Ducal Encounters 02 - With the Duke's Approval (17 page)

“Shall we walk?” she suggested.

“Are you sure you are well enough? Your brothers will skin me alive if you suffer a setback.”

“I need exercise.”

“Very well.”

Clarence tapped on the roof again and the carriage rattled to a halt. He helped her alight from it, proffered his arm, and they commenced strolling along the gravel walk.

“Be careful. It’s slippery under foot.”

She threw her head back, breathed deeply of the crisp air, and sent him a radiant smile. “This is so much better.”

“I am glad it pleases you.”

“I imagine your head is full of important things you ought to be doing. I am sorry to be keeping you from them.”

“There is nowhere else I would prefer to be.”

Her trilling laughter rang through the air. “Gallantly said, Lord Romsey, but I don’t believe a word of it.”

“You think I lie?”

“I think diplomacy is second nature to you.” Her eyes twinkled up at him from beneath her silly little veil. “There is a difference, I feel sure.”

“How do you occupy your time when you are in London, Lady Annalise?”

“Oh, doing the usual things. Making and receiving calls, attending all the right soirees, seeing, and being seen. I do get to ride in the park, but always with a groom.” She turned up her nose. “And always at a sedate pace.”

He smiled, endlessly amused by her frankness, so at variance to the way he had been taught to think and behave. “How tiresome.”

“Precisely. Last year was my first season, and I found it quite interesting. This year I am already bored.”

“And yet I saw for myself just how ardently you were pursued by your horde of admirers at the duchess’s ball. Is that not what every young lady desires?”

“Not this young lady.” She tossed her head. “Most of the men who take an interest in me do so because they need my money.”

Clarence smothered a smile. That frankness again. “And write dreadful poetry in celebration of your eyes.”

“Precisely so. I have yet to find any gentleman who is intelligent enough to hold
my
interest for more than five minutes. I think perhaps men of my own age are not mature enough to satisfy something inside me.”

Once again, Clarence was obliged to smother his reaction with a cough. Was she hinting at an interest in him, or was her frankness once again making her indiscrete. In case it was the former, it seemed only right to warn her off.

“And yet age disparity in matrimony can create more problems than it resolves.”

She canted her head and peered up at him. “What a very strange comment to make. I know of many successful marriages in which the age difference is quite considerable.”

“Be that as it may…” Clarence broke off when Lady Annalise’s hand left his sleeve and she darted onto the snowy grass. “Have a care! You may slip and fall.”

“Nonsense.” She stretched her arms wide and whirled in a circle. “I already told you, I love snow.”

And it was evident that she did. Colour had returned to her face, and her bruises no longer seemed quite so stark against her alabaster skin. Her eyes came alight as she continued to dance through the crisp piles of snow, not seeming to mind that the hem of her gown was getting sodden. Her joy communicated itself to him, and it was all Clarence could do not to join in her carefree celebration of life. Given the ordeal she had just survived, he did not have it in him to try and prevent her.

“I am sure you have never enjoyed a snowball fight.”

Before he could formulate a response, a heavy mound of snow struck his shoulder with pinpoint accuracy. She laughed aloud and bent down to collect more ammunition. Clarence felt recklessness overtake caution. Such actions could not go unrevenged. He bent to collect snow for his own arsenal and slowly mounded it between his gloved hands.

“I never have,” he replied, laughing at the sheer joy evidenced in her expression. “But I am willing to learn.”

Without giving her time to take evasive action, he let his snowball fly. It caught her arm and slithered slowly down her skirts, rapidly melting as it hit the ground. She laughed louder.

“Is that the best you can manage?”

Her next missile whizzed past his ear, causing Lady Annalise to let forth with a most unladylike curse.

“I don’t need to ask where you learned such language. I am surprised your brothers are so lax in your company.”

“Oh, don’t blame them.” She executed a careless shrug. “Portia and I used to sneak up on them when they were home from school and listen to their conversations. It was the only way to learn anything interesting.”

She swirled in another circle, stumbled, and almost fell. Clarence was at her side in an instant, grabbing her arm to prevent an accident for which he would be held responsible. He pulled her upright, and her body collided with his. Hard. It appeared to knock the wind out of her. Her laughter faded, her lips parted in a startled
oh
, and she looked up at him with an expression of wide-eyed curiosity. Clarence cursed as his arms slid around her to keep her safe, quite without his permission, and suddenly time stood still. He sensed the rapid beating of her heart and felt her glorious curves pressed inappropriately against him through the multiple layers of their clothing.

“I did warn you,” he said softly, lowering his head until his breath peppered her face. Her expression was wary yet curious, as though she expected him to kiss her. As though she hoped he would. Never had he wanted to do anything more, and he almost certainly would have forgotten himself, except for the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel path that caused them to jump guiltily apart.

Too late.

“Damnation!” Clarence muttered beneath his breath.

The carriage slowed almost to a halt, its occupants staring at him and Lady Annalise with a combination of excitement and almost certainly faked censure.

“Oh Lord.” Lady Annalise clapped a hand over her mouth. “Unless I mistake the matter, we have just been observed having a snowball fight by Mrs. Anderson and her daughter, of all people.
”

Clarence felt momentarily disadvantaged, unsure what to do for the best. He prided himself on having lightening quick responses in sensitive situations. But this particular sensitive situation could not be fixed with diplomacy. Mrs. Anderson had not seen the innocent consequences of a snowball fight. Instead, she had observed Clarence holding Lady Annalise in his arms. He had no difficulty imagining what she would make of that delicious
en dit
.

“Come,” he said tersely, recovering his composure. He grasped Lady Annalise’s elbow, and conducted her back to his carriage.

“I’m sorry, Lord Romsey,” she replied. “Once again I have caused difficulties for you, and that was most certainly not my intention.”

She had caused difficulties for both of them, but did not appear to have grasped the ramifications of her actions quite yet. As they re-entered the carriage, Clarence paused to order Pierce to drive around the park. This time he seated himself across from Lady Annalise, even though the damage was already done, and he could have legitimately enjoyed sitting in close proximity to his beautiful, wilful and impetuous companion. But what he had to say to her required no such distractions.

“You look very severe,” she said tentatively when they had driven for a while in tense silence. “We were only having a snowball fight. It was unfortunate Mrs. Anderson happened to come along, especially because she resents me, but she cannot make anything out of what she saw.”

“Why does she resent you so much? What have you done to offend her?”

“Absolutely nothing…well, she wants Lord Roker for her daughter, but his lordship pursues me, and Mrs. Anderson has got it into her head that I encourage him.” She rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous woman!”

Perdition, she really did not understand. “Annalise,” he replied softly. “Regardless of Mrs. Anderson’s reasons for resenting you, I was holding you in my arms—”

“Only to prevent me from falling.”

“Mrs. Anderson does not know that. Nor would she believe it if we tried to convince her. You know how society ladies enjoy spreading gossip, and you said yourself she resents you.” Clarence shook her head. “She will be out to make mischief for you.”

“I do not care!”

“No, perhaps you don’t, but your family most assuredly will.”

Her face paled. “Oh!”

“Winchester went to considerable trouble to protect your reputation when you were abducted—”

“Only for me to undo all his good work. Oh heavens, Zach will be furious with me.” She shrugged. “Still, it cannot be helped. It will blow over.”

He will be ever angrier with me
. “Unfortunately, it won’t. And it isn’t just you who will suffer. Portia’s reputation will be tainted by association.”

She looked on the verge of tears. “Surely not?”

He had been angry with her for behaving recklessly—angrier still with himself for being drawn into her childish games and enjoying them a little too much. Even more, for enjoying holding her. Now, watching her reaction as the reality of her foolishness struck home, he felt nothing but an urgent desire to comfort her, to make it all go away. Such fresh individuality as hers should never be tempered by society’s rules, and the desire to banish the bruised expression from her eyes became more compelling by the minute. The desire to kiss her temptingly plump lips had never left him. He was fairly certain he would have given way to it, right there in the centre of the park, had Mrs. Anderson not driven along. And so he was as much responsible for this situation as she was. More so, since he understood the dangers and should not have allowed himself to be influenced by her abandoned behaviour.

“We can make it right,” he said, reaching for her hand.

Her head shot, hope replacing the feral look in her eyes. “How? What must I do?”

Clarence took a deep breath. “If you would do me the very great honour of becoming my wife, then society will turn a blind eye to our escapade.”

Her eyes widened to an impossible degree, and he could see she was genuinely shocked, perhaps even insulted, by the suggestion. Foolish child! Could she not see he was offering her a way to salve her family’s reputation? Her mouth fell open, and she appeared incapable of speech. Clarence waited for her to recover her composure, nervous about how she might respond. He had not intended to embrace matrimony. Now that he had been boxed into a corner, instead of feeling trapped, he was surprisingly ambivalent about his changed circumstances. Life with Annalise would certainly never be dull.

“That is, without doubt,
the
most unromantic proposal I have ever heard!”

Clarence’s lips twitched. “You require romance?”

“No, because I don’t have the slightest intention of marrying you, Lord Romsey.” She crossed her arms defensively over her torso. “There must be another way to resolve this unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“I can imagine the nature of the thoughts running through your head at this precise moment,” he said.

“I very much doubt it.” She turned away and looked out of the carriage window.

“You are very beautiful, Annalise,” he said softly.

“Harrumph!”

“You might at least look at me when I pay you a compliment.”

“The time for compliments is
before
you propose.”

“Is it? You must excuse me if I am doing this wrong. I have never proposed to a lady before, you see, and did not anticipate doing so today, so I have not had time to prepare pretty words.”

“Do you prepare everything you say in advance? Of course you do,” she said, answering her own question. “Spontaneity can have no part in a diplomat’s life.”

“You, on the other hand, must have received any number of addresses,” he continued, ignoring her interruption, “so perhaps you would be good enough to point me in the right direction.”

A smile flirted with her lips. She appeared annoyed by its presence and tamped it down. “You want
me
to tell
you
how to propose?” She sent him a damning look. “This just gets better and better.”

He drilled her with an intensely profound gaze. “If you would be so kind.”

***

Anna could scarce believe her ears. Her world was falling apart, and he was jesting with her. Could he not see just how much she adored him? How desperately she needed to hear him say he felt the same way about her, even if it was not true? Surely, even he could work that much out without help from her? After everything that had happened to her over the past few days, she had never been in greater need of reassurance.

“I will not do your work for you, my lord. Besides, nothing you say could persuade me to accept you. You are proposing for all the wrong reasons.” She tossed her head, conscious of a headache threatening, brought on by the storm that would explode at home when they learned of her latest escapade. “There is nothing more to be said on the matter. Just take me back to Sheridan House.”

“Drive round again, Pierce,” Lord Romsey called through the window.

“Just a minute, Pierce,” she called out. “I wish to go home.”

“Drive on, Pierce.”

Clearly satisfied his order would be obeyed, which appeared to be the case, Lord Romsey returned his attention to Anna. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, about the reasons why we ought to marry. You are beautiful, talented, intelligent, and from one of the best families—”

“And I have a good dowry.”

Lord Romsey’s smile faded. “Which I do not need, if that is what you suppose,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“I’m sorry, Lord Romsey. I should not have said that.”

“I know you think that is why so many gentleman have pursued you, but I can’t accept that. They could not help but fall for your charms, I am absolutely sure.”

And yet, you appear immune to them
. “Nevertheless, it’s true.”

“You were a sensation last season, and have every right to expect to be romanced.” Lord Romsey spread his knees, rested his forearms on them, and stared at the carriage floor. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how to be romantic.”

She widened her eyes. “You do not?”

“I have never had time for romance, just as I have never had time for any of the pursuits you enjoy so much.” He shrugged. “Such is the way my life has been.”