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Chapter Eleven

“ G ood God, have more guests arrived?” Wearing an expression that said she smelled something foul, Lady Wentworth swept through the open double doors into the grand parlor.

Anna followed close on her heels. One foot into the large chamber, and she shared her employer’s dismay.

The din of excited voices and the warm, still air of an over-crowded room with windows closed against the elements seemed to engulf her.

If only Lady Wentworth had not insisted she join her this evening.

“Anna, stay close.”

She shimmied nearer to her employer, eyes fixed on the back of her silver coiffure, more to avoid a chance collision of gazes with a certain handsome rogue.

Having no wish to torture herself further, she had quite made up her mind to avoid any run-ins with him tonight.

Not that she supposed Caden would go out of his way to speak with her.

Not if his curt attitude, somehow made all the worse by the kiss that had melted her bones— and not his —were anything to go by.

Lady Wentworth’s steady swath through the crowd slowed to a sudden crawl in the center of the melee. Guests seemed to press in on them from every direction.

Anna chanced a furtive glance around. The candle-lit parlor teamed with party guests and flushed liveried footmen bearing flute-laden silver trays. The thick carpets, velvet drapes, and tapestry covered walls turned clinking glasses, conversation and laughter into an indecipherable roar.

Without meaning to, she strained her ears for Caden’s deep timbered voice, then, unable to resist, craned her neck, scanning for the taller-than-average, devilishly handsome man.

“Champagne awaits, Anna. This way.” Lady Wentworth shouldered more than one guest out of her way, only to draw to a complete halt as the milling people ahead of them congealed into a seemingly impenetrable wall.

“For pity’s sake,” she hissed.

Anna silently commiserated. She could not move in any direction without either knocking elbows with someone, trampling a lady’s skirts, or having hers caught under someone’s boot or slipper.

“I beg your pardon. Tight quarters here. Mrs. Jones, isn’t it? Lord Hardasher, at your service. We met earlier.”

In spite of the warmth resulting from the crush of bodies, goosebumps sprouted over her suddenly clammy limbs. A deafening rush of blood pounded in her ears, blocking out all other sound. Everyone, save the dark-haired lord standing entirely too close to her, faded into the background.

Anna forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Good evening, Lord Hardasher.” Though her rational mind knew she was perfectly safe, her breath turned choppy and her knees wobbled .

She must get hold of herself. Hadn’t Caden already given her the most likely explanation for the man’s interest in her? He was a rake. She was a widow and a servant at a house party, and thus, fair game.

He leaned down, eyes narrowing on her face—and all her self-assurances flew out the window. She could scarcely draw breath. With a sick certainty, she knew he recognized her.

“What lovely eyes you have, Mrs. Jones. Such an unusual shade.”

Anna lowered her gaze as if that could protect her from his scrutiny. “You’re too kind, my lord.”

“Anna, I see a way out. Come.” Lady Wentworth grasped her forearm with surprising strength, and dragged her forward.

“My lord.” Anna sent Lord Hardasher an apologetic smile as relief washed through her.

The man smirked in acknowledgment, dark eyes glittering with promise.

He knew her. He had to. Hadn’t he?

The further she moved from Lord Hardasher, however, the more she chided herself for her bout of hysteria. Certainly Caden found the idea of Hardasher as some sort of investigative spy as preposterous.

Caden. A sudden, intense longing for him welled up inside her, as if his mere presence by her side meant safety and security and…home.

What was wrong with her? He wasn’t any of those things.

Although he had offered to help her. If he knew the truth, though, that she’d killed a member of the nobility… Watch yourself with boys like him, Glory. He’s nobility. With them the title always comes first, even before family.

Why why why would her mothers words not cease to plague her? She’d never seen any proof her obsessive claim held water.

On the other hand, she’d never had any cause to test it .

Dear heaven. She couldn’t recall ever having such a divided mind. She supposed it all came down to…wanting. She wanted to believe in Caden. In his integrity as a man. In his steadfast friendship.

They emerged from the bubble of people and, as if by magic, the air around them seemed cooler by at least ten degrees.

Lady Wentworth sighed in a dramatic fashion. “Thought we’d get eaten alive in there.”

Eyeing the cluster of guests from which they’d escaped, she leaned close to Anna. “I don’t care for the look of that fellow, Hardasher. Something feral about him. Stay away from him, my dear, eh?”

Anna’s laugh sounded tinny to her own ears. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Good girl. Let’s away to the terrace.”

She crossed the threshold behind Lady Wentworth to stand under the open skies. A welcome breeze carrying the scent of flowers from the garden beyond the terrace cooled her flushed cheeks.

Not quite dusk, the sun had dipped below the thicket of oaks, elms and birch to the west, lining the tree tops with a silver light.

The domed sky, aglow with the last remnants of sunlight, and hanging paper lanterns transformed the gravel-covered terrace into a setting worthy of a fairytale. All she needed now was her prince.

An image of Caden surged to the forefront of her mind. Her traitorous heart leapt, anticipation swarming through her.

Lady Wentworth perused the intimate groupings gathered along the length of stone balustrade. After a moment she tsked. “He’s not out here either, I’m afraid. I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him. Have you?”

Anna blinked. She contemplated for the briefest moment feigning ignorance as to which him the lady referred. But there was no use trying to outwit the old fox .

“I have not—not that I’ve been looking.”

Lady Wentworth gave her a dubious look. “I’ll wager he’s not yet arrived. Otherwise that pesky baronet wouldn’t have gotten within arm’s length, much less cornered you. Come. Harrison’s holding court at the rail. Perhaps he can shed some light on Thurgood’s whereabouts.”

Anna stifled a groan. Did Lady Wentworth mean to outright ask after Caden? Worse yet, what if Caden appeared at his friend’s side the moment she did? Half reluctant, half enthralled, and with no actual choice in the matter, she followed.

Harrison addressed several enraptured onlookers, gesticulating wildly as he did so, clearly acting out a scene.

“…Unbeknownst to me, he had wedged a shoehorn under the jammed cabinet door. Meanwhile, I caught hold of my cravat which had somehow caught in the hinges, causing the whole mess. I gave a good yank.” Harrison mimed a full body heave-ho.

“And whammo!” He gave a loud clap of his hands.

“The cabinet door gave way, flying open. Thurgood’s shoehorn went airborne, and the next thing I know he’s on his backside with a gusher shooting from his forehead, and making a god-awful mess I might add. ”

A combination of horrified gasps and laughter from his rapt audience greeted Harrison’s summation.

He waited for the chatter to quiet before continuing.

“He’s a lucky bloke, that Thurgood. Caught him right here.

” He tapped his brow. “A mere half inch lower and he might have lost an eye. At first I thought he had, what with all the blood. The poor girl who came to clean the mess nearly fainted at the sight.”

“One can only imagine what Thurgood had to say,” one man commented. More laughter ensued .

Lady Wentworth chose that moment to make her presence known. “Yes, indeed, Harrison m’boy. What did the so-named lucky lad say? Is he still on premises? If he has any sense he’s got himself as far away from here as possible.”

Harrison went from lounging against the balustrade to standing ramrod straight. “Lady Wentworth, Mrs. Jones, I didn’t see you there. Good evening to you both.”

“Never mind that. What of Thurgood?” Lady Wentworth demanded.

He cleared his throat. “As to that, last I saw him, he was abed getting his wound tended. I doubt he’s of a mind to travel, my lady. I expect to see him any minute.”

The dowager duchess eyed him almost pityingly. “I rather meant if he had half a brain he’d remove himself from your presence lest your next foible permanently maim him.”

Harrison’s friends fell out laughing.

When the raucous laughter died down, Harrison offered, with only a hint of underlying sulk, to fetch them both champagne.

“I should love one,” Lady Wentworth replied. “However Mrs. Jones must attend a small errand for me.”

Anna met the older woman’s eyes. The kindness she read there left no room for doubt. Lady Wentworth somehow knew she had to go to him.

Seconds later she pushed through the crowded parlor, uncaring of whether Lord Hardasher spotted her or whose dress she trod upon or whether anyone might remark over her haste. None of that mattered now.

** *

Careful not to press too hard, Caden held the wrapped ice to his brow and mentally groused.

How in hell had it happened that aiding Harrison had ended with him bleeding and not enjoying pre-dinner cocktails, while the younger man, fully clothed thanks to Caden, had probably just finished his second aperitif?

Harrison was a bloody hazard, that’s how. Next time Randall tried to pawn his younger brother off on Caden, he’d tell him to stuff it.

He wanted to get up from this bed. Wanted to don a fresh shirt, head downstairs, and find Anna. Not that he wanted her to see him looking like someone’s punching bag.