“That your turning up here,alone, is part of a clever scheme, meant to entrap me?”
Her blue eyes turned glacial even as a pink stain flooded her cheeks. “For one who does not hesitate to bandy about such insults as ‘conceited' and ‘arrogant,’ my lord, you display the characteristics most aptly. For your information, I have no need to trick anyone into marriage and wouldn’t dream of subjecting myself to your high and lofty standards for a lifetime.”
“If you say so,” he murmured. “Nonetheless. Stay here."
Her huff of annoyance as he shut the door did not give him much hope she’d heed his request.
She would or she wouldn’t—depending on one thing: whether or not she’d answered truthfully when she’d claimed she’d arrived with a chaperone who’d been frightened off by robbers.
He’d had no choice but to believe her. But what if she’d lied? If so, she’d set him up neatly for just such a scenario.
She, of all people, would know the consequences for an unmarried man entertaining an unmarried lady in his home with no chaperone present. For allowing her to spend the night. God forbid someone learn of his presence in her bedchamber this morning. There would be scandal, and reparation, period.
An image of her as he’d seen her this morning, standing barefoot, garbed in only her night shift, sleep-mussed hair tumbling over her shoulders, flooded his mind and twisted his insides—with undeniable hunger, yes, but also, if he was being honest, unmitigated guilt. Because he’d known better than to go barreling into her bedchamber. Why had he?
Hell.He tunneled a hand through his hair as he moved down the hallway. He halted at the parlor door as Mr. Cogsworth emerged from the chamber.
The butler looked his usual, imperturbable self. “My lord,” he began in a low voice, “Lord Vane has arrived. He requested to be shown to the parlor while I verify you are receiving callers. Shall I inform him you are otherwise engaged?”
“Thank you, Cogsworth. I’ll see to him. I don’t anticipate he’ll be staying long.”
“Very good, sir,” Cogsworth said and arched his wiry gray brows. “Any instructions regarding our other guest?”
“Unless you can control the weather and make a journey to the mainland today feasible, none that I can think of.” He would not ask him to bar the lady from the room. Such a task could prove fatal to him.
With one last wary glance behind him to assure himself that Annabelle had not emerged from his office library, he entered the parlor.
Chapter 8
Annabelle dropped back into the armchair, fuming.
She did not like being dismissed. And she certainly did not like being accused of conniving to marry him as if…as if she were some sort of ugly beggar, desperate for a crumb of attention.
She was not ugly. She could have her pick of men.
Smoothing her skirts, she ordered herself to calm. To take this moment to gather herself. Thanks to Lord Randall’s ability to scramble her thoughts, she’d nearly spilled the details of what had occurred between Gaston and Caroline in their entirety.
She rose once more from the armchair and began to prowl the office.
She’d told Lord Randall that Gaston had claimed a desire to better acquaint himself with the patriarch of the family, the Marquess of Huntsleigh, by joining them at the gentlemen’s club. She’d told him that Lady Caroline had dissuaded him.
But she’d yet to detail how the conversation led her here. How could she tell him in such a way that did not paint her brother in a bad light and prove Lord Randall’s accusations correct?
Gaston had never liked being told no, and he knew how to apply pressure to achieve his ends. He had, no doubt, expected Caroline to bend to his will.
But she hadn’t, much to Annabelle’s secret approbation.
In her world, Gaston’s whims had been treated as law.
She moved to the window and stared out at the frozen vista, but in her mind’s eye, she pictured that afternoon as if it happened only yesterday…
Caroline sent Gaston a beseeching look. “You must understand that my brother and the marquess have always been extraordinarily close, from when he was a mere toddler. Like birds of a feather, they are, with their love of the stars and frequent trips to the north.”
Hearing the warmth in Lady Caroline’s tone, Annabelle’s own mouth curved in an answering smile, despite her dislike of the man. She flipped the page of the book she feigned reading.
“And? What has that to do with anything?”
Concerned by the waspish edge in her brother’s tone, she glanced up and saw he was now leaning toward Lady Caroline in a decidedly aggressive manner.
