Chapter 13
Alice peered up from her embroidery when Anne stumbled into the green parlor on knees still wobbly from being crouched in the close quarters of the storage closet. Or were they weak from Lord Grump’s kisses?
Could she think of him as Lord Grump any longer after he had taken her breath away so thoroughly and skillfully?
Chagrin painting her face, Indira tugged on Anne’s hand, reminding her of how the whole debacle had started.
As if she could forget.
Would the grump truly offer for her? Anne supposed he had no choice, which sullied the whole idea of a man requesting her hand in marriage.
But that kiss!
“Anne?” Alice placed her embroidery on a table and rose, her brows drawn together in a question as she stepped forward and gathered Anne’s hands in hers. “Come sit.”
Turning to her daughter, Alice scowled. “And you, young lady. If what I suspect is true, you will forgo dessert for a month! Now sit!” Alice pointed to a chair at the far end of the parlor, then pulled Anne down on the settee and took a seat next to her.
“Tell me what happened. You appear dazed.” Alice’s gaze darted to Anne’s torn sleeve. “Are you hurt?”
“No. This”—Anne touched the ripped muslin of her gown—“was an accident.”
“Andrew and I were enjoying a moment of peace when Indira and Cassandra Bell came in giggling like two ninnyhammers.” Alice shot Indira the look all children fear from their mothers.
“They seemed quite pleased with themselves about a prank they had pulled on you and Lord Manning. Something about locking you in a storage closet. Knowing your discomfort with tight spaces, Andrew went to investigate.”
“It’s true. Indira asked me to help find the other children, then told me to hide in the closet. I had no idea Lord Manning was also in there.”
Alice turned toward her daughter. “Did you know, Indira?”
Indira’s gaze darted around the room, avoiding meeting her mother’s for as long as possible.
“Indira. Answer me.” Alice’s calm but firm voice secured the girl’s attention.
“Yes, Mother, but it was Cassie’s idea. She wanted Aunt Anne and her father to become friends.”
Friends! They would become more than friends thanks to the meddling of the two girls.
Why didn’t that thought upset her more? Anne’s hand drifted toward her still-tingling lips.
“Anne,” Alice whispered, her gentle voice soothing Anne’s racing nerves. Her gaze dipped again to Anne’s ripped sleeve. “Your gown—you said it was an accident. Tell me exactly what happened.”
Words pooled on her tongue, then rushed out in a great deluge.
“I heard a noise and thought there was a rodent in there with me, but it was Lord Manning. There was no room to move. We stumbled, and he grabbed hold of me. My gown. He didn’t mean to.
” Dear Lord, she was actually defending him.
“We yelled for Indira to let us out. Oh, Alice, you know how I hate when I can’t move.
But Lord Manning, he . . . calmed me. We talked.
He said we would have to marry. Then I told him I had never been kissed and then he . . . he . . .”
“I see.” Alice’s body fell back against the settee, and Anne suspected her sister-in-law really did see. “Where is Lord Manning now? Is he with Andrew?”
Anne nodded. “I believe he is offering for me.” She twirled the stem of the pretty pink dahlia in her fingers. He said he’d left it for her. Warm hope battled with the fear inside her that perhaps Lord Manning really did care.
“Did you agree to marry him?”
Did she? Anne blinked, Alice’s question not what she expected. “I . . . he didn’t exactly ask me. He said we would have to marry in order to save my reputation and his honor.”
“Do you wish to marry Lord Manning? He is titled. Handsome. Kind.”
Anne couldn’t argue about the first two.
But kind? Did Alice know a different Lord Manning?
However, his behavior when they were trapped spoke of a gentler side to the man Anne knew as a grouch.
He was certainly a good kisser. Not that she had anything to compare him to, but she had definitely enjoyed it.
Besides, he smelled nice and had lovely green eyes.
Alice waited, studying her.
Anne gazed down at the flower clutched in her fingers. Did she wish to marry Lord Grump? “Honestly, I don’t know.”
Andrew Weatherby collapsed in the chair behind Burwood’s desk, the troubled furrow at his brow vanishing at Colin’s offer to marry Miss Weatherby.
“Thank God. Not that I would expect any less from you, Manning. But still. She’s my sister after all, and Anne isn’t known for her discretion or restraint. ”
Colin chuckled. “I’ve noticed. But allow me to assure you, sir, nothing untoward happened.” Not precisely true. The kiss that would have rocked him off his feet had he been standing was definitely improper. Yet he didn’t regret it.
“And her gown?”
Colin did his damnedest to explain how the close quarters had caused them both to fall and grasp for anything to right themselves. “I know the evidence appears damaging, but it truly was an accident.”
Suspicion flashed in his future brother-in-law’s eyes. “Did the close quarters also cause my sister’s and your disheveled hair?” He pointed toward Colin. “And your cravat is untied.”
Unbidden, Colin’s hand flew to his throat. How and when did that happen? He opened his mouth to try to explain but found he couldn’t.
Holding up his hand, Weatherby stopped him.
“Never mind, it’s best I don’t know. Is Anne agreeable to your proposal?
From what I’ve witnessed, you two seem to be constantly at loggerheads.
” He toyed with a pen left on the desk, a smile transforming him back to his typical congenial state. “But perhaps that’s changed.”
“Well, I haven’t officially asked her. However, I did explain it would be necessary.”
Weatherby’s brows rose. “Necessary?” He shook his head. “A bit of advice, Lord Manning? When dealing with my sister, couching things as compulsory is ill-advised. Anne has a defiant streak and does not take kindly to being told what she needs to do.”
Colin frowned. Could the man not see the predicament they were in? “But it is necessary to preserve her reputation and my honor regardless of what did or did not happen.”
“Do not misunderstand, my lord. I agree it is necessary. I’m merely providing some advice. If you intend to win Anne over, you must approach her differently. Like most women, Anne is a romantic; she wants to be wooed.”
Woefully out of practice when it came to wooing, Colin admitted the man had a point. Hadn’t he considered as much when he’d brought the flower for Lady Miranda? “But you do support my suit?”
“I have no objection, and personally I believe it would be a good match. Certainly the best offer she’s had thus far.” The man’s sly smile suggested a hidden meaning.
Hadn’t the nymph said she’d never been kissed? Surely if she’d been pursued . . .? “Has she had many offers?”
Weatherby’s grin widened. “Not many. Now, shall we discuss details of the marriage contract, or do you wish to secure Anne’s agreement first?”
Fully accepting that wooing the elfin menace would take time, not to mention more than a bit of preparing on his part, Colin took a seat. “Let’s get the business out of the way first.”
Thirty minutes later, Andrew, as he insisted Colin call him, extended his hand, the details negotiated and agreed upon.
Truth be told, Andrew’s business acumen had greatly impressed him.
The substantial dowry, although not especially needed, was certainly beneficial.
The only sticking point was a stipulation Andrew had insisted on.
“Once Anne has accepted your proposal, we’ll sign the contract. Let us hope she does so quickly, and we avoid any gossip.”
“You’re speaking of that rag, The Muckraker?”
“Indeed. The culprit had been quiet for so long, we foolishly thought we were finally rid of them. However, from what I understand, the scurrilous reports have resumed.”
“Then I should take my leave and find Miss Weatherby and press my case.”
Soft laughter, accompanied by Andrew’s parting advice, followed Colin out of the study. “Green parlor, Lord Manning. And remember, woo her; don’t address her like she’s a magistrate.”
Right. It had been eons since he’d courted a woman, and even with Margery, due to the fact the marriage had been arranged by their parents, there had been few romantic gestures at the beginning.
Think, man, think.
Flowers! The dahlia had pleased Miss Weatherby, and the guilt over his omission that he’d intended the bloom for Lady Miranda demanded expiation.
He searched the house for his sister until he found her in the music room with the other ladies—all except his future betrothed.
Colin burst into the room.
Standing at the piano, Honoria gazed up, her hand poised to turn a page of music for Lady Montgomery.
Beautiful though it was, the music halted. “Your Grace. The page.” From her seat at the piano, Lady Montgomery peered up at Honoria, then turned her attention in his direction.
The other ladies seated on the sofa and various chairs followed suit until all eyes were on Colin.
“What is it?” Honoria rushed forward, then grabbed his hands. “Something’s wrong.”
His sister had a gift for sensing when someone was in distress, but did he truly appear so distraught?
“Flowers,” he blurted out. “Do you know what type Miss Weatherby prefers? I need some. She smells like sweet pea, perhaps those if you have them?”
Honoria blinked rapidly. Then, a slow smile replaced the concern on her face. “Sweet peas are lovely, but they don’t make the best bouquets. I would suggest something else.” She turned toward the ladies assembled. “Does anyone know Anne’s flower preference?”
“Roses.” The answer came from the most unlikely source: Lady Charlotte. “Red ones.”
“Truly, Charlotte?”