Lady Anne's Lover (The London List) (30 page)

 

H
e didn’t like it. For every mile closer to London, his Annie seemed to shrink deeper into the squabs of the private carriage he’d hired. It was like watching a bright flame extinguish—even her fiery hair seemed duller, her face paler. He knew she was nervous, so nervous she’d cast up her accounts this morning in the horrible inn they’d stayed at. She was terrified to return to get what was rightfully hers, because she’d have to see her father to do so.

She had made one excuse after the other to delay the trip, supervising the whitewashing of the kitchen walls, ordering a stove and new clothing for them both with the proceeds from the sale of a rather ugly ruby brooch and a pair of diamond earbobs that she said made her ears itch. There had been enough money left over to send to his creditors with a promise of more to come.

And now it was time to collect it. But first she had insisted they go see Evangeline Ramsey. The announcement of her engagement had been front-page news in
The London List.
By now he knew all about the woman and the role she’d played to get Annie to Wales. Gareth was tempted to kiss her when they met, but no doubt Lord Benton Gray would object. Annie, too.

His wife was so unnaturally quiet on their last day of travel that it was making
him
nervous. He could think of one thing that might very possibly distract her, and provide them both with some pleasure. Their bed last night in the coaching inn had been infernally lumpy, the sheets stained, the walls thin. He wound up half-sleeping in a ratty wingchair with Annie in his lap, trying to remember to hold onto her so she wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

“Mm.” She turned from the window and tried to smile.

“I believe it’s my day for you to obey me.” There was a great deal to be said for halfway measures.

“What onerous task do you have for me, Major Ripton-Jones?”

“Not so onerous, Mrs. Ripton-Jones. Ah, I do like the sound of that. It’s been four whole weeks and it still seems fresh and new.”

“Just wait until it’s been four years. You’ll probably consign me to the cellar with the mice.”

“Never there.” Seeing her at the bottom of the steps was a recurrent nightmare. “Come here.” He patted the space between them.

She wore a deep blue velvet traveling costume, with a fetching matching hat, which he was going to remove as soon as she got close enough. The hat for certain—the skirt would probably remain for the sake of convenience but would definitely be lifted.

“I want to kiss you, and as lovely as that hat is, I’d prefer to keep my nose in the center of my face.”

Her hand went to her bonnet strings, and she tossed the offending item on the seat opposite. Her red hair was dressed simply, but in her fine new clothes, he could see traces of Lady Imaculata in her countenance. She shimmied over the distance between them, closed her eyes and puckered her lips.

“Oh, Annie, Annie. That won’t do at all.” He traced her bottom lip with a gloved finger. “Take off my glove. I want to touch you.”

Her blush was lovely to see. Her hands shook a little as she removed his glove and placed it next to her hat. “Take yours off, too. I want your hands on me.”

There were too many buttons on her wrist, but then he felt that way about all buttons in general. He’d like to invent something that would keep him clothed without the daily struggle, and make it easier to undress his wife. Something that would just stick without tying or fastening. He wasn’t angry about the inconvenience, though—marrying Annie had eased his frustration at his limitations in so many ways.

She held out her palms and wiggled her fingers. “There. Where would you like them?”

He dropped a kiss on one, then the other. Her hands were still too rough even though they had temporary help in the house now. Once they got to London they’d advertise for a proper housekeeper. He planned on visiting Tattersall’s, too. If he could make progress with that damned disloyal Job—who had spent three days visiting a neighboring farmer’s filly and skipped the wedding—he had hopes that a horse breeding and training operation could be lucrative.

But what was he doing thinking of business when he had his pretty little wife next to him? He gentled her closer, fingering a curl that had been dislodged when she took off her hat.

“Your hair is like fire.”

“Let’s not throw that word around needlessly.”

He grinned down at her. She did seem to have bad luck with stoves, even with the most up-to-date example of its kind. Devilish expensive it had been, too, for all the good it was doing. They still ate dinner most nights at the Silver Pony, walking hand and hand to the village in the starry dusk. “You haven’t had a problem with the new stove in at least a week.”

“That’s because we’ve been on the road to London for half of it.”

“I didn’t marry you for your skill in the kitchen, wife.”

“Oh? Why then did you marry me, husband?”

“For this.” He lifted her chin and covered her mouth with his. She tasted of tea and mint. She hadn’t managed much breakfast after being ill, and he hoped the inn they’d stop at would have a decent luncheon.

But not stop too soon. He was not hungry for food.

Annie put both hands to his face and drew him down, meeting his thrusting tongue with a sweet parry of her own. Gareth let her toy with him, encircling her with his arm, rubbing the velvet and comparing it unfavorably to her soft skin. He knew when she had stopped fretting—her body relaxed into the curve of his embrace and she kissed him back with even more determination. Her hands had slipped into his hair, and his scalp tingled. She made every inch of him aware.

She set him on fire
. He smiled through the kiss at the thought.

He slowed the wave of his tongue so he could savor each second. Anne gave a protesting whimper but eased the kiss, so they were suspended in a gentle, hazy exercise of bliss. They had all the time in the world, or at least until the miles ran out to the coaching inn he and his hired driver had agreed upon.

He had taken his Lady Anne slow, fast, and every speed in between since their no-frills wedding. He didn’t have a preference—he was nearly always ready for her as she was for him. Whether she was leaning over the scullery sink or spread naked for his delectation in a feather bed, it really didn’t matter. The lust for each other might wear off in time, but not the love. She was so dear to him, so necessary—he, who had never expected to love again. Annie was his miracle.

Not that she was perfect, or even patient. In fact, her impatience was rising as she clambered over his lap. She unhooked her spencer, exposing a sliver of collarbone over her modest bodice, all without breaking their languid kiss. He settled her more comfortably over his cockstand and thrust up between the layers of clothes.

“You are a mind reader, my love.”

“Your mind is a naughty thing. We have never done this in a carriage.” Her hazel eyes, so haunted before, now held mischief.

“Too true. We have so many venues left to consider, don’t we? I wanted to do it on a horse, once—that time we came back from the Silver Pony in the snow. I was in agony all the way home.”

“That will be our next challenge.” She smiled and arranged her skirts around them. He caught a flash of bright nether curls before she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“You are a hoyden.”

“You knew that when you married me.”

The coach was not as well-sprung as it might have been. Just then they rolled over a rut in the road and she bounced down deliciously on his desperate cock.

“Free me, sweetheart. I want to be inside you.”

He lifted her skirts to look as she expertly unfastened his falls. If she had ever doubted the sincerity of his words, she could not possibly doubt now. She grasped him with her small hands and drew him up against her rounded belly. Even the outside of her body was warm and lush, and half of him was very happy to be flesh-to-flesh with his wife. She rubbed him against her, petting him as if he were particularly obedient.

Which he was at the moment, even if it was “his” day. They teased each other about her sharp tongue and his army-bred expectations, but the truth was they had found a balance to make their fledgling marriage work. When he felt the blackness creep into the corners on occasion, he knew Annie was there to shine her light. When she regretted her many indiscretions and impulsive behavior, he reminded her she would not be his wife if she hadn’t held a gun on Evangeline Ramsey and run away to Wales. That would usually earn him a poke in his ribs, followed by a kiss.

As she was kissing him now. He covered her hand with his, putting exquisite pressure on his member. But he was being selfish. His thumb dipped down and tangled in her curls as he parted her legs wider and sought her center. She wasn’t quite wet enough for him yet, though she squirmed in response to his dedicated probing. Gareth had refined the parameters of her response—he’d learned just where to touch her to the most effect. Even in the dark. Even, once, blindfolded, when she’d taken him up on his challenge to be tied and at her mercy. He had no recollection making that offer the night before their wedding, but had not objected much to the result, especially as she had left his hand free. For her benefit, not his. It was a novelty to cede all control and discover he liked it.

But there was daylight now, and he could see Annie’s pink folds parting for him, feel the glistening juices of her arousal, hear her soft cries. She was rigid and pulsing at her apex as he circled, marking his territory as if he walked an endless labyrinth. Around and around, ever closer, ever deeper into the mystery. Her kiss became complicated when she shattered against his hand. There were no more lazy licks, but harried clashes of teeth and tongue, her own hands wild everywhere she could touch him. No more pale face, but a heated flush even to her thighs. Another coil of copper hair had spilled from its pins and stuck to her damp throat. He tucked it behind her ear and whispered, “On your knees, Annie. Take me where I need to be. Where I belong. Where you want me.”

She shifted up and guided him within.
Duw
. She was the sweetest, tightest heat. He hissed in pleasure as her tremors pulsed around him, drawing him deeper.

He loved it when she rode him, couldn’t get enough of
this
kind of control. He might not want to jump to her every domestic command, but he was more than willing to be dominated in the bedroom—or convenient chair or carriage, he laughed to himself. Annie was so artlessly inventive. Now that she had discovered her own satisfaction, she was eager he find his as well. Arching up over him, generous to a fault, masterful—or was that mistressful?—she lost no time in bringing him close to a shamefully swift completion.

He watched her as she did it, delighting in the glorious blush and secret smile on her face. Her eyes were not on his but at their joining—it excited her to watch him disappear inside her, briefly reappear, then vanish again in her honeyed prison. It excited him, too. Gareth was a willing inmate, helping her ruck up her skirts to enable the view. He wanted her to come again with him, so he released the fabric and splayed his hand on her belly, intending to move lower to help his cock with a finger or two.

She was fuller there, her skin slightly taut. He traced the curve of her stomach and she looked up uncertainly.

She was pregnant
. Somehow he just knew.

Of course she was—they’d been lovers for most of two months and he’d taken no precautions. Nightly. Daily. At any time of the day, really. His Lady Anne had been a gifted pupil once she’d trusted him with her sensual tutelage. It explained her illness the past few mornings, and her wan cheeks. Gareth felt a surge of boundless joy, beyond anything he’d ever experienced in all his thirty-three years. He spilled into her, claiming her, loving her.

“Sweet heaven,” he breathed, enfolding her to his chest. “When were you going to tell me that you’re having a child?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t had my monthlies since Christmas, but so much has happened. Would you be happy if . . .” Her words faded.

“Yes, of course.” But he was older. Ready to start a family. She was still so young. He knew girls were married off out of the schoolroom and mothers shortly thereafter, but he had no wish to rob her of all her youth. Her father had seen to stealing enough of it. “What about you?”

“I—I never wanted children before. But
your
children”—she wriggled in his lap and Gareth inhaled sharply at the delicious friction—“I think I could change my mind.”

“We’ll have a nursemaid. A governess. Spare no expense.”

“I think it’s more important that we be proper parents.”

“I will do my best. As for the hoyden I married—”

His teasing words fell flat. Annie looked stricken.

“Sweetheart, our children will be blessed to have you for a mother. Never doubt it.”

“Will they? How will I explain everything?”

Gareth kissed her troubled brow. “By the time they’re old enough to care, Lady Imaculata Egremont’s hijinx will be ancient history. They’ll know only Lady Anne. And they’ll love her just as much as I do.”

“I hope you’re right.”

She wasn’t convinced. So he did the only thing he could think of, and kissed her lips this time, slowly and very thoroughly. They still had half a day’s ride ahead, and just because they’d already made love in a carriage, it didn’t mean that they couldn’t again.

A
nne and Gareth were shown to a charming drawing room, where a tray of tea and sandwiches swiftly appeared. Perhaps they should not have come in their rumpled, travel-stained clothes, but the Grays were little better when they came downstairs to greet them. If Anne was not mistaken, Lord Gray’s falls were misbuttoned.

Why she was looking
there
she had no idea. Force of habit, probably, and a most unsuitable thing for a newly married woman to do to a newly married man, especially when they were not married to each other. And most especially after the kind of afternoon she had spent with her own husband, who had very nearly calmed all her qualms with simply spectacular lovemaking in a rocking carriage.

But she’d once had a tendre for Benton Gray. Now, he looked
predictable
with his golden hair and perfectly cut—though misfastened—clothes. He was nothing like her dark and dangerous Gareth, not even as tall. She beamed at her husband, nearly forgetting why they’d come here tonight. She felt her husband’s arm around her giving her a gentle squeeze, and she went to embrace her friend.

“Evangeline! I wish you happy! We read about the impending wedding in
The London List
and wanted to come to thank you in person. I’m so sorry we’ve disturbed you at this late hour.”

Evangeline smiled, ruffling her fingers through her already ruffled short dark hair. “Nonsense. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

“But it’s our
wedding night,
” Benton Gray growled. Oh dear. Perhaps he was every bit as ferocious as Gareth in seeing to his marital duties. But it was not as though he hadn’t anticipated his wedding vows months ago. Anne had heard him
anticipating
with Evangeline above the office of
The London List
with her own two ears. Far be it for her to judge—Anne had known Gareth a very short time when she
anticipated
herself. She put one gloved hand on her belly and hoped the people of Llanwyr couldn’t count.

“I say, I am sorry. My wife insisted we see you as soon as we got to Town, Lord Gray. When my Annie wants something, it’s hard to deny her. I’m sure you know the feeling.”

“I’m afraid I do, Major. Please be seated. Well,
Annie,
I see congratulations are due all the way around.” Ben’s gaze bored into her and she blushed. He had known her from before, known her too well. It was important for her to make him realize that girl was gone for good. She raised her chin.

“We have come to Town to get my money,” she said. “Now that I’m married, Papa will have to turn it over to me.”

“She asked
me
to marry her, so you needn’t think I’m a fortune hunter,” Gareth said quickly. “And I
did
know her history, once she told me who she really was.
The London List
reached even my distant corner of Wales, as you know from my letter. And when she told me what had happened to her—my poor love.” He squeezed her fingers, which had suddenly gone quite cold with nerves. “I’ve promised her not to kill the bastard with my one bare hand, but I don’t mind telling you I’ll enjoy making the old goat squirm tomorrow.”

Lord Gray looked as if he’d wandered into the wrong play, expecting a comedy only to discover bloody bodies on the floor. It was plain he had no idea what Gareth was talking about. So, Evangeline had kept her word and hadn’t told him her sordid tale. Anne wasn’t about to now.

“What can we do to help?” Evangeline asked. Her dark eyes were sympathetic, her smile warm.

“Just write a story about us. My husband is a genuine war hero, a fine man. I want to surprise those people who doubted I had a lick of sense in me. Explain I’m completely reformed. When our children come up to London, I don’t want them to be ashamed.”

“And find us a housekeeper. My Annie has many talents, but cooking and cleaning are not among them,” Gareth said in his delightful Welsh burr, which had gotten thicker the closer they came to the capital.

“Done, on both counts,” Evangeline said, rising from the settee. “Come see us tomorrow to give us the particulars of your courtship. I imagine it was very romantic.”

Anne nodded. “He saved my life when I burned his house down.” There was no point in trying to explain about Martin, so she kept to the simple story they’d agreed upon. If they were looking to restore their reputations with the ton, there was no reason to drag arson and murder into it.

Gareth squeezed her hand. “Not the whole house, mind, just the kitchen wing. And it was a mercy, if you know what I mean. We’ve been taking all our meals in the village inn since, but that’s becoming somewhat inconvenient now that we think Annie is increasing.”

“Gareth!” she whispered, blushing furiously. He smiled at her, looking idiotically happy. Leaning down, he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

“It won’t be a secret for long, love. Maybe we’ll inspire
them
. It is their wedding night, as Lord Gray keeps saying. Over and over, poor fellow,” he whispered back.

The two couples spent the rest of their brief time together offering mutual congratulations and toasting each other’s happiness with the teacups. Gareth refused Lord Gray’s halfhearted offer of champagne—true to his wedding day pledge, he’d had not so much as a tankard of ale since they married.

Anne’s eyelids were getting heavy, and it was Gareth who cut short the celebration, much to Benton Gray’s delight. They fixed a time to come to the newspaper office to be interviewed. Evangeline told them she was in the process of hiring a permanent caricaturist, and would give the artist the opportunity to draw them from life for the article if they would agree to pose. Gareth was less than enamored with the idea, but Anne was willing to do anything to rehabilitate her reputation.

They checked into Mivart’s Hotel, which was shockingly expensive, but Gareth had insisted. This was, he said, their honeymoon, no matter the unpleasant business they faced tomorrow. When he had stayed in London before, he’d been a regular guest at Stevens’s Hotel, which was popular with army men. However, he was not going to subject Anne to the curiosity of officers gadding about Town.

“You are a lady,” he reminded her, as he scooped her up and carried her over the threshold of their suite. Anne was always surprised what he could do with just one arm, and so was the porter with their luggage. “You deserve the very best.”

“And I have got it,” Anne replied, kissing her husband to further discompose the porter.

Once deposited on her feet, Anne explored their suite. It was tastefully appointed, reminding her a little of her father’s house. She’d spent the last four years of her life trying to escape from those walls, but tomorrow she’d go back in.

She wouldn’t be alone, though. This time she’d have a champion by her side.

 

“I absolutely forbid this—this whatever you might call it.” Lord Egremont’s voice was ice itself despite the early leafing of the trees outside his library window.

Anne had expected nothing less. Once her father had got over the shock of her turning up with a husband at his doorstep before breakfast, he had settled himself behind his massive desk and donned his most glacial stare. He meant to intimidate them both, but it wouldn’t work, although Anne would be lying if she said she felt no trepidation. She’d spent much of her night in sleepless dread, despite Gareth’s warm body beside her. Her father had not even given them an invitation to sit, so they stood, as befitted protocol in the presence of an earl. Holding hands might not be proper, but under the circumstances, Anne was grateful for Gareth’s touch.

“You c-cannot forbid anything, Papa. We are m-married. We called the banns and everything.” Damn, but she was nervous. Her father made her feel like a guilty child, when it was he who should bear the guilt.

She paused. She knew he would wonder, and hoped her next sentence would forever put her out of his reach. “We have consummated the marriage.”

There! She got through that without a stumble. Anne would not speak of the baby yet. That secret was too holy to share with the man.

Her father’s lip curled in disdain. Lord, but he was behaving in such a villainous manner he could have been a character in Lady X’s gothic novels. The realization almost made her smile.

“You little fool. Your marriage is invalid. Did no one ask your age?”

Gareth clutched her gloved hand a little tighter. His mother’s emerald ring bit into her skin. “M-my age?”

“One cannot marry these days without parental permission until the age of twenty-one. You did not have my permission. You do not have it, and will not have it. This so-called marriage of yours is invalid. I should have you horse-whipped, Major, for taking advantage of my daughter.”

“I have not taken advantage. Annie is my wife in the eyes of God. Nothing you do or say will change that.” Gareth spoke in clear, measured tones. At least one of them was intelligible.

Her father’s brows beetled. “Who? Did she not even tell you what her name is?” He looked at Gareth with contempt.

“I know who she was. I know who she
is
. And I know, Lord Egremont, what you tried to do to her. When she wouldn’t agree to assuaging your sinful desires, you beat her. She ran clear to Wales to escape you, and you’ll not get her back.”

Her father’s face mottled scarlet. “You insolent cripple! Are you threatening me? I’ll have
you
beaten and tossed out on your ear.” He rose to tug on the bellpull.

Anne twisted from Gareth’s grip and stepped toward her father. “No! I love Gareth, Papa! He was decorated by the Prince of Wales himself for his service.”

Gareth was right behind her, his arm tight about her shaking shoulders. “Hush, Annie. Let me fight my own battles.” He paused. “Lord Egremont, I am not conversant with all the marital laws of the land. We entered into our marriage in good faith and were married in a Methodist chapel by my cousin, who is an ordained minister. I don’t believe the factor of Anne’s age ever came up. But her reason to marry did. My cousin knows her history, and is prepared to stand as witness.”

“The word of some wild-eyed dissenting parson against a peer of the realm? You may have been decorated by the Regent, but he is the King now, and I count him among my friends. This cousin of yours knows nothing except what this lying little slut has told him. For some reason she has wanted to destroy me ever since she was introduced to society. You have no idea the grief she’s caused me. She’s a wicked, wicked girl. There is no proof of anything untoward. Because nothing of the sort ever happened.”

Anne had to admit her father made a convincing liar. If she hadn’t been a party to his assaults on her, she might have been convinced herself.

“
I
will tell, Papa. It will be on the front page of
The London List
for all the world to read.”

“You wouldn’t dare! And anyway, they’d never print such filth. I know Gray. He’s taken enough of my blunt for those damn ads I placed, and I’d sue him within an inch of his life and get it back and a thousand fold more once it went to court. I don’t know why I even wanted you home. You’ve been nothing but an embarrassment, doing one disgusting thing after another.”

“Then we’ve solved your problem now, haven’t we, Lord Egremont?” Gareth said. “Let me worry about your daughter. Take care of her. She’s my responsibility now.
My wife
.”

“She is nothing to you legally.” Her father’s face took on a crafty smile. “I was prepared to offer a reward for my daughter’s return. How much do you want?”

“I beg your pardon?” It was Gareth’s turn to be chilly.

“I’ll pay you for your trouble for harboring her all these months. You’ll thank me in the end. No decent man wants to be saddled with a whore for a wife.”

It happened too quickly for her to stop it. Gareth punched her father squarely in his aristocratic nose—something Anne was delighted she hadn’t inherited from him. The earl flew back and landed on his arse on the Aubusson carpet. Blood spattered on his white cravat as he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. He glared up at Gareth, who made no move to assist him.

“You’ll pay for this. I’ll ruin you. Maybe even see you hang.”

No. No more. She was done with her father’s threats. Anne reached into her reticule and pulled out her little pistol. She wasn’t sure why she brought it with her, but now she was glad she had.

She didn’t know who looked more surprised, Gareth or her father. Anne was suddenly rather enjoying herself and the effect she had on the two men in her life.

“I don’t believe you’ll want the father of your first grandchild ruined. Deprive him of his father? What would the ton say, Papa? People think you are so charitable. So
good
. You wouldn’t hurt an innocent child, would you? Oh, yes, that’s right, you
would
.”

Her father paled. “Is that thing loaded? I bet it isn’t. You haven’t the nerve.”

“Do you really want to find out? No one would blame me after all you’ve put me through. And believe me, I’d tell and tell and tell before they hanged
me
. I expect they’d wait until the baby was born, so by then the entire world would know what you tried to do. What you
did
. Any reputation you’d ever had would be buried right along with you. Of course, you’d be dead, so that might not really matter.”

“You are enceinte?” her father croaked.

She nodded. She hoped it was true.

“Get out then.”

She sidestepped the spittle that he hurled in her direction. It provoked her enough to raise her arm and aim the gun directly at his head. His face bleached of all color. “We are at Milvart’s Hotel. I expect you to contact my trustees this morning. Gareth will meet with them tomorrow at their convenience. Impress upon them how anxious you are to see this settled, Papa. How happy you are with my marriage. I want to go home. To Wales.”