Secrets of a Runaway Bride (16 page)

The inn girl waved good-bye and Jordan stalked toward the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time.

Once he made it to the second story, Jordan stood outside the door to Annie and Eggleston’s room. He cracked his knuckles. That fool Eggleston was about to rue the decision he’d made. Twice. And Annie, that little baggage, was soon to regret the day her sister had left town.

Jordan sucked in a deep breath and lifted his hand to knock. The last time they’d been here, Devon and Lily had found both of them fully dressed, and Arthur had been sleeping on a pallet on the floor. Devon had told Jordan as much.

Jordan steeled himself. This time there was every possibility that he might find a very different situation indeed. Annie may well have decided to give herself to Eggleston, thinking it would ensure once and for all that they would be together. They’d be forced to marry—or so Annie might think—if Eggleston had truly compromised her. Jordan squeezed his fist poised in the air, cracking his knuckles again. If Annie had been mad enough to suggest it, Eggleston had best pray to the god of idiots that he’d had enough sense to refuse, to be a gentleman. Eggleston would leave here in a prostrate position if he’d so much as touched her.

Jordan rapped twice on the door. Hard. Scurrying and mumbled voices ensued.
They’d better not be getting dressed
.

After a few moments, Eggleston’s shaky voice sounded through the wood. “Lor … Lord Ashbourne?”

“How
did
you know?” Jordan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I’ll open the door, Lord Ashbourne, but I want your promise, first, as a gentleman, not to strike me.”

“No.”

A squeak. “N … no?”

That boy had best be sweating right now.

“You heard me. Now open this door immediately or I’ll hit you harder than I’d planned. And what I see when it’s opened will determine exactly how badly you are hurt.”

The door swung open and a cowering Eggleston stood there fully dressed. He covered his face with his hands while Jordan’s gaze swung into the room. A rumpled pallet lay on the floor, thank God.

Annie stood next to the bed, also fully dressed, an angry, defiant look on her face. “I cannot believe you’re here.”

“I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual.”

“Do you do nothing more than follow me?”

“Do you do nothing more than foolishly get yourself into bad situations? Not to mention, lie to me? Now get your things, we’re leaving.”

Eggleston was hiding in the corner. Jordan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Blast it, Eggleston, I’m not going to strike you, though God knows you deserve it. Lucky for you, I find it distasteful to strike a cowering man. But if you
ever,
and I mean
ever,
attempt to make this ill-advised journey again, I will see you at dawn. Do you understand me?”

Eggleston attempted to straighten his shoulders and speak clearly. “Yes. Ye … yes, my lord.”

“Good. And Lord Colton will happily be my second, I’ve no doubt.”

“Don’t worry, my lord. Ev … everyone knows what a crack shot you are. I’ve no wish to be your opponent.”

Annie turned to Eggleston. “Arthur. Tell him. Tell him you love me and you want to marry me. You said you’d not allow anyone else to dictate our future ever again. Remember? You cannot allow Lord Ashbourne to do this.”

Jordan watched the younger man through narrowed eyes. “Do you have something to say?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Arthur bravely raised his chin. “I do love Anne, my lord. And I want the best for her.”

“And do you agree the best thing is not to run off to Gretna Green and ruin her reputation?”

Arthur’s gaze moved quickly to Annie and then to the floor, his head bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

Annie wrung her hands. “Arthur. No. We talked about this.”

He glanced up at her. “I’m sorry, Anne. But Lord Ashbourne is right.”

Jordan nodded. “Good. Now go summon your carriage and get back to London as quickly as possible. I don’t care if you tell people you’ve been sick or drunk or what, but I’d better never hear you mention Miss Andrews’s name. Ever. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly, my lord.”

“Good, now go.” Jordan jerked his head toward the door.

Eggleston quickly gathered up his belongings. Obviously finding a jolt of courage somewhere, he turned back to address Jordan. “Aren’t you and Anne coming too, my lord?”

Jordan narrowed his eyes on the young man. “Not. With. You.”

Eggleston nodded. Then his gaze moved to Annie. “I’m sorry, Anne.” He gulped when Jordan took a step toward him. “Miss … Miss Andrews.” Eggleston nodded once more and was gone.

“Arthur,” Annie pleaded, moving toward the door and watching him leave. “No. Don’t go.”

The clip of Arthur’s boots receded down the hallway and then the steps.

Annie turned to look at Jordan, a crestfallen look on her face. For a moment, Jordan’s anger drained away and his heart wrenched.

“I can’t believe he left,” she whispered.

It took her a few moments to visibly recover, and when she did, her entire countenance changed. Ah, there was the little hellcat he’d come to know. She stood glaring at Jordan, her chest rising and falling; then she charged across the room, shoved her belongings into her bag, and gathered the handles. She swept past Jordan and paused in the doorway to turn back and look at him. “Aren’t you coming? We might as well be on our way back to London too.”

Yes, the little hellcat was back, and Jordan had already been exposed to her claws one time too many. He took two steps toward her. “We’re not going back to London.”

Annie’s brow furrowed just before a look of sheer panic flashed across her lovely face. “What do you mean? Where else would we go?”

“You’ve proven yourself to be an unpredictable nuisance, Miss Andrews. I cannot keep you safe from yourself in London.”

Annie’s mouth dropped open. Her grip on her bag tightened. “If we’re not going to London, where are we going?”

Her voice held just enough antagonism to make the delivery of his news a true pleasure. Jordan brushed past her into the corridor. “We’re going to Surrey. To Ashbourne Manor.”

“Your country estate? But why?” Her voice was thin.

Jordan slowly turned to face her, a triumphant smile on his lips. “I’m keeping you out of Society and away from Eggleston. He’s just stupid enough to be dangerous. Until Devon and Lily return, you and I will spend our time in the country, in isolation. I will send for Aunt Clarissa and your maid. You’re about to become my houseguest, Miss Andrews. For a fortnight.”

CHAPTER 21

Two days later, Jordan spent the morning pacing his study at Ashbourne Manor. Annie was asleep in the suite of rooms he’d asked the housekeeper to make up for her when they’d arrived in the middle of the night. When she awoke, she’d be plotting her escape, no doubt. But Ashbourne Manor was nestled in the quiet countryside. Quite remote. In fact, the closest neighbor was Colton House, nearly an hour’s ride away.

Even if Annie managed to shimmy down the side of the manor house on a vine—which he already knew was not beneath her—she’d have nowhere to go, and Jordan had already given his stable master strict instructions not to allow her any mounts whatsoever.

The woman was an escape artist. A troublemaker. And a damned nuisance. All rolled into one. She’d caused him nothing but trouble since she’d been thrust into his life. Not only were his pastimes in London and his work at Parliament cut short due to the necessity of chasing that little baggage down and carting her off to the countryside, but now he was forced to stay in seclusion with her for the next two weeks.

So be it. He could attend to some much-needed work on his estate, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem would be keeping Miss Andrews adequately occupied so she didn’t plot even bigger and worse things than taking off to Gretna Green with Arthur Eggleston. Jordan could hardly imagine what that might be, but he had no doubt Miss Andrews could conjure up something.

He ran his fingers through his hair. He could always write to Devon and Lily and tell them they must cut short their trip to come back and handle their ne’er-do-well sister. But such a missive would make him look like the veriest fool. If Jordan couldn’t even keep a nineteen-year-old out of trouble for two weeks … If he couldn’t handle one small, albeit determined, young woman, what the hell was wrong with him? He was an earl, for God’s sake. A peer of the realm. The eldest of four brothers who had often been up to no good, and since his father had died nearly ten years ago, he’d managed to keep his brothers alive and well despite their various exploits. No, he refused to concede that a young lady making her debut was too much for him to handle.

And he knew just how to handle Annie. He’d thought about it extensively on the long road to the Gray Horse Inn and back. He’d handle her on her terms. Or at least what she thought were her terms. Foolish though they may be. Miss Andrews was a woman who was in love with love. So that’s exactly what he needed to be about. Putting love in her path. Jordan would handle the affairs at his estate for the next two weeks, but he would also endeavor to put some eligible chaps in Annie’s path. That way, she could fall in love with someone decent and stop her silly infatuation with Arthur Eggleston. Jordan would merely ensure anyone he introduced her to would be eligible and a better choice than Eggleston. Quite simple, really.

Once Annie realized Arthur wasn’t coming to her rescue, she would choose one of them and that would be that. After all, the girl was beautiful, intelligent, and had excellent connections like the Marquis of Colton. She should aspire to much greater heights than Eggleston in the first place.

Not to mention the fact that Jordan couldn’t stand seeing her make a fool of herself any longer. She should be infatuated with someone who wanted her back. God only knew what had gotten into Eggleston to spur him to make the trip to Gretna again, but the young man seemed anything but madly in love. He hadn’t even put up a fight, for Christ’s sake, when Jordan had arrived and ordered him to go. Instead, the sop had been more worried about Jordan hitting him. The problem with Eggleston was the man allowed whomever he was with to talk him into their point of view. Eggleston agreed with the loudest voice in any room. Annie had spent her time convincing him, but when he got around his father, he was convinced there too. And when Jordan had arrived at the inn and threatened him, he’d abandoned all of his plans to run off to Gretna. Arthur was a milksop. Couldn’t Annie see that? And Annie, with her stubborn insistence, needed the opposite of a milksop for a husband or she would crush him beneath her will in a matter of months. Arthur Eggleston was the exact wrong man for her.

Yes, Annie definitely deserved better than Eggleston, and Jordan would put a better chap in her path. She wouldn’t thank him now, of course, but once she was happily married and had a baby or two as she wanted, she’d see how right he’d been all along. It was a perfect plan.

Jordan rang for the housekeeper and Mrs. Phillips arrived moments later.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Phillips. Good to see you again.”

“My lord.” The housekeeper curtsied.

“Is Miss Andrews awake?”

“Yes, my lord. One of the maids was just bringing up her breakfast, in fact.”

“Excellent. See to it that she has everything she needs. Her maid will be arriving this afternoon.”

“Yes, my lord. So far she’s asked for a quill, some ink, and parchment,” Mrs. Phillips reported.

Jordan snorted. “I bet she has.”

Mrs. Phillips’s brow was furrowed.

Jordan shook his head. “Will you please ask Miss Andrews to join me in the study in one hour?”

“Of course, my lord. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Phillips.”

The housekeeper hurried away and Jordan strolled over to the sideboard where he popped open the nearest bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass. Then he crossed back over to his desk to peruse paperwork while he waited.

*   *   *

Annie was just finishing the last of her breakfast consisting of warm buttered toast, smooth, delicious hot chocolate, and delectable sweet berries when Mrs. Philips, Lord Ashbourne’s housekeeper, came trotting into the room to inform her that his majesty requested her presence in his study in an hour.

Annie pushed the tray away and waited for both the maid and Mrs. Phillips to leave the room before she settled back against the pillows in the absolutely opulent bedroom Lord Ashbourne had provided for her use. She’d spent so many years being poor that her time in Lord Colton’s house and now Lord Ashbourne’s house seemed something like a dreamland to her. The men were rich. No, not just rich. Indecently rich. She would have lived a much simpler life as Arthur’s wife.

Arthur.

The name caused a stabbing pain to her heart. Arthur wasn’t the man she’d thought he was at all. Lord Ashbourne had been completely right about him though she’d die a thousand deaths before she would admit it. Arthur was a man who allowed himself to be ruled by whoever shouted at him the loudest. He had no opinions of his own. No backbone. And how she’d ever thought he was the man for her, she would never know. She’d allowed herself to believe because she’d wanted to so badly. She could see that now. But if Arthur wasn’t even willing to stand up to Lord Ashbourne, he wasn’t willing to stand up for her. No. She couldn’t accept a husband like that.

It would be useless, trying to explain to Lord Ashbourne that he needn’t keep her out here in the country for the next two weeks. He’d never believe anything she said now and she couldn’t blame him. She’d acted like a fool time and time again.

It was heavy-handed of him, to be sure, dragging her off to Ashbourne Manor and dictating her life for the next fortnight, but perhaps it was for the best. Going back to London and seeing Arthur held little appeal for her. Lily and Devon wouldn’t be back yet either. No, she might as well nurse her broken heart in the countryside. As long as Lord High-and-Mighty didn’t intend to lecture her every day about what a fool she was. And oh God, she was keeping him from his mistress too; that must make him unhappy. She turned and buried her face in the downy soft pillow. No doubt about it. This was going to be a humiliating two weeks.