rude as she was beautiful. They were well matched in that respect.

Lord Ashbourne gave Nicoletta a displeased look.

Annie glanced away, out the window. “Just take me home. This night has turned into a disaster.”

“Agreed,” Lord Ashbourne replied.

Annie couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t know Arthur was going to be there tonight.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you,” he drawled.

Annie squeezed a fistful of the velvet seat cushion. “You keep saying you’re so put out, yet you insist upon following me around and interfering in my life.”

“You give me too much credit. Tonight, my dear, I stumbled upon your foibles entirely by accident. Or did you forget that you told me you were ill and staying in this evening?”

Annie clenched her jaw. “I wouldn’t have to invent such stories,
my lord,
if you were not such a nuisance.”

Nicoletta had been glancing back and forth between them, watching their fight with glowing, dark eyes. She leaned toward Annie. “How dare you call him a nuisance? He is doing Lord Colton a favor watching you. If you were not such a burden, it would not be such a chore.”

Annie closed her eyes tightly so the two of them wouldn’t see the unshed tears. “I never asked to be anyone’s favor,” she bit out.

“No, but you are,” Cleopatra answered.

“Nicoletta, enough.” Jordan’s voice was a thunderous command in the small confines of the coach.

Annie’s eyes snapped open.