Chapter 1
Chapter One
A vision of long blond hair curling along creamy pink cheeks and big brown eyes had Warren reaching out, and yet again, his fingers were met with nothing but the jarring emptiness of the cold night air as he arose from sleep.
For a decade, he had dreamed of the angel who had saved him.
And despite his efforts, he’d gained no further insight into the truth about his near fatal incident, only the perpetuation of lies that had been reiterated by the staff at his father’s command, even after the old bastard had passed.
It was as if after all these years, the lies had morphed into the truth.
While the fever had erased his memory of the events leading up to his illness, it hadn’t banished the partial vision of a girl who had consumed his thoughts and burrowed deeper and deeper into his heart over the years.
His forearm fell to cover his eyes. He had failed to discover any clues that might assist him in identifying or locating the girl to whom he was indebted.
Warren pushed himself up to lean back against the headboard at the patter of slippers out in the hall.
His mama, just as unrelenting and stubborn as he, was about to enter and declare he pay a call upon yet another spoiled debutante or vexed spinster.
He braced himself at the perfunctory rap as the door swung open.
With her hands firmly planted on her hips, the woman who gave him life inquired, “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Do you plan to waste the entire day abed, or merely until calling hours have come and gone?”
“I haven’t decided.”
His ambiguous answer garnered him a stern glare and an arched brow. His mama’s sole purpose for the past year had been to see him wed. “Well, mayhap the arrival of Lady Anne will prompt you to emerge from your chambers.”
“Anne? Why in the devil is she in town?” Warren reached for his robe strewn over the foot of the bed and stuffed his arms through the silk. He stood and knotted the sash as he marched toward the door.
“Stop!” His mother joined him and, through thinned lips, she calmly said, “Warren, dear, regardless of if Lady Anne is like family or not, she is still a lady and should be addressed as such. Now, make yourself presentable while I break my fast and entertain our guest.” She left the room muttering on about the tribulations of a stubborn son.
The burden of having a mama whose mind was sharper than a bayonet was that one rarely won a battle.
Warren turned to cross his chambers toward his wardrobe but stopped mid-stride.
What could have prompted Anne to return from France so unexpectedly?
The last piece of correspondence he had received from his boon companion indicated she was well and enjoying her freedom away from the endless gossip mill of the Ton, not that Anne was ever the center of such matters.
No, Anne had been branded the epitome of elegance and etiquette, envied by every debutante, and deemed untouchable by gentlemen.
To Warren, Anne was the sibling his parents never bore.
While his mama and Anne’s mama had been merely neighbors at first, they found themselves bonding over the obstacles of child rearing.
For two women who had thrived in the whirlwind of the elite, the monotony of managing country estates was underwhelming.
As the seasons passed, the two had formed a friendship forged out of boredom that had bloomed into one that even death could not sever.
With the untimely passing of Anne’s mama, Warren’s mama had stepped in to ensure Anne’s debut, and every season since had been a success.
With his mind plagued with questions that could only be answered by Anne, Warren quickly traversed the length of his room to change before trudging down to the morning room.
The tinkling sound of laughter that could belong to none other than Mama had Warren pausing.
How long had it been since he’d heard the sound that had once filled the halls incessantly?
Too many years. Reminded of the distance that had slowly formed between him and his mama, Warren tugged at his coat sleeves.
He might have been the spitting image of his father, but he’d sworn that he’d not repeat his sire’s mistakes, or at least he’d promised himself to try, which was proving more difficult than expected as he’d matured and assumed the role of viscount and patriarch.
Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the door open and entered the sunlit room.
“A good morn to—” The rest of his greeting was silenced as Anne rushed toward him and hopped up to wrap her arm about his neck.
However, he wasn’t the scrawny thirteen-year-old that she could bully any longer.
Rather than finding himself at the girl's mercy, he pressed her arms down and escorted Anne back to her chair.
“Ladies should remain demure and seated.”
“Hmph.” Anne crossed her arms over her chest and sank into her seat. “Since when did you become a stickler for etiquette?”
“Need I remind you that I am now the respectable Viscount of Guernsey.” Head held high, he walked to the head of the table and sat. “Why have you decided to return to England?”
“Why have you not wed yet?” Across the table, Anne’s steely gaze was as steady as ever.
“I could ask the same of you.”
“Warren!” His mama’s tone was one that he was often subjected to, one born out of frustration and abhorrence. “Lady Anne is my guest. Please mind your manners.”
“Very well, I shall keep the conversation to pleasantries then. How was the weather in Paris, Lady Anne?”
“Mild.” Anne set her fork down and placed it next to her plate before placing her hands in her lap. With a well-practiced tilt of the chin, his childhood confidant asked, “Lady Guernsey, I hope it won’t be too much of an inconvenience for me to join you tomorrow?”
“Of course not, dear. It would be our honor to have you travel with us to London.”
“London? The Season hasn’t even begun.” Blast the two women he cared for the most. He should have known better than to leave the two of them alone.
“Yes, we shall set out after we break our fast. And I’ve invited Anne to stay with us at Guernsey Manor until her papa can join us.
” His mama stood, indicating that she wouldn’t hear any objections he might have on the matter.
With a bounce in her step that had been absent since his father’s passing, she left the breakfast room.
He waited for her footsteps to fade before patting the corner of his mouth with his napkin to mask his smirk as he teased, “I wasn’t aware that spinsters required chaperones.” He lifted his teacup.
“Were you aware that your mama has already made the acquaintance of Lady O?”
“Lady Osbourne?” He sputtered as lukewarm tea caught in his throat, and he thumped on his chest with a fist before adding, “The matron who was deemed by all as a matchmaker extraordinaire for winning a blasted wager a year ago?”
An exaggerated wink from Anne, who’d had trouble mastering the skill as a child, sent Warren shooting up to his feet.
Hands on his hips, eyes rolled heavenward, he groaned, “Please tell me you are not in cahoots with my mama.” He’d not stand a chance of avoiding the parson's trap if Anne was involved. ”I just need more time to find her. The angel of my dreams.”
She smiled at him, more knowingly than he would have liked.
But that was Anne. She really did know all his secrets.
She picked up a slice of bread from the basket sitting in front of her and swiped some butter over it.
“Would you believe me if I were to tell you I’ve come to save you?
” Anne lathered a healthy layer of strawberry preserves over her buttered bread, then bit into it.
Warren studied the woman he knew better than he knew himself, and answered, “No.” He shook his head.
“Absolutely not. Not in a thousand years would I believe that you would forgo adventures of traveling about the Continent, merely to save me from wedlock.” Cocking his head lightly to the right, he asked, “Which begs the question, why did you return? And don’t try to weave one of your spectacular tales.
I’m not one of the besotted fools of our set who believe you to be perfect in every way. I know better.”
“Hmph.” Anne took a healthy bite of her toast. She chewed slowly and demurely, then swallowed before taking a long sip of tea.
With practiced elegance, a lady would learn at only one of the most prestigious schools in the country, she picked up her napkin from her lap and meticulously folded it into a perfect square before placing it atop her now empty plate.
Warren watched her impatiently, knowing that her actions were performed simply to annoy him. But he didn’t rise to her bait.
She pouted slightly then and said, “As unbelievable as it might seem to you, I have returned to assist a friend. A very good friend, I might add.”
“Aside from me, who have you ever deemed a friend? Pray tell me the name of this poor unfortunate soul for whom you have given up on your lifelong dream of seeing faraway lands.” Warren crossed his arms over his chest.
Anne was not one to lie, but the lady had a way with words that could make even Shakespeare ponder the meaning of her verses.
“I’m sorry, Warren, but I’ve sworn upon my mama’s grave to keep that a secret.” Blinking back tears, Anne pasted on a smile that only he was privy to and said, “However, since I shall be spending the Season in your company, shall we resume our search for your savior?”
Wanting to dispel the cloud of sadness that always filled the room at the mention of Anne’s deeply missed mama, Warren stood and strode around the table, then presented his hand to assist his best friend to stand.
“I would be honored if you could spare the time to assist me. Unfortunately, I’ve not managed to unravel any new details since your departure. ”