One True Love Part 2

Maximilian smiled. "Let the battle begin."

Chapter 3.

Interestingly enough, Lord Howard was spotted leaving Drury Lane prior to the end of the performance.

His mood was of a foul nature, and he was drinking quite liberally from a flask.

No bruises were spied upon his person, however, laying waste to all of the rumors that he and Lord Halfurst had come to blows over the lovely Lady Anne, Heated words were definitely overheard, however, leading This Author to wonder just how the altercation was avoided.

This Author is certainly not the bloodthirsty sort, but truly, Dear Reader, would not a purplish mark or two add a touch of character to Lord Howard's rather blandly handsome visage?

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS,.

31 JANUARY 1814.

Maximilian rose early. Sleeping had been a waste, anyway, considering he'd tossed and turned all night, visions of the woman who was supposed to be his bride, and who was sleeping in another house entirely, tangled in his dreams.

Half of Trent House remained covered in sheets and shut away to keep the cold from seeping into the main rooms. Even after his six-year absence from the premises, however, the servants had thankfully responded with alacrity.

His bride-to-be, though, didn't seem to be coming around at all. She expected to be wooed, when he'd expected to have her delivered to him at Halfurst as promised.

'Tea, my lord?" the butler asked as he reached the dining room.

"Coffee. Strong." Maximilian selected a hefty helping of ham and eggs from the sideboard and dug in. It was a moment before he noticed the short stack of letters at his elbow, atop the day's edition of the London Times. "What are these?"

"I believe they are invitations, my lord," Simms supplied, pouring him a large cup of coffee.

"Invitations? To what?"

"I couldn't say, my lorda"though Mayfair does seem unusually... active for this time of year."

Maximilian grunted. "The rivers in Yorks.h.i.+re freeze every winter. I don't see why half the populace of southern England has to come view it happening in London."

"It is something of a novelty here ... as are you, if you don't mind me saying so, my lord."

As he leafed through the invitations, Maximilian nodded. "So it would seem. But these are mostly from families with single daughters, if I recall my Lady Whistledown columns correctly. Don't they realize I'm off the market?"

"I...".

"That was a rhetorical question, Simms. Please have Thomason saddle my horse."

"Your horse," the butler repeated dubiously.

"Yes, my horse."

"May I point out that it is snowing, my lord?"

"This is practically springtime in Yorks.h.i.+re. I believe Kraken and I will manage."

"Yes, my lord."

As Maximilian ate, he opened the various missives. Apparently even with the rumors of his empty coffer which had been circling London for years, mamas wanted to offer him their daughters. In a sense, it was amusing. Women galore seemed available to relieve him of his bachelorhooda"all but the one he'd been promised. And especially after last night, none of them would do but Lady Anne Bishop.

And while his earlier neglect of his betrothed might have been through complacency, and a choice to concentrate on the tangle of matters and confusion of properties his father had left him, he wouldn't make that mistake again. Anne had issued him a challenge, one he probably deserved, and he would answer it.

"Simms, would you happen to know an establishment where I might purchase some flowers? Roses, preferably."

"Ah. I believe Martensen's has access to a hothouse. Shall I send someone toa""

Max pushed away from the table. "No. I'll take care of it." Most of the London n.o.bility seemed still abed as Maximilian found Martensen's and then rode on to Bishop House. Considering that everyone claimed to be in London to enjoy the weather, the closed coaches and thick, c.u.mbersome wraps of those who had ventured out of doors in the chilly morning seemed more than a little hypocritical. He was used to that from his peers, however.

The butler seemed surprised to see him. "I don't believe Lady Anne has risen yet, my lord," he said, smoothing a frown.

"I'll wait."

As the butler showed him into the cold, closed morning room, he glanced at the foyer table. A salver with calling cards from three other gentleman lay on it. So Lord Howard and Anne's snow angel companion Sir Royce Pemberley weren't his only compet.i.tion.

"Did they deliver those in person?" he asked, slowing. "It is snowing, my lord," the butler said, apparently considering that answer enough. "I'll send someone to light the fire."

"Don't bother. I'll manage it."

"Y . . . yes, my lord. I shall inform Lady Anne of your presence."

"He can't be here," Anne muttered, throwing off her dressing gown and rubbing color into her cheeks at the same time. Not that she needed to go to the effort. In Lord Halfurst's presence her cheeks seemed perpetually warm. "It's only nine o'clock in the morning, for heaven's sake."

"Do you wish the blue merino, or the plum velvet gown?" Daisy asked, half buried in the large wardrobe.

"The plum velvet, I think." Anne quickly brushed a restless night's tangles from her long dark hair. "But that's for outside.

Isn't it snowing?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Perhaps the merino, then." But that would mean she would have to sit inside and chat with him. He'd seemed so ... intriguing last night, and if there was one thing she didn't want, it was actually to like him. He only meant to drag her off to Yorks.h.i.+re, and away from all her friends and family in London. "No, the plum velvet."

By the time she was dressed and descending the stairs, she was out of breath, and unsure whether her hands shook because of the cold, annoyance at his presumption, or antic.i.p.ation of seeing him once more. Annoyance was the most likely. They'd parted only nine hours ago, after all.

"My . . . lord," she said, stopping in the morning room doorway.

The marquis crouched on the hearth, setting a match to the newly stoked coals. From the smudge of soot across the back of one hand, he'd done that, as well. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Be with you in a moment."

"Buta""

"Your servants were busy," he said, shrugging as he stood. Warmth touched the edges of the room as the fireplace roared into flame. "I offered."

So her sheep farmer knew how to make a firea"and a fine one, from the look and feel of it. Anne shook herself. He wasn't her anything. "What brings you to Bishop House so early?"

He approached, wiping the soot off his hand with a handkerchief. "I neglected something last night."

"I don't think you did," she answered truthfully. "I had a lovely evening." Except for the near brawl he'd gotten into with Lord Howard, but even the way he'd dismissed the viscount had been . .. interesting.

A soft smile touched his mouth. "Good. But that's not what I meant."

"What, then?"

Lord Halfurst stopped in front of her, taking a moment to run his eyes the length of her plum velvet gown and back up to her face again. Very slowly he reached out and tilted up her chin. "I forgot to kiss you good night," he murmured, his gaze focusing on her lips.

"You . . ." Anne trailed off again as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Her eyes closed, almost against her will. Brief and gentle and soft, and yet full of promises, or something that made her want to throw her arms around his neck and demand more. With a sharp breath she snapped open her eyes again. "You take liberties," she managed.

He shook his head. "We are betrothed, after all." Halfurst drew her closer, and kissed her again.

When he released her the second time, she was actually leaning toward him. With a silent curse she straightened.

"What... You already kissed me good night."

"That was good morning."

"Oh."

Returning for a moment to the fireplace, the marquis retrieved a splendid bouquet of flowers from the mantel.

"Winter roses," he said, handing them to her.

Their bright scarlet color itself seemed enough to warm the room. In her heavy velvet gown, Anne was beginning to feel rather heated herself. "Thank you," she said, breathing in their spicy scent. "They're lovely. But not necessary."

"Evidently, they are necessary," he countered. "I have some things to make up for. This is merely the beginning."

"The beginning?" she repeated, watching the slow curve of his mouth. Somber, he was aristocratic and handsome, far enough from her imaginings that she could almost believe he was an imposter. When he smiled, though, the expression lighted his eyes, and in response her heart did silly little flip-flops.

"Of my courts.h.i.+p."

The p.r.o.nouncement, so calm and matter-of-fact, stunned her, and it was a moment before she could get her jaw to work again. "I thought you intended to drag me off to Yorks.h.i.+re."

Halfurst tilted his head as though trying to read her thoughts. "I could do that," he admitted in a low voice, "but I couldn't make you want to be there, and I certainly couldn't make you want to be there with me."

Anne narrowed her eyes. "Forgive my cynicism, but what happened to make you suddenly so willing to be reasonable?"

"You did. But it's not reason; it's patience. You were meant to be mine. I intend to have you."

My goodness, he seemed sure of himself. "Why, because I'm pretty and my family has money?"

The smile touched his mouth again. "Because you told me you'd rather drop dead than marry me."

"Because ... That's absurd."

"And because you interest me, and intrigue me, and because after nineteen years without a word from me and as popular as you are, you only said no, and not that you'd chosen someone else."

Anne felt dizzy. It wasn't just his absurd turn of logic, but the way he held her gaze as he spoke, and the way he seemed to know what she wanted to hear. "So you intend to woo me?"

"I do."

"And what if I still resist?"

"You won't."

He did have a male's typical arrogance. "But if I do?"

For a moment he didn't speak. "Then I'll return to Yorks.h.i.+re."

"Alone," she prompted.

"Without you," he answered, his eyes glittering, as if he knew she wouldn't like that response.

Heavens, he didn't think he could make her jealous, did he? She'd known of him all her life, but she'd only known him for a day, after all. He still gazed at her, so she grimaced at him, wrinkling her nose. "Good."

"Good," he repeated softly. "And now, would you care to go walking with me this morning?"

"But it's snowing!"

"Barely. We're both dressed for it." The marquis pursed his lips, looking her up and down again. Something akin to humor, but darker and warmer, touched his gray gaze. "Unless you'd care to sit here with me." Anne cleared her throat. "I'll fetch my cloak."

"I thought you might."

"It doesn't mean I'm afraid of you, Lord Halfurst," she said as she made her escape.

"Maximilian," he corrected.

"No."

The marquis turned, keeping her in view. "Why not?" Oh dear, she should just have given in. She was much more suave and confident with her other male friends. They, however, didn't question every word she said. They probably only listened to half of them.

"Calling a gentleman by his Christian name implies a certain... familiarity," she said, scowling as she realized how much she sounded like her mother.

With two quick strides he was between her and the doorway. "I heard you call Sir Royce and Lord Howard by their Christian names," he said in a low voice, meeting her gaze levelly. "What sort of 'familiarity' do you enjoy with them?"

Anne forced a short laugh. "Are you jealous, my lord?"

"Yes. And I become more so with each moment I spend in your company."

The proclamation stopped the coy, practiced retort she'd been about to make. Men pretended jealousy to garner further favor, and she usually found it tiresome. Men didn't admit to actual jealousya"not any men with whom she'd been heretofore acquainted. "I'm ... I haven't been attempting to make you jealous," she offered, the heat in his gaze leaving her equal parts nervous and excited.