The Mammoth Book Of Regency Romance Part 31

The previous night though, as they'd played captor and captive, everything had been different. They'd talked, conversed, almost as friends would. They'd teased and flirted. He'd treated her as if he was courting her, wooing her. But that would mean he had tender feelings for her, which she knew could not be else he would have fought for her. But fought for what? A woman who'd declared she did not want him? Could not love him?

Annalise stared out into the woods surrounding the cottage. She strained her ears, trying desperately to hear the sound of hooves, willing him to return. But of course he would not. Which left the decision to her. What if she took that carriage and went to London? Showed up on the doorstep of her aunt and worked with her at her orphanage? She might have some satisfaction in her life from working with those who were less fortunate than her. She certainly adored her aunt and they always had a wonderful time together.

But what of love? What about being a wife and a mother? What of the pa.s.sion she'd tasted for the very first time the night before? Perhaps Griffin did not love her now, but that did not mean he never would. Did it? He had asked her to be his wife and, even though she'd been horribly hurtful about his person, he had not walked away from her. He'd left for the church fully intending to marry her.

Or perhaps he intended to walk away from her once she met him at the altar? No, he could never be so cruel. Griffin, ah, handsome Griffin, who certainly had more adventure and pa.s.sion in him than she'd ever realized.

Not to mention the way he'd touched her. The sensations he'd caused. She closed her eyes and, despite the chill from the morning air, warmth surged through her as she remembered his mouth on hers, his hand on her skin.

Her heart raced and thunder shook in her belly. Oh dear. Could it be? Did she love her very own husband-to-be?

Griffin ignored Annalise's family who collectively had nearly paced a hole in the narthex floor. Every time her mother looked at him, she burst into tears. Her father had tried, on more than one occasion, to tell Griffin that no one expected Annalise to show her face at the wedding. Though her sister Penny looked appropriately worried, not one other member of her family was concerned about Annalise's safety. To them, she was carelessly kidnapped by a villain. All they seemed to care about was Griffin's feelings regarding her virtue.

They were mad, the lot of them.

He caught sight of Annalise's sister again, standing quietly in the corner. Penny. What had Annalise said before he'd left? That Penny and Hildy would have told everyone what had happened to them. That meant Penny must have been in the carriage.

Griffin made his way over to the tall blonde. "Penny," he said tersely.

She swallowed, but stepped over to him.

"Were you in that carriage?" he whispered.

She nodded. Her clear blue eyes welled with tears. "Yes, I was. Annalise covered me with her cloak and bid me stay inside, hidden."

"To protect you," he said.

"My reputation, My Lord, she was trying to protect my marriage prospects," Penny said.

"So no one else knows you were in that carriage."

"No, My Lord, my parents forbade it."

He nodded and walked away from her. He'd thought Annalise had been so desperate to rid herself of him, she'd thrown herself at a common thief, but she'd merely been protecting her sister. Sacrificing her own reputation to salvage that of her beloved sibling. Perhaps that meant there was hope for them, for their future. If she decided to marry him. But d.a.m.ned if he wouldn't have fought harder for her had he known the truth.

The wedding was a mere thirty minutes away and Griffin did his best to keep his own nerves from being rattled. Still he'd seen no sign of Annalise.

"Where is she?" his mother whispered from behind him.

"She'll be here," he said, willing it to be true. He would give her another hour and if she didn't come, he'd go after her. Tell her how he felt, that he loved her and that he could wait until she learned to love him too. Though he tried not to be hurt and disappointed, he kept longing for the sound of a carriage rolling over the hillside.

And as if his heart had created that sound for him, he heard wheels crunching against rocks and hooves beating against the road. Annalise's family continued to argue and speculate and do everything they could to be as insensitive and annoying as possible. Griffin stepped outside of the church, allowing the heavy door to slam behind him. He cared not if he was rude. All he cared about was whether or not she'd returned to him, and decided to marry him after all.

The carriage rounded the curve at the top of the hill and came in full view. It was definitely one of his, the Benning crest emblazoned on the door.

His heart thundered. He felt very much the eager schoolboy as he wiped his palms against his breeches.

Finally the carriage came to a rolling stop. He stepped forwards. The door opened. One delicate ankle stepped on to the step, then another as Annalise emerged from the carriage.

She'd come. Griffin fought the urge to run to her, to throw his arms around her and kiss her senseless.

"You came," he said quietly as she walked towards him.

"I did."

"Why didn't you tell me that Penny was in the carriage with you?" he asked.

"It didn't matter."

"The h.e.l.l it didn't. It means everything. It means that you weren't choosing a dangerous thief over a life with me. You were protecting your sister." He paused. "Does this mean you'll marry me?"

"I have a question first," she said. She swallowed visibly and her lovely brown eyes looked up at his. "Why do you want to marry me, Griffin? I know my parents offered you Penny. Why would you choose me instead?"

He searched her face, looking for meaning behind her question.

She chewed at her lip. Her expression was so heartbreakingly vulnerable he fought the urge to pull her to him.

"I wanted to marry you because I love you," he said.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp. She gave him a shy smile. "You do?"

"Yes, Annalise, from the moment I first saw you in that dress shop on Bond Street. You so effectively put Lady Henwick in her place, I'd never seen anything like it. You intrigued me, amused me, your boldness, your fearlessness. I sought you out the following evening."

"The Draper Ball," she said.

"Yes. You looked perfect in your lavender gown."

She frowned. "I didn't know you remembered that."

"I remember everything about you."

"Then why? Why all that time during our engagement did you ignore me? Why did you spend so much time chatting up my parents while not so much as pa.s.sing me a glance?" she asked.

He smiled. "Because I knew that if I spent too much time with you, I would not be able to keep my hands off you."

"Truly?"

He pulled her to him, close to him, and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. "Truly."

"I love you, Griffin," she said.

He squeezed her tighter. "Even though I'm boorish?"

She smacked his arm. "Yes, despite that, I still love you."

The Weatherlys' Ball.

Christie Kelley.

One.

Tessa stared out across the ballroom, nervous apprehension running through her body. The Weatherlys' ball looked no different than it had five years ago when she had raced from it in scandal. Only then, she had thought her lover would be a gentleman and correct the situation before marching off to war. How wrong she'd been.

"Are you all right?" Grace asked, squeezing Tessa's hand in support.

"I am well." She smiled over at her cousin. After the disaster that ruined her reputation, Grace had remained her only friend. Once Tessa had married Lord Townson and gone into seclusion in the country, Grace had been her only contact in town. Even Tessa's parents had disowned her.

"I am glad you decided to come to town this season. Your mourning time is finished, now you can enjoy yourself again."

"And find a new husband," Tessa said with a touch of hardness to her voice. She knew marriage was the only option for her but dreaded the idea. After four years with Townson, she'd hoped for some freedom. But the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had left her with barely a pittance. Not even enough to support herself, much less Louisa.

Her daughter had been her only source of happiness since her marriage. Townson, of course, had been displeased that in four years she had only managed to give him a daughter. He'd a.s.sumed marrying a woman forty years younger than himself would help to produce an heir where his first two wives had failed. Tessa blinked and shook her head to rid herself of the dreadful memories of her marriage. Reminiscing about the past five years only saddened her.

She glanced over at Grace and wondered why her cousin seemed to be nervously a.s.sessing the ballroom. "Who are you looking for?"

"No one in particular," Grace replied quickly. "I am just trying to see who is here."

Tessa looked around the room and noticed a few faces familiar from her second season. But after almost an hour in the ballroom, not one person had come to speak with her. How was it that one mistake could mark a woman for life, while men could make multiple errors and no one chided them?

Money.

Men had the money and women did not. Nor did most women have a way to acc.u.mulate any. So, unless they were born an heiress, they had to count on their looks. And at five and twenty, the bloom was nearly off the rose for her. She had nothing to offer a husband except her intelligence and wit neither a commodity most men looked for in a wife.

"Harry has finally returned from the gaming room," Grace said. "Would you mind if I went to speak with him?"

"Of course not. Go to your husband."

"Thank you, cousin. I shall return promptly." Grace walked away, her blue silk swis.h.i.+ng about her ankles.

Tessa sipped her wine and wondered how much longer Grace and Harry would want to remain at the ball. They had only accepted the invitation in order to get Tessa back out on the marriage market. Obviously, marriage would be a slow process.

"Lady Townson, how lovely to see you again. How are you?"

Tessa blinked and noticed the man beside her. "I am very well, Mr Harrington. And you?"

Harrington smiled in such a manner she thought he meant to devour her. "I am very well now. Would you care to dance?"

She bit her lip for a moment. Harrington had been a rake when she'd been out before, was he still the same? Without Grace, Tessa had no one from whom to seek guidance. Her gaze slipped to the dancers twirling across the floor in a parade of coloured silk. A pang of sadness flitted through her. It had been so long since she danced at a ball. "I would love to dance with you, Mr Harrington."

"Excellent." He held out his arm for her to take.

As they walked towards the dance floor, she studied him. Nearing thirty now, the past few years had been more than kind to him. His blond hair was still thick, with a touch of curl to it. His blue eyes sparkled like sapphires when he smiled, which he was doing right now. With his chiselled jaw, he was every woman's fantasy . . . except hers.

Even now, she continued to dream of a man with black hair and light-green eyes. Perhaps it was true that people never forget their first love. Or maybe he was the only man she had been meant to love.

"I do believe a waltz is next. Are you still willing to dance with me?"

The last time she'd been out the waltz was a scandalous dance that only a few hostesses would allow at their b.a.l.l.s. Grace had told her that it had become more acceptable, but still Tessa hesitated. She'd spent the past two months relearning all the dances she'd forgotten since her marriage and the waltz was one of them. "Yes, Mr Harrington."

His smile turned almost devious. "I see your tendency towards scandalous activities hasn't changed over time."

She stiffened.

"Don't be upset with me," he whispered near her ear. "I always liked that about you. In fact, I was hoping to speak with you about a proposition that might suit us both."

"Oh?"

Harrington laughed softly. "Don't sound so prudish, Lady Townson. Being a widow gives you much more opportunity for pleasure than marriage to an old lord did. I can show you what it's like to be with a real man. A strong virile man."

Tessa blinked back the tears that blinded her. "I believe I have changed my mind about the dance, Mr Harrington. Good evening."

She turned and left before he could say another disgusting word. How dare he just a.s.sume she would be interested in a lascivious affair because she was now a widow! Looking about the room, she tried to find Grace or Harry, to no avail. Where could they have gone? She backed herself up against a pillar and s.n.a.t.c.hed a gla.s.s of wine from a pa.s.sing footman. After a quick sip, she stared across the room.

"Still running away from men, I see."

Tessa turned to face the one woman who had never caused her anything but grief. "Good evening, Georgiana. Lovely to see you again."

"Am I to a.s.sume you are here to find your next victim . . . I mean, husband?"

"Yes, it was so enjoyable five years ago to win the love of the man you had hoped to marry. Shall we do it again this year?" Tessa plastered a smug grin on her face.

"Oh, but you didn't really win that compet.i.tion, did you?"

Before she could think of a witty reply, Georgiana turned and walked away towards the refreshment table. That woman had been a thorn in Tessa's side all during her two seasons out. Georgiana had made it her mission to stop Garrett courting her, but Garrett and Tessa had seen right through Georgiana's tricks. Tessa sighed and returned her attention to the ball.

A flash of black caught her eye. She watched the man as he walked towards the refreshment table. She was only able to see his black hair, but her heart pounded against her chest.

For a quick moment she thought it was he. But that was inconceivable. He'd been dead for almost five years. Perhaps it was his older brother, Laurence, a man she had no desire to speak with again. Laurence had not even found it necessary to inform her about Garrett's death in person. Instead, he'd sent her a note.

Her eyes refocused on the dark-haired man at the table. Something about his mannerisms reminded her of the only man she'd ever loved. The only man who had broken her heart so completely. Not a day pa.s.sed that she didn't wonder how different her life might have been if he hadn't gone off to the war.

But this gentleman was surely different. His black hair was longer, almost reaching to the collar of his emerald coat. And he had a slight limp as he walked past the table. Still, the way he c.o.c.ked his head as someone made a comment seemed vaguely familiar.

Tessa looked down at her wine and noticed how badly her hands trembled. This had to stop. Garrett had been dead for five long years and nothing could bring him back. And yet, even as she scolded herself, her gaze returned to the man at the refreshment table. She smiled slightly, knowing he was about to turn around and then she would see for certain that he was not the man she'd loved.

The black-haired man turned towards her.

It couldn't be him. Garrett was dead!

Tessa's wine gla.s.s fell through her cold fingers.