The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown (Lady W 1) (5 page)

His first instinct was to send her a retort about her own lack of respect for their parents’ agreement. They’d already covered that territory, however, and he intended on moving forward—not revisiting the past. “Perhaps we should just agree that we haven’t regarded our duties to one another as we should.”

“That’s my point,” she insisted. “I don’t have a duty to you.”

“Then why are we walking together in the snow, my dear? You did seem to think it would be a horrific experience.” He brushed a snowflake from her nose. “And yet it becomes you.”

Anne glanced over her shoulder at her maid, but not before he glimpsed her sudden smile. “Humph. I’m most likely on this crusade because I’ve been rendered senseless by weariness and hunger.”

He laughed. And he’d thought he would find her a malleable, if spoiled, chit. “I’ll remember that you prefer to stay in bed late, then,” he murmured, noting the flush of her cheeks. He didn’t think her color was because of the cold, and that pleased him. “For this morning, though, I thought you might enjoy some fresh bread and butter from Hamond’s bakery.”

She evidently was hungry, because she didn’t object when he led her to the bakery and ordered breakfast. “How did you know about this place?” she asked, between dainty mouthfuls of buttered bread.

“I’m not a stranger to London,” Maximilian answered, resting his chin on his hand to watch her eat.

She looked up at him from beneath her thick, curling lashes. “Then why not visit more often?”

“I don’t like it here.”

“But why not? Friends, soirées, the theater, shops, the wonderful food—what’s not to like?”

She’d left out the most alluring feature of London—herself. Generally at this time of morning he would be out in the far pasture, checking on his livestock. On occasion London did have its merits. For a moment he didn’t want to answer, but he seemed to be developing a curious weakness for honest inquiry and moss green eyes. “Your experience differs somewhat from mine. I…found I was being judged by rumor rather than by my character.”

“Perhaps that’s because we had nothing else to go by.” Her gaze darkened. “That’s why I presume you’re here as much for my purse as for me.”

He smiled. “We were betrothed when I was seven, Anne. My only concerns at the time were horses and tin soldiers. I’m sorry to say, you were neither. Very disappointing, really.”

She scowled, bread halfway to her alluring lips. “Do you mean to say we’ve met before?”

Nodding, Max ran a finger down the back of her hand. “I held you, when you were three months old.”

“You did?”

“Yes. You sneezed on me, and poked me in the eye.”

She laughed, a delightful, musical sound that made his pulse speed. “And you’ve no doubt carried a grudge against me for nineteen years because of that.”

“Hardly.” Max twisted his lips. Finding the words to say had never been difficult before. Before, though, he hadn’t cared about the impression he made. Perhaps that was another reason he hadn’t fared well in London. Directness didn’t seem to impress many people here. But Anne seemed to appreciate it. “At fourteen, it seemed ridiculous to write letters to a seven-year-old. At twenty, you were still a babe of thirteen. And then my father died, and…other concerns took precedence.”

“So you forgot about me.”

He shook his head. “I just…assumed, I suppose, that that aspect of my life was taken care of.” Maximilian met her gaze again. “It was wrong of me to do so. I’m now attempting to make amends for it.”

“And you think I’m spoiled and self-centered to make you jump through hoops to prove something to me? I can assure you, Maximilian, that I am not—”

“Yes, I did think you were spoiled—until ten minutes into our acquaintance. Or reacquaintance, rather.” Grinning, he wiped a smudge of butter from her lower lip with his thumb, because he couldn’t seem to get past the desire, the need, to touch her.

“And what stupendous thing did I say to alter your opinion of me?”

“You saw my attire, heard my declarations, and then refused me because you didn’t know my character.”

To his surprise, she set aside the remainder of her meal and stood. “So I passed your test,” she said, wiping her hands and pulling on her mittens again, “but you haven’t passed mine. And unfortunately, you can’t. Not while Halfurst remains in Yorkshire.”

Back to that again, were they?
Maximilian took a deep breath as he rose. “Keep reminding yourself of that, Anne Elizabeth,” he murmured, tucking her against him as they left the bakery. Whether because of the cold or because she liked being touched by him, she didn’t object. “Make it your battle cry. Whenever you see me, when you taste my mouth on yours, when you feel my hands on your bare skin, Anne, remind yourself that Halfurst remains in Yorkshire, and that so do I.”

“I will,” she said in an unsteady voice. “And it is argument enough.”

They reached the front steps of Bishop House, and Lambert opened the door. Anne would have freed her arm from his, but Maximilian caught her, drawing her up against his chest. “I don’t intend to give up the advantage that being engaged to you gives me, Anne,” he said softly, and lowered his mouth to hers.

As he lifted his head from her, Anne’s eyes were closed, her soft lips parted in warmth and invitation. Good God, what was he getting himself into? An arranged marriage wasn’t supposed to feel so…arousing.

“We’ll go for a carriage ride tomorrow,” he forced himself to say, readjusting her cloak and barely able to keep himself from pulling her back into his arms.

“I…I have plans already.”

“Cancel them. And tomorrow I will kiss you good morning again.”

The deepening color in her fine cheeks aroused him even further. Thank Lucifer for heavy, caped coats. He pulled his closer around his front.

“You’re very sure of yourself, Maximilian.”

“No, my lady, I’m very sure of you.”

Chapter 4

On Sunday, Lord Halfurst was spied paying a call upon Lady Anne Bishop.

On Monday, Lord Halfurst was spied paying a call upon Lady Anne Bishop.

On Tuesday, Lord Halfurst was spied paying a call upon Lady Anne Bishop.

This Author must deliver this column to the printer prior to Wednesday morning, but truly, does anyone think This Author would be lacking in journalistic integrity if the following were written Tuesday eve:

On Wednesday, Lord Halfurst was spied paying a call upon Lady Anne Bishop.

No? This Author thought not.

L
ADY
W
HISTLEDOWN
’
S
S
OCIETY
P
APERS
,
2 F
EBRUARY
1814

“T
here is no imminent marriage.”

Lord Daven opened and closed his mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

“I told him that you would not force me to marry him.” Anne took a deep breath, gazing at her father’s stony expression.
Best just to get it over with
. “I told you I didn’t want to go to Yorkshire.”

“Slow down a moment, Annie. If you…refused him—which I can’t believe you did without consulting me—then why has Halfurst continued to call on you?”

She looked at her toes. “He’s wooing me,” she mumbled.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, daughter, so for God’s sake speak up!”

“He’s wooing me,” she repeated in a louder voice, lifting her head again. “That’s what he says, anyway.”

The earl’s lips twitched.

“Are you laughing at me, Papa?”

“At the moment, yes, I am.” He sat back in his chair, a rare smile softening his features. “Just be aware that Maximilian Trent is not his father.”

That stopped her, and she returned to her own seat. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh no, you don’t. You’ve kept me out of this, and so you can just continue to do so. As far as I’m concerned about it, all I meant was that you shouldn’t think he does anything frivolously, my dear. He hasn’t come to be where he is by accident.”

Scowling, Anne leaned forward. “Papa, where is he, and how do you know? You haven’t even mentioned his name in a year.”

The earl chuckled. “Let’s just say that I’ve followed his career more closely than you have, Annie. I’ve written
him
letters, and he’s written back.” He opened the accounts book on his desk. “Now if you don’t mind, I have some work to do.”

“You aren’t being very helpful.”

“Hm. Neither have you been. You might have asked my advice before you told him what I would or wouldn’t do.”

Still frowning, Anne left the office for the more congenial domain of the morning room. She’d expected her father to be livid when he’d finally summoned her to discuss Lord Halfurst. Maximilian. The sheep farmer, who apparently had some secrets.

She’d barely picked up her embroidery when Lambert scratched at the door. “Come in,” she called, smoothing her skirt and trying to pretend that her heart wasn’t racing. He’d come calling every day, and Lord and Lady Moreland’s skating party on the Thames was that afternoon.

The butler entered. “My lady, Lord Howard is here to inquire whether you are at home.”

“Lord Howard? Yes, of course.” She’d barely thought of Desmond in almost a week, except to cancel the museum visit he’d suggested.

The viscount entered, still shaking snow from his tawny hair. “Anne,” he said with a smile, coming forward to take her hand, “I’m pleased to find you home.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’ve been rather occupied the past few days.”

“Monopolized is more like it,” Desmond returned. “May I sit?”

“Of course.”

He took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs, while she sat opposite him on the couch. She’d known him since her debut in London, and as she thought about it, he’d always been available to dance with, to escort her to various soirées and fireworks displays, and most of the other amusements the town had to offer.

“Do you attend the Moreland skating party?” he asked.

“I’m invited. I haven’t yet decided whether I—”

“You mean Halfurst hasn’t asked to escort you yet.”

“Desmond, I am obligated to spend a certain amount of time with him.”

The viscount lurched to his feet, striding to the window and back. “I don’t see why you should feel obligated to him at all. You’ve told me again and again how he’s ignored you for your entire life.” Abruptly he sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “Which makes me wonder—why is he here now, in London?”

A little uneasy at Lord Howard’s outburst, she frowned. “He read about me making snow angels with Sir Royce Pemberly.”

His grip on her hand tightened. “That explains it. He perceived that another man had an interest in you, and hurried to London to make certain he still had a claim on you—and your money.”

Whatever his monetary situation, Maximilian obviously had enough blunt to purchase an all-new wardrobe and to open his house on High Street again. On the other hand, she knew of some families completely without funds who had still managed to dissemble for years before the truth came out.

“In all honesty, my lord, you’re the only one who’s mentioned Lord Halfurst’s money problems.”

“Ha. You don’t expect him to tell you, do you? And if it’s not money he’s after, why hasn’t he acceded to your wishes, dissolved your parents’ agreement, and married one of the other chits who’ve been throwing themselves at him since he returned to London?”

Other women had been pursuing Maximilian? She’d had no idea. When they were together, all his attention seemed so…focused on her. “What do you suggest I do, then, Desmond?”

He leaned closer, near enough that his cheek touched her hair. “Whatever Halfurst’s motives, Anne, we both know you don’t belong in Yorkshire. And he isn’t the only man who would welcome your affections.”

With that, he brushed his lips against her cheek. When Anne looked at him, startled, he repeated the motion, this time against her lips.

Other than stunned surprise, the first thought to cross her mind was that with Lord Howard she didn’t have to stop herself from flinging her arms around his neck. She didn’t crave a deepening of the embrace, or even a repeat of it. “Please stop that,” she said, pulling her hand free and standing.

He stood at the same time. “I beg your pardon, Anne. I…allowed my feelings to dictate my actions.” The viscount seized her hand again. “Please forgive me.”

“Of course,” she returned, relieved that this oddness was over. “We are friends.”

He smiled again, relief in his sky blue eyes. “Yes, we are friends. And as your friend, please allow me to escort you to the Moreland party. Whatever you decide about Halfurst, there’s no reason you can’t spend one afternoon simply enjoying yourself.”

Well, he was right about that. Intriguing and tantalizing as she was coming to find Maximilian’s company, she couldn’t forget that he meant to take her off to Yorkshire. And if he followed his previous pattern, it would be at least six years before she saw London again. How could she bear that?

“Yes,” she stated. “I would be happy to attend the Moreland skating party with you.”

“Thank you, Anne. I’ll come by for you at noon.”

As he left, Anne turned to look at Daisy, seated in one corner and ostensibly sewing a stocking. “Do more gentlemen seem to be kissing me, lately?”

“Yes, my lady. None so well as Lord Halfurst, though.”

“What?”

“You said yourself, my lady, that he kisses quite well.”

She sighed. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

Not ten minutes later, Lambert scratched at the open door again. “Lord Halfurst is here to see you, my lady.”

Warmth swept beneath her skin. “Please show him in, Lambert.”

Maximilian paused in the morning room doorway as the butler stepped back to allow him through. Soon he wouldn’t have to ask anyone’s damned permission to enter a room and see her. Soon he wouldn’t have to stop at a kiss, and he wouldn’t have to imagine what lay beneath the tantalizing curves of her gown.