How to Lose a Bride in One Night

Owen was merely glad his brother had left India and returned home before he’d ruined himself. Like him.

“Jamie,” he greeted.

“Thought I would find you here.” Jamie approached as though to embrace him, but he must have read something in Owen’s demeanor because he stopped at the last moment.

Owen motioned to the tray of brandy. “Drink?” He supposed he could have invited Jamie into his study. The room was more appealing with its rich woods and leather than this parlor, which still bore the handiwork of his maternal grandmother. He had not seen to redecorating it yet. The wall was papered with tiny golden rosettes, and the curtains were a pale rose damask. He remembered hiding behind them when visiting here as a child, trying not to give away his presence with a giggle as the housemaids hunted for him. Too bad he could not hide behind them now instead of enduring his brother’s pitying stare.

Quitting this room for the study also meant venturing upstairs. That posed the risk of running into Anna. And how would he explain her to his brother? Not that he couldn’t do it. The explanation of her presence was perfectly reasonable. He had found her. Saved her. She was his responsibility. It was a clear enough matter to him, but perhaps it wouldn’t be clear enough to Jamie. He might think there was more to it than that.

Owen nodded as he poured first a glass for Jamie and then himself. “What brings you to Town?”

“Some business.” Jamie took a long swallow. His gaze flickered away for a moment, and Owen knew that wasn’t the entire truth. “And I wanted to see you. Set my mind to ease that you are well.” Owen suspected that was closer to the truth. “You left so suddenly, Owen—”

“As you can see, I am well. No need to fret.” He waved his hands out at his sides as if his brother could somehow see evidence of that. “You can assure Paget that I am well.”

His brother nodded, not even bothering to deny that his wife was worried about Owen. “I thought we could have dinner together this evening. Just the two of us.”

Without deliberation, Owen’s gaze slid to the parlor doors as though Anna stood there.

At his silence, Jamie prodded, “Owen?”

He faced his brother again, blinking as if that would chase thoughts of Anna away.

“Maybe we could do this another night?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Owen. I don’t like to be gone long from Paget, especially in her condition.”

Owen nodded. His sister-in-law was with child. He was actually surprised Jamie had slipped away for even a couple days so close to the end of her confinement.

Jamie angled his head, a hint of aggravation gleaming in his eyes as he studied Owen closely. “Do you have other plans? You can’t spare a few hours for your brother? We’ve hardly had any time together since you returned home.” His jaw tightened, and Owen knew Jamie was thinking about when he’d abandoned him. When he had left Owen in India following their eldest brother’s death. While Jamie returned to take up the reins as the Earl of Winningham, Owen continued alone, fighting for his life and destroying others.

He glanced to the doors again. Anna was expecting him. Knowing her, she’d come looking for him and walk right in on him and Jamie. He winced, already imagining his brother’s questions.

“We’ve talked so little since you returned,” Jamie said. “Paget and I were hoping you’d be home for the baby’s birth. The christening. It would mean a great deal to us.”

Owen shook his head, not answering.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Jamie hurriedly said. “Think about it. We’re family. You should be there.”

Owen looked back at his brother, schooling his features to reveal nothing. “I don’t have any plans this evening,” he finally answered. “We can dine at our old club.” Away from here. From her.

Jamie nodded, his features easing with pleasure. “That sounds fine.”

Owen led him from the parlor, half expecting to see Anna walking her paces on the stairs. At the door, he crossed paths with Mrs. Kirkpatrick.

“I’ll be dining out for the evening, Mrs. Kirkpatrick.”

She glanced to the stairs, and he knew she was thinking of Anna, the girl he was once again leaving to her own devices. He lifted an eyebrow, quelling anything the housekeeper might say. She closed her mouth with a snap. Clasping her hands in front of her, she nodded circumspectly.

Nodding in turn, he forced his thoughts away from the notion of a disappointed Anna waiting on him.

He had never wanted a person in his life whom he could disappoint. He wasn’t capable of being there for anyone, and it was best that she understood that. The last thing he needed was for Anna to form any attachment to him.

Before he passed through the front door, he couldn’t stop himself from taking another look behind him at the stairs. Simply to reassure himself that she was not there.

He did not come for her as promised.

There was no lesson. No shared dinner as she had secretly hoped when she realized he was in residence all day. Nothing. Then he left. And she was alone again for the evening.

She inhaled thinly through her nose. Not such a change. It should not distress her. Much of her life had been lived alone, especially after her mother passed away. She should be used to it by now. The year she spent with Jack had been a whirlwind of teas and parties and fêtes, but she had quickly learned one could still feel alone in a crowded room. She’d made hundreds of acquaintances but no true friends.

Her sisters were all lovely, but two of them were married and lived far from London, one in Maldania and the other in Scotland. They could not be counted upon to keep her company. Marguerite, who lived in Town, had recently given birth. Understandably, Marguerite had been too distracted to really be there for her. And that left only Jack.

Well, becoming a father overnight did not really make one a father. At least not the type she had dreamed of in her girlhood.

She had dreamed of someone kind and strong. A father who would sweep both her and her mother into his arms and claim that he had been searching for them for years. Of course, that never happened. It was foolish to dream, believing in fairy tales led her like a lamb to the slaughter. She had believed in Bloodsworth, believed their marriage would be something genuine. She had been wrong. So wretchedly wrong that it nearly cost her life. She’d never be that wrong again.

Annalise gazed about the flickering shadows of her bedchamber, inhaling the thick silence. Yes. She knew about loneliness.

Still, there was something in this silence, in this emptiness. Her gaze flicked to the adjoining door. This was all the more acute. It drove deep the realization that she had been looking forward to their lesson, to their dinner—to him. Perhaps she had hoped for another kiss. Another taste of him.

Idiot. She had begun to let herself believe in the fantasy of him. Had she learned nothing?

Her throat felt suddenly tight, the skin itchy. She pressed a hand to her neck as if she could ease the sensation. She was repeating past mistakes and expecting things from Owen she had no right to expect. She felt connected to him in a way she had not even felt for Bloodsworth.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Mrs. Kirkpatrick entered the room at her command. “Dinner is ready, Miss Anna.”

Ever since she regained her mobility, Annalise had started taking her meals in the dining room.

“Will his lordship be dining at home this evening as well?” She could not stop herself from asking, hoping.

A frown creased the housekeeper’s ruddy features. “No, Miss Anna. He stepped out for the evening.”

He was not coming. Annalise turned her attention to the open balcony doors. She stepped out into the early evening air and stared down at the gardens. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry tonight.”

She imagined food would taste like dust in her mouth. Because although she told herself she should not have expected anything from Owen, she had.

She did.

“His lordship’s brother surprised him with a visit and they went out for the evening.”

The news only mollified her somewhat. Perhaps it was too much to expect he include her, but he could have told her himself.

The housekeeper continued, “You need to eat. Allow me to bring you a tray—”

Like she was once again an invalid who required a nursemaid? No. She shook her head, her hands coming up to chafe her arms against the chill. “No, thank you.”

“You need your strength.”

“I’m fine.” And that was true. She felt stronger, healthier than ever. She was ready for however much Owen could teach her. Only it appeared he would teach her nothing save not to trust a man again. And if there was nothing left for him to show her, there was no reason for her to linger here any longer.

The housekeeper’s tread stopped behind her. “I am sure he will make himself available tomorrow.”

She swallowed back a snort. She must appear the pathetic girl indeed for the housekeeper to feel the need to console her. Heaven knew what Mrs. Kirkpatrick thought of her employer’s strange relationship with the broken girl he brought home like a stray pup. It was unusual, she would be the first to admit that. She imagined she looked lovesick, pining after the earl. The notion filled her with disgust.

She turned and faced Mrs. Kirkpatrick. “You are very kind, but I am sure I do not care one way or another. I shan’t be staying much longer.”

The housekeeper’s keen eyes evaluated her for several moments before she nodded slowly. “Very well. Of course, miss. Simply ring if you should change your mind. I’m certain Lord McDowell would not wish you to go hungry beneath his roof.”

The housekeeper turned and departed. Annalise stared at the still bedchamber. The silence seemed to echo and vibrate all around her.

Her hands returned to her arms and she chafed them once again. She doubted his lordship cared one way or another if she went hungry. Certainly the matter of his word meant nothing to him. She would cease expecting it to. It was simply too difficult for him to honor his pledge to her, and she didn’t know why she continued to let him dupe her.

Life had not shown her a string of honorable men. She’d been on her own before Jack found her. She could be on her own again. Stronger than before now, wiser, whole. She would persevere even without Owen’s help.

She was done waiting, and she’d tell Owen that the first chance she had. And then she would leave.

Chapter Fourteen

Owen’s eyes flew wide. He held himself still, assessing, listening to the bedchamber around him. Early morning birds chirped outside his window and the pale gray light of dawn crept in beneath the drapes.

He knew he was in London, in his town house and a world away from the heat and death of the war, but old habits were hard to quit. For once he’d slept solidly. Last night he’d endured a tense meal with Jamie. His brother was full of helpful suggestions. It appeared Paget and he had decided he needed to meet a nice young lady. One of the many debutantes coming out this Season would be just what he needed to bring him back to himself.

The evening couldn’t have ended quickly enough.

Then he heard it again. The slight creak of a floorboard. He wasn’t alone in his bedchamber. Firelight from the hearth danced on the wall he faced.

He didn’t breathe, didn’t move, simply waited, listening as the steps drew closer behind him. When he sensed a body close to the bed, he turned and lunged.

His arms pulled the struggling figure down on the bed. A feminine cry filled his ears.

Anna.

“What are you doing in here?” he growled, coming over her. “I thought I advised you against sneaking into my bedchamber.”

“Unhand me!” She squirmed beneath him.

He loosened his arms around her without letting go. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She blew at a strand of hair dangling in her face. He watched it drift back to land on her smooth cheek.