Secrets of a Runaway Bride (29 page)

CHAPTER 37

Somehow, the house party meant for Lily and Devon’s very closest friends had turned into a grand affair. Everyone, it seemed, had arrived, eager to hear how the Marquis and Marchioness of Colton were settling into their new life after their honeymoon holiday.

The ballroom at Colton House was filled with candlelight, music, and dancing, as lovely ladies and dashing gentlemen enjoyed themselves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t invite Arthur Eggleston, Anne, but you know how I feel about him.”

Lily was taking a break from her duties as hostess to speak with Annie, who was standing with Frances on the sidelines of the dancing.

Annie turned to face her sister. She hadn’t so much as thought about Arthur Eggleston in days, let alone wondered why he wasn’t at the house party. “Wh … what’s that?”

Lily tugged on her gloves. “I can see you scouring the room, and I want to save you the trouble. Mr. Eggleston will not be here.”

Frances pursed her lips and Annie nodded. It was true, she’d been scouring the room, but she hadn’t been looking for Arthur. Though she could hardly tell her sister her affections had recently turned to her husband’s closest friend, a confirmed bachelor, and a known rake.

Thankfully, Lily didn’t appear to notice. “I must be getting back to the guests.” She squeezed Annie’s hand. “But don’t worry, someone will ask you to dance any moment now. There are scores of eligible gentlemen here.”

Frances cleared her throat. “Yes. As to that, Lady Colton, where is Lord Ashbourne? I’ve yet to see him this evening.”

Lily smiled a surprised smile and gave Frances a coy look. “Why, Miss Birmingham, I had forgotten you fancy Jordan.” She sighed. “I can see why you’d be enamored of him. He’s handsome, dashing, wealthy, and kind, but a word to the wise, dear, Jordan’s not marriageable material. Much less trouble to set your sights on a man who is actually looking for a bride.”

“Oh, I’ve no notion of marrying him, Lady Colton,” Frances assured her with a wink. “I merely want to look at him.”

Lily laughed and Annie swallowed against the lump in her throat that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment.

Lily winked back. “Now,
that
is fair game, my dear.” Lily glanced around. “There is Mr. Holloway, Jordan’s brother Charlie. Now, he is exceedingly eligible.” Lily nodded toward the man.

Annie glanced across the room to see Charlie leaning against a pillar, smiling and laughing with a large group of people. As if he knew he were being watched, he looked up, then inclined his head toward them. Annie quickly blushed and inclined her head in an answering gesture.

“Oh, he is very handsome,” Frances breathed. “But I’d have to see him right next to Lord Ashbourne to truly compare.”

Annie elbowed her friend and Lily laughed.

“Speaking of Jordan, there they are now.” Lily nodded across the room.

Annie’s heart fluttered in her chest. Jordan and Devon were just entering the room. She sucked in her breath.

Jordan looked more heart-stoppingly handsome than usual. Light gray breeches, black evening coat, starched white cravat, tousled dark hair, and those piercing gray eyes. Annie smoothed her hands down her light green skirts to still their trembling.

Lily moved away. “I’ll send them over to dance.” She winked at Frances again and was gone off into the crowd before either young woman could say a word.

“Oh dear!” Frances’s hands flew to her cheeks. “She’s not really sending them over, is she?”

Annie shrugged. “It surely looks that way.” She glanced over to see Lily speaking with Devon and Jordan and pointing to where she and Frances stood. “I thought you
wanted
to dance with Jor … Lord Ashbourne.” She coughed.

Frances’s hands and face were bright red. “No, no. I want to
look
at Lord Ashbourne. I cannot actually dance with him. The last time we danced, I nearly tripped him. I made a complete fool of myself.”

Another glance informed Annie the two men were indeed making their way over to them. They were extricating themselves from the hordes of women who tried to stop them to talk.

“Oh, Frances, Lord Ashbourne doesn’t mind one bit. He’s quite reasonable. Don’t be so anxious.” And wasn’t she the pot calling the kettle black? Her own stomach was doing flips at the moment. But for some reason, Frances’s sheer panic helped Annie remain calm.

“Oh my goodness, no,” Frances was saying. “I’m a hideous dancer and I turn red when I’m nervous and I’m clumsy. I fear I will cast up my accounts on the poor man.”

The men were upon them then and Frances made a noise that sounded something close to a squeak and unceremoniously pushed Annie in front of her.

Devon bowed. “Good evening, ladies.”

Annie curtsied in response, keeping her eyes downcast. “Gentlemen.” She tugged Frances forward and the girl made a quick bob before quickly retreating behind Annie again.

Devon eyed both of them expectantly. “My lovely wife informs me that you two are in need of dancing partners. Ashbourne and I have come to offer our services.”

Jordan bowed then and another squeak came from the vicinity of Frances.

Annie opened her mouth to speak, but was saved by Devon taking charge of the situation. “Miss Birmingham,” he said, flashing Frances his most devastating grin. “Would you do me the honor?” He held out his black-clad arm to Frances.

Frances, looking as if she’d just received a last-minute pardon from the hangman’s noose, bobbed another quick curtsy, exclaimed vehemently that she would be delighted, grabbed Devon’s sleeve, and nearly pulled the poor man to the dance floor without a backward glance.

Silence fell between Annie and Jordan. She bit her lip and dared to glance up at him. Oh, how could she have forgotten in the span of one short week just how handsome he was up close? He straightened his shoulders. “Miss Andrews,” he intoned, and the sound of his voice moved along Annie’s nerves like warmed honey.

She nodded. “Lord Ashbourne.” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

He held out his arm, clad in pristine black superfine. “Would you care to dance?”

Simple acquiescence seemed to be the more appropriate answer than “I am madly in love with you, of course I would care to dance.” So, Annie took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Yes,” she answered in a too quiet voice. Then she concentrated on placing her gloved hand on his muscled arm.

He led her to the floor while Annie racked her brain. What would they talk about? What a complete imbecile she’d been for the last four weeks? Their passionate interlude after the ball at his house? The ball he threw for her to find her another man? Or perhaps the fact that she was inappropriately, madly in love with him? No. Not the most promising of choices.

She shook her head. The music started. A waltz. Of course it was a waltz. Fate’s sense of humor was spot-on of late. And a tad on the sarcastic side.

Jordan pulled her into his arms and the smell of him, a tinge of expensive cologne and something a bit spicy, made Annie close her eyes briefly.

“How have you been enjoying the party?” he asked in a flat voice.

Annie’s brow wrinkled. “The party? I … oh, it’s quite lovely.”

“Excellent. The weather’s held too, has it not?”

She nodded woodenly. Oh God, he was treating her as if he barely knew her. As if she were some acquaintance he’d just met. She couldn’t stand that.

“Jordan … I…”

He cleared his throat. “Do you intend to ride to the hunt tomorrow, Miss Andrews?”

He wasn’t even going to allow her to be familiar. She pressed her lips together. “Considering I have a fox as a pet, no, I do not.”

He inclined his head. “Ah, that’s right. How could I forget? We have that in common. Devon and Justin are going fishing. I intend to go for a ride.”

Hope surged in Annie’s chest. “Perhaps we can ride togeth—”

“By myself,” he finished.

Annie stared at the shoulder of his jacket. Willing her riotous thoughts back in order. He was making his intentions quite clear. They were to pretend nothing had happened between them. He was Lord Ashbourne, closest friend to her brother-in-law. And she was Miss Andrews, his closest friend’s sister-in-law, and the entire last month had not occurred as far as he was concerned.

Fine. If that was the way he wanted it. Two could play at such a sport.

“Yes,” she said, her voice calm and still. “I also enjoy a solitary ride.”

He nodded, apparently pleased to see her playing along, accepting his rules. Pain clenched her heart. His armor was on. He was pushing her away, keeping her at arm’s length. And it hurt to know it.

But there was something about the way he refused to look at her, the bead of sweat on his forehead. As if he were trying too hard. Hope surged in her chest again. Was he trying too hard? Was that what she sensed? Did he care somewhere underneath his supposed nonchalance?

Annie drew in a deep breath. She had just one chance, this one opportunity at the house party to try to crack that shell of his, to find out if there was a future for them, or whether she’d just gone and made a fool of herself again.

Annie glanced to the right and saw Lily march past on her way to fulfill some hostesslike duty, no doubt. Her sister’s words from minutes earlier clamored in Annie’s brain.

Jordan’s not marriageable material,
she had warned.
Much less trouble to set your sights on a man actually looking for a bride
.

Annie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. She’d never shied away from trouble a day in her life.

CHAPTER 38

Annie sidled up to Lord Medford. The viscount stood against a pillar surveying the crowd with a bored expression. “Good to see you, my lord.”

Medford inclined his head toward her. “Ah, the runaway bride,” he said in a tone that couldn’t be overheard by others.

Annie gave him an exasperated look. She didn’t like that nickname one bit, but Medford was so charming, it was impossible to be cross with him.

“You look as if you’re up to something,” he added.

She smiled at that. Medford was one to get directly to the point. She liked that about him. Liked it immensely. “That is because I am,” she replied. “And you look as if you’re about to die from boredom. Don’t any of the ladies here tonight catch your fancy?”

“They never do,” Medford replied with a sigh. “But you have captured my attention. Tell me. What are you up to tonight?”

She grinned and motioned for him to follow her into the corner.

“I have a question for you,” she said, once they’d hidden from the crowd. “Strictly hypothetical of course.”

“Of course.” He covered his mouth, obviously to keep from laughing, and then shoved a hand in his pocket. “By all means, ask your question.”

She glanced about. “What if a young lady—we shall mention no names—were inclined to lure a gentleman into her … bedchamber?”

Medford’s eyebrows shot up. “Miss Andrews,
please
assure me that this is indeed hypothetical.”

Annie shrugged. “But of course. Now how would such a young woman accomplish such a feat?”

“Not,” Medford replied, “with the assistance or blessing of her friend the viscount.” He plucked his hand from his pocket, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave her a stern stare.

Annie rolled her eyes. “Of all people, Medford, I assumed you wouldn’t judge me. You’re responsible for publishing
Secrets of a Wedding Night,
for heaven’s sake.”

A muscle ticked in Medford’s jaw. “Keep talking, miss, and I’ll march over to Lily myself and tell her what you’re up to. She disapproves of Arthur Eggleston more than I do and I hardly thought that possible. Yes, I might as well be out with it, I never liked the bloke, and—”

Annie’s mouth fell open. “Eggleston? Oh no, no, no. Not Arthur. Why, he isn’t even here. No, I’m … I mean, this young lady”—she cleared her throat—“is speaking of another gentleman entirely.”

Medford narrowed his eyes at her and cocked his head to the side. “Not Eggleston?”

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Then exactly
whom
are we speaking of?”

“Hypothetically?” she asked, leaning forward.

“Absolutely.”

“What if, hypothetically, the man in question was … the Earl of Ashbourne?”

A slow smile broke across Medford’s face and he shook his head slowly back and forth. “Ah, Miss Andrews, you never cease to amaze me.”

Annie shrugged and flashed him a grin. “So you’ll help me?”

“It depends,” Medford replied. “On whether or not the young lady in question might agree to write a pamphlet for her friend—anonymously of course—entitled, shall we say,
Secrets of a Runaway Bride
?”

Annie’s eyes widened. “Why, Lord Medford. You never cease to amaze
me
.” She contemplated the matter for a moment. “I have always wanted to write,” she replied, giving him a wicked grin. “Very well. She’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” Medford replied. “I guarantee it shall be a top seller. The young ladies of the
ton
will be thrilled to vicariously experience a clandestine trip to Gretna Green.”

“So, again, hypothetically, Lord Medford, tell me. Would this young lady’s friend, the viscount, assist her in her plot to lure a certain earl to her bedchamber?”

Medford glanced around before he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Hypothetically,” he said, “the viscount would tell her
exactly
what she should do.”

CHAPTER 39

Devon’s study was a sea of cravats and Hessians. A significant number of the male guests had come there seeking refuge from the ball. Jordan stood in a corner drinking a brandy and talking politics with Lord Cornwall when James Bancroft sauntered up.

“Lord Perfect.” Jordan nodded. “Seems as if I’ve seen far too much of you recently.”

Medford nodded to both men. “Ah, never without your infamous charm, I see, Ashbourne.”

Lord Cornwall said good night and excused himself while Jordan eyed Medford warily.

“Tonight I’ve come with a purpose,” Medford announced.