The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(49)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“Ah, Mrs. Wren. A pleasure to meet you again.” Edward bowed over Mother Wren’s hand. He didn’t smile.

Her mother-in-law didn’t seem to care. “Oh, my lord, I’m so glad you could attend. Anna has been dying to dance.” Mother Wren lifted her eyebrows meaningfully.

Anna wished she had bolted when she’d had the chance.

The broad hint hung there in the air between them for an uncomfortably long time before Edward spoke. “If you would do me the pleasure?”

He didn’t even look at her. For goodness sake, he had been the one to kiss her!

Anna pursed her lips. “I didn’t know you danced, my lord.”

Edward’s gaze snapped around to her. “Of course I can dance. I am an earl after all.”

“As if I’d forget that,” she muttered.

Edward narrowed his obsidian eyes.

Ha! She certainly had his attention now.

He held out a gloved hand, and she demurely placed her own in it. Even with two layers of fabric between their palms, she could feel his body heat. For a moment, she remembered what it was like to run her fingertips down his nude back. Hot. Sweaty. Achingly good. She swallowed.

With only a nod to Mother Wren, he towed her out onto the dance floor where he proved he could indeed dance, albeit rather heavily.

“You do know the steps,” Anna said as they met to promenade down the center of the dancers.

She saw him scowl out of the corner of her eye. “I wasn’t born under a rock. I know how to behave in polite society.”

The music ended before Anna could form an appropriate reply. She curtsied and started to tug her hand from Edward’s grasp.

He pulled her hand firmly to him and tucked it in the crook of his elbow. “Don’t you dare think of deserting me, Mrs. Wren. It’s your fault I’m at this bloody soiree to begin with.”

Must he keep touching her? She looked around for a distraction. “Perhaps you would care for some punch?”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Would I?”

“Well, maybe not,” she admitted. “But it’s the only thing to drink at the present, and the refreshment table is in the opposite direction from Mrs. Clearwater.”

“Then let us try the punch by all means.”

He walked toward the punch table, and she found that people stepped aside naturally for him. In no time at all, Anna was sipping her second glass of weak punch.

Edward had pivoted slightly to the side to answer a question from the vicar when she heard a sly voice at her elbow. “I’m surprised to see you here, Mrs. Wren. I’d heard you had taken up a new profession.”

EDWARD TURNED SLOWLY to face the speaker, a florid man in an ill-fitting wig. He didn’t look familiar. Beside him, Anna had stiffened, her face frozen.

“Have you learned any new skills from your recent guests?” The man’s entire attention was fixed on Anna.

She opened her mouth, but for once Edward beat her to it. “I don’t believe I heard you correctly.”

The swine seemed to notice him for the first time. His eyes widened. Good.

The silence in their immediate vicinity began to spread outward through the room as the guests became aware that something interesting was happening.

The fellow was braver than he looked. “I said—”

“Be very, very careful what you say next.” Edward could feel the muscles in his shoulders flexing.

The other man finally appeared to comprehend the danger he was in. His eyes widened, and he visibly swallowed.

Edward nodded once. “Good. Perhaps you’d care to apologize to Mrs. Wren for what you did not say.”

“I—” The man had to stop and clear his throat. “I am most sorry if anything I said offended you, Mrs. Wren.”

Anna nodded stiffly, but the man was correctly looking toward Edward to see if he had redeemed himself.

He had not.

The man swallowed again. A bead of sweat slid greasily along the edge of his wig. “I don’t know what came over me. I am most abjectly sorry to have caused you any pain whatsoever, Mrs. Wren.” He pulled at his neckcloth and leaned forward to add, “I really am an ass, you know.”

“Yes, you are,” Edward said gently.

The man’s complexion turned a sickly hue.

“Well!” Anna said. “I think it is about time for the next dance. Isn’t that the music beginning?”

She spoke loudly in the general direction of the musicians, and they immediately took her up on the suggestion. She snatched Edward’s hand and began marching toward the dance floor. She had quite a strong grip for such a little thing. Edward shot one last, narrow-eyed glare at the swine, and then docilely permitted himself to be led away.

“Who is he?”

Anna looked up at him as they formed the set. “He didn’t really hurt me, you know.”

The dance began and he was forced to wait until the figures drew them together again. “Who is he, Anna?”

She looked exasperated. “John Wiltonson. He was a friend of my husband’s.”

Edward waited.

“He made a proposition to me after Peter’s death.”

“He wanted to marry you?” His brows drew together.

“An indecent proposition.” Anna’s eyes were averted. “He was—is—already married.”

He stopped dead, causing the couple next in line to bump into them. “He assaulted you?”

“No.” She pulled on his arm, but he remained steadfast. She hissed in his ear, “He wanted me to become his mistress. I refused.” The dancers behind them were beginning to pile up. “My lord!”

Edward allowed himself to be pulled into the dance again, although they were no longer in time to the music. “I never want to hear someone speak so of you again.”

“A fine sentiment, I’m sure,” she replied tartly. “But you can hardly spend the rest of your life following me about intimidating the impertinent.”

Unable to think of a reply, he simply glared. She was right. The thought tore at him. Anna was only his secretary, plain and simple. He couldn’t be with her all the time. He couldn’t stop any insults. He couldn’t even protect her from insulting advances. Such guardianship was the prerogative of a husband only.

Anna interrupted his thoughts. “I shouldn’t have danced with you again so soon. It isn’t proper.”

“I don’t give a damn what’s proper,” Edward said. “Besides, you knew it was the only method to get me away from that baboon.”