The Raven Prince (35 page)

“Why not?” he repeated as quietly as he could.

She swallowed and began on the other stocking, carefully smoothing it over her toes. “Because I don’t want you to marry out of a sense of misplaced duty.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said. “Wasn’t I the man making love to you last night and this morning?”

“And I was the woman making love to you,” Anna said. “I share just as much responsibility for the act as you.”

Edward watched her, searching for the words, the argument that would convince her.

She began tying a garter. “Peter was unhappy when I didn’t become pregnant.”

He waited.

She sighed, not looking at him. “Eventually, he went to another woman.”

Damned, stupid bastard.
Edward flung back the bedcovers and paced to the window. “Were you in love with him?” The question was bitter on his tongue, but he was compelled to ask it.

“In the beginning, when we were first married.” She still smoothed the tattered silk over her calves. “Not at the end.”

“I see.” He paid for another man’s sins.

“No, I don’t think you can.” She picked up the remaining garter and stared at it in her hands. “When a man betrays a woman in such a way, it breaks something in her that I’m not sure can ever be repaired.”

Edward stared out the window, trying to form a reply. His future happiness depended on what he said next.

“I already know you are barren.” He finally turned to face her. “I’m content with you as you are. I can promise you that I’ll never take a mistress, but only time will provide real proof of my faithfulness. In the end, you must trust me.”

Anna stretched the garter between her fingers. “I don’t know if I can.”

Edward turned back to the window so she couldn’t see his expression. For the first time, he realized that he might not be able to convince Anna to marry him. The thought brought him close to something very like panic.

“O
H, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

“Hush. He’ll hear you,” Anna hissed in Edward’s ear.

They were attending Sir Lazarus Lillipin’s afternoon lecture on the rotation of crops using swedes and mangel-wurzels. So far, Edward disagreed with almost every word the poor man said. And he wasn’t keeping his opinion of the man or his theories to himself.

Edward glared at the speaker. “No, he won’t. The man’s deafer than a post.”

“Then others certainly will.”

Edward looked at her indignantly. “I should hope they do.” He turned back to the talk.

Anna sighed. He was behaving no worse than the rest of the assemblage and better than quite a few. The audience could only be called
eclectic
. They ranged from aristocrats in silks and lace to men in muddy jackboots, smoking clay pipes. All were crowded into a rather grimy coffeehouse that Edward had assured her was perfectly respectable.

She was doubtful.

Even now, a shouting match was breaking out in the back corner between a country squire and a dandy. She hoped it would not come to fisticuffs—or swords, for that matter. Every aristocrat in the room wore a sword as a badge of his rank. Even Edward, who eschewed the affectation in the country, had belted on a sword this morning.

He’d instructed her, before setting out, to take notes of the important points of the lecture so he could compare them to his own research later. She’d made some half-hearted scribbles, but she was uncertain how useful they’d be. Most of the lecture was incomprehensible to her, and she was a bit hazy about what exactly a mangel-wurzel was.

She’d begun to suspect that the main reason for her presence was so Edward could keep her in his sight. Since this morning he’d stubbornly maintained his argument that they must be married. He seemed to be under the impression that if he simply repeated it often enough, she would eventually wear down. And he might be right—if she could just let go of her fear of trusting him.

She closed her eyes and thought what it would be like to be Edward’s wife. They would ride about his estates in the mornings, then argue politics and people over supper. He’d drag her to arcane lectures like the present one. And they would share the same bed. Every night.

She sighed. Heaven.

Edward let out an explosive snort. “No, no, no! Even a lunatic knows you cannot follow rye with turnips!”

Anna opened her eyes. “If you dislike the man so very much, why attend his presentation?”

“Dislike Lillipin?” He looked genuinely surprised. “He’s a fine fellow. Simply backward in his thinking is all.”

A wave of applause—and catcalls—signified the end of the lecture. Edward seized her hand in a possessive grip and started shouldering toward the door.

A voice hailed them from the left. “De Raaf! Drawn back to London by the lure of mangel-wurzels?”

Edward stopped, forcing Anna to halt as well. She peered over his shoulder at an exceedingly elegant gentleman in red heels.

“Iddesleigh, I hadn’t hoped to see you here.” Edward shifted so she couldn’t see the man’s face.

Anna tried leaning to the right but was blocked by a massive shoulder.

“And how could I miss Lillipin’s impassioned rhetoric on the subject of swedes?” A hand draped in lace waved gracefully in the air. “I’ve even left my prize roses in bud to attend. By the by, how are the roses you procured from me when last you were in the capital? I never knew you were interested in ornamentals.”

“Edward purchased my roses from you?” Anna pushed around him in her eagerness.

Icy gray eyes narrowed. “Well, well, what have we here?”

Edward cleared his throat. “Iddesleigh, may I present Mrs. Anna Wren, my secretary. Mrs. Wren, this is Viscount Iddesleigh.”

She dropped into a curtsy as the viscount bowed and produced a lorgnette. The gray eyes that examined her through the lenses were much sharper than the style of speech and mode of dress had led her to imagine.

“Your
secretary?
” the viscount drawled. “
Fas
-cin-ating. And, as I remember, you hauled me out of bed at six in the morning to select those roses.” He slowly smiled at Edward.

Edward scowled.

Anna backtracked. “Lord Swartingham was very generous in letting me have a few of the roses he’d purchased for the Abbey garden,” she fibbed. “They’re doing quite well, I assure you, my lord. In fact, all of the roses have branched out, and a few are developing buds.”

The viscount’s icy eyes returned to hers, and a corner of his mouth twitched. “And the wren defends the raven.” He swept another, even more flamboyant bow, and murmured to Edward, “I congratulate you, my friend,” before sauntering away into the crowd.

Edward’s hand tightened briefly on her shoulder, then he grabbed her elbow once more and tugged her toward the door. A dam of bodies blocked the entrance. Several philosophical discussions were being carried on all at once, some by the same people.

A young man paused to watch the arguments with a look of contempt on his face. He wore a ridiculously small tricorn perched atop a yellow-powdered wig with an extravagantly curled tail. Anna had never seen a macaroni, but she’d studied the cartoons depicting them in the newspapers. The young man glanced at Anna as they neared the entrance. His eyes widened and then shifted to Edward. He leaned over and was muttering to another man when they made the sidewalk. The carriage was waiting around the block on a less-crowded street. As they turned the corner, Anna glanced back.

The macaroni stared after her.

A shiver ran down her spine before she turned away.

C
HILLY WATCHED THE COUNTRY
widow round the corner on the arm of one of the richest men in England.
The Earl of Swartingham.
No wonder Felicity had held back the name of the widow’s lover. The potential for profit was enormous. And he had a perpetual need of blunt. Quite a bit of it, in fact. The accoutrements of a fashionable London gentleman didn’t come cheaply.

His eyes narrowed as he estimated how much he could demand for the first payment. Felicity had the right idea there. In her latest letter, she’d implored him to contact Anna Wren on her behalf. As Lord Swartingham’s mistress, Mrs. Wren must have loads of jewelry and other valuable gifts that she could turn to money. Obviously, Felicity planned to blackmail Mrs. Wren without letting him in on the scheme.

He sneered. Now that he knew the setup, he could cut Felicity out altogether. She’d never been properly appreciative of his bed skills anyway.

“Chilton. Come to hear my lecture?” His elder brother, Sir Lazarus Lillipin, looked nervous.

As well he should, since Chilly had originally tracked down his brother to ask for another loan. Of course, now that he knew about Anna Wren, he wouldn’t need his brother’s money. On the other hand, that tailor had been quite uppity in his last communication. A little extra blunt never hurt.

“Hello, Lazarus.” He linked arms with his elder brother and began making his pitch.

“E
DWARD?”

“Hmm?” Edward furiously scribbled at his desk. He’d discarded his coat and waistcoat long ago, and his shirt cuffs were ink stained.

The candles were guttering. Anna suspected that Dreary had snuck off to bed after sending in their supper on a tray. The fact that the butler hadn’t bothered to lay the dining room table for the meal spoke volumes about his experience with his master after an Agrarian Club lecture. Edward had been writing rebuttals to Sir Lazarus’s ever since they’d returned.

She sighed.

Standing, she strolled over to where Edward worked and began playing with the gauze scarf tucked into the neckline of her dress. “It’s quite late.”

“Really?” He didn’t look up.

“Yes.”

She propped a hip on the desk and leaned over his elbow. “I’m so fatigued.”

The scarf came loose over one breast. Edward’s hand stilled. His head swiveled to watch her fingers at her bosom, only inches from his face.

Her ring finger wandered to her cleavage and dipped between her breasts. “Don’t you think it’s time for bed?”

In. Out. In. Out . . .

Edward surged to his feet, nearly knocking her over. He caught her and tossed her high in his arms.

Anna clutched him about the neck as she tilted. “Edward!”

“Darling?” He strode out the study door.

“The servants.”

“If you think, after that little display”—he took the stairs two at a time—“that I’d waste time worrying about the servants, you don’t know me.”

They gained the upper hall. Edward bypassed her room and stopped at his own.

“The door,” he prompted.

She turned the doorknob, and Edward pushed it open with his shoulder. Inside his bedroom, she glimpsed two heavy tables covered in books and papers. More books were stacked haphazardly on chairs and the floor.

He crossed to set her by his huge bed. Without a word, he turned her and began to unhook her dress. She caught her breath, suddenly shy. This was the first time she’d initiated their play when he knew it was her. He didn’t seem repelled by her boldness, however. Far from it. She was very aware of the blunt fingertips brushing her spine through the layers of clothes. The dress sagged about her shoulders, and Edward pulled it down as she stepped out of it. He slowly untied her petticoats one by one and unlaced her stays. She faced him in only her chemise and stockings. His eyes were heavy lidded and intense, his gaze serious as he rubbed one thumb over the shoulder strap of her chemise.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

He bent and brushed a kiss over her shoulder as the strap fell. She shivered, whether at his touch or the look in his eyes, she didn’t know. She could no longer pretend that this was only a physical act between them, and he must sense her emotion. She felt exposed.

His lips slid along her sensitive skin and he nipped. He moved to the other shoulder and that strap fell as well. Gently, he inched the front of the chemise down, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were already tight. He spread his hands over both mounds, his palms warm and possessive. He seemed to examine the contrast between his dark hands framing her white skin. High on his cheekbones color flamed. Anna imagined her pale pink nipples peeking between his callused fingers, and her head fell back as if weighted.

He lifted her breasts and squeezed.

She pushed herself into his hands. She could feel his gaze on her face, and then he stripped the chemise from her and lifted her to the bed. She watched as he swiftly removed his clothes and he lowered himself beside her. His hand smoothed across her naked belly. She raised her arms to draw him to her, but he gently caught her wrists and placed them by her head. Then he slid down her body until his head was level with her belly. His hands were on her inner thighs, and he pressed her legs apart.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do with a woman.” His voice was black velvet.

What did he mean? Shocked, she resisted. Surely he didn’t want to look
there?
It had been different this morning when she’d been half asleep. Now she was fully awake.

“It’s not something a man can do with a whore,” he said.

Oh, Lord, could she do this? Expose herself so intimately? She craned her neck to look at his face.