Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) (31 page)

“Lane!” Anna shuffled forward on the bed, still with one hand on the sheet for modesty’s sake. “Lane, are you all right?”

Lane held a palm to his face with a grumbled “hell and blazes.”

“
You bloody, ignoble wretch!
” Charles curled his lip in disgust. “All of this time you have been feigning innocence while I labour at discovering the father of my sister’s unborn bastard child. And it was
you
!” He bent at the pile of clothes on the floor, picked up Lane’s trousers and threw them at Lane as he righted himself. “Cover yourself. I have no desire to see your naked arse.”

Anna’s heart thundered. “Charles, do not do this!”

Charles pointed a finger at her, his irate blue gaze pinning her on the spot. “You and I shall discuss this later.”

Lane stepped into and buttoned his trousers just as Charles stepped forward to punch him again. The
smack
of their skin connecting and the awful
crunch
made Anna cringe.

“Charles, stop!” she cried.

“I expect silence from you, Annabel.” He didn’t take his furious gaze off of Lane.

“He is correct, Anna.” Lane held a placating hand up to her. “I deserve what he is to give me.”

Anna bristled. “You do
not
deserve it!” She turned her gaze on her enraged older brother. “Charles, this is not what it seems.”

“No?” His frosty regard chilled her to her bones. “He is
not
the father of your unborn child? He did
not
allow me to believe that it was one of the scoundrels that abducted you? It was
not
he who abandoned you when he discovered you were with his child, and leave you to that rogue Lord
bloody
Boxton?”

Oh dear
. “He…yes. Yes, it was he. But there—”

“That is precisely what I thought.” His eyes flared with hatred and rage as he glowered down at Lane sitting on the edge of the bed.

“We are to be married!” Anna blurted.

“
The hell you are!
” Charles roared.

Gathering her courage, Anna slid from the bed holding the sheet to her front. “Charles, listen to me—”

“I shall not!”

“Damn it, Charles!” Lane said over him. “I
have
proposed to your sister.
Twice
, in fact.”

Anna stepped forward, her heart in her throat. “Please understand. I accepted Lane’s proposal, Charles. This baby will
not
be a bastard.” Her voice strengthened as she defended her unborn child.

Charles’ visage was dark and frightening as he stared her down. “
If
Lane lives past dawn.”

“
What
?” Her face grew ashen.

“As I am a gentleman and do not kill men in their skivvies—and in the presence of women—I will see you on the field of honour at dawn, Lord Devon. Choose your weapon.”

“
No!
” Anna screeched. “I will not allow you to fight!” Anna’s heart plummeted, leaving a sickening hollowness in her chest.

“Pistols,” Lane grumbled.

Charles sent him a curt nod. “I will see you at dawn. Now get the hell out of my home.”

Lane began gathering his remaining clothing and putting it on.

“I repeat,” Anna said rigidly, “I will not allow you to fight! There must be some other way to resolve this.”

Charles rounded on her. “If you think I will so much as entertain the idea of listening to your lies right now, Annabel, you are sadly mistaken. I have asked you countless times for the identity of the heartless cur that put his bastard inside you, and not once have you said that he was, supposedly, a friend to this family. You allowed me to believe that you had been
raped
, for God’s sake, Anna!” He shook his head in disgust. “I have all the information I require at the moment. You are not to see Lord Devon any longer, and you will begin packing your trunks tonight. You leave for Hertfordshire in the morning.”

Anna felt certain that her pale cheeks had turned a sickly green. “Pardon?”

“You heard me correctly. You will remain at the familial estate until the end of your confinement, at which time the baby will be given to a distant relative—”

“No!” Anna bared her teeth at him. “You are not my father, Charles. You have
no
right to dictate to me—”

“I will do whatever
I damned well please
when you behave like a
bloody harlot
in my home!” He heaved a heavy breath, his fists clenched.

Hurt lanced through Anna’s chest, and tears sprang to her eyes, the curst things.

“That is uncalled for, Charles.” Lane stepped between them, his waistcoat unbuttoned and his cravat hanging limp from his hand. A thin line of blood ran from his nose, down around his mouth, and along his jaw, until it dripped down his shirtfront.

Charles’ face reddened, and the veins in his neck began to bulge. Anna feared he might have apoplexy.

“It damned well is,” Charles protested.

Her brother had been a soldier at war for several years, but never once had Anna seen this side of him. She had witnessed him upset and had seen him hide his pain behind his jokes, she had even observed him angry a time or two recently, but not like this.
Never
like this.

Was this who he was as a soldier? Was this his demeanour when he fought and killed in battle? Lord, but she would hate to face this man again. She wished that the old Charles would return, the one from before the war—the loving and carefree brother who would have seen this situation as grounds for a marriage, not a duel.

“Charles,” Anna pleaded, “you are cross now, but what of the morrow? There is no need to go to such extreme measures. Surely you will see things in a different light once you have separated yourself from it for a night.”

“The devil I will,” he spat. “You’ve become a whore and our
family friend
has dishonoured his own good name by lowering himself to the despoiler of virgins.”

Wholly without her control, tears overflowed her eyelids to leave hot trails down her cheeks. She turned her gaze on Lane, who had pulled his coat on and was attempting to knot his cravat without the aid of a mirror.

She must stop this duel. She went to Lane, desperation driving her. “Lane, you do not have to do this,” she whispered in his ear. “Please. Run away with me to Gretna.”

She could feel him shake his head. “Your brother deserves to have satisfaction,” he whispered back to her. “I will not harm him, Anna, my love. I will not shoot.”

Anna tightened her hold on him. “I do not wish for you to be hurt,” she said helplessly.

“
Enough
!” Charles barked, pushing them apart and scowling down at Anna. “You two have spent more than adequate time in each other’s company. I believe you should be packing, Annabel.” He sent her a warning glance then turned to shove Lane toward her door. “Get out.”

Lane turned to glance over his shoulder at her before he marched through the doorway.

Desperate, Anna grasped for Charles’ arm and spun him around. “Please, Charles! I implore you to see that we love each other!” For the briefest of moments Anna thought she’d seen regret in his gaze, but his countenance hardened to stone so quickly, she was unsure. “I love Lane.”

His lips curled back in revulsion. “
Love
,” he snarled the word, as though it left an ill taste on his tongue.

He brushed her off, unintentionally knocking her off balance and sending her stumbling back. She quickly righted herself, but when she looked back at the doorway, Lane and Charles were gone.

How could such a peaceful,
wonderful
evening have concluded so horribly? Anna closed the door, tossed down the sheet, and strode angrily to her wardrobe. How could Charles have behaved so abominably? And how could Lane have accepted this fate as thought it were an expected punishment?

She pulled a lilac, front-lacing travelling gown from her wardrobe and laid it on her bed. She might as well keep herself busy, for she would get no rest tonight.

* * *

Lane nudged Pegasus in the ribs as they hit a straight patch of road. His nose and jaw were still throbbing with the pounding of his heart, but the trail of blood on his face had dried and crusted, making his skin pull with every movement of his mouth.

He should not have been so careless this evening. He should have left before submitting to sleep.

Well, if he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that there were many things that he should have done, beginning with not taking Anna’s maidenhead at all. He could not regret it, however. Annabel was beyond anything he had ever imagined possible.

Lane rounded the last corner before coming upon his town house. The air was crisp, the night dark, and the roads of Mayfair all but vacant. He pulled up the drive, leapt down, and walked Pegasus to the stables. The household and the stable staff would be asleep in their beds; he would need to care for Pegasus on his own. That suited Lane fine, for it would allow him time to reflect on his idiotic actions.

There would be no hope for sleep as he faced certain injury, and probable death, come dawn.

Lane brought Pegasus to his stall and removed his saddle.

One of Emaline’s cats perched curiously on the side of the stall and watched as he brushed Pegasus’ coat and prepared him for the evening.

He had not lied to Annabel when he had said that he would not shoot her brother. Charles was justified in his anger, overreact though he did, as Lane had indeed ruined his sister. It was unfortunate that Charles had caught them together this evening, as Lane had intended to speak with Mr. Bradley. The cruel irony did not escape him.

Lane finished with his gelding and left the stall, closing and latching the door behind him. He turned to look back at Pegasus’ large, brown eyes over the stall door, then pulled an apple from a bucket and held it out to him. His horse gently accepted the apple and munched while Lane rubbed his nose.

“That is a good fellow.”

He inhaled a deep breath, taking in the scent of horses, leather, manure, and fresh hay, letting it out in a gusty sigh. What a fool he was.

He turned and strode out the large stable doors, closing and latching them behind him.

Lane shook his head in self-derision as he rounded the side of the town house toward the front steps. He must focus on what was to come. He had plenty to do before the night was through; the first of which being that he required a second for his duel. He did not have any friends of whom he could request to fill that position. He could convince his valet, Peters, or the head groom, Jenkins, to be his second, but neither would be pleased or very willing to do so.

He suppressed a groan as he opened the front door. He must clean his duelling pistols and settle his affairs, for Lord knew this night might very well be his last.

Chapter 38

Anna lay curled on her bed in the darkness of her bedchamber. The fire had died to only a few embers, and no candles had been left burning. Hours had passed since she had dressed and resolutely
not
packed her belongings.

Charles was being unreasonable. Surely come dawn he would see that she and Lane were meant to be together.

Her head ached from lack of sleep…and the abundance of tears that she had shed. She had listened to Charles pace angrily below stairs in his study, though he had grown silent some time ago. He was likely pouring over the books at his desk or cleaning his pistols.

Tears stung her dry eyes once more at the thought of Lane and Charles duelling on the field of honour. She had read about duels, and not one had ended with both parties uninjured. She feared for Lane in particular, after his statement regarding not shooting. Anna suspected that Charles was entirely earnest in his fury toward Lane and indeed intended to do him harm.

She must devise a plan that will render both Charles and Lane unharmed, and her unmoved from London. Perhaps she could appear at the duel, deliver a clever speech, and prevent them from shooting.

She did not know where the duel was being held.
Drat.

Oh, but perhaps she could saddle Lady Maximus and follow Charles at a discrete distance when he departed.

She could feign digestive distress and earn Charles’ sympathy and forgiveness…
No
. She could not be so deceitful to him. As dangerous as the course of action might be, following him was the only plan that could potentially prevent death or serious injury. Neither man would shoot if she stood between them.

Anna swung her feet over the side of the bed and sat up. She must begin preparations.

A loud thump suddenly echoed behind her. Anna surged to her feet and spun around. She blinked into the darkness but had difficulty seeing anything discernible. It was possible that she had placed her book precariously on the edge of her reading table and it had merely fallen to the floor…

The dark, sinister form of a man appeared before her now-opened window, and fear prickled up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Lane?” she whispered cautiously into the darkness.

It was a foolish question. She knew it wasn’t him; Lane stood tall and proud, his hair and familiar body clearly discernible, even in the darkness.
This
man—whoever he was—was a colossal, looming man; his hair was dishevelled and he hunched to one side.

The dark mass moved closer, and her heart plummeted. Anna instinctively reached to her night table and fumbled for her candlestick, her gaze trained on the man in her room.
Oh, Lord
. The familiar, ghastly scent of acrid body odour wafted toward her, and she abruptly realized who had entered her bedchamber—who had returned for her.

She took a cautious step backward, gripping her paltry choice of weapon tightly in her hand. She
must
reach her bedchamber door. Keeping her rapid breaths as silent as possible, Anna took another step backward.

Her back pressed firmly against a solid, decidedly human form, and her hope fled. Terror clawed its way through her.

Anna took a deep breath and prepared herself to scream, but a firm, filthy hand covered her mouth before a sound could escape. She knew what would come next, and she wanted no part of it. She would have to fight her way out. And if she did not succeed, she intended to do a significant amount of damage while trying.