The Raven Prince (33 page)

Anna poured some water from a pitcher on the dresser and pressed the glass into her hand. The older woman sipped it, and the color began to return to her cheeks.

“It’s just too bad Coral left so suddenly.” Mother Wren had repeated the sentiment with variations all day.

Anna flattened her mouth.

Fanny had roused them that morning after finding a note in the kitchen. In the note, Coral had simply thanked them for their care. Anna had run upstairs to look in the room where Coral had been sleeping, but it was empty and the bed already made. There she discovered another note pinned to the pillow. Coral asked that Pearl be allowed to stay a while longer, and she’d included gold coins that clinked to the floor when Anna unfolded the note.

Anna had tried to give the money to Pearl, but the other woman had shaken her head and backed away. “No, ma’am. That there money is for you and Mrs. Wren. You’ve been the best friends me and Coral have ever had.”

“But you’ll need it.”

“You and Mrs. Wren need it, too. Besides, I have a position I’ll be starting soon.” She had blushed. “Up at the Abbey.”

Anna shook her head. “I hope Coral is all right. Her bruises had barely begun to fade. Pearl doesn’t even know where she could have gone besides back to London.”

Mother Wren pressed a hand to her forehead. “Had she only waited, she could’ve accompanied you to London.”

“Maybe Pearl wouldn’t mind delaying her work at the Abbey and going with me first.” Anna pulled out a drawer in her dresser and hunted for a pair of stockings without any holes.

“I rather think Pearl will want to stay here.” Her mother-in-law set the glass down carefully on the floor beside her chair. “She seems to have met a gentleman at the Abbey.”

“Really?” Anna half turned, her hands full of stockings. “Who do you think it is? One of the footmen?”

“I don’t know. The day before last, she asked me about the household and who worked there. And then she muttered something about bees.”

“Does the Abbey have a beekeeper?” Anna wrinkled her brow in thought before shaking her head and folding a pair of stockings and placing them in her bag.

“Not that I know of.” Mother Wren shrugged. “In any case, I’m glad Lord Swartingham has decided to take you to London. He’s such a nice man. And he’s interested in you, dear. Perhaps he’ll be asking you an important question there.”

Anna winced. “He’s already asked me to marry him.”

Mother Wren jumped up and let out a squeal worthy of a girl a quarter of her age.

“And I told him no,” Anna finished.

“No?” Her mother-in-law looked aghast.

“No.” She carefully folded a chemise and placed it in her bag.

“Damn Peter!” The other woman stamped her foot.

“Mother!”

“I’m sorry, dear, but you know as well as I do that you wouldn’t have turned that lovely man down if it hadn’t been for my son.”

“I don’t—”

“Now, there’s no use making excuses for him.” Mother Wren actually looked stern. “The good Lord knows I loved Peter. He was my only son, and he was such a darling little boy. But what he did to you in your marriage was just plain unforgivable. My dear husband, had he been alive at the time, would’ve taken a horsewhip to Peter.”

Anna felt tears prick her eyes. “I didn’t realize you knew.”

“I didn’t.” Mother Wren sat down again with a thump. “Not until that last illness. He was feverish and started talking one night when I was up with him. You’d gone to bed already.”

Anna looked down at her hands to hide the fact that tears were blurring her vision. “He was so upset when he found out I couldn’t have babies. I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry, too. Sorry that you couldn’t have children together.”

Anna wiped her face with her palm and heard her mother-in-law’s skirts rustle as she came near.

Plump, warm arms wrapped around her. “But he had you. Do you know how happy I was when Peter married you?”

“Oh, Mother . . .”

“You were—
are
—the daughter I never had,” Mother Wren murmured. “You’ve taken care of me all these years. In many ways, I’ve grown closer to you than I ever was to Peter.”

For some reason, this made Anna weep harder.

Mother Wren held her, rocking slightly from side to side. Anna cried great, heaving sobs that tore from her chest and made her head hurt. It was so painful to have this part of her life exposed when she’d kept it hidden away from the light so long. Peter’s infidelity had been her own secret shame to bear and suffer alone. Yet, all this time, Mother Wren had known, and what was more, she did not blame her. Her words felt like an absolution.

Finally, Anna’s sobs slowed and quieted, her eyes still closed. She felt so weary, her limbs heavy and listless.

The older woman helped her to lie down and smoothed the coverlet over her. “Just rest.”

Mother Wren’s cool, soft hand gently brushed the hair from her forehead, and she heard her murmur, “Please be happy, dear.”

Anna lay dreamily and listened to the click of the other woman’s heels as she went downstairs. Even with her headache, she felt at peace.

“G
ONE TO LONDON?”
Felicity’s voice rose until it nearly cracked.

Two ladies walking by the Wren cottage glanced over at her. She turned her back to them.

The elder Mrs. Wren was looking at her oddly. “Yes, just this morning with the earl. Lord Swartingham said he couldn’t do without her at his club meeting. I can’t think now what they are called, the Aegeans or some such. It’s amazing what these society gentlemen find to amuse themselves with, isn’t it?”

Felicity fixed a smile on her face as the old woman babbled on, though she wanted to scream with impatience. “Yes, but when will Anna return?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think for another day or so.” Mrs. Wren’s brow knit in thought. “Perhaps even a week? Surely by the fortnight.”

Felicity felt her smile congeal into a grimace. Good God, was the woman senile? “Quite. Well, I have to go. Errands, you know.”

She could tell by Mrs. Wren’s faltering smile that her parting was less than genteel, but Felicity didn’t have the time right now. She climbed into her carriage, banged on the ceiling, then groaned as the carriage pulled away. Why had Chilly been so indiscreet? And which of her servants had gossiped? When she got her hands on the traitor, she would make sure they wouldn’t work again in this county. Only this morning the squire had become irate at the breakfast table. He’d demanded to know who had been sneaking from her rooms the week before. It had quite put her off her coddled eggs.

If only Chilly had climbed through the window instead of using the servant’s entrance. But no, he’d insisted that the stone on the window ledge would tear his stockings. Silly, vain man. And as if Reginald’s suspicions about Chilly weren’t enough, he’d commented only yesterday on Cynthia’s red hair. It seemed red hair hadn’t appeared in the Clearwater family in living memory. If ever.

Well, of course not, you stupid man,
Felicity had wanted to scream.
Her red hair doesn’t come from your family.
Instead, she’d made some vague references to her grandmother’s auburn locks and hastily turned the conversation to hounds, a subject that always enthralled her spouse.

Felicity ran her fingers over her own perfect coiffure. Why was the squire finally looking at his daughters now after all this time? If that letter turned up on top of his suspicions about Chilly, her standing would take a considerable fall. She shuddered. Banishment to a shoddy little farmhouse was possible. Even
divorce,
that most awful of fates, might happen to her. Inconceivable. Not to Felicity Clearwater.

She had to find Anna and get that letter.

A
NNA ROLLED OVER
and punched the heavy down pillow for what seemed like the hundredth time. Impossible to sleep while waiting to be swooped down on by a circling earl.

She hadn’t been surprised early this morning when Fanny, her chaperone by default, had been relegated to a following carriage. That had left Anna to drive alone with Edward in the phaeton to London. She’d been sure to position Jock between them on the phaeton’s seat and had been almost disappointed when Edward hadn’t seemed to notice. They’d driven all day and arrived at Edward’s London town house after dark. Apparently they’d woken the staff. The butler, Dreary, had opened the door in nightshirt and cap. Still, the yawning maids had lit fires and found a cold meal for them.

Then Edward had wished her a polite good night and bid the housekeeper show her to a room. Since the servant’s carriage with Fanny hadn’t yet appeared, Anna had the bedroom to herself. In her room was a small connecting door, and she had grave suspicions about it. The bedroom was far too grand to be simply a guest room. He couldn’t have put her in the countess’s suite, could he? He wouldn’t dare.

She sighed. Actually, he would.

The clock on the mantel had already chimed the one o’clock hour. Surely if Edward was coming to her, he would have done so before now? Not that it would do him any good to try her doors. She’d locked both.

Steady, masculine footsteps thumped up the stairs.

She stilled like a hare overshadowed by a bird of prey. She looked at the hall door. The footsteps drew near, the tread slowing as it reached her door. They stopped.

All of her being focused on the doorknob.

There was a pause, and then the footsteps resumed. A door farther down the hall opened and shut. Anna flopped back on her pillows. Naturally, she was relieved at this turn of events. Very, very relieved. Wouldn’t any proper lady be relieved to find that she
wasn’t
going to be ravished by a demon earl?

She was debating how a proper lady would present herself at a demon earl’s bedroom for ravishment when the lock on the connecting door snicked open. Edward sauntered in, holding a key and two glasses.

“I thought you might like to share my brandy?” He gestured with the glasses.

“I, um . . .” Anna paused to clear her throat. “I don’t care for brandy.”

He held the glasses up for a moment longer before lowering them. “No? Well—”

“But you are welcome to drink it here.” Anna’s words collided with Edward’s.

He stared at her silently.

“With me, I mean.” She could feel her cheeks heating.

Edward turned his back, and for a ghastly moment, Anna thought he would leave after all. But he put the glasses down on a table, faced her again, and began removing his cravat. “Actually, I didn’t come for a nightcap.”

Her breath caught.

He tossed the cravat on a chair and pulled his shirt off over his head. Her eyes immediately fixed on his bare chest.

He looked at her. “No comment? I think this may be a first.”

He sat on the bed to pull off first his boots and then his stockings. The bed sagged with his weight. He stood and dropped his hands to the buttons on his buckskins.

She stopped breathing.

Edward smiled wickedly and slowly flicked open the buttons. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and shucked both pants and drawers with one movement. Then he straightened, and his smile faded. “If you’re going to say no, do it now.” He sounded just a bit uncertain.

Anna took her time looking him over. From hooded ebony eyes to broad muscular shoulders and lean belly to thickening manhood and weighty balls to corded thighs and hairy calves and finally to large, bony feet. The light had been dim at Aphrodite’s Grotto, and she wanted to save this picture of him should she never see it again. He was beautiful standing there, offering himself to her in the candle’s glow. She found her throat was too thick to speak, so she simply held out her arms.

Edward closed his eyes for a second. Had he really thought she would send him away? Then he walked soundlessly to the bed. He halted beside her. Bowing his head with unexpected elegance, he raised one hand to pull the ribbon from his queue. Black silk flowed around his scarred shoulders. He climbed in the bed and crouched over her, his hair tickling the sides of her face. He lowered his head to brush soft kisses over her cheeks, her nose, and her eyes. She tried to lift her lips to his, but he evaded her. Until she grew impatient.

She needed his mouth so much. “Kiss me.” She drove her fingers into his mane and drew his face down to hers.

He opened his lips over hers, taking her breath into himself, and it felt like a benediction. This was so right. She knew that now. This passion between them was the most perfect thing in the world.

She squirmed, trying to get closer to him, but his hands and knees on either side of her body weighed down the sheet covering her. She was trapped. He ravished her mouth at his pleasure. He took his time, roughly, then softly, and then roughly once more until she felt her want melt within her.

Suddenly he reared back on his knees. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his chest, and seed dewed the tip of his penis. She moaned low in her throat at the sight. He was so magnificent, so beautiful, and at this instant in time, he was all hers.

He flicked his gaze at her face, then downward as he pulled the sheet from her breasts. She wore only her shift. He drew the thin garment tight across her bosom and examined the result. She could feel her nipples stiffening against the fabric. Tight and yearning. Waiting for his touch. He leaned down, placed his wet mouth over a nipple, and sucked at it through the shift. The sensation was so sharp she bucked. He moved to the other nipple and suckled that one as well until the tips of her breasts were draped in wet, transparent fabric. He drew back and blew on first one, and then the other nipple, making her gasp and struggle.