Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3 (17 page)

“I’ve already spoken to them. You are allowed to waltz. Indeed, the ladies all seemed quite impressed with you.” Her father smiled down upon her, his natural warmth and affection soothing Anne’s most immediate fears.

“What would I ever do without you, Papa?” she asked.

He grinned cheekily. “You’d marry a man who loves horses almost as much as he loves you and you’d have a hundred beautiful children.”

She giggled. “A hundred? Papa, there’s not nearly enough time for that many children. I shall promise you…six or seven?”

“That is an acceptable number I suppose.”

Anne voiced yet another fear. “Papa, what if no one wants to dance with me?” At eighteen she was well into womanhood but had no life beyond finishing school until tonight.

“You fret too much, sweetheart,” said Baron Chessley. “You are like your mother in that. Be bold. Take what you want in life. Never walk away from it.”

“Be bold.” Anne repeated the words with conviction.

At that moment the nearest wall of people parted to reveal a group of tall, impossibly handsome men standing near the dancing couples. There were five men in total, but it was one in particular who held her interest. He had his back to her, but he turned his head to the side as he spoke, presenting a fine aristocratic profile. His broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist and long, fine legs. Anne blushed as she realized that she was assessing him like a stallion. His brown hair had currents of deep auburn buried in the dark chestnut. Anne found her hands twining in her skirts as she imagined her fingers tangled in those silky strands. Anne crept closer, wanting to know what had made this man laugh.

“And so I said to him, ‘You wouldn’t know a cart horse from a racehorse.’ The bloody fool called me out for his honor. I told him he owed
me
a debt of honor for enduring his awful assessment of English-bred racers.”

Anne understood little of what the brown-haired man had just said, but it was obvious he took his horses seriously. She added that bit of knowledge to an ever-growing list of facts about this enticing stranger.

“Well, well, Cedric, it seems you’ve drawn a rabbit to your fox den,” a red-haired man murmured as he scanned Anne up and down with open familiarity that heated her blood.

The man, Cedric, spun about to face her, and that is when Anne knew she was completely and utterly lost. The music faded to a soft hum, and the candlelight at the edges of the assembly room flickered into darkness. All light, all life ceased to exist outside that moment when Cedric met her gaze. His brown eyes were as warm as cinnamon. He crossed his arms over his chest to stare down at her and swept those penetrating eyes of his over her form. He seemed to find her pleasing enough to offer a genuinely charming smile.

“And just who might you be, kitten?” he teased.

Anne’s body fairly burst into flames at the way his sensual voice poured over her. She was aware that he was being far too forward with her, but she was helpless to resist the subtle quirk of his full lips when he smiled again.

“I’m Anne Chessley.” She was lucky she didn’t stutter.

“Baron Chessley’s daughter?”

“Yes.” She continued to gaze at him, completely enraptured.

“It’s a pleasure, Anne, darling.” He stole her Christian name and adorned it with a seductive endearment like he had every right in the world to do so. Cedric’s smile was wide, like a cat eyeing a bowl of crème. He scooped up her right hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a faint but heated kiss to her knuckles, and all the while his gaze was fixed on hers.

“I am Viscount Sheridan.” The name sent her reeling.
This
was the young viscount she’d studied fervently in
Debrett’s
? The one whose name she’d heard mentioned in whispers by other young ladies. How he kissed like a dream and danced like a prince. She’d convinced herself he must be a fair-haired, fine-boned aristocrat prone to meticulous studies in a cozy library. She’d never been more wrong. Cedric was all vitality, all masculinity, and pure raw seduction.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord,” she answered, notably breathless. The men flanking Cedric exchanged secret smiles, as though her reaction was something they were all too familiar with.

Cedric shouldered his friends out of the way to ease her shyness. “Are you enjoying the season, Anne?”

“Oh yes, my lord. It is my first. Tonight I am debuting.” All her hope and eagerness for a wonderful first night out filled her face and voice. At this announcement, Cedric’s gaze darkened. Somehow her answer had changed him.

“Are you indeed?” The sudden coolness of his words confused her. Was it wrong to have admitted such a thing?

The red-haired man nudged Cedric encouragingly. “Ask her to dance. Go on, she’s a sweet little creature, there’s no harm in dancing with her.”

Cedric flashed an impatient look at his friend before returning his focus to her.

“Would you like…” Cedric began, but Anne’s father joined them with another man at his side.

“Anne, sweetheart, I’ve brought Mr. Andrews. You remember… Oh, why good evening, Lord Sheridan.” Her father smiled warmly at Cedric, who returned it with equal affection.

“I’ve just had the pleasure of meeting your daughter.”

“Excellent!” Baron Chessley turned to Mr. Andrews, a fair-haired young man a few years older than Anne.

“My lord, may I present Mr. Crispin Andrews? He is the son of a business associate of mine.”

Cedric inclined his head toward Crispin, but Anne was already feeling the ebb of his passion. Something had ruined the seductive flirtation he had begun only moments before.

“I understand you’ve been given permission to waltz, Miss Chessley? Your father gave his consent that I should have the privilege and honor of escorting you.” The admittedly attractive Mr. Andrews was already sweeping her away from Cedric and his friends. One of Cedric’s friends bent to whisper in his ear, but Cedric brushed him away and stalked off. Anne lost sight of him as the crowds swirled around her preparing for a waltz.

“Lovely night,” Crispin commented.

Anne smiled. It was too much to hope that she’d have a moment alone with Cedric. Here was a perfectly suitable gentleman who seemed genuinely interested in her, and she would be impolite to refuse him her attention. Unfortunately, she found him polite but rather conceited. He was attractive, she knew, but neither his features nor his voice could move her the way Cedric Sheridan’s had.

“Yes,” she answered, distracted as she found Cedric again. But now he wasn’t alone. A lovely woman with fiery hair leaned provocatively on Cedric’s arm as he whispered against her neck in a secluded alcove. Regret and hurt dueled for supremacy as she watched the man she hungered for leave the assembly rooms with another woman.

He isn’t yours,
she reminded herself.

But I want him to be
.

“Do not waste your time on a man like Sheridan, Miss Chessley. He’s only interested in experienced women such as Mrs. Thornton.” Crispin’s comment brought her attention back to her dancing partner.

“
Mrs
. Thornton?”

“The lovely widow that Sheridan has just escorted out.”

Pain lanced through her at the thought.

“Ex…excuse me.” Anne tore from his arms and narrowly escaped the dance floor without being bowled over by waltzing couples. Some wicked demon in her mind urged her to seek Cedric out, to see for herself if he was in another woman’s embrace.

I shouldn’t care, I don’t truly know him, but I’d hoped…
Maybe Crispin was exaggerating, or had misread Cedric’s intentions and the pair weren’t actually lovers.

Anne followed their path and found herself in a darkened antechamber, just off the main assembly room. Strains of music hung in the air, the muted notes ghostly, haunting. There was a murmur, a gasp, and the curtains at the far end of the room were flung back.

Anne ducked behind a small alcove in the corner by the door and watched as Mrs. Thornton ran from a laughing Cedric, who was trailing her in eager pursuit. He caught her about the waist and pulled her back against his chest. She sighed as Cedric nibbled her ear, his hands coming up to cup her breasts. His fingers worked at the laces, loosening the front of Mrs. Thornton’s gown to free one breast into his waiting hand. Without hesitation, Cedric pushed the woman against the wall, bracing her legs apart with his thighs. He dragged her skirts up, shoved her petticoats aside and caressed her between the legs.

Anne’s body broke out into a sweat. Her womb clenched. She wanted to be there, facing the wall, as Cedric primed her body, not Mrs. Thornton’s.

“Please, my lord, please. Take me hard.” Cedric pinched the peak of her breast before fumbling with the front of his breeches.

“Hard is my specialty,” he grunted and pulled her hips out for his entrance.

Anne watched in horrified fascination as Cedric took Mrs. Thornton against the wall. It seemed both violent and sensual somehow, like a soft kiss merged with riding a horse at full gallop. When it was over the lovers fixed their clothes and made their separate exits.

Anne crumpled to the floor, chest heaving. She couldn’t possibly love a man who would flirt with her and then take another woman in the next room.

If I don’t love him, then why does it hurt so?

A voice disturbed her weeping. “I warned you, Miss Chessley.”

Crispin Andrews emerged from the doorway. His eyes glowed like mercury. “He would never respect you. He would never realize the beauty of a woman like you. But I do.”

Crispin was upon her before she could properly react. Their bodies fell to the floor. Anne’s cry of pain was swallowed by Crispin’s mouth. He seemed to have grown six pairs of hands, because her skirts were suddenly around her waist and his body was descending on hers.

“Mr. Andrews! No!” She put her hands on his chest, pushing ineffectively.

“Yes, touch me,” he encouraged gruffly as he dragged her drawers down and released himself.

“Stop! Please!”

“Just give me a few minutes and I swear to you you’ll change your mind.” Crispin forced his mouth down on her and Anne couldn’t stop him, he was too strong. Crispin thrust into her without warning, and pain sliced through her lower body.

The moment barely lasted beyond a few thrusts of his hips. Afterward Crispin stumbled to his feet, fixed his trousers, and then walked off, leaving Anne disheveled, confused and hurting. Blood coated her inner thighs and Anne nearly screamed.

Why is there blood?
Deep between her thighs, everything felt tender, bruised, torn.

Had Crispin wounded something inside her? Anne tried to rein in her panic, comparing her moment with Mrs. Thornton’s. Mrs. Thornton seemed to have enjoyed the intimacy, crying out and moaning. But Anne? She’d only had pain and the steady friction between her legs that had left her ashamed, disgusted and hurting. She had felt no pleasure at all.

Perhaps it wasn’t in her to love. Maybe she had no heart for physical passion. The sobering thought chilled her very soul. Perhaps she wasn’t made for lovemaking…

Am I a woman made of ice?
she wondered in her daze.
No, I am not. But I won’t ever know what it feels to be loved as that other woman had tonight…

Anne got to her feet, fixed her gown with trembling fingers and fought off a new wave of tears. Something precious had been lost tonight, and it was more than just the innocence of her body. She’d been robbed of the innocence of her heart.

Chapter Fourteen

Cedric struggled to breathe. “You mean the night I met her she was raped?”

“The way Andrews told it, he pounced on her in an empty room. He didn’t give Anne a chance to fight or flee.” Despite the calm way in which he spoke, anger laced Ashton’s words.

Cedric’s fists were clenched so tight his hands were going numb. “How did you learn of this, Ash?”

“He saw me having a drink, and he was already foxed. He demanded that I congratulate him, of all things. He either did not realize who I was to you or mistook me for someone else. Andrews claimed that soon he would have a hold over your fortune once he said that your firstborn was actually his. He planned to blackmail you both. Said he knew Anne would do anything to keep her secret from you, or, failing that, you would pay for his silence about your wife’s past.”

“The bloody fool addressed the letter to me,” Cedric said. His plan must have been made half out of a bottle to begin with.

“Dearest Anne, we have plans to make…”

Her reaction that night to Crispin in the theater hadn’t been about concealing her old lover, but hiding from the man who had hurt her, violated her. Stolen her innocence.

If I ever find him again, blind or not, there will be a duel. I’ll pin a bell over his black heart if I have to.

Cedric struggled to remain calm. Dread and grim terror swept through him. He’d lost Anne forever because he’d refused to listen to her explanation. But he had been so enraged, would he even have believed her? Would he have been as foolish as the rest of the
ton
and believe a scoundrel’s word over hers?

He’d accused her of the worst sort of betrayal, but it was he who’d betrayed her.

“Cedric…what have you done?” Ash demanded quietly.

“She tried to tell me…but I wouldn’t listen. That letter, I’d read so much into it. Invented a story that suited my own self-pity and thought the worst of a woman who had never for a moment thought to do me harm. I lost my temper and shouted at her to leave my house. I threw her out when she was at her most vulnerable.” A shudder wracked his body. “Ash, if I am at risk of earning a place in the fires of hell, it’s certainly for what I did tonight, above all my other sins.”

“Where is she now?”

“Quite possibly on her way to London. I gave instructions to have her delivered back to her father’s house in the morning. I was planning to stay here for a few days. Couldn’t bear the thought of staying at Rushton until she was gone.”

“I just came from the main road to London. Because of the storm, no coaches were traveling the road. She didn’t pass me.” Ash started moving about the room, gathering Cedric’s clothes.

“Then she must still be at Rushton Steading.”

“Good. Get dressed. We leave immediately. We’ll have to ride since the coaches can’t get through the mud.” Ash started shoving clothes into Cedric’s hands and went to call for a pair of fresh horses.

“Ash…”Cedric hissed. “You know I haven’t ridden a horse since the accident.”

“Bloody hell, man. You’ll ride behind me on my horse.”

In a matter of minutes, Cedric and Ashton were mounting a sturdy beast in the pouring rain. Cedric clung to Ashton’s waist, his friend’s body the only lighthouse in the storm around them and the darkness he could never escape.

Ashton spurred the horse into a mad pace, one that would surely wear the beast down in minutes, but Ashton refused the creature any second of rest. The horse kept its breakneck pace for nearly half an hour before Cedric’s home was in sight. Cedric couldn’t see it, but he could smell the thickening forest and hear the slowing tempo of the horse’s hooves on the gravel walk leading up to the manor steps.

Mr. Bodwin’s voice cut through the pattering of rain upon stone. “My lord! Thank God you’ve returned. I was going to send a rider out, but no one knew where Taylor took you.”

He’d never heard Bodwin’s tone so pitched with panic. “Bodwin, what’s happened?”

“It’s her ladyship. She’s had an accident…”

Cedric was already barging up the steps, using Ashton’s arm for support, but his rain-and-mud-slicked boots skidded on the marble and he nearly fell. Ashton’s arms caught him and kept him on his feet.

“Where is she?” Cedric demanded.

“Her room. Sean Hartley is with her. He won’t leave her side, my lord. He found her hurt by the lake. He said you’d quarreled with her and that it was your fault.”

“Mine?” There was, perhaps some truth to that, but to hear such an accusation from the staff…

“He quite boldly said he was going to have a word with you. I told him you wouldn’t tolerate that behavior in this house. I tried to have him escorted from the room, but her ladyship won’t let go of his hand and—”

“Hartley can go soak his head while he seeks another employer. No man stands between me and my wife.” Cedric didn’t care that he sounded like an ogre. All that mattered was getting to Anne.

“What happened to her? You said he found her by the lake?” Ashton interjected.

“As far as we can tell, she fell at the top of the north hill and landed by the shore on the lake. Sean knows the truth of it, I suspect.”

Cedric was barely listening as Ashton helped him hurry up the stairs to the room he’d chosen for her. Almost wrenching the door from its frame, he burst into Anne’s quarters.

“Anne?” he called out. A hard body blocked his path.

“She’ll not be seeing the likes of you, my lord. Not today.” Sean’s Irish voice, rich with insolence, put Cedric in a rage.

“Get out of my way, Sean.” He tried to shove the footman out of his path. The damned man was as immoveable as a bloody mountain.

“No, my lord. You can sack me if you like, but I’m not leaving. And you’re not coming in.”

Ashton tried to calm things down. “Why don’t we take this discussion outside, so as not to disturb the lady?”

“I’m not leaving her,” Sean and Cedric declared at the same time.

“Fine. We remain here. But no more shouting.” Ashton took his usually diplomatic tone. “Now, Mr. Hartley, your loyalty is commendable, but this is Lord Sheridan’s wife. You will let him see her.”

Cedric felt Sean reluctantly step aside.

“We’ve also been told that you can best explain what tragedy befell Anne.”

“I can,” Sean answered in a standoffish tone.

“Please.” Cedric added his own gruff plea.

“She ran down the stairs past me after
you
shouted at her and called for me. After I left your chamber and woke your driver, Henry told me she had gone outside. It took me ages to find her. She’d run into the forest and tripped. Dislocated her shoulder and struck her head on a tree. She was barely hanging on to life when I found her. I carried her back myself, and Mr. Bodwin summoned the doctor.”

Cedric sank to his knees at Anne’s bedside, his hands searching blindly for her. When his fingers came into contact with a sling he winced.

“Anne, I’m here, love, wake up.” His words fell on deaf ears as his wife didn’t stir.

He stroked her hand and turned his head to speak again. “What’s happened to her? Why won’t she wake?”

“The doctor gave her something for the pain and to help her sleep,” Sean explained.

“What did the doctor say?” Ashton asked Sean.

“He said the shoulder had been disjointed but that was put into place and will heal in time. It’s the head injury that worried him. She’s been slipping in and out of consciousness, and he fears she might have suffered damage to the brain.”

“What sort of damage?” Cedric’s voice was barely audible. He felt like a lad again, losing his parents, enduring the test of becoming the man of his house at the cost of what he loved most.

“She’s been unresponsive to our questions whenever she has her lucid moments. The doctor thinks she has suffered memory problems.”

Unresponsive
. The word was as devastating as an axe blow to his neck. Cedric moved to sit on the bed and spoke to his footman.

“Can she be moved?”

“Sir?”

“Can I hold her in my arms?”

“I don’t think you deserve that, given your treatment of her,” Sean replied.

“Now see here!” Cedric hissed. “I’ve always liked you, Hartley, but if you continue to defy me I won’t just sack you. I’ll see to it you have no references, and no hope for future employment. Do I make myself clear?” Cedric’s anger was foreign and strange. He’d never threatened a servant before. It had always been his way to aid those who were not blessed with the same privileges he was.

Perhaps it was because at this moment Hartley was being the man Cedric wasn’t. The man Cedric should have been all along. Loyal. Trusting. Brave. The man who had cast Anne out had been none of those things.

“Oh, I understand, my lord. But the lady’s life and safety matter more to me than your bloody English pride, or references,” the footman snapped back.

Ashton, as always, knew when to intervene.

“Hartley, I can assure you that no harm will befall Anne. There has been a grave misunderstanding. A letter had been sent, filled with lies and slander that your master unfortunately had reason to believe. Lord Sheridan now knows the truth of the matter and of Anne’s innocence. She is safe with him, and you cannot imagine the guilt that he feels, which you are not helping. Now, can she be moved?”

Sean still seemed reluctant. “Yes.”

Cedric drew Anne into his arms and buried his face in her hair. Her orchid scent was faint, as though mirroring Anne’s fading life force. He whispered soft words of love and prayers for her to forgive him, hoping to coax her into fighting for survival.

“Please, my heart, fight for life.
Please
.” The depths of his wretched despair brought a rawness to his voice that had never been there before. Part of him expected her to move, to stir and open her eyes. But when Anne continued to lie motionless in his embrace it shattered his last bastion of hope.

Immense, wracking sobs scraped his throat and burned his lungs. Never in his life had his grief been so great. Not even the loss of his parents had wrought such intense suffering. This time, he had brought it upon himself.

Cedric needed time to grieve, to cope with the loss of his last hope.

* * * * *

Warmth. Soothing softness in a dark cocoon of safety. Rivers of gentle heat poured over her skin. Pinpricks of sudden coolness disturbed the embrace of that dark heat. Points of pressure smoothed away the sting of those cold spots. A continuous rumble of noise in the distance tickled her senses. She wanted to slide back into the darkness, but something in those sounds disturbed her, upset her. Blinding white light seared her face, her eyes, bringing with it a sense of body again.

What happened?
The voice in her mind spoke; it was familiar, but no name emerged from the gloom of her terrible lethargy. The deep sounds that had been teasing her ears paused. She fought to speak with the maker of the words…yes. Someone had been speaking to her. She now fought to create words of her own.

“Help…”

She hoped the other person could understand her plea. Something warm and firm drifted over her mouth, then her eyelids, enticing her to respond. Icy coolness trickled between her lips, a liquid filling her mouth, easing a discomfort she hadn’t realized she’d been suffering.

“Drink up. Good girl.” The words had meaning now. An action, an offering of praise. For some reason she felt like smiling at that, but the effort required was too great.

“Please open your eyes. Just allow me one more glimpse of heaven.” The words brought equal amounts of warmth and pain to her.

Must try.
Another struggle, less effort to speak. Her eyes cracked open, revealing a blurry world. As she batted against her heavy lashes, things finally settled into focus.

A crowd of men were ringed around her bed. A grim elderly man was studying her every move. A young footman stood by a wall to her right. Wariness was etched in his handsome face, as was a strange intensity. A tall ash-blond-haired man rested one shoulder against the left bedpost of her bed. He was elegantly attired, and his bright blue gaze was mesmerizing, but even he could not hold her attention when pitted against the man who crouched by her side of the bed. This man meant something more. Much more.

Something clenched tight in her chest as she studied his strong patrician features, the cultured appearance of a gentleman mixed with the casualness of a man who could have anything he wanted just by raising a brow. He was so beautiful it hurt. But she dared not look away, especially when she noticed something in him was flawed, or rather missing.

There was a strange vacantness in the brown depths of his eyes. A flash of pain lanced through her as she looked into them, like the wooded forests of an ancient land. A memory? She knew the man who held her hand so fiercely now was vastly different from the owner of those cinnamon brown eyes in that single memory.

“Anne, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” The sightless man spoke, his voice a gentle rumble that vibrated with concern. His face bore such a look of pain that she wondered if he should not be abed instead of she.

“Who are you?” She should know the answer. It was scratching at the back of her mind. Her question sent the room into a state of silent chaos built on shuffling steps, heavy sighs and furtive glances.

The elderly man approached her again. “I feared this might happen.”

The rest of the men waited silently as he asked a series of questions she vaguely knew the answers to. What year was it? What country was she in? Those came naturally, but who she was and who the men around her were did not rise to the surface.

“Well, I must say, I am amazed at how well you are handling your condition,” the elderly doctor said. “Most women in your place would be terrified, I would think.”

“I see no point in that,” said Anne. “Simply tell me what I must do to become better.”

The old man smiled and nodded, explaining to her what might best assist her, much of it involving rest. When the doctor and the footman finally departed and the blond man agreed to see them out, she suddenly felt anxious about being alone with the blind man who still clutched her hand.