Page 7

Chapter Four

A n annoying stitch in her side forced Anna to slow her pace from a trot to a walk. She ought not be running like a thief through the dimly lit corridors in any case.

Thus far she'd passed no one in her quest to reach Lady Wentworth’s suite.

Good thing. Even now she would draw curious eyes.

She glared down at the stockinged toes of her right foot peeking out from beneath her silk skirts with every other step.

How on earth had she managed to lose one of her favorite slippers?

Her overzealous egress, that's how.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. First, she blurted out one of her father’s sayings, next she gave in to female hysteria.

What had she been thinking? She hadn’t, that’s what.

Caden and that blasted, mind-melting smile had switched off her survival instincts, and the rote words from long ago had slipped off her tongue like water sluicing off a duck's back.

Once upon a time she had used every tool at her disposal to poke at Caden--including employing her father's litany of well-meaning advice .

Poor Caden. If he showed up one minute late, if he left more than a morsel on his plate, if he hurried, if he tarried, she had a trunk full of wise advice prepped and ready to hurl at him.

Her relentless teasing eventually led him to interrupt her and fill in the salient words himself.

Like tonight.

A tiny smile replaced her scowl. After all this time, they’d slipped into their old routine.

Her smile faded in an instant. She paused in the empty corridor and covered her face with her hands. She’d brought disaster down on herself .

Probably.

Maybe she'd simply over-reacted?

Her hands lowered to just beneath her eyes. She replayed the incident in her mind. She’d started the quip. He’d finished it, stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to stare at her, mouth agape.

Scratch that.

He remained as elegant looking as ever. Still. He had given her an odd look.

She fisted her hands at her sides and resumed her brisk stride.

Had he remembered her or hadn’t he? No way to know now that she'd run off half-cocked.

Never make a stab in the dark. Examine facts, then make a calculated guess. Her father’s words. She drew a deep breath and went over what happened once more.

He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her. She reacted, pushing away from him. He had seemed concerned—all right, baffled—by her sudden illness. But he had not thrown a finger in the air with a resounding, “Ah ha! ”

Assuming he had not remembered her, her panicked flight would lead him to one unavoidable conclusion: She was a candidate for bedlam. Likely he’d already made up his mind to avoid her. Which was good. The best possible outcome. She ought to congratulate herself.

She reached the door leading to Lady Wentworth’s suite and leaned her head against the cool wood panel. Misery settled over her. She’d wanted one night with him. One night where she could enjoy his company like any other party guest might. If only she hadn’t opened her big mouth.

Her stomach emitted a long, low growl. She snorted. Perfect. Certifiable and famished to boot.

She twisted the brass lever, yanked open the door, and kicked her lone slipper off with all her might. It landed somewhere in the dark chamber with an unsatisfying whisper.

“Now, what did that poor slipper ever do to you?”

She spun around, an undignified squeal bursting from her lungs.

Caden, the blackguard, stood not a stone’s throw away, a crooked smile playing at his full mouth.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Mortification and elation, dread and anticipation tangled within her.

He sauntered forward, waistcoat hooked over one thumb, his polished boots making nary a sound on the thick carpet runners.

The confidence he exuded both maddened and enthralled her.

Corinthian , people called men like him, men of the upper crust, bestowed with an almost palpable vitality.

Physically, perfect. Tall, powerfully built, immaculate.

Except—his rich golden hair appeared mussed, as if he’d dragged a hand through it multiple times.

The thought cheered her.

“What sort of gentleman wouldn’t ascertain a lady’s wellbeing after she bolted from him like someone escaping the gallows? ”

“The…gallows, sir?” An alarming choice of words, considering.

“An over-dramatization, perhaps.” He shrugged and closed the distance between them, cocooning her in shadow as his height and the breadth of his shoulders blocked much of the meager light from the lamps lining the corridor.

She shivered, though not from cold. The palpable heat of his body encircled her, and carried with it an intriguing scent of spice and essence of pure male.

She tilted her head back to regard him. Though her breathing had gone choppy at his arrival—from fright, she told herself, she managed an even-toned reply. “I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

His eyes narrowed and he tunneled a bare hand through his hair, rearranging the golden waves anew so that more of his thick mane stood on end.

His obvious discomfiture threatened to coax a smile out of her. She pressed her lips together.

“I see. And now I’m the brute who’s hunted you down and dragged an apology from you.” He huffed in evident frustration.

Now she did giggle, though she quickly covered her outburst with a cough into her fist.

His eyes went to slits. “Are you…did you just laugh ?”

She shook her head, afraid she’d let loose with more giggles if she tried to speak.

“You did .”

A peel of laughter escaped her despite her best efforts. “I’m terribly sorry. It’s just, you appear quite vexed.”

“I am not vexed.”

“You clearly are.” She bit her inner cheek to stymie another giggle. He brought lightness to her spirit without even trying. He always had .

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Assuming you’re correct, a point I am not conceding, by the by, why on earth would that amuse you?”

Her lips quivered. “I don’t know?”

His expression remained stern for half a heartbeat before an ear to ear grin split his face followed by a hardy laugh.

Shoulders shaking with silent mirth, she couldn’t resist asking, “Why are you laughing?”

He reigned in his humor and gave her a crooked smile. “Damned if I know. The same reason I was vexed, perhaps?” His expression sobered. “Because of you .”

“Me?”

He threw his hands in the air and paced away from her. “You. First you save me from certain suffocation in the muck—”

“—An over-dramatization.”

He barreled on as if she hadn’t spoken. “—then you make it crystal clear you want absolutely nothing to do with me. Me.

"Even so , I made a concerted, dare I say gallant effort to offer my thanks by escorting you into dinner, while, I’ll add, warding off that blackguard, Lord Hardasher, and for no apparent reason you flee the scene with nary a care for your reputation or mine.”

Anna blinked and tried to digest his multi-faceted diatribe.

He steepled his fingers at his lips. “Everyone is sure to conclude I’m somehow to blame for your disappearance. Perhaps it would have been better for me to proceed, post haste, into the dining hall, but how could I in good conscience?”

“You couldn't go in to dinner because you were worried for my welfare and my reputation?”

“Mmm…yes. ”

“But, by following me, you most likely caused more tongues to wag than if you had not?”

His pacing brought him toe to toe with her once more. His voice came out a masculine purr. “Is it any wonder I’m vexed?” His gaze roamed her face as if searching for answers, finally making an unsettling stop on her lips.

She fought the urge to moisten them with her tongue. Heat suffused her, limb to limb, concentrating low in her belly. “Allow me to reassure you, sir. I’m no one for anyone to remark upon.”

“So you say." He cocked his head, and in a quicksilver change of topic, asked, “My dear Mrs. Jones, how fares your head?”

“My head?”

“Did you not claim to have the headache?”

She’d completely forgotten the hasty fabrication. Her hand flew to her brow. “A bit better. Thank you.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned closer. “I think you made it up.”

Her skin prickled with awareness—of him, of the limited space between them, of his wickedly spicy aftershave teasing her nostrils.

“Your opinion, of course, is entirely your affair.”

A slow smile spread over his too-handsome face. “Not a denial.”

He lowered his head further, as if he meant to whisper in her ear. Instead, he inhaled, slow and deep through his nose.

The whisper of sound curled through her, making her insides quiver.

“Darling, are you absolutely certain we’ve never met? Because, there’s something so familiar about you…” He inhaled again, and the long draw sent tendrils of fire all the way to her toes.

She had to say something, anything, to distract herself from the wickedly delicious sensations flooding her. “Are you, by any chance, sniffing me?”

“I…” he broke off for a beat, straightening away from her. “…am. I beg your pardon, but your perfume tantalizes me. You pass by and it’s there, calling to me, just out of reach, utterly intoxicating. I make out cedar-wood, and another flower…”

“Tuberose,” she whispered.

“And?” he whispered in return, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

“Amber,” she replied, her voice barely audible.

“Ah. Good old amber.”

They might as well be the only two people left in the world. Gooseflesh broke out over her entire body, and her legs turned to so much pudding she collapsed against the wall for support. For the life of her, she couldn’t conjure one intelligent thought, much less form a word.

His eyes lifted, locking with hers.

The warmth in his blue gaze captured her completely. She could not look away, nor did she wish to.

“Tell me you don’t know me.”

As if he’d mesmerized her, an almost overwhelming desire to spill her every secret welled-up inside her. Of course he tempted her. He always had done. With one look, one softly spoken word, he melted her like butter on a hot skillet.

The yearning to confide in him burned through her.

No. She slammed her lids shut and gave herself a mental shake.

Would she never learn? Last time she relied on someone she thought she could trust, she’d barely escaped with her life, and she hadn't even belonged to the nobility. Hadn’t her mother warned her about trusting one of their rank, and Caden specifically ?

Inner walls semi-restored, she opened her eyes and forced a polite smile. “I promise you, sir, we do not know each other.” And so they didn’t. Not anymore.

The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a subtle, but distinct message: Challenge accepted .

Oh dear. Not that. The Caden she remembered never backed down from a contest of wills.

She must convince him. “Unless you've frequented Durham.” She nibbled her lower lip, adding, “I come from a small, very small village in Durham County.”

***

She was lying, and right to his face. She’d been about to divulge where they’d met—and he knew to his bones they had, indeed, met. Then, something caused her to dig in her heels and lie. There had been a tell. What was it?

He closed his eyes and replayed the last few moments.

Her lower lip. She drew that plump, rosy flesh between her straight white teeth and he knew she lied.

But how did he know that tell in particular? Blast it all, why couldn’t he recall the chit?

“What are you doing?”

He arched one brow, but kept his eyelids shut. “Thinking.”

She made a nondescript sound of annoyance and must’ve shifted because there was that scent again, invading his senses and dulling his brain.

He cracked open one eye. “Distracting me with your lovely perfume again. Clever. I’ll never smell it and not think of you. ”

She laughed softly and lowered her gaze. “You certainly will not.”

“You sound very sure of that.”

She gave a graceful one-shoulder shrug. “It’s my own recipe. It’s never exactly the same twice.”

A fragmented rush of fuzzy memories flooded his brain. She’d had an obsession with someone’s oils and herbs. Her mother’s? Her father’s?

Her mother’s. Definitely.

And her father…He’d been a doctor, hadn’t he?

Of course. He saw her as she’d been. Shorter by a mile.

Dark blonde hair, curlier then, and going lighter by the end of summer.

Same heart shaped face, smiling, bossing, teasing.

The “ as my father always says” sayings, that, yes, now he understood had caused that momentary brain fog outside the dining hall. And finally, the lip-chew for the tell.

Exaltation soared through him. He'd known her a lifetime ago, in Derby, by God. Damn he wished Zeke was here to confirm his suspicion.

But assuming it was she--one Miss Gloriana Masters. Yes , that was her name—why not admit the truth?

“You look very strange.” She drew out the words, eyeing him with wary suspicion.

He crossed his arms over his chest and the lump in his coat reminded him of her pocketed slipper. He ought to give it back.

“As it happens, I spent a fair amount of time in Durham.” A blatant lie, but mark him, he’d trip her up. So much more fun than confronting her outright. “What’s the name of this tiny village from which you hale?”

Anna’s eyes widened in alarm, and Caden nearly snorted. He couldn’t wait to hear what she’d come up with next. A small town in Durham, indeed .

“I did not mean to say I was born there. I merely worked there for a prolonged time.”

“Did you?”

“Er, hadn’t you better return to the dining hall? For my reputation’s sake?” she squeaked.

He grinned and rocked back on his heels.

“Quite right. I should put in an appearance, if only to apologize for my tardiness. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow and we can resume this little chat—assuming your headache resolves.”

She lifted a hand to her temple. “When one of these comes on, they tend to last for days.”

He nodded, his face a mask of grave understanding. “I see. How-ever does Lady Wentworth manage with you out of commission so often?”

Her hand fell to her side and irritation flashed in her amber eyes. “I never said it happened often.”

He shrugged. “Right. Only that it debilitates you for days on end.”

Her lips firmed and she glanced pointedly behind her into the dark antechamber. “If there is nothing else, sir?”

He tapped his coat over his ribcage, assuring himself the slipper tucked in his inner pocket remained, snugly in place. “No, indeed. I bid you good evening, Mrs. Jones.”

He turned on his heel and sauntered away.