A Risk Worth Taking (14 page)

One look at the way Candlewood and the rest of the men ogled her told him she didn’t stand a chance. And the way she was dressed didn’t help. Her gown was much too low, her breasts far too exposed to be considered decent. He would have to speak with Patience tomorrow and insist she have a talk with Lady Anne. Exposing that much of her exquisite body would only lead to trouble.

Just as letting that womanizing Candlewood hold her hand was dangerous. Bloody hell, she was courting disaster.
And all that after he’d warned her about the marquess. What made her do something so foolish?

Griff couldn’t stand by and watch her. He needed to leave before he said or did something to embarrass them both.

He left the Fillingtons’ town house and stepped out into the crisp nighttime air. He needed to walk. He needed to clear his mind. But how could he when all he could think about was the way she’d looked tonight. The way she’d felt in his arms when he’d danced with her, the way he’d felt when she was near him.

She was far too precious to let just anyone have. He would make sure whoever she married was perfect.

I
n the last six days, Griff had dismissed one duke, three marquesses, five earls, seven barons, and countless other of London’s nobility with lesser titles he could not recall. And he was about to add four more to his list.

The Covington morning room was as crowded as a receiving line at a ball. Patience and Lady Anne sat on a floral settee in the spacious salon, while he and Adam and four suitors faced them. In attendance today were Baron Pendencarn, who sat in a chair on Griff’s right, and Lord Benchley, on a chair next to the baron. The Earl of Welleby sat to Adam’s left, and the Marquess of Tanhouse next to the earl. Griff sat in his customary place next to Adam on the sofa, drinking tea and eating delicate little sandwiches as if the two of them had nothing better to do with their time.

Bloody hell! What a bore.

Since the Fillington ball nearly a week ago, there had been a steady stream of admirers at the door. Patience had played chaperone for so many carriage rides through Hyde Park, Griff was certain they were going to erect a shrine in her honor. And he and Adam had consumed so much tea and eaten so many of those damn little cakes
and sandwiches, he wouldn’t think twice about selling half the estates he’d inherited for a thick piece of roast mutton.

And of the scores of admirers who’d showed interest in Lady Anne, there wasn’t one of the titled imbeciles who was worthy of her.

“Perhaps you would care to accompany me on a carriage ride through Hyde Park this afternoon,” the Marquess of Tanhouse said, a hopeful expression on his face.

“Of course. That would be wonderful.”

Griff sat forward in his chair. “From the look of the clouds gathering outside, I’m afraid this afternoon might bring rain. Perhaps another time.”

All eyes turned to look out the window—all except for Anne’s. Her hostile glare locked with his, and the expression on her face hinted at a warning he refused to acknowledge.

“I think Mr. Blackmoor might be right,” the dejected marquess said. “It does look like rain.”

“Then perhaps Lady Anne would like to accompany me to the Countess of Williamhan’s musicale instead?” the Earl of Welleby interjected, looking pleased with himself. “A little rain never stopped a musicale.”

The earl laughed overenthusiastically at his little joke. Griff could see by the light in her eyes and the slight nod of her head that Anne intended to accept the invitation. “I’m certain Lady Anne would love to attend,” he offered for her. “I’ll make sure to free up my schedule to accompany her.”

“There’s no need for you to go to such trouble on my account,” Anne said with a lethal smile that hinted of syrupy sweetness. “I’m quite certain Lady Patience will send
one of the staff to chaperone. Or perhaps you intend to go yourself, Patience, and I could go with you?”

“It’s no trouble,” Griff interrupted. “I don’t mind. I’ve always enjoyed Lady Williamhan’s musicales.”

“I could not possibly let you inconvenience yourself so,” Anne spoke, her glare shooting painful pinpricks toward him.

There was a bite to her voice that Griff chose to ignore. “Don’t bother sending a carriage, Welleby,” he said over her protest. “I’ll see Lady Anne and Lady Patience there myself.”

The Earl of Welleby nodded, but disappointment was clear on his face.

“Have you been to Covent Garden yet?” Lord Benchley asked, his enthusiasm obvious. Both he and Baron Pendencarn made moon eyes at Anne as if her only competition was the sun in the sky. Since both of them were nearly bankrupt, their attention to Anne was obvious. They’d no doubt heard of the more than generous dowry he’d placed on her.

“No,” Anne answered, setting her teacup back in the saucer. “But I hear it is wonderful.”

“The theatre just recently reopened after the fire.” Benchley sat forward in his chair. “
Les Huguenots
is playing. Mother and I have reserved a box for next Thursday evening. Perhaps you, and Lord and Lady Covington, of course, would care to—”

“I’m afraid Lady Anne has already made plans for next Thursday.” Griff gave the baron a look that usually wilted the starch out of even the most determined of her suitors. Unfortunately, the argument he received did not come from Benchley, but from Anne.

“I believe you are mistaken, Mr. Blackmoor.” There was an undeniable tinge of acid in her voice. “I’m certain we are free that evening.”

“May I be so bold as to suggest you are mistaken?” He leaned back against the cushion and tried to appear more relaxed than he felt. The look the two of them shared resembled two bulls locking horns.

“And I’m positive I know my own calendar. I am quite capable of making plans of my own.”

An uncomfortable tension filled the room. Several long seconds stretched by while Patience lowered her gaze to her hands. The marquess and the earl looked around the room as if the pattern in the wallpaper held their fascination. Baron Pendencarn fidgeted nervously with the ruffles on his shirt while Lord Benchley repeatedly cleared his throat.

“You are already engaged that evening, Lady Anne,” Griff repeated, struggling to keep his voice soft and factual. “You have accepted—”

“I would appreciate it if you would allow me to speak for myself.”

“Of course. I just did not realize you had changed your plans to attend the Duchess of Stanfields’s ball.” He made sure his voice contained a hint of conciliation.

“I’m afraid Blackmoor is correct,” Lady Patience said. She was undoubtedly trying to soothe the troubled waters churning in her parlor.

Anne’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of rose.

Bloody hell, but she was a beauty. Today she wore a gown the faintest shade of alabaster, with delicate pink flowers embroidered throughout the material. Her dark, mahogany hair was loosely pulled back, and delicate tendrils cascaded
around her face. She looked almost too pretty to be real. No wonder every male in London searching for a bride was beating a path to her door.

“Oh, I had forgotten,” she said, flashing him another angry look. “That is the same evening.”

“Perhaps it will not be a total loss,” the Earl of Welleby said, placing his empty teacup on the table beside his chair. “I hear the duchess has procured that renowned pianist, Van Seffeld, to provide entertainment for the evening. Quite a coup, too, since he’s playing for the Queen that very morning.”

There was a moment of awed silence, then the Earl of Welleby sat back against his chair. “I also have an invitation to attend the duchess’s ball. Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to find an empty chair next to you during the performance.”

Griff opened his mouth to give a reason why he was sure the chairs on either side of Anne would be occupied, then clamped his lips together when she flashed him a look that brimmed with violent threats.

“That would be delightful,” she answered, smiling ever so sweetly at the earl.

Thankfully, the conversation turned to more general topics. For the next fifteen minutes, they spoke of the weather, the beautiful flowers just coming into bloom, and the crush of carriages forming the five-o’clock parade through Hyde Park. All bland and inconsequential matters that occupied them until the customary time allotted for afternoon visits expired. The guests made their excuses, then left.

Griff breathed a sigh of relief. This afternoon had been a damned circus.

When the room finally emptied of their guests, he crossed one ankle over the other knee and sat back against the cushions. When he looked up, he noticed all eyes in the room were focused on him. “What?” he said, looking from Adam to Patience, and finally to Anne. “Is something wrong?”

“You know very well there is,” Anne said. The hostility in her voice matched the fire in her eyes. “You were unconscionably rude. Again.”

He noticed the clenched hands she held in her lap and the pursed line to her beautiful full lips, and felt a slight twinge of guilt.

“Do you have to practice at being obstinate and disagreeable whenever I have guests?” she continued. “Or is your irritability something that comes naturally?”

He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t have the slightest idea what she meant.

“You were overly critical, and most of your objections were totally unjustified,” she added.

“I was not
that
disagreeable.”

“Yes, you were. You were horrible, sir. I swear you would have found something objectionable if Prince Albert himself had come to call on us.”

“Of course I would have. His attention to you would have made our queen quite unhappy, and no telling what bad tidings would have befallen us.”

“You are impossible.”

Griff smiled. “Not impossible. Perhaps a little difficult, but only because—”

She gave him another searing glare that stopped his words. “If you will excuse me, I need to go for a walk in the garden.”

“Would you like me to—”

“No! I would like you to stay far away from me.” She rose, then walked across the room with an angry swish of her skirts.

“Don’t stay out too long, Anne,” Patience said. “We’re invited to the Earl of Framingham’s ball tonight and will need to get ready soon.”

“I won’t,” she answered, then opened the door.

And was gone.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence when Griff’s brother and sister-in-law looked accusingly in his direction. The tension thickened until Griff wanted to squirm in his seat. Thankfully, Adam broke the silence.

“Are you going to the Framinghams’, Griff?”

“I had intended to.”

“Perhaps you might want to find your own way tonight. I’m not certain your company will be appreciated.”

Griff couldn’t keep the surprised look from his face. “Perhaps I should go speak with her,” he said, staring at the door where she’d exited.

“Only if you intend to offer up an apology or two,” Adam said, lifting his eyebrows in the familiar way that was as good as a command.

“You think I need to apologize?” Griff couldn’t hide his surprise.

“You definitely crossed the line this afternoon, Griff,” Patience said behind a shy smile. “Even worse than yesterday. I’m afraid just an apology may not be sufficient. I’m afraid you may need to grovel.”

“Grovel?”

“Yes, grovel.”

Griff considered Patience’s warning. Surely not. “Thank you for your advice, my lady,” he said, lifting Patience’s hand and kissing it. “I appreciate your concern.”

Patience’s words echoed in his head as he made his way to the door. He knew he’d been rude and overbearing, but bloody hell, how could he be anything but? None of the jackals paying her court were worth the effort it would take to throw them out the door.

He still hadn’t found one he would let her marry.

“I prefer to be left alone,” Anne said stiffly when she heard his boots hit against the stones on the garden path. “And even if I did want company, your presence would be the last I would let take up space anywhere near me.”

“Patience said I needed to apologize. I see she was correct.”

“Apologize! If you think you can fix the abominable way you behaved with a simple apology, you are greatly mistaken.”