The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown (Lady W 1) (9 page)

He’d called on her yesterday and the day before, and on both occasions she’d been out with Lord Howard. He could assume they hadn’t gone ice skating again, but that hardly left him with enough information to hunt them down.

She’d enjoyed their lovemaking; he could sense that, in the language of her body beneath his and in the beat of her heart. He had been her first, and even more than before, he wanted to make damned certain he was her only.

Whatever she might say, they belonged together, and not simply because it said so on some old piece of paper. The idea that she was seeing Howard to avoid him annoyed Maximilian; the thought that she might accept a proposal from the damned viscount to avoid being dragged out of London infuriated him.

“So you have no idea where she’s gone,” he asked the Bishops’ butler.

“None, my lord. I only know that Lady Anne said she would return in time for dinner.”

The butler was probably lying, but that was part of the man’s job. Well, the main target had vanished, but there were still other pieces he could fit into the puzzle. “Would Lord or Lady Daven be in, then?”

Lambert blinked. “Ah, if you would care to wait in the morning room, I shall inquire.”

That meant someone was home. The question was whether they would want to speak with him or not. Anne’s explanation for his presence the other day had sounded innocent enough to him, but he wasn’t her parent, thank Lucifer.

“Lord Halfurst,” a quiet male voice said from the doorway. “This is a surprise, though not an unexpected one.”

Maximilian nodded. “Lord Daven. Thank you for seeing me. I know how busy you are.”

“No need for that. Am I to assume that Anne has come to her senses? I wasn’t certain I’d be seeing you again after she escaped to the theater without you.”

“I’m persistent.”

“So I’ve discovered.”

At the earl’s gesture Maximilian seated himself in one of the room’s comfortable chairs. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

The earl cleared his throat as a footman brought in a tea tray. “I’ll avoid all assumptions.”

“It’s not about her dowry.” Max leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. This was what he hated most about London—the artifice, the pretending, the veneer of politeness that meant no one would say what they really thought of you, except to your back. He preferred being direct, and it seemed important that Anne’s family know that. “Do you wish your daughter to marry me?”

A scowl lowered Daven’s brow. “Well, of course I do. An agreement between two families is—”

“No. Do
you
wish Anne to marry me?”

“Ah.” The earl took a sip of tea. “You mean with the widespread rumors that your father left you bankrupt.”

Apparently some residents of London could be direct. It was refreshing, in a way. “Yes.”

“Well, to be honest—and I assume you want honesty—if that was all I knew about you, then no, I wouldn’t want you marrying my daughter. Halfurst is an old and respectable title, but frankly that is no assurance of happiness.”

For a moment Max remained silent. “But you know the truth behind the rumors. When I wrote, I made the facts as clear as…my being a gentleman would allow.”

“Yes, I know that.” The earl set aside his tea. “Which leads
me
to a question: do you wish to marry my daughter?”

“I wish to, and I intend to do so, my lord. At the moment, however, I still seem to be making up for nineteen years of not corresponding with her.”

Daven chuckled. “Anne’s hardly spent time anywhere but in London. She’s convinced this is where the world begins and ends.”

“Yes, I’d gathered that,” Maximilian said dryly. “It’s not actually my letter writing she disapproves of; it’s my place of residence.”

“There are solutions to that, my boy.”

With a nod, Maximilian stood. “So there are.”

First, though, he wanted to know something. Stupid and meaningless though it might be, he wanted to know that she chose him above all the other sugar-tongued nobles pursuing her.

With Lord Howard in the middle, that was going to be supremely difficult, unless he wished to play by the same rules as the viscount. And he really preferred to avoid that, if at all possible. Where Anne was concerned, however, he was willing to do just about anything. If she would take one step toward him, he would walk a hundred miles for her.

“Why do you keep looking over your shoulder?” Desmond asked, his own gaze on the snow-covered street. “Do you expect Halfurst to pursue us to Covent Garden?”

“He might,” Anne answered, pushing her hands deeper into her muff.

Not even to herself would she admit that she missed Maximilian, that her body felt impatient for his kisses and craved his touch. She’d thought about asking Lord Howard to kiss her again, to prove to herself that this stupid feeling she had was just a general yearning for something her body had very much enjoyed. She knew, though, that it wasn’t true; she enjoyed Halfurst, and only Halfurst. Having someone else kiss her would only prove a point she didn’t wish to make.

“I should hand him a beating for making off with you at the skating party,” the viscount went on, obviously annoyed. “And for frightening you into colliding with Miss Ballister.”

“He didn’t frighten me into anything,” Anne retorted, flushing. “Please stop discussing it.”

“I don’t see why you should object. It’s only another sign of his quaint Yorkshire manners.” Desmond snorted. “No doubt his floors are covered with straw to accommodate the pigs with whom he shares his home.”

“Oh, Desmond, stop it. You know that’s not true.”

“Well, yes, but only because Halfurst is in sheep country.” This time he laughed. “Sheep are probably where he learned his lovemaking skills. You know—”

“
Lord Howard!
Stop this carriage at once! I will not be party to such crude—”

He pulled the team to a halt. “Anne, please calm down. I apologize for my very rude behavior. I got carried away.”

“Obviously.” Trying to hide the double attack of guilt and mortification that had hit her, Anne stuffed her hands deeper into her muff and glared straight ahead. If she looked at Desmond, she felt certain he would guess what she’d done—and how thoroughly she’d enjoyed Maximilian’s skills.
Sheep, ha
.

“Come, Anne, looking for a way to spare his feelings is admirable, but it’s been well over a week. You’ll be risking the accusation that you’re leading him on if you don’t have your parents announce the break with Halfurst soon.”

Taking a steadying breath, Anne faced him again. “We are friends, are we not?”

He clasped her elbow. “Of course we are. And we verge on becoming more to one another, I hope.”

Not that again
. Still, she had no more wish to hurt his feelings than Maximilian’s. “All rumor, speculation, and innuendo aside, what do you know of Lord Halfurst?”

With a flick of his wrists, Desmond set the carriage moving again. “Not much, really. His father spent the entire year before young Viscount Trent arrived in town bragging to anyone who would listen about what a success he would be. It actually looked that way for a time, until old Halfurst expired at his own soirée and his widow went screaming through the ballroom proclaiming that they were all ruined.”

“Lud. My parents never mentioned that.”

“Well, they wouldn’t, considering you were betrothed to him. After that, tales of the family’s bankruptcy were everywhere. They even denied him membership at White’s, as I recall. And then, practically without a word, he bundled up his mother and what remained of the family’s belongings and fled to Yorkshire.”

Intent as Maximilian seemed to be about straightforward truth, she could see why he hadn’t made up some lie about his circumstances. She couldn’t imagine him running from anything, either, but he’d been only eighteen. A year younger than she was now.

“So, as I said before, you know why he’s here,” Desmond continued. “He feared you and your money would escape him, and he’s run to town to gather you both up and flee back to Yorkshire.”

Yorkshire
. She’d never been there, and it was without a doubt the most hated word in her entire vocabulary. “I suppose so.”

The viscount glanced at her. “You ‘suppose so’? Don’t tell me he’s charmed you with that quaint directness of his.”

“It’s not that,” she hedged. “If he’s so desperate for money, and if everyone knows it, how is he able to supply himself with a new wardrobe, and rent a box for a sold-out performance at Drury Lane?”

“I would assume he’s lived like a pauper for the last seven years so he can make a good showing now. After all, if your parents reject him, he has no one else.”

“He hasn’t even met with my parents,” she muttered, quietly enough that Desmond wouldn’t hear. Obviously the viscount had forgotten his claim that any female would do for Maximilian. But she didn’t agree. She’d always had the distinct feeling that the Marquis of Halfurst could have any female he wanted, and that he preferred her. His passion had certainly been very effective, and very unmistakable.

“I’ve made you blush. Let’s speak of something else.”

“Yes, please,” she returned vehemently. Above all else she didn’t want Desmond to know it hadn’t been he making her blush; even thinking of Maximilian was enough to speed her pulse and leave her flushed with warmth and wanting.

“Annie!”

Starting, Anne looked up the street. Theresa and Pauline stood beside Pauline’s family coach, waving at her.
Oh, thank goodness. Friendly faces
. “Let’s stop, my lord,” she said, waving back and grinning with relief. Conversing with men had never been as troublesome and problematic before Halfurst’s arrival in London.

“But I wanted to spend some time alone with you,” the viscount protested.

“You’ve spent the entire drive here talking about Halfurst,” she retorted. “I really don’t wish to hear any more.”

“Then stop asking questions about him, my dear. One would almost think you’ve become infatuated with the sheep farmer.”

How else was she supposed to get information, if not by asking questions?
“Stop the carriage, Desmond. Daisy and I shall walk.”

“Anne, don’t be angry with me for enjoying your company,” he said in a placating voice. “We’ll discuss whatever you like.”

Despite his peace offering, now that she’d decided it, she wanted nothing more than to escape his company. In all fairness, though, she had agreed to join him for a shopping excursion to Covent Garden. “Perhaps you’d escort all of us,” she suggested. “I haven’t seen Theresa or Pauline for days.”

With a faint scowl he guided the phaeton to one side of the busy street. “As you wish, my dear.”

So now he thought she was being difficult, and he had to humor her. Everything had been so much easier when her male friends had accepted that she was betrothed, and the only thing she had to offer was her friendship. Lately, though, all Desmond seemed interested in was trying to kiss her, and telling her how poor Maximilian’s character was.

And that was the oddest part. She should have been happy to hear that rejecting the marquis would be the wise thing to do. Instead, though, for every blight the viscount offered, she seemed determined to come up with a reason to dismiss it. Why was she being so foolish? And why had she welcomed Halfurst’s embrace, and his touch, and his body?

“Anne,” Pauline said, grabbing her ankle as the carriage rolled to a stop in the snowy street, “I’m glad we found you.”

“I’m happy to see you again, as well,” she said, a bit surprised at the vehemence in her friend’s voice.

“No. We’ve been looking for you,” Theresa took up. “We went to your house this morning to see if you wanted to go shopping, and who do you think we saw there?”

She could guess. “Halfurst?”

“Yes! Did you know?”

“How could I? I accepted an invitation to go shopping with Lord Howard this morning.” For the viscount’s sake, she favored him with a smile as he came around and lifted her down to the street.

“Well, he’s in your morning room. Apparently he’s been there for over an hour. And your mother told us that she thinks he means to wait for you until you return!”

Anne closed her eyes for a moment, the familiar rush at the idea of his presence mingling with a distinct uneasiness. If he was at Bishop House and she wasn’t, then no doubt he’d finally spoken to her father. And with the earl’s cryptic comments about keeping an eye on Halfurst’s career, her father seemed to favor the match. Good heavens, she might as well be married!

Desmond beside her was doing a poor job of hiding his displeasure at this latest pronouncement; no doubt he realized what she would ask of him next. “Desmond, please—”

“Take you home?” he interrupted. “Give me one good reason why I should.”

She took an annoyed breath. “Lord Howard, if you would just remain pleasant for another few minutes, then we might remain friends, as well.”

“And what does that get me?” he retorted. “A letter from Yorkshire every six months, describing how miserable you are and how much you wish you’d listened to your ‘friend’?”

“This doesn’t sound like friendship,” she said crisply, taking Theresa’s hand and hoping if her friend felt her fingers shaking she would think it was from the cold. “It sounds like jealousy. I have never made it anything but clear that I am betrothed, and whether I plan on marrying Lord Halfurst or not, that fact does not change.”

“Only when it’s convenient for you, that is,” he sneered.

“Annie, Pauline and I will see you home,” Theresa said in a tense voice, tugging her in the direction of Pauline’s carriage.

“Yes, you do that,” Howard snapped. “I’ll be available when you return to your senses and decide you’ve had enough of your sheep farmer.”

Before she could conjure a suitable retort, he climbed into his phaeton and lurched back into traffic.

“My goodness,” Pauline whispered, taking Anne’s other hand. “I’ve never seen him like that.”

“Neither have I,” she returned, her voice shaking to match her hands. “Will you please take me home?”

“Of course, Annie. Come on.”

As she took her seat in Pauline’s carriage, she was surprised to realize that she wasn’t thinking so much of Desmond’s jealous fit as she was of seeing her sheep farmer again. Four days seemed a lifetime, when all she could think of was how very good it had felt to be with him.