Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) (18 page)

Lord Boxton seized his opportunity and pounced, trapping her against the chair’s back. “I have ways to change your mind.” His whisky-soaked breath heated her ear, and a shiver of disgust rippled through her.

“As I said previously, I am afraid that it would prove very difficult to change my mind. Your current comportment is abhorrent.” She pushed against his chest. “Please release me.”

He whispered nastily in her ear. “Tell me where you were over the past several days. And please, be
honest
.” Anna flinched as he hissed the last word.

She could tell the truth, but Anthony could ruin her in the
ton
, and she had no wish to disgrace her family. “I had an urgent letter from my Grandmamma, and I left to assist her,” she repeated her brother’s convenient falsehood.

Her teeth pulled back in a grimace as he ground his pelvis against her and trailed his slimy tongue up the rim of her ear. “With what did she require help?”

“She was ill,” Anna improvised. “Her housekeeper suggested that she summon me for assistance after her illness had lasted for more than a fortnight. By the time I arrived, however, she had already recovered.” There. That was a sufficient excuse. “She did not wish me to miss more of the season in London, so she insisted I return directly.”

Lord Boxton stepped back, his face a mask of rage. “You lying bitch!” The crack of his hand against her cheek echoed through the room.

Her vision blurred, and her balance faltered. She landed on the floor with a
thud
, knocking the breath from her lungs. She blinked, holding a hand to her cheek as she watched the viscount in disbelief.

Anger suddenly replaced her fear. “You, my lord, have gone too far.” She held the side of the settee and pulled herself to her feet. “I must demand that you leave at once, or I shall have my footmen throw you out! I no longer wished to be courted by you, nor will I
ever
marry you.”

The door’s latch rattled. Lord Boxton must have locked the door upon entering. Anna fought the fear gnawing at her.

A loud knocking followed the rattle. “Annabel?” Charles’ concerned voice came from the other side of the door. “Anna, is everything all right? I heard some loud noises.”

Anna opened her mouth to request assistance, but before she could utter a sound, Lord Boxton’s hand clamped around her neck. His body pressed hotly against her back, and his mouth pressed to her ear.

“If you so much as utter one word against me, I will shoot him through the heart.” He pulled the cock back on the pistol as he aimed it unwaveringly at the door. “I am an excellent shot.” He pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled deeply, sending another shudder of revulsion through her.

The door’s latch rattled again. “Annabel?”

She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat as nervousness and fear took hold of her. “Everything is fine, Charles. You may be at ease.”

Lord Boxton shifted his hold on her neck, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “Very good, my dear,” he whispered into her ear. “You had better be certain that he departs quickly, or I might get bored with waiting and kill him just for sport.”

Anna’s stomach knotted to the point that she feared she might become ill.

“Are you positive, Anna?” Charles called through the door.

“You may go now, Charles.” Her voice quavered, and she hoped that Charles could not hear it.

“Very well. But please call if you have need of me.” The dear man!

“Thank you,” she called out.

Charles’ footsteps faded down the corridor, and with each step Anna felt her hope diminish drastically.

Lord Boxton lowered his pistol and released her neck. “Now we have the opportunity to discuss the terms of our marriage in private.”

Anna touched her fingers defensively to her neck. “You might be capable of bullying me into an engagement with you, your lordship, but the moment you leave I will contact the proper authorities and have you put in gaol.”

His lips pulled back in a nasty snarl, a mirthless laugh barking from deep in his throat. “Why do we not sit?” He gestured toward the sitting area.

With a wary glance in his direction, Anna sat carefully on the edge of the settee, poised to run should the opportunity present itself. His lordship sat on a chair to her right, appearing for all the world to be at his ease. His smile was congenial, but his eyes glinted dangerously.

“I made some inquiries,” he said in an eerily soft voice. “I had some…acquaintances look into your tale. Your grandmamma did not send you an urgent letter, nor did you travel to the North to visit her.”

He casually waved the pistol in his hand, and Anna shifted backward in her seat.

“You were, in fact,” Boxton paused to pin her with his irate gaze, “with Lord Devon, travelling toward Dover.”

Anna spared a moment for surprise. The viscount certainly had well-informed connections. Who could know of her true location?

His green eyes watched her with malice. She sat perfectly still, entirely unwilling to show him that he frightened her. How had she not noticed his true character prior to this moment? He had been all charm and congeniality, amiable and attentive during the beginning of their courtship. Could she have been so consumed with the desire to have children that she had been blinded to his true nature? She certainly saw him now, and he was ugly indeed.

“If this is a desire for my dowry, Lord Boxton, I would be pleased to acquire funds for you. There is no need to go to such trouble as to—”

He lifted his hand to deliver a backhanded slap, and Anna flinched, pressing her back hard against the settee. She waited, but no stinging impact was forthcoming. She released a silent sigh of relief, but the threat remained.

He lowered his arm. “It is not only your dowry that I wish to possess, dearest. It is also your womb.” His sickening gaze swept her body. “You are built for making children, and I require an heir and a spare.”

Revulsion swept through her. The thought of making love to
this
Lord Boxton was a nauseating one.

“I will
never
—”

His low voice rumbled. “If you do not agree to marry me, Annabel, I fear you will force my hand.”

She watched his smug smile grow as he thought he’d trapped her.

Anna notched her chin mutinously despite the fluttering in her stomach. “I shall state my point again, your lordship, that you may bully me into accepting your hand this morning, but there is nothing you can do that would stop me from reporting you to the magistrate upon your departure.”

His expression became increasingly malign, as impossible as it seemed. “Not if I tell all of England what a
whore
you have become? You would have no one to blame for your family’s disgrace but yourself.”

She hid her flinch at his coarse language. “Even then. I shall not marry you.”

As upsetting as her true ruination would be, Anna would gladly sacrifice her good name to avoid a future as a wife of this…
monster
.

His eyes narrowed portentously. “You will marry me, Annabel.” He trailed a finger along the barrel of his pistol. “You will also not tell a soul about my gentle…
coercion
in this matter.”

Anna opened her mouth to disabuse him of this fantasy, though her gaze followed Boxton’s stroking of his pistol. He spoke first. “If you do…” he had the smile of a man who knew he possessed insurmountable power, “I will kill the ones you love.”

Anna’s eyes widened as her heart stalled.

“Your mother,” he goaded, “your father. Your brother…your
lover
.” He chuckled evilly. “I will have them all murdered in their beds. And do not think for one moment that you can escape my watchful eyes. I have them everywhere.”

He crossed one leg over the other, seemingly contented with his threat. Despite herself, Anna trembled. She did not fear the threat of her own mortality, but that of her family? Of
Lane
? She was petrified.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice quavered.

He gestured wildly with his hands, the pistol dangling frighteningly from his careless fingers. “Why does a man do anything?” His countenance darkened menacingly. “Because I can.”

Anna gathered her courage and licked her dry lips. “Why me? There are other women with wide, childbearing hips from good families. Why do you care enough to threaten me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Because I chose you.” He said it as though his simple explanation answered her question.

She daren’t ask again, however.

“What say you, Annabel?” His vile, knowing green gaze bore into her. “Shall we announce our engagement to your family?”

Anna bit the inside of her cheek as she thought. She could not marry this man. But neither could she allow harm to come to those she loved. She had no choice.

Her heart ached as she thought of Lane, her hopes for a life with him now dashed. There must be a way to both protect her family and avoid a life with this dreadful man. She would, unavoidably, have to accept his proposal this morning, but surely she could find a way out of the arrangement.

Oh, how she wished she could confide in Lane or her family! She would not risk their lives, however. She must do this on her own, while ensuring that those closest to her believed her happy with the impending union.

Her stomach knotted. Could she do it? Could she find a way to end their engagement in such a way that he would not harm anyone?

Anna cleared her throat against the tightness that had formed there. “I—I…” Anna hesitated. “I will marry you.”

Chapter 21

Lane dipped his pen into the inkpot and touched it to the side, catching the hanging drop on the rim. He had neglected his property management and accounts for far too long. He was obliged to review tenant letters and several agricultural forms from his solicitor and was nearly finished for this morning.

He covered a yawn with the side of his fist. He’d had very little sleep. He’d spent the night imagining the ways that he wished to make love to Anna. His feverish mind had created some very intriguing positions.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and retrieved his cigar from an ashtray. He puffed as a knock sounded at his study’s door.

“Come.” A smoky haze rose up around him, and he waved a hand to clear it.

Geoffrey entered with a silver salver. “A messenger came, my lord.” The butler extended the tray and Lane accepted the letter.

His heart leapt as he saw Anna’s familiar, curving handwriting. “Thank you, Geoffrey. Is the messenger awaiting a response?” He returned his still-lit cigar to its place with its ashes.

“No, your lordship, though I should inform you that the missive arrived an hour past. The new footman apologizes sincerely for the delay.”

Lane nodded in dismissal, then turned his attention to the breaking the seal for the note in his hand.

Dearest Lane,

I have thought only of you since our parting last evening. I would like nothing more than to see you.

Please do me the honour of meeting me for a tryst at our favourite spot at half past one this afternoon. Do be sure to bring something sweet, for I have a mind to share the flavour with you…

Yours affectionately,

Annabel

Lane read, then reread the missive several times.

Annabel was propositioning him! The eager appendage in his trousers sprang instantly to life.

He glanced at the clock on his mantle. It was nearly a quarter to one. He surged to his feet, pulling his charcoal coat off the back of the chair in one fluid motion.

“Geoffrey!” He slid the coat over his white shirtsleeves and deep blue waistcoat.

He reflexively adjusted his cravat and ran his fingers through his hair as he strode determinedly toward his study’s door.

“Geoffrey!” he hollered through the doorway.

The butler appeared before him, unruffled as ever. “My lord? You bellowed?”

“I am in too cheerful a mood to chastise you for your sarcasm, Geoffrey.” Lane smiled. “Please have an alfresco luncheon prepared immediately, with added desserts, if you would. I require it within the quarter of the hour.”

“Right away, your lordship.” Geoffrey bowed and hurried away.

Lane felt light and elated. Had Annabel decided upon her answer to his proposal? Had she lain awake, as he had, wishing that he were next to her? Anticipation charged through him as he made his way toward the doors to the garden.

The sky was dark with the threat of rain, casting a shadow upon the earth. But Lane cared not. He would enjoy this rendezvous with or without rain.

He checked his pocket watch.
Blazes!
Only ten minutes had passed.

“Geoffrey!” He sped to the parlour’s open doorway and nearly bumped into Bridget.

“Good heavens, Lane, what is the fuss about?”

“Apologies, Bridget,” Lane murmured. “I am in a dreadful rush to depart.”

She entered and closed the door behind her, ignoring what he’d said entirely. “I thought I should inform you that I had a brief visit with Annabel this morning. We had a very enlightening conversation.”

That made him pause. “When did this discussion occur?” he asked carefully.

“An hour ago, approximately.”

Lane met her hard gaze, suspicion crawling up his spine. “What happened? What did I do?”

She tilted her head. “I believe you know what you did, big brother. And I believe you know how to fix it. So get to it.” She swung the door open and left the room.

Lane stood mutely for several long moments, his mind whirling. What in blazes did Annabel say to Bridget?

“Your alfresco luncheon, my lord.” Geoffrey entered, the laden basket in his arms, his expression harried.

“Wonderful!” Lane accepted the burden with a “thank you” and strode quickly through the French doors.

* * *

Annabel swiped furiously at the tears coursing down her cheeks.
That evil, manipulative…rat bastard!

She paced back and forth beneath the cherry blossom trees, awaiting Lane’s arrival. It felt wrong, somehow, to soil her favourite spot with the discussion she knew must take place. But Lane must believe it; he must accept it, walk away, and not look into the veracity of her feelings on the matter.