An Affair to Remember (28 page)

She was so beautiful. He stroked her gently, then more firmly, watching as she tossed her head and arched toward him, her breasts rising toward him. Anthony bent and tasted her, taking a nipple in his mouth. He laved it mercilessly, moving his fingers faster, deeper. Within seconds she stiffened, lifting her hips from the bed as the passion took her.

Anthony didn’t wait for her to regain her breath. He lifted himself over her, and then slowly, ever so slowly he held himself against her, each movement taking him further into the heat. Beneath him, Anna moaned softly, wrapping a leg about him as she held him to her. She held nothing back, offering all, and Anthony marveled at her openness.

Suddenly he was moving, rising and falling into the sweetness of her. After a first astonished gasp, Anna quivered, then rose to meet him, enveloping him in a heat that shook him to the core. As he’d expected, she was not a pliant partner, but wild, untamed, nipping at his shoulder, her hands never still as she touched and stroked, her long legs locked about him, as if she would hold him there forever.

Anthony cupped his hands about her bottom and held her tight, burying himself in her heat. She moaned and he felt her tremble deep inside as she gave herself to the pleasure. It was an agony and an ecstasy, holding still as she writhed around him, her heat igniting his own.

He was delighted to see that Anna wasn’t about to let this
moment slip by without living every second of it. She wrapped herself around him, holding tightly, trying to soak in every nuance of the passion that washed through him. When he finally stilled, they lay locked in each other’s arms as their breathing returned to normal.

It was heavenly, lying in the warm bed with his arms about her, her warm, naked skin against his. She buried her face in his neck and held tightly. Outside, the sun finally gave way to night, twilight sinking into blackness.

Anthony sighed heavily. “I don’t want to move.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair and kissed her forehead, then rolled over to his side, pulling her with him, tucking her neatly against him.

After a while, she stirred. “That was…nice.”

“Just nice?” he asked, a little affronted.

Her eyes shimmered silver. “
Very
nice. So nice I’d like to do it again.”

He laughed softly and captured a thick curl in his hand and wound it around his finger. “You are a brazen vixen, Anna Thraxton.” He rubbed against her in a suggestive manner. “Fortunately, I love brazen vixens.”

She gave him a lazy, sated smile. Something flickered through her eyes, something sad and tender.

Anthony bent to kiss her mouth, trying to capture the sadness and remove it. “What is it?”

Her expression immediately shuttered. “I was just thinking of tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?”

She turned her head away, saying nothing.

Unease settled in Anthony’s chest. He turned her face to his. “What happens tomorrow?”

A faint smile touched her mouth. “The children are performing their play.”

Anthony had a feeling that wasn’t the answer she had intended to give. But before he could say more, Anna sighed and pushed herself up on her elbows, her hair falling over her shoulders and pooling on the bed at her elbow. “I need to dress. One of the servants could come at any time, and it would be awkward.”

“We haven’t talked yet.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “I think we’ve said quite a lot.”

“Yes, but we haven’t solved anything. Anna, I care for you.”

She smiled, her heart in her eyes, a gleam of hope in the silver depths that made him ache. “Yes?”

His jaw tightened. If he could not convince Charlotte to release him, there would be no “and.” “Anna, give me some more time—”

She placed her fingers over his lips. “This is a perfect moment, Anthony Elliot,” she whispered. “Don’t spoil it with words.” She bent and pressed her lips to his, softly, gently, her hands traveling lightly over his back, sending trills of pleasure through him.

Anthony captured her hands. “Wait here.” Then he rose and went to the dresser and searched for a moment. Finally finding what he was looking for amid the fobs and cravat pins, he returned to the bed and lay beside her.

A crease rested between her brows. “What is it?”

Anthony captured her hand. He kissed her ring finger and slid the talisman ring over it.

Anna held her hand to the light. “What’s this?”

“A family treasure. Legend has it that whoever has the ring in his possession will meet the love of his life.”

She made a movement as if to take it off. “Then it’s not for me—”

“Anna, the ring has nothing to do with marriage. It’s for finding the love of my life, and that is you.” He bent and kissed her finger once more, this time teasing the palm of her hand as well. “Keep it. For me.”

Anna closed her hand over the ring. She had his love. It was something—but it wasn’t enough. “I cannot accept this.”

“You already have.”

She pulled away. “No.” Had she any pride left, she would rise from this bed and walk away. But somehow her pride had disappeared, and with it all hope that she and Anthony could ever be happy. She couldn’t ask him to walk away from his honor—it would change him. And she loved him just the way he was.

“We are hopeless,” she said, managing a smile through her tears. “You can’t walk away from your commitments, and I cannot allow myself to be beguiled into an untenable situation.”

He enveloped her in a powerful hug, resting his head against hers, his breathing warm on her ear. “Please, Anna. I will take care of you. You and your grandfather will never want for anything.”

Each word he said drove a wedge between them. Anna felt as if they were staring at each other over the brink of a chasm, a chasm so deep and so wide that it could never be bridged. Her heart ached as if someone had squeezed it in a vise. “No.”

He brushed his lips over Anna’s, nipping at the delicate corners of her mouth. “Don’t think. Just stay with me. We’ll take this one day at a time. Something will happen. It has to.”

Anna closed her eyes. It was so tempting. The ring on her finger seemed to burn. It was a pity the legend was wrong. What she felt for Anthony couldn’t be love. Love didn’t feel so despairing. So hopeless.

Her fingers closed about the ring and she turned into his embrace, pressing her naked body to his. Without words, she showed him what she felt and he responded instinctively, worshipping her in a way that left her crying his name.

Later, much later, she lay curled in his arms. Anthony’s steady breathing stirred her hair, sending a shiver of repletion through her. She savored the feel of him, his scent, his warm arms about her. Outside, the moon shone, sending long tendrils of light across the bed, warming their naked limbs to silver.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, but eventually, as the night deepened, she slipped from his warm embrace and stood in the silver moonlight. Slowly, she dressed. Before she went to the door, she pulled the narrow circlet from her finger and laid it on the dresser. Careful not to make any noise, she turned and left.

Dawn brought a bright swish of pink and purple to the morning sky. Anna stood on the front step of Greyley House, her traveling pelisse neatly buttoned about her neck, a pair of clean gloves in one hand, her best walking shoes laced up her feet.

She’d left a letter for Grandpapa telling him to come and meet her in London as soon as possible. She was sure that Greyley would provide a carriage. The thought of Anthony tightened in her throat and she blinked back tears.

It had been difficult to leave the children. She’d gone to the nursery and awakened them. They’d seemed to know what was coming, for Elizabeth burst into tears before Anna could say a word. She’d hugged them all, even Desford, who had returned her embrace with a surprisingly fierce hug.

“Would you like the carriage ordered, my lady?” Jenkins
asked quietly. He seemed especially somber this morning, a fact Anna appreciated.

“Yes, I—”

A phaeton whirled into the drive and approached the front steps. As it drew closer, Anna could see Rupert in the seat, the reins in his hands.

He pulled up to the steps and dismounted. Anna caught a glimpse of his face and noted how white his mouth appeared. “Jenkins,” she murmured to the butler, “Thank you for everything.”

Jenkins bowed and Anna gathered her skirts and descended the stairs to Rupert’s side. “What’s happened?”

His gaze was wild, his hair mussed as if he’d grasped it at some point. “It’s finished, Anna. I went to see Charlotte this morning and—” His voice broke and he clamped his mouth together, white lines appearing at either side.

“Rupert, I’m sorry,” Anna said softly. “But…perhaps it is for the best.”

His eyes blazed and he snapped, “How can you say that?”

“You are overset, but there is no need to flare up at me. I haven’t done anything.”

Rupert slumped. “I know. Anna, I’m sorry. It’s just that…I love her. And she told me she didn’t want to ever see me again. It was as if…she didn’t care.”

Anna nodded, unable to say anything more, her own tenuous control threatening to break.

With an obvious effort, Rupert gathered himself. He caught sight of her luggage for the first time. “Are you leaving, too?”

“I must.”

Something in her voice must have given her away, for he nodded. “I understand.” He turned with an impatient movement. “Here. I have no wish to stay, either. I might as well
drive you to London; it’ll be a hell of a lot faster than Greyley’s outdated conveyance.”

Anna considered the high perch phaeton with a wistful look. He was right—the phaeton would make the trip in half the time of the lumbering carriage. Besides, she didn’t look forward to hours of a solitary ride, with no one to distract her from her thoughts. Sighing a little, she picked up her portmanteau and handed it to Rupert. “I would be honored to ride with you to London.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Who knows? Maybe I will stay in town for a while. I sure as hell don’t want to ever come back here.”

Anna glanced around at the bleak house that rose beside them, at the expanse of green lawn, at the carefully trimmed trees. As forbidding as it was, it felt like home, and her chest ached to leave it. She cast a last glance up at the dark windows and climbed into the phaeton beside Rupert.

From an upstairs window, Lady Putney watched as her son drove off with the governess. Any other mother would have experienced heart palpitations at the thought of so unworthy a match, but Lady Putney was no ordinary mother. The sight of Anna sitting in a curricle beside her son, her bags strapped to the back, made her smile.

Lady Putney dropped the curtain back in place and climbed into her bed. She would sleep another two or three hours and then she’d rise and attend the children’s play. Smiling to herself, she drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, down the hall, someone else stood at their window and watched the phaeton bowl out of sight. Eyes narrowed, Sir Phineas puffed thoughtfully on his cigar, blowing the smoke out the opened window. He wasn’t about to give up his dreams of scampering grandchildren.

There had to be a way…He puffed harder on the cigarillo. After several moments, a slow grin touched his face, and it was with a noticeably light step that he went to dress. He needed to talk to the children. They would know what to do—he’d bet his last groat on it.

S
everal hours later Sir Phineas opened the door to the library. “Are you coming to see the children’s play? They are ready to begin.”

Anthony was standing by the window, his face drawn and set. Sir Phineas noted the signs of strain with approval. It wouldn’t be fair for Anna to suffer alone. “Everyone is already assembled in the dining room.”

The earl’s frown deepened. “Everyone?”

“Lady Putney, Sir and Lady Melton, and Miss Charlotte Melton.”

“Who invited the Meltons?”

“I believe the children did. They wanted a proper audience.”

“That’s odd.” The earl’s brow lowered. “Where is Rupert?”

Sir Phineas shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since early this morning.”

“Lovely,” Anthony muttered. God, what a coil. He’d
woken to an empty bed, still haunted with the feel of Anna. He’d almost risen and gone to her room, but the sounds of the household stirring to life had halted him.

What was it about her? Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her, tasted her, felt her heat surround him. He moved restlessly, turning back to the gray morning. Anna might think they had no future, but he knew otherwise. All he had to do was convince her of that.

But for now, he had to deal with Charlotte. Perhaps he could use the play to his benefit—another opportunity to show her how unsuited they were.

Sighing, he followed Sir Phineas to the dining room. The children had hung a painted canvas behind the wide opening that led to the foyer, making a natural stage area. Chairs had been placed near the curtain in two narrow lines. Sir and Lady Melton sat in the front row of chairs, Charlotte beside them.

Seeing Anthony, the Meltons rose and made their greetings. Anthony shook hands with Sir Melton, said a few brief words to Lady Melton, and bowed over Charlotte’s hand.

“Perhaps you’d care to sit here?” Sir Phineas indicated an empty chair on the front row by Charlotte.

Banishing the urge to tell Sir Phineas to mind his own business, Anthony took the seat and fixed his gaze on the drawn curtain, imagining Anna just behind it.

A rustle moved the curtain and then Elizabeth stepped forward. Dressed in a blue satin gown, a conical hat on her head, a long veil draped over one shoulder, she curtsied. “Good evening, gentle ladies and gentle men.” She launched into a short monologue describing the aspects of the play about to be presented.

Apparently the rendition was a telling of the family history of sorts. As Elizabeth droned on, Anthony’s attention wandered and he stole a glance at Charlotte. She sat staring
straight ahead, her eyes focused in the distance, her mind obviously elsewhere. Anthony tried to think of some obnoxious vice he could adopt that would so disgust her that she would recoil in horror. Perhaps if he mentioned that he snored…

The play went on and on, seeming interminably long, though in reality only twenty minutes passed. A whole parade of illustrious Elliot ancestors marched across the makeshift stage. Gradually drawn in, Anthony was impressed with the amount of knowledge the children conveyed about each of the time periods. Truly, Anna had wrought miracles.

Once in a while, one of the children forgot the lines. Immediately a soft voice whispered a prompt from behind the curtain. It had to be Anna. Anthony found himself staring at that place in the curtain, imagining himself with her, hidden from sight, his mouth on hers. He stirred restlessly, leaning back in his chair and shoving his hands into his pockets. Immediately, his fingers closed over the small circle of the talisman ring that Anna had left in his room.

The feel of the warm band of silver eased his frustration. He was far from through with Anna Thraxton. He was a St. John, damn it, and when a St. John wanted something, he made it his, one way or another.

The play continued. To everyone’s amusement, there were plenty of gaffes—Marian came out wearing her costume inside out and Desford stumbled against a table that collapsed beneath him. Once, while in the middle of a mock sword fight, Richard’s sword got tangled in the scenery and he yanked the curtain down on his head.

Sir and Lady Melton seemed to enjoy the show immensely, clapping and laughing aloud, as did Sir Phineas.
Everyone but Anthony and Charlotte, who sat side by side as if turned to stone.

Anthony stole a glance down at her and noted that she seemed as pale and wan as he felt.

Suddenly Lady Melton stiffened, her gaze on the stage.

The children had moved to current times, and were standing in the midst of a fairly accurate rendition of the nursery. And there, wearing a red wig, was Elizabeth, her chest filled with rags to give her an inkling of Anna’s curvaceous figure. If the wig and enhanced bosom hadn’t told Anthony who Elizabeth was supposed to be, the book of Greek poetry clutched to her breast would have.

“Miss Thraxton,” Desford called, coming onstage wearing one of Anthony’s best coats, the arms rolled up. “I’ve come to sweep you away!”

“Oh, Lord Greyley,” the fake “Anna” simpered. “This is highly improper.”

Anthony sat stunned as Desford walked up to “Miss Thraxton” and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. But worse was her reaction—she turned and kissed him back, blushing adorably.

“What the hell?” Sir Melton said loudly, sending a glare at Anthony. Lady Melton, meanwhile, sat as if mesmerized, her mouth opening and closing, though no sound came out.

“Children!” Lady Putney stood and scurried to the stage, but Sir Phineas blocked the way with his cane.

He took her arm and said quietly, “I fear it’s too late, my dear Lady Putney. The truth is out.” She struggled as if to free herself, but Sir Phineas led her to a chair and pushed her into it.

Despite the rustle in the audience, the actors plunged on. “Anthony” began chasing “Anna” about a table until Richard walked in.

Desford skid to a halt and glowered at the new arrival. “It’s Rupert! Why have you come?”

Elizabeth clasped her hands together and said in her best stage voice, “He has come to steal me away, for I love no one but him.”

Charlotte bound to her feet. “
What
?”

Anthony covered his eyes. He didn’t know whether to laugh or shout or just leave, but he had the feeling that the entire world was careening madly out of control.

Lady Melton lurched out of her chair and went to enfold Charlotte in a protective embrace. “My dear, dear child!” Over Charlotte’s curls, Lady Melton glared at Anthony. “We won’t stand for this, Greyley.”

Anthony sighed and hauled himself to his feet. “I’m sorry about the play. I didn’t know—”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Lady Putney said. “If anyone is to blame for this, it is that woman, Anna Thraxton. She’s the one who—”

“No!” Charlotte broke free from her mother’s embrace, her deep blue eyes brimming with anger. “I will not believe it of Anna.”

Everyone was in a turmoil. Everyone except one person. Anthony caught Sir Phineas’s calm gaze where he sat watching the whole as if the play had moved from the stage to the audience.

The old weasel, Anthony thought with grim amusement. He’d known all along.

Lady Putney sighed. “My dearest Charlotte, I warned you about the children, did I not? They are completely unmanageable, which you will discover when you wed Greyley. Fortunately I am more than willing to take them to live with me at—”

“No,” came a voice from the stage. Desford stepped for
ward, his hands fisted at his sides. “We don’t wish to live with you.”

Lady Putney’s face grew red, though she tried to smile. “Now Desford, I’m sure that Miss Melton doesn’t want to hear—”

“I don’t like Miss Melton, either,” the boy continued in a dogged voice. “It’s because of her that Miss Thraxton left.”

Anthony’s attention riveted on the small boy. “Left?”

“Of course you ask about
her
,” Lady Melton huffed.

“Mother,” Charlotte said, “be quiet.”

“Where,” Anthony asked ominously, “is Miss Thraxton?”

Desford glared. “She left. Because of you.”

Elizabeth nodded. “She didn’t want to stay and watch you marry Miss Melton.”

“How do you know that?” Anthony asked. Desford’s gaze flickered to Sir Phineas.

The old man cleared his throat. “I, ah, may have told them that during one of my many conversations. I can’t remember.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Selena piped up, taking her finger out of her mouth. “She’s coming back. I know she will.”

“She’d better,” Anthony muttered, his heart a stone in the center of his chest. He glanced at Lily, who’d come out from behind the curtains. “Take the children back to the nursery.”

It took Lily twice as long as it would have taken Anna, but she managed to herd the children out without too much incident.

As soon as they were gone, Anthony said, “I’m going after her.”

“Good for you,” Sir Phineas said with an air of great satisfaction. “If you leave now, you will catch them before they reach London.”

Anthony frowned. “Them?”

“Yes, ‘them.’” Lady Putney gave a shrill laugh. “Miss Thraxton eloped with Rupert this morning.”

“You’re lying,” Charlotte snapped.

“I saw them,” Lady Putney said, “They were riding together in my son’s phaeton. That hussy even had her portmanteau strapped behind.”

Charlotte stamped her foot. “That bounder! That cheat! Just this morning he told me that he loved
me
!” She paused, her face quivering. “And I sent him away.”

“I should hope you did,” her father huffed. “Rupert Elliot has no prospects.”

“I know. He has been painfully honest. Or he was,” Charlotte said, a tear running down her cheek. She looked sadly at her father. “I knew you had made some bad investments and you needed money. My marriage to Greyley was the only way to save us all.”

Lady Melton’s brow creased. “Bad investments? Where did you hear that?”

Charlotte stared at Lady Putney.

“Did you say such a thing?” Sir Melton demanded.

Lady Putney gave an ingratiating smile. “I-I merely repeated what I had heard from the town gossips—”

“You said Mama had told you everything!”

“No! You just misunderstood me, my dear.”

Charlotte’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t misunderstand anything. You lied, didn’t you?”

“Charlotte!” her mother said in a reproving tone. “I’m sure there is an explanation. Calling someone a liar is not very ladylike.”

“Sometimes I don’t want to be a lady,” Charlotte said. As if in illustration, she twisted her handkerchief until it ripped
in two, “If I ever see Rupert Elliot again, I’m going to strangle him!”

“An understandable thought,” Sir Phineas said gently. “I daresay he deserves it. However, before you can strangle him, you must find him.” He met Anthony’s gaze. “You will need to hurry.”

“I’ll go at once,” Anthony said. He bowed to Lord and Lady Melton. “If you will excuse me, I have an urgent errand to run.”

Lady Melton murmured her outrage while Sir Melton ground his teeth. Charlotte, meanwhile, grabbed Anthony’s sleeve. “I am
not
leaving you to deal with Rupert. If anyone has the right to ring a peal over his head, it is I.” Charlotte’s willful face hardened into a fierce expression. “And I will, too.”

Anthony was too impatient to argue. “I’ll order the carriage for you, but I’m riding ahead.” Without waiting to see her answer, he turned on his heel and left.

Anna knew that she’d made a mistake riding with Rupert before they reached Bedfordton, only two miles from Greyley. Too distraught to pay attention as he should, Rupert feathered a corner too tightly and locked the wheel of the phaeton on a signpost. It had taken thirty minutes and the help of a passing wagon full of farm laborers on their way to Bristol to get the phaeton back on the road.

Rupert, determined to make up lost time, set the horses to such a fast pace that Anna felt it necessary to mention the importance of safety. This did not sit well with Rupert, who prided himself on his handling of the ribbons, and after a brief exchange, he and Anna were soon embroiled in a full-fledged argument.

Their attention was so focused on berating each other and relieving their pent-up emotions that they didn’t notice the huge bank of clouds gathering along the horizon until a rumble of thunder interrupted their sniping comments. Soon afterward the rain began to fall, huge fat drops that stung their faces and made it almost impossible to see. Within moments Anna and Rupert were soaked to the skin.

Though the rain didn’t linger, it left the two in the worst of spirits. Rupert seemed determined to drown his feelings by imbibing freely from a pocket flask he produced the second they reached the main road. As he drank, his speed increased. Anna, having learned how sensitive Rupert was to comments on safety, could only hang on and pray that they did not hit a hole in the road.

But something worse than a hole in the road lay in wait. As they rounded a bend at breakneck speed, an old dray lay overturned in the center of the muddy road, a farmer and his wife standing to one side, a thickly muscled labor horse still harnessed to the mess.

Rupert saw the dray the second he rounded the corner, and he desperately tried to guide his grays to one side. But the old farm horse took fright the second the phaeton came bowling past.

The huge horse neighed loudly, then took off in an awkward gallop, the overturned cart dragging behind, the distraught farmer chasing it. Rupert struggled to hold his own team under control.

Just as it seemed he’d succeeded, the farm horse turned sharply and the back of the dray cracked into the phaeton, splintering the rear wheel and sending the delicate carriage tumbling.

Anna remembered nothing but a huge blur and a sharp pain, and then she was lying in a ditch, her skirts over her
face, Rupert’s colorful curses filling her ears. She closed her eyes, and blessed blackness swept her away.

Sometime later, the black receded and she struggled back to consciousness. Anna opened her eyes and found herself in the common room of an inn, Rupert hovering near, a bandage on his head spotted with blood. A relieved expression crossed his face. “Thank God! I was worried you would never wake up. Greyley would never forgive me.”