Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter 3

Annabel covered a yawn with the back of her hand as she entered the morning room. The scents of freshly prepared toasted bread, ham, eggs, and an array of other alluring aromas teased her senses. Her stomach rumbled loudly in response. She covered it and fought a blush. Thank goodness it was just her parents in the room.

“Good morning, Papa.” Anna bent to kiss her father on the cheek, then turned to her mother and did the same. “Good morning, Mama.”

“Good morning, my dear.” Mama spread some marmalade on a piece of toast, and her father grunted his greeting from behind the newspaper.

She went to the sideboard and selected an assortment of fruit and toast.

“You appear tired this morning, Annabel. Did you stay up late reading again?”

Anna covered another yawn as she took her seat at the table. “The book was just too entertaining to put down. I started reading, and the next thing I knew it was nearly dawn.”

“Oh, bother.” Her mother took a sip of tea. “I do hope that will not affect you at the ball this evening.”

Anna hid a frown. “Bother. I had completely forgotten about Almack’s.” She detested the pretentious display she always saw at Almack’s. The young ladies acting like witless, tittering fools in order to attract a husband, and the men who
expected
the women to be witless, tittering fools.

She sighed. She could not avoid it; last week at Miss Rockton’s musicale Anna had promised a waltz at Almack’s to Lord Anthony Walstone, Viscount Boxton. He was handsome enough, but in desperate need of a dowry to pay off his father’s gambling debts.

Anna had a dowry…a handsome one, at that. Could Lord Boxton have a genuine interest in her?
Ask yourself the question that matters, Anna
. If he spoke to her father to request permission to court her, would she be amenable to such a match?

She did not have a long enough acquaintance with him to know whether or not she enjoyed his wit or conversation. It was commonplace for husbands and wives to spend very little time in each other’s company, so she supposed that would not be problematic.

It was a simple enough matter. Anna dreaded spinsterhood. She had spent far too long pining over a man who did not share her intimate affections. She may not love Viscount Boxton, or be particularly fond of him, but if he wished to give her his name and was willing to father her children, she would accept his proposal without a moment of doubt.

“Do not fret, Mama. I will take a nap this afternoon in preparation for Almack’s.
”

“Be sure to not nap too long, Annabel. Your mother and I would like to have an early repast before we depart. The fare at Almack’s is abysmal.” Her father, Joseph Bradley, youngest brother of the Marquis of Greydon, put down his newspaper and stood. “If you will both excuse me, I have a meeting with my solicitor.”

“Have a pleasant day, Papa.” Anna poured herself a cup of steaming tea.

“Until supper, Joseph.”

“Annabel, Margaret.” He gave them both a kiss on the forehead before quitting the room.

Anna added cream and sugar into her teacup and took a sip. It did not satisfy her proclivity for sweetness as well as her favourite hot chocolate, but it was pleasing nonetheless.

“Good morning, mother!” A booming male voice echoed in the small space. “Annabel, you look well. Such a pleasure to see the both of you.” Her older brother, Major Charles Bradley, strutted into the breakfast room with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, his blonde hair handsomely—and, she thought,
deliberately
—dishevelled.

“Good heavens, Charles, what have you done now?” Mama said in a reproachful voice. “You know how irksome your father and I find it when you cause a scandal.” She put the last small piece of her marmalade toast in her mouth and chewed it slowly.

Anna smiled behind her teacup. “Yes, Charles, do tell us what you’ve been up to. Nothing too mischievous, I hope.” She took another sip and returned it to its saucer.

“No, indeed,” he said in mock affront, his eyes glittering with humour. “I merely spent the evening at White’s and won ten quid off Stanton at the tables.” He paused with a teasing glance toward their mother. “Then Harvey and I retired to a very nice house down the street where we met two very fine young ladies—”

“That is quite enough, Charles!” Mama’s eyes were wide. “You will hold your tongue. Those tales are not fit for a lady’s ears!”

Annabel couldn’t suppress the inelegant snort of laughter that escaped her. Mama turned sharp eyes on her, while Charles’ crinkled in the corners.

“You know he says such things only to shock you, Mama.” She sent an impish grin to Charles. “He could not possibly have won ten quid; he is not nearly that skilled a card player.”

Charles let out a bark of laughter while their mother gasped, a hand fluttering to her chest.

“
Annabel
,” she scolded.

Charles leaned forward to place his palms flat on the table. “I could win against you easily, little sister. Name the time, game, and wager.”

“I shall! I have no prior engagements tomorrow afternoon—”

“Indeed you shall not!” Mama tossed her napkin to the table. “There will be no wagering in this household.” With an exasperated sigh, she stood and stalked from the room, sending them one last warning glance over her shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. “You two will be the death of me, yet.”

As soon as their mother was out of earshot, Charles heaped his plate with pork and eggs and sat at the table across from Anna.

“I do love teasing her so.” He grinned at her.

Anna swallowed a mouthful of fruit and smiled back at him. “I don’t think I could ever tire of it. Now,” she paused, “what did you
really
do last night?”

Charles did not look up from his plate. “Precisely what I said.”

“Come off it, Charles. I know you better than that. You are an abysmal liar.”

His midnight-blue eyes grew shuttered, but the look vanished so quickly that she wasn’t sure she had actually seen it. That concerned her more than anything.

Since her brother had returned injured from war four months ago, he had been different. He had erected a wall around himself, exuding only the happy version of Charles. But Anna knew he was hiding something behind his jokes. He was quick to temper and grew defensive very easily. Even his closest friend, Bridget, Lane’s younger sister, had stopped coming around except to visit with Anna. Those two had been nearly as inseparable as Lane and Anna, but something had obviously occurred to change that. Annabel was burning to know what it was.

“Very well, my sister, the sleuth,” he grumbled. “I saw a play at Drury Lane.”

Anna’s eyebrows rose. “You? A play? I am all astonishment!”

Charles chewed on a mouthful of egg. “I did, in fact, go to White’s after the play and won ten quid from Stanton. But that is where my evening ended.”

Something told her that there was more, but she did not press him. He was entitled to his secrets.

“Sounds dull,” she ventured.

“Not so dull as yours, I imagine. What did you do? Read?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said defensively. “I would not consider that
dull
. And do not look so smug. I thoroughly enjoyed my evening.”

“I am pleased to hear it.”

Anna dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I am afraid, brother of mine, that I will leave you to continue breaking your fast alone. I must do some reading before I nap this afternoon.”

“You
must
read?”

“Hush,” she admonished. “Will you be attending the ball at Almack’s this evening?”

“I will. Save me a quadrille?”

“For you, brother, of course.”

Chapter 4

“Goodness, what a crush!” Mrs. Margaret Bradley exclaimed as they neared the assembly rooms at Almack’s.

Anna’s shoulders brushed against those around her, lending truth to her mother’s words. They walked en masse into the spectacular room. Chandeliers glittered above them, their bright light reflecting off of the gold accents throughout the opulent space. The walls were adorned with fine draperies and painted in pale tones. On the floor was a sea of colourful gowns and evening finery, swaying and swirling like the ocean’s tide.

The sea parted briefly, allowing Lord Boxton to find his way through.

Anna smiled politely at him as he approached. He was dressed impeccably; black trousers and coat, an emerald-green waistcoat that made his forest-green eyes sparkle, topped with a snowy-white shirt and cravat. Not a dandy was Lord Boxton.

He sketched a shallow bow, and she responded with an appropriate curtsey.

“Good evening, Miss Bradley,” he drawled.

“Good evening to you, Lord Boxton.” Anna turned, gesturing toward her brother and making the introductions.

“Miss Bradley, would you do me the honour of partnering me for the next quadrille?”

Anna smiled at him and held out her dance card. “I would be delighted. Thank you.”

Lord Boxton bent to jot his name on her card, a lock of his wavy auburn hair falling over his brow. When he straightened, his expression was a combination of satisfaction and challenge.

Anna glanced at her card and suppressed a cluck of her tongue. Lord Boxton had put his name beside the first quadrille and two waltzes.

“My lord, you know I cannot—”

“Please, call me Anthony.”

Anna’s eyes widened briefly at his presumption. Surely her family would interfere. But a cursory glance told her that sometime during the past few minutes they had made themselves scarce.

Hadn’t she just been considering saying
yes
to this man, should he propose marriage? Why, then, should she feel resistant to being on familiar terms with him?
Silly, Anna
.

She gave him a toothy smile. “Why thank you, Anthony. You may call me Annabel.” She hesitated, but broached the subject of his improperly claiming three dances. “I fear I must—”

He stepped nearer, clasping her wrist before wrapping her hand around his elbow. “I believe this is our dance.”

Indeed, the strains of a quadrille were echoing through the ballroom from the orchestra on the balcony.

Lord Boxton—
Anthony
—must feel quite pleased with himself
, Anna supposed. She could hardly mention his misstep now that the moment had passed. She would merely have to claim a headache or express a desire for some punch to avoid appearing discourteous.

He led her toward the assembling group of dancers. Men and women lined up across from their partners, the women on one side and men on the other. Anna joined the ladies, facing Anthony. His gaze held pride and glinted with what she could only interpret as humour.

She should feel honoured to have the attention of not only a titled gentleman, but a handsome one as well, but the emotions in her heart fell short of joy. She could not possibly expect him to be a replica of the men she often read about in her novels, nor could she expect him to be a friend to her, such as Lane was. With him, she did not feel desire or passion. There was nothing more than the indifference she would feel toward an acquaintance.

Was that enough to hope for in a marriage…or in the marriage bed?

Do not do this, Anna
, she chided herself as they began the dance.
He is a perfectly amiable gentleman. He will, with good fortune, give you the children you so desire.

They came together, his gloved palm hot against hers, and turned in a circle in time to the music.

Most marriages were ones of convenience rather than love. Many entered into the marriage state out of a necessity for a dowry, a desire for a title, or the need to produce an heir,
not
for desire.

Lord Boxton—Anthony—was a handsome man in his thirtieth year. She would not be opposed to sharing the intimacies of marriage with him, passionless though they might be.

Anna struggled to find words to cut through the silence between them. They had already complimented each other on their skill at dancing at the previous ball. Should she speak on the weather? Comment on his attire? Make a note of those in attendance?

Before she was able to think of something to say, the quadrille came to an end and Anthony led her off the dance floor. Anna’s gaze scanned the crowd milling around the edges of the ballroom and spotted her parents speaking with Lane. But he was watching
her
.

Anna’s stomach twisted as he stared. His expression was serene, but his eyes were troubled…and furious. Something distressed him.

Anthony began to steer her toward the refreshment table. “Would you care for a glass of Madeira or champagne, Annabel?”

She broke eye contact with Lane to smile gratefully at Lord Boxton. “Champagne, please. Thank you, Anthony.” He responded with a pleased grin that she could not help but return.

He left her side to retrieve their refreshments, and Anna stood in wait.

“You look ravishing this evening.” A deep, familiar voice came from behind her, sending a shiver of inappropriate delight down her spine.

She turned to face him, the knot in her stomach tightening. He looked absurdly handsome in his black trousers and cutaway tailcoat, deep-red waistcoat, and white shirt and cravat. He had dressed similarly to Lord Boxton, though Lane was the one to set her heart to galloping.

“Good evening, Lane. Thank you,” she said. “You look very fine yourself.”

He sent a cursory glance over her pale-rose evening gown with capped sleeves and scooping neckline before his gaze returned to bore into hers.

“I noticed you dancing with Lord Boxton.”

A quick frown marred her brow before she cleared it. “Yes, he requested a dance and I accepted. He has also requested a waltz later this evening, which I have also accepted.” She failed to mention the
second
waltz that Anthony had claimed.

His jaw tightened before he glanced away.

“Why do you appear as though you disapprove?” she asked. “You have never before given much notice to my dance partners.”