Page 33 of A Rogue to Ruin
Anne had relayed the entire astonishing tale to her sister and Anthony during their ride back to London after the picnic. How her godfather had managed to pretend as though nothing had happened, that his life wasn’t about to dramatically change, was a mystery to her. But then he’d always been good at being charming. In fact, he’d even hid the truth from Sandon, rather Lorcan, until after the guests had left. Or so Anne believed—that had been her godfather’s plan after Rafe, his sister, and Mr. Sheffield had left.
Because Deborah had convinced him not to cancel the picnic. He’d wanted to, saying he would blame the weather and suggest they would all want to return to London posthaste. Deborah had pointed out that they would soon be in the midst of a scandal, so why invite speculation or scrutiny by ending the picnic early?
Anne didn’t think it was a scandal, and shereallythought she knew scandals. Still, it would benews. Everyone would be talking about the long-lost Earl of Stone.
And that was why she had to see him. He was going to need all the friends he could get, and she wanted to make sure he knew he could count on her.
But would he? So far, he’d rebuffed her overtures. Sort of. He said one thing, but his eyes and behavior said something else. She’d been certain they were going to kiss beneath the temple yesterday. Until her blasted godfather had shown up. Now,thathad been a scandal—at least to her.
Jane came into the morning room carrying Fern. Daffodil followed behind them, her tiny kitten legs moving quickly to keep up. “You’re still here,” she said to Anne as she set Fern down in front of the door that led out to the garden. She opened the door, and both kittens dashed outside. “There you go.” Jane left the door cracked open. It was a warm, calm summer morning, quite at odds with yesterday’s storms.
“Yes, I’m still here. I wanted a second cup of coffee, and I was reading the paper.” Anne rose from the table.
“You needn’t leave.” Jane frowned slightly. “Is something the matter? You’ve been awfully quiet since we returned from Ivy Grove yesterday.”
“Have I?” Anne asked innocently.
Jane rolled her eyes and moved to the table, taking a chair across from Anne’s. “Sit. And don’t treat me like I don’t know you better than anyone. What’s going on in your head?”
Exhaling, Anne sat back down. Was there any reason not to tell her sister about Rafe? She rather wanted to… “Do you remember when I told you I was in love a few months ago?”
“Yes, quite clearly. Then you were soon betrothed to Chamberlain, and it was evident to me he was not the object of your initial affection. Was I correct?”
Anne nodded. She looked at the tablecloth and laid her hand atop it, her palm against the soft, ivory cotton. “I lost contact with him, but we have recently become reacquainted.”
Jane’s jaw dropped. “It’s Bowles. Er, Stone. Isn’t it?”
Withdrawing her hand to her lap, Anne looked straight at her sister. “Yes.”
“I have several questions.” Jane tried not to look aghast and rather failed. “How did you meet him? And when? Why did you lose contact? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t say anything because all of it is scandalous. Back when I first arrived in London, I used to go out with Deborah every Thursday.”
“I remember.”
“We didn’t actually spend our time together,” Anne said slowly. “I went to Hatchard’s, and she went…well, I don’t exactly know where she went. She just left me alone for two blissful hours.”
Jane gaped at her again. “She was supposed to be chaperoning you!”
“I know. But she had something she preferred to do, and I wanted a reprieve from Mother and Father and expectation.”
Jane winced. “I’m sorry. That was my fault. If I’d been more successful, they would not have put so much pressure on you.”
“That wasn’t your fault at all. Chamberlain—that idiot I betrothed myself to—and his horrible sister, God rest her soul, are to blame. They ruined your reputation five years ago. How could you have done anything differently?”
“I don’t know,” Jane said. “That’s the worst of it. I didn’t do anythingwrong.”
“Precisely. That’s why I decided that actuallydoingsomething wrong didn’t matter. You just have to avoid getting caught. So I wore a veil and sat in a corner and read books at Hatchard’s. For two weeks, until Lord Bodyguard showed up.” Anne thought of that day often, and it never failed to make her smile. What might have happened if Rafe hadn’t arrived? Would those two men have left her alone? She would never know.
“Lord Bodyguard?”
“Rafe. Mr. Bowles. Lord Stone.”
“I gathered that. But why are you calling him Lord Bodyguard?”
“Because he stepped in to protect me from a pair of odious men.”
“Good heavens, Anne, you should not have been alone.”
