Lord Ruthven's Bride (8 page)

“I am an interesting man. Now, then, as to the lady. If you intend to fight every man who gossips about her, the odds are, you will eventually end up dead.” He stopped and looked James in the eye. “That would not help anyone. Particularly not the lady.”

“She does no’ care one way or the other if I am alive.”

The duke smiled. “You’ve named the best reason to stay alive. Staying alive gives you time to make her care.”

“This is a moot point,” James’s irritation escaped his control. “Even if I wanted her to care, she is to be married.”

“Marriage contracts are broken quite often.”

James snorted. “Not by women like her.”

The duke lifted a brow. “And what kind of woman is that?”

“The daughter of a marquess betrothed to a wealthy marquess.”

The duke nodded. “Northington does embody all a woman could want.”

“Aye,” James said, then realized this entire conversation had revealed too much.

“You are probably better off avoiding her,” the duke said. “She has already caused you a great deal of trouble. Though, without her, you wouldn’t have secured Lord Harley’s imprisonment. She did you at least one great favor.”

“And nearly got herself killed in the process,” James muttered.

The duke shrugged and motioned with his head at something to James’s right. James shifted and looked in the direction he indicated. Lady Annabelle and her fiancé chatted with another couple. She looked at Northington, eyes bright, and James’s chest tightened.

“Definitely a troublesome woman,” the duke said.

“Aye,” James replied, and wished he’d never met her.

The words on the page of Annabelle’s book blurred with an unexpected blaze of sunlight through the window of the inn’s dining room. She squinted, then stilled. Good Lord,
he
was behind her. She waited for the feeling to pass, for Lord Ruthven to turn away from her as he had two days ago at the party. Instead, his stare seared into the back of her head.

Annabelle closed her eyes and prayed for him to leave, but the flesh of her exposed neck warmed. Worry caused her stomach to do a flip. Was it worry that she might be caught alone with Lord Ruthven, even in a public place, or was it the fact he hadn’t moved? Perhaps he didn’t recognize her. No. What man would stare at a woman he didn’t know? What man would stare at a woman he did know?

She opened her eyes. “I am surprised you can countenance being in the same room with me.”

No answer.

“You need not offer even a polite smile before you go this time,” she said.

Still no answer.

Embarrassment washed over her and she suddenly wondered if she’d been mistaken. Annabelle twisted in her seat and gasped softly at sight of Lord Ruthven standing inside the open doorway just as she’d imagined.

“It is rude to stare,” she snapped. “Have you nothing better to do than to follow me?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

His voice seemed deeper than it had when she last heard him speak in their drawing room five days past.

Annabelle lifted her chin. “As I was here first, it is you who followed me.”

“I beg to differ, my lady. I lunched in a private room.”

“Here, at the Rossmount Inn?”

“That is where we are. Where are your parents? I am surprised they allowed ye to dine alone.”

“I am a grown woman. I do not need a nursemaid.”

“Forgive me for disagreeing with ye a second time, my lady. But you do.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Why do you not go away? That is what you do best, is it not?”

“Where is your family, Lady Annabelle? It is no’ safe for you to be here alone.”

“My God, you are arrogant,” she said. “It is no concern of yours.”

He gave a low laugh that sent a flutter across the inside of her stomach.

“Your father would no’ understand if I left you to your own devices. I am surprised he doesn’t keep a closer watch on you.”

Josephine and Nick accompanied her. Josephine had excused herself to go to the privy and Nick had left her and Josephine alone while he met with a business associate in a private room—

“You met with Nicholas,” she blurted.

“Ah, so ye are here with Lord Grayson,” he said.

Annabelle leapt to her feet. “You knew all along. What business did you have with my brother-in-law?”

“That is not your concern.”

“I see. You can butt into my business, but I must remain quiet. I daresay, next you will report to my father that you found me here alone.”

“You are alone,” he said. “That is no’ proper. Your father will agree.”

“Why did you not speak to me the other night?” she demanded.

“Lord Northington would not have appreciated it.”

“Calum? Ridiculous. He appreciates that you helped me.”
Saved me
, she mentally corrected.

“Aye, he said as much.”

“I think the truth is that you do not like me,” she said.

He blinked and a lump rose in Annabelle’s throat. That was it, he didn’t like her. Why would he? She had bumbled into a very important investigation and nearly got herself, Lena and probably him—not to mention Mr. Benning—killed. Perhaps she had even come close to helping that monster Lord Harley remain on the loose. She had, in fact, been very foolish. He had every right to dislike her.

She released a breath and sat back down, then picked up her book. “I understand, my lord. You need not worry that I will trouble you again.”

“Oh, you will trouble me, you will trouble me greatly.”

She twisted and looked at him over her shoulder. “I just said I would not. I am a woman of my word.”

“I know you try,” he replied. “But the damage is done.”

“I am trying to be gracious, but you are making it very difficult.”

“Am I now?”

Annabelle opened her book with a flourish and turned her back on him.

“I have angered ye,” he said.

She concentrated on the page. Her head began to pound and she could no longer stand the silence. “You are an abominable, abominable—” she twisted to look at him again, ‘’—man.” The word died on her lips. Josephine stood next to him, one brow lifted.

“Lady Josephine.” Lord Ruthven gave a slight bow.

“Lord Ruthven,” she said, then looked at Annabelle. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” she said.

“I must be going,” Lord Ruthven said.

“I trust your business with my husband went well?” Jo said.

“Aye, my lady. Quite well, thank ye. Shall I wait for your husband to join you?”

Jo crossed to the table and sat in the seat to Annabelle’s left. “That won’t be necessary. We are well acquainted with the owner of the inn, and I am sure Nick will be along shortly.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He turned and started walking.

“You would not take
my
word that it was all right to leave,” she muttered.

He slowed and Annabelle thought he might say something, but he kept going. Her gaze dropped from his broad shoulders to the tanned calves below his kilt. He disappeared from view and she turned to find Josephine staring.

“An interesting man,” she said.

“Maddening, is what he is,” Annabelle said.

“Is he, now?” Jo said. “Then perhaps you should avoid him.”

“Oh, I intend to. You may depend on that.”

Now, if she could just forget how warm and safe she felt in his arms.

Voices in the hallway caught Annabelle’s attention. She looked up from the needlework that she’d been trying unsuccessfully to complete for the last hour. Who was that with her father? The voice…Lord Ruthven! She jumped to her feet and searched wildly for a place to hide before realizing the ridiculousness of the attempt. They weren’t entering the drawing room—and even if they were, why would she hide? Her father never did business in the drawing room. They would go to his study. She tensed as their footfalls drew near. Then they passed and faded down the hallway.

Annabelle sat back on the couch. She picked up her needlework, but set it in her lap and stared at the door. What was the viscount doing here? He made it plain she was a nuisance, yet he came to her house. She picked up the hoop and pushed the needle through the fabric. What business could he possibly have with her father? He was a lowly viscount only newly titled.

Shame washed over her. If her mother and father could read her thoughts they would disown her. They had never valued a person less for their station in life, and it wasn’t well done of her to be so niggardly. She’d let her frustration get the better of her. She looked up at the door. Why was she frustrated? It mattered not who her father conducted business with. Nor did it matter who Lord Ruthven did business with. But what business did they have together? Lord Harley, she realized. That conversation would include her, no doubt.

Annabelle chewed her bottom lip. She could easily listen in. Good Lord, no. She had promised her mother and father that her snooping days were over. How could she possibly look them in the eye if she broke that promise only days after giving it? She dove back into the needlework with a vengeance. The embroidered picture of a small garden was to be a belated wedding gift for Josephine and Nicholas. If she worked hard, she could give it to them before they left for Nick’s home in the north.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and she glanced at the door for the dozenth time. At this rate she wouldn’t finish the picture before Christmas. She wondered if she should take the needlework and go in search of her mother or Lena. With one of them to talk to the work would go quicker.

And you wouldn’t think about
him
, her mind quipped.

And she wouldn’t hear him leave.

She’d lost her mind.

She dared not leave the room until Lord Ruthven left, for she would not be able to resist going straight to her father’s study and eavesdropping. Annabelle paused. Eavesdropping on her father would be nothing like snooping in Lord Harley’s business. It was her father, after all, and he didn’t pose the same danger Lord Harley had.

A shiver slid down her spine. She had come so close to being murdered...and Lena. Tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. She was now grateful to be alone. The desire to cry hovered close to the surface these days. She pulled a handkerchief from her dress pocket and wiped her eyes. She hoped this strange despondency would pass soon. She didn’t understand it, and dared not share her misery. Her parents had duly chastised her, but she had seen in their eyes that they understood how close they came to losing her, as well as Lena.

Lena, her mother’s second cousin, had grown up with Annabelle and Josephine, and was as much a part of the family as she and Josephine. Losing her—Annabelle shoved the morbid thoughts aside and blinked away the moisture that clung to her lashes. She and Lena were safe. There was no need to think about what could have been...except that what could have been was her fault.

She released a slow breath. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she had with Lord Harley. Any strange behavior she saw would be reported to her father. Her stomach growled. Annabelle glanced at the clock sitting on the end table. 12:30. No wonder she was hungry. She threaded the needle into the fabric, then placed the hoop atop the small sewing box on the couch beside her. She set the box on the table, then rose and headed out the door and down the hallway.

Annabelle neared her father’s study and slowed at the sound of voices. Lord Ruthven had arrived more than an hour ago. Would they discuss Lord Harley for that long? What if something was wrong? She crept closer to the door. This wasn’t the same as spying on Lord Harley. Carefully, she pressed her ear to the wood.

“I understand what she means to you,” her father said. “But you must remember your station in life.”

“I do not cast aside a—”

“Anything interesting?”

Annabelle spun at the sound of Jo’s voice. Her sister stood, arms folded over her breasts.

“I-well-I was just—”

Josephine lifted a brow. “Just...”

“Oh, Jo, you know they’re talking about me,” she said in a whisper.

“You think very highly of yourself.”

“That’s not it, and you know it.” Annabelle glanced at the door. “Papa isn’t pleased with me, and I know Lord Ruthven doesn’t like me.”

Jo grasped her arm and started toward the hallway. “I think the viscount doesn’t dislike you any more than he likes you.”

Annabelle wrinkled her nose. “That’s a roundabout way of saying he doesn’t care at all.”

“I imagine he cares. He did save your life.”

Annabelle waved a dismissive hand. “He would have done that for anyone.”

“You seem to know him well.”

Annabelle pulled free and stopped, her stare on Josephine. “Any ninny can see he’s an honorable man.”

“Only yesterday you said he was maddening.” 

Annabelle blew out a frustrated breath. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t honorable.”

“He saves people and is honorable,” Jo said. “You seem to be on intimate terms with him.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “You met the man once. Can you say you didn’t learn that much about him in that one meeting?”

“I very much appreciate the fact he saved my sister.”

Her father’s study door abruptly opened. Annabelle whirled.

Her father looked at Josephine, then settled a frown on Annabelle. “What is going on?”

Annabelle’s mind raced. They’d taken only a few steps from the door. Did he suspect she was snooping?

“Cook sent us to tell you that lunch is ready,” Josephine said. “Would you like something sent up?”

Their father’s eyes shifted to Annabelle for an instant, then he looked back at Jo and nodded. “Have her send something for Lord Ruthven as well.”

“Fine, Papa,” Jo said, then looked at Annabelle. “Would you like to tell Mother and Lena that lunch is ready?”

“Of course.” Annabelle started to turn, then saw Lord Ruthven sitting in one of the chairs near the hearth, his eyes on her.

A strange thrill rippled through her. Then he shifted his gaze to the paper resting on his knee and Annabelle’s heart fell.

She was an idiot. 

* * *

“It really is best that we left Inverness. Don’t you agree?” Lena said.

Annabelle placed her reticule on the side table beside the settee and crossed to the bay window overlooking the hills with Dornoch Firth in the distance. Her father’s sudden decision to send her and Lena to Aeckland Castle with Josephine and Nicholas had angered her at first. But he’d been right. He and Mother would follow in a few days, but this trip removed Annabelle and Lena from the rising gossip.

No one dared say a word directly to her or Lena, but she’d heard the whispers. Many delighted in speculating how much pain Lord Harley had inflicted on his would-be victims. Worse, some implied that she and Lena had gone with him of their own accord, then her father had accused Lord Harley of murder in order to save their reputations. Fools. They blamed everyone but themselves because they didn’t want to admit that they hadn’t recognized the monster they called friend.  

Annabelle stared out the window at the distant sparkle of water nestled between the rolling hills. Would Lord Ruthven be forced to escape the oppressive weight of Town? Society had denigrated him for ferreting out Lord Harley’s evil. Where would he go?

His uncle owned land north of Aeckland Castle. She’d heard her father mention that he held land near Inverness, as well. Lord Ruthven could shut himself up there indefinitely. He would become lonely, though. Annabelle laughed at the idea. She couldn’t imagine him caring if he was alone. In fact, he probably preferred it. The few times they’d come in contact he had been brusque to the point of rudeness. But who wouldn’t have been rude when he witnessed a young woman rifling through a gentleman’s desk? No, she corrected. Not a gentleman. A killer.

Annabelle wrapped her arms around herself. How close had she come to dying that night? What of Lady Copeland? What did she think of the fact that she’d been cavorting with a killer? And what did she think about the fact that Lord Ruthven and Annabelle knew she’d been alone with Lord Harley? Probably nothing. At the time, she’d been furious at having been caught with him. But a week had passed and Annabelle and Ruthven had said nothing about her. By now she must know they didn’t intend to say anything.

Lena appeared beside her, wrapped an arm around Annabelle’s waist and leaned her head against Annabelle’s shoulder. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“One of the most beautiful places in the world,” Annabelle said.

“You say that as if you wish to be anywhere but here.”

Annabelle leaned her head against Lena’s head. “I am very glad to be here, and I am mostly glad that you are here with me.”

Lena straightened and looked at her. “I have never seen you so melancholy. What is wrong?”

Annabelle considered making something up, but Lena knew her too well. “I haven’t quite gotten over our ordeal.”

“Still feeling guilty?”

“That is part of it,” Annabelle said. “I do not quite know what else is bothering me. Perhaps it simply takes time to fully put an experience like this in the past.” She shifted her gaze to Lena. “You weren’t similarly affected?”

“Things were quite as bad for me as they were you. You literally battled the monster.” A smile softened her face. “And you did it for me.”

“It was the least I could do, considering I got us into the mess. And you would have done the same for me.”

“I would have,” Lena said. “But, still, you came much closer to death than I did. I cannot imagine... You are very brave.”

Annabelle gave a small laugh. “I was terrified.”

“Action in the face of fear is the definition of bravery.”

She hadn’t felt brave when they’d fallen from the carriage. Annabelle remembered the blood on Lena’s temple where her head hit a rock. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Annabelle said.

Lena led her to the settee and gently urged her onto the cushion, then sat beside her. “I don’t know what you would do without me, either.”

Annabelle blinked. “What?”

“Look at you. I am here now, yet you are a mess. You would be completely lost without me.”

Annabelle grasped her hand. “I would be.”

“But I am here, and all is well.”

Annabelle released her and leaned back against the cushion. “Only because Lord Rushton saved us.”

“Not so,” Lena said in a crisp voice. “If you hadn’t gotten us away from Lord Harley, then led him on that chase, he would have killed us before the viscount arrived. You saved us.”

If not for Lord Ruthven and Mr. Benning, Lord Harley would have killed them both. 

Lord Ruthven had saved them...and she hadn’t truly thanked him.