One True Love Part 7

"I'll already be wearing his clothes," Maximilian said, sitting up as well, and tugging her against his chest. Even now he craved her again. "We should at least not reek of beer and oysters when we meet to arrange terms." Though any terms would do; he wanted Anne, and anything else was superfluous.

Now she was scowling. "What terms?"

"For our marriage."

Anne shoved at him, stumbling to her feet. "You tricked me."

"I did not trick you," he said flatly. "You wanted this as much as I did."

"Yes, this," she said, gesturing between them, her gaze pausing for a moment below his waist. "But that doesn't mean I've .. . agreed to anything."

He stood as well, frustrated anger and l.u.s.t burrowing through him. "You are mine," he said flatly. "You may even be carrying my child. Aside from that, I already told you that this isn't a game, Anne. I came to London for you. And nowa""

A door downstairs opened and slammed shut. "Lady Anne? Oh dear! Are you here, my lady?"

Anne blanched. "It's Daisy." She whirled to the chair and grabbed her father's spare clothes. "Get dressed," she snapped, throwing them at his chest.

"No."

For a heartbeat she hesitated. "Fine. Stay here naked," she returned, s.n.a.t.c.hing up her own clothes. "I'll be elsewhere."

Maximilian strode to intercept her at the door, but she slipped out before he reached it. d.a.m.n her. He hadn't planned a seduction for today, and he'd dealt poorly with his desire to make her his. Idiot.

With a curse he dropped the clothes back on the chair and grabbed the trousers. Certainly he could use this to make her his wife, and no one in London would blame him for ita" except for Anne. And above all else, he wanted what they'd had together todaya"desire, and even friends.h.i.+p. To drag her off to Yorks.h.i.+re now would earn him nothing but her disappointment and their mutual misery.

He fastened the trousers. They were too d.a.m.ned short. Thank G.o.d for his boots, or he would end up looking like the sheep farmer she'd ridiculed. And obviously the less he resembled that, the better his chances.

Chapter 6.

All London is abuzz with news of Lady Shelbourne's Valentines Day ball. Invitations, This Author is told, are due to arrive today.

This Author is not certain, however, whether guests will be required to wear the Valentine-ish colors of red, pink, and white.

Red, pink, and white. This Author shudders to think.

LADYWHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS,.

7 FEBRUARY 1814.

The best chance he'd yet discovered arrived four days later via the mail. A St. Valentine's Day ball, hosted by Margaret, Lady Shelbourne.

Maximilian turned the invitation over in his hands. If he'd received one, then Anne surely would have, as well. And considering her latest tactics, the ball might be his last chance to win her.

He'd called on her yesterday and the day before, and on both occasions she'd been out with Lord Howard. He could a.s.sume they hadn't gone ice skating again, but that hardly left him with enough information to hunt them down.

She'd enjoyed their lovemaking; he could sense that, in the language of her body beneath his and in the beat of her heart. He had been her first, and even more than before, he wanted to make d.a.m.ned certain he was her only.

Whatever she might say, they belonged together, and not simply because it said so on some old piece of paper. The idea that she was seeing Howard to avoid him annoyed Maximilian; the thought that she might accept a proposal from the d.a.m.ned viscount to avoid being dragged out of London infuriated him.

"So you have no idea where she's gone," he asked the Bishops' butler.

"None, my lord. I only know that Lady Anne said she would return in time for dinner."

The butler was probably lying, but that was part of the man's job. Well, the main target had vanished, but there were still other pieces he could fit into the puzzle. "Would Lord or Lady Daven be in, then?"

Lambert blinked. "Ah, if you would care to wait in the morning room, I shall inquire."

That meant someone was home. The question was whether they would want to speak with him or not. Anne's explanation for his presence the other day had sounded innocent enough to him, but he wasn't her parent, thank Lucifer.

"Lord Halfurst," a quiet male voice said from the doorway. "This is a surprise, though not an unexpected one."

Maximilian nodded. "Lord Daven. Thank you for seeing me. I know how busy you are."

"No need for that. Am I to a.s.sume that Anne has come to her senses? I wasn't certain I'd be seeing you again after she escaped to the theater without you."

"I'm persistent."

"So I've discovered."

At the earl's gesture Maximilian seated himself in one of the room's comfortable chairs. "I wanted to ask you a question."

The earl cleared his throat as a footman brought in a tea tray. "I'll avoid all a.s.sumptions."

"It's not about her dowry." Max leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. This was what he hated most about Londona"

the artifice, the pretending, the veneer of politeness that meant no one would say what they really thought of you, except to your back. He preferred being direct, and it seemed important that Anne's family know that. "Do you wish your daughter to marry me?"

A scowl lowered Daven's brow. "Well, of course I do. An agreement between two families isa""

"No. Do you wish Anne to marry me?"

"Ah." The earl took a sip of tea. "You mean with the widespread rumors that your father left you bankrupt."

Apparently some residents of London could be direct. It was refres.h.i.+ng, in a way. "Yes."

"Well, to be honesta"and I a.s.sume you want honestya"if that was all I knew about you, then no, I wouldn't want you marrying my daughter. Halfurst is an old and respectable t.i.tle, but frankly that is no a.s.surance of happiness."

For a moment Max remained silent. "But you know the truth behind the rumors. When I wrote, I made the facts as clear as... my being a gentleman would allow."

"Yes, I know that." The earl set aside his tea. "Which leads me to a question: do you wish to marry my daughter?"

"I wish to, and I intend to do so, my lord. At the moment, however, I still seem to be making up for nineteen years of not corresponding with her."

Daven chuckled. "Anne's hardly spent time anywhere but in London. She's convinced this is where the world begins and ends."

"Yes, I'd gathered that," Maximilian said dryly. "It's not actually my letter writing she disapproves of; it's my place of residence."

"There are solutions to that, my boy."

With a nod, Maximilian stood. "So there are."

First, though, he wanted to know something. Stupid and meaningless though it might be, he wanted to know that she chose him above all the other sugar-tongued n.o.bles pursuing her.

With Lord Howard in the middle, that was going to be supremely difficult, unless he wished to play by the same rules as the viscount. And he really preferred to avoid that, if at all possible. Where Anne was concerned, however, he was willing to do just about anything. If she would take one step toward him, he would walk a hundred miles for her.

"Why do you keep looking over your shoulder?" Desmond asked, his own gaze on the snow-covered street. "Do you expect Halfurst to pursue us to Covent Garden?"

"He might," Anne answered, pus.h.i.+ng her hands deeper into her m.u.f.f.

Not even to herself would she admit that she missed Maximilian, that her body felt impatient for his kisses and craved his touch. She'd thought about asking Lord Howard to kiss her again, to prove to herself that this stupid feeling she had was just a general yearning for something her body had very much enjoyed. She knew, though, that it wasn't true; she enjoyed Halfurst, and only Halfurst. Having someone else kiss her would only prove a point she didn't wish to make.

"I should hand him a beating for making off with you at the skating party," the viscount went on, obviously annoyed.

"And for frightening you into colliding with Miss Ballister."

"He didn't frighten me into anything," Anne retorted, flus.h.i.+ng. "Please stop discussing it."

"I don't see why you should object. It's only another sign of his quaint Yorks.h.i.+re manners." Desmond snorted. "No doubt his floors are covered with straw to accommodate the pigs with whom he shares his home."

"Oh, Desmond, stop it. You know that's not true."

"Well, yes, but only because Halfurst is in sheep country." This time he laughed. "Sheep are probably where he learned his lovemaking skills. You knowa""

"Lord Howard! Stop this carriage at once! I will not be party to such crudea""

He pulled the team to a halt. "Anne, please calm down. I apologize for my very rude behavior. I got carried away."

"Obviously." Trying to hide the double attack of guilt and mortification that had hit her, Anne stuffed her hands deeper into her m.u.f.f and glared straight ahead. If she looked at Desmond, she felt certain he would guess what she'd donea"and how thoroughly she'd enjoyed Maximilian's skills. Sheep, ha.

"Come, Anne, looking for a way to spare his feelings is admirable, but it's been well over a week. You'll be risking the accusation that you're leading him on if you don't have your parents announce the break with Halfurst soon."

Taking a steadying breath, Anne faced him again. "We are friends, are we not?"

He clasped her elbow. "Of course we are. And we verge on becoming more to one another, I hope."

Not that again. Still, she had no more wish to hurt his feelings than Maximilian's. "All rumor, speculation, and innuendo aside, what do you know of Lord Halfurst?"

With a flick of his wrists, Desmond set the carriage moving again. "Not much, really. His father spent the entire year before young Viscount Trent arrived in town bragging to anyone who would listen about what a success he would be. It actually looked that way for a time, until old Halfurst expired at his own soiree and his widow went screaming through the ballroom proclaiming that they were all ruined."

"Lud. My parents never mentioned that."

"Well, they wouldn't, considering you were betrothed to him. After that, tales of the family's bankruptcy were everywhere.

They even denied him members.h.i.+p at White's, as I recall. And then, practically without a word, he bundled up his mother and what remained of the family's belongings and fled to Yorks.h.i.+re."

Intent as Maximilian seemed to be about straightforward truth, she could see why he hadn't made up some lie about his circ.u.mstances. She couldn't imagine him running from anything, either, but he'd been only eighteen. A year younger than she was now.

"So, as I said before, you know why he's here," Desmond continued. "He feared you and your money would escape him, and he's run to town to gather you both up and flee back to Yorks.h.i.+re."

Yorks.h.i.+re. She'd never been there, and it was without a doubt the most hated word in her entire vocabulary. "I suppose so."

The viscount glanced at her. "You 'suppose so'? Don't tell me he's charmed you with that quaint directness of his."

"It's not that," she hedged. "If he's so desperate for money, and if everyone knows it, how is he able to supply himself with a new wardrobe, and rent a box for a sold-out performance at Drury Lane?"

"I would a.s.sume he's lived like a pauper for the last seven years so he can make a good showing now. After all, if your parents reject him, he has no one else."

"He hasn't even met with my parents," she muttered, quietly enough that Desmond wouldn't hear. Obviously the viscount had forgotten his claim that any female would do for Maximilian. But she didn't agree. She'd always had the distinct feeling that the Marquis of Halfurst could have any female he wanted, and that he preferred her. His pa.s.sion had certainly been very effective, and very unmistakable.

"I've made you blush. Let's speak of something else."

"Yes, please," she returned vehemently. Above all else she didn't want Desmond to know it hadn't been he making her blush; even thinking of Maximilian was enough to speed her pulse and leave her flushed with warmth and wanting.

"Annie!"

Starting, Anne looked up the street. Theresa and Pauline stood beside Pauline's family coach, waving at her. Oh, thank goodness. Friendly faces. "Let's stop, my lord," she said, waving back and grinning with relief. Conversing with men had never been as troublesome and problematic before Halfurst's arrival in London.

"But I wanted to spend some time alone with you," the viscount protested.

"You've spent the entire drive here talking about Halfurst," she retorted. "I really don't wish to hear any more."

"Then stop asking questions about him, my dear. One would almost think you've become infatuated with the sheep farmer."

How else was she supposed to get information, if not by asking questions?

"Stop the carriage, Desmond. Daisy and I shall walk."

"Anne, don't be angry with me for enjoying your company," he said in a placating voice. "We'll discuss whatever you like."

Despite his peace offering, now that she'd decided it, she wanted nothing more than to escape his company. In all fairness, though, she had agreed to join him for a shopping excursion to Covent Garden. "Perhaps you'd escort all of us," she suggested. "I haven't seen Theresa or Pauline for days."

With a faint scowl he guided the phaeton to one side of the busy street. "As you wish, my dear."

So now he thought she was being difficult, and he had to humor her. Everything had been so much easier when her male friends had accepted that she was betrothed, and the only thing she had to offer was her friends.h.i.+p. Lately, though, all Desmond seemed interested in was trying to kiss her, and telling her how poor Maximilian's character was.

And that was the oddest part. She should have been happy to hear that rejecting the marquis would be the wise thing to do. Instead, though, for every blight the viscount offered, she seemed determined to come up with a reason to dismiss it. Why was she being so foolish? And why had she welcomed Halfurst's embrace, and his touch, and his body?

"Anne," Pauline said, grabbing her ankle as the carriage rolled to a stop in the snowy street, "I'm glad we found you."

"I'm happy to see you again, as well," she said, a bit surprised at the vehemence in her friend's voice.