One True Love Part 3

"I know that. It's another reason you intrigue me, Anne." He brought his hand up, tucking a strand of her hair back into the clip from which it had escaped. "Call me Maximilian."

A sheep farmer. He's a sheep farmer, she reminded herself fiercely. One who lived in Yorks.h.i.+re, of all places. "Very well, Maximilian," she said. Her determination to remain unmoved didn't stop the slow swirl of lightning from coiling up her spine.

The light in his gray eyes deepened and darkened. All he said, though, was "Fetch your wrap, Anne."

He followed her into the foyer, noting that she didn't even glance at the silver tray holding the calling cards of her beaux.

That was one point scored for early risers.

Lady Anne Bishop, he was coming to realize to his growing delight, was far more complex than he'd antic.i.p.ated. Each moment the plans he'd worked out to win her needed to be modified and adapted as he learned something new about her.

The butler lifted a heavy gray cloak lined with ermine from the coat rack, and Max stepped in to intercept it. "Allow me," he said, taking it from his surprised fingers.

Approaching her again, he slipped the cloak over her shoulders, breathing deeply of the lavender scent of her hair as he did so. Moving around in front of her, he fastened the silver clasp beneath her chin. Her scent, touching her bare skin, intoxicated him. He'd thought to find a female to bear him an heir, and little else. The thought that he would actually desire her had never crossed his mind.

"Anne!" a voice called from the balcony. "Where do you think you're going?"

Lady Daven hurried down the stairs, a footman and two maids in tow. As she approached, ranting about her daughter's intentions much as she had last night when they'd discovered her missing, Maximilian stepped forward.

"Lady Daven, good morning," he said, sketching a bow.

She skidded to a halt, her fair skin reddening. "My goodness. Lord Halfurst. I... Forgive my intrusion. I hadn't realized you were here."

"No apology necessary. I merely thought to get a jump on my compet.i.tion this morning. I've asked Lady Anne to accompany me on a walk."

"Your competa"" Anne began, frowning.

"I a.s.sure you, my lord, you have no compet.i.tion. Lord Daven and I have always made Anne's duty perfectly clear to her."

"Mother, please don'ta""

"Even so," he answered, "I have lately come to think that winning by default isn't precisely winning."

Anne threw open the front door and stalked outside. Stifling a frown of his own, Maximilian nodded to her mother and followed her. Whether her parents had made her duty clear to her or not, convincing her to abide by their wishes was obviously something else entirely.

"Anne," he said, taking her hand and wrapping it over his arm, "I hadn't realized you were so anxious to take the morning air."

She shrugged free, increasing her pace. "If you're only being nice to 'win' some sort of compet.i.tion for my favor, I can a.s.sure you that you have no chance, and you might as well return to Yorks.h.i.+re right now."

His earlier good humor began to fade. "Don't be absurd."

"Absa""

"Of course I'm here to win your favor," he cut in, grabbing her arm again. "I wouldn't be here otherwise." He leaned over, brus.h.i.+ng her ear with his lips. "But just remember that I was not the one making snow angels. If you'd behaved, you might have avoided meeting me altogether." That wasn't quite true; he'd intended to come to London in the spring to bring her to Yorks.h.i.+re, anyway. He would have been a fool, however, not to take advantage of the leverage her indiscretion gained him.

She looked sideways at him. "So if I hadn't appeared in Lady Whistledown's column, you never would have bothered to exert yourself to leave Halfurst? Now who's being absurd?"

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 forwarda"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 b.u.t.ter 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 b.u.t.tered 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, soirees, the theater, shops, the wonderful fooda"what's not to like?"

She'd left out the most alluring feature of Londona"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. . . a.s.sumed, 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 a.s.sure you, Maximilian, that I am nota""

"Yes, I did think you were spoileda"until ten minutes into our acquaintance. Or reacquaintance, rather." Grinning, he wiped a smudge of b.u.t.ter 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 pa.s.sed your test," she said, wiping her hands and pulling on her mittens again, "but you haven't pa.s.sed mine. And unfortunately, you can't. Not while Halfurst remains in Yorks.h.i.+re."

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 Yorks.h.i.+re, 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 rifted his head from her, Anne's eyes were closed, her soft lips parted in warmth and invitation. Good G.o.d, 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.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS,.

2 FEBRUARY 1814.

"There 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 Yorks.h.i.+re."

"Slow down a moment, Annie. If you . . . refused hima" which I can't believe you did without consulting mea"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 G.o.d'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 soirees and fireworks displays, and most of the other amus.e.m.e.nts the town had to offer.

"Do you attend the Moreland skating party?" he asked.