* * *

William stared in stupefaction at the London Times. There must be some mistake.

His plans could not be destroyed like this. It all started when he lost the ninety pounds gaming. Who would have thought those fools down at the dock would be so lucky? He picked up the paper and reread the announcement, hoping he had misread the parties mentioned. He had not. Lady Annabelle Courtney, sister to Earl of Hamilton, announced her engagement to the Earl of Graenfrae. Impossible.

William played with the hundred pounds in his pocket. Thorn had tried to tell him that Lady Hamilton had balked at the price and only paid fifty pounds.

The marks William had left on Thorn’s throat would be a constant reminder not to try something so foolish as to cheat his employer again. Flexing his fingers, he saw Thorn’s grimy countenance in his mind’s eye. It wouldn’t be long before the fool would be of no use to him. Then he would see about getting rid of him permanently, just as he had his wife when her nagging became too much to bear. A man like William could not be expected to suffer the presence of fools in his life.

He stared out the window of his room with unseeing eyes. He had to do something immediately. Not only was his personal situation getting risky, he had actually had to promise the full hundred pounds to his man of business to keep his creditors from taking

him to debtors court. They were going to try to sell his hunters, but he would not let them. The wedding was set for less than a month away. Desperation seized him.

He must think of something to force Lady Annabelle to wed him. Only one thing would break a formal engagement. Scandal. If he compromised Lady Annabelle, surely even a Scottish laird would look elsewhere for a bride. William put the paper aside and turned his mind to ways of compromising the spinster heiress.

* * *

If she had not agreed to meet Vivian, Annabelle would never have accepted the invitation to Lady Markham’s musicale. She would have pretended a head cold or a severe headache. Just like the one plaguing her now. Lady Markham had a fond grandmama’s view of her descendant’s musical ability. A view that the rest of the Polite World did not share. The debutante attempting to sing right now could make an owl wince with her screeching, Annabelle decided.

“Does the lass not ken she sounds like a barn owl then?” Ian’s whispered question so perfectly matched her own thoughts that Annabelle had to bite her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Hush, Ian. She is doing her best.”

He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Aye.”

Since the debacle when she followed Mr. Thorn, Annabelle had determined that she appreciated Ian’s size. He made her feel safe. He also knew how to ring a peal that put both her aunt and Robert to shame. His furious demand that she never, ever do anything so foolish again still echoed in her mind.

He had waited until the following day when she was feeling much more the thing.

Then he had taken her for a drive and by the time they reached the park with the duck pond, her ears had been ringing. She didn’t complain, though. She had been foolish and Ian had not shared her misfortune with Aunt Griselda or Robert. Besides, his fury was spurred by caring.

The music finally came to an end and she stood with Ian. She introduced him to an acquaintance that she knew was as batty about new farming techniques as Ian and Robert.

That should keep him occupied while she found Vivian and exchanged information. After

his fury over her following Mr. Thorn, she wasn’t about to risk another confrontation by telling him about her clandestine activities on behalf of women’s rights.

She excused herself from the discussion of fertilizers on the pretext of speaking to a friend. Which was indeed the truth, she consoled herself. She was going to speak to a friend. Hurrying up the stairs, she headed for the vacant sleeping chamber she and Vivian had agreed upon. Squeezing through the cracked door, she found Vivian already waiting.

“I wasn’t sure you would get away from your fiancé. Since you announced your engagement, he is never far from your side.” Vivian’s voice held a teasing quality.

Her words were nothing less than the truth. Ian had informed Annabelle that he no longer saw the need to pretend he wasn’t singling her out. It should be obvious, even to the densest members of the ton, that a gentleman would spend time with the lady he planned to marry.

“I introduced him to someone who shares his interest in horticulture.” Annabelle used the small candle Vivian had brought to light one of the wall sconces. “Did you bring the pamphlets?”

Vivian nodded and carefully rolled up her skirt to access the pocket in her chemise.

She pulled out some papers and gave a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how nervous I have been all evening. For some reason every time I moved, I could hear them crinkling.” She handed the crisp stack of folded leaflets to Annabelle. “I was terrified Ceddy would hear.”

“Ceddy? ”

Vivian’s cheeks grew pink. “He told me to call him that. I could hardly refuse after all he has done.”

Annabelle smiled. “I do believe that you have developed a tendre for my old friend.” Nodding shyly, Vivian sighed. “Do you think it is possible that he shares my feelings?”

Remembering her impression of the other evening, Annabelle nodded. “I would say there is an excellent chance.” Then, impulsively, she leaned forward and gave Vivian a hug. “I am very happy for you. You must let me know the minute he comes up to scratch.”

Vivian hugged her back. “Oh, thank you.” She pulled away and straightened her gown. “I must go. I’m sure Ceddy will be looking for me.”

Annabelle waved her off. Then she turned away from the door and lifted her skirt, intent on getting the pamphlets secured so she could return to Ian. Her skirt got caught on the one of the flyers sticking out of the pocket and she tried to dislodge it without ruining the paper or creasing her gown.

“Annabelle. My dear.” The sound of a man’s voice from behind her shocked Annabelle into immobility. Then she whipped her head around and the unbelievable was true. Squire Renton stood not two feet behind her and was staring at her exposed legs as if they were a lobster patty and he was a starving man in search of food.

So great was her shock that she did not immediately react when he pounced on her and attempted to plant a kiss on her astonished lips. Regaining her senses at the last moment she turned her head and felt a wet smack planted firmly on her cheek. His hands roved down to meet hers, where they were desperately trying to get her skirt down. He caressed her bare thigh and groaned as if in pain.

“My dear, you are such a temptation.”

Taking a deep breath, she shoved against him with all her might, but his hold was much stronger than it appeared. She twisted violently, trying to get away from him.

“Let me go.”

He ignored her half-shouted plea. In her struggle, she tripped. The squire took advantage of her unbalance to tip her onto the bed, falling heavily on top of her.

“My dear, I have worshipped you from afar.” He placed wet kisses on her neck and face that made her want to gag. “You cannot be thinking of marrying that Scottish ruffian. He does not share your interests like I do.”

“Get the hell off my fiancée.”

Ian’s roar was loud enough to wake the dead. She was sure of it. When the squire, who had gone suddenly still, did not move fast enough, Ian grabbed him and tossed him away from her. Then Ian grabbed the hem of her dress, which had ridden up to expose most of her legs, and yanked it down.

The cold fury in his eyes terrified her. He would believe that she had betrayed him like his first betrothed. She could not let that happen.

“Ian, it is not what you think,” she said.

“I dinna walk into a sleeping chamber and find ye practically naked with a man on top of ye, doing his best to seduce you?” A tick in his cheek belied the conversational tone of voice Ian used.

“Well, I suppose it did look like that, but—” She wasn’t allowed to finish.

Squire Renton had picked himself up from the floor and spoke. “You must not blame the dear g

irl. She is merely a victim of her passion. Just as am I.” She stared at the squire. Had the man lost his mind? “I am not a victim of my passion.”

“My dear, you must not try to hide it. It is better for Graenfrae to discover our mutual affection and interests now than later.”

Fury tempered by pity coursed through Annabelle. Obviously the ridiculous man had developed tender feelings for her and in his besotted state, he had convinced himself that she returned them. It was not something she was familiar with. The hysterical urge to laugh almost overwhelmed her. Prior to this season, gentlemen of the ton had left her alone.

“There is no mutual affection.” Turning to Ian, she grasped his coat, “You must believe me.”

Ian looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “We will discuss this later.” She felt the cold weight of fear settle in her stomach. If only she had told Ian of her real reason for coming. An idea struck. She would show him the pamphlets. But she had to do it now, so he would believe her that she had just gotten them.

“No, Ian, we must discuss this now.”

She turned back to the squire. “Please go. I will explain everything to Ian.” The stupid man shook his head. “I cannot leave you to the mercies of this Scottish savage.”

Finally fury overcame pity and Annabelle stood. She stormed over to the squire. “He is not a savage, he is the man I love and you will do well to remember that. If you do not leave this very minute, I will not be responsible for my actions.” The man was more stupid than she thought. He actually took a step toward her. “Do not worry. You do not have to pretend. I will marry you. Your reputation is safe.” Annabelle wanted to scream. Instead, she took action. Pulling her arm back, she swung forward with all her might and punched the stupid man in the stomach. He doubled over.

Tags: Lucy Monroe Romance
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