Anna’s mind was racing wildly, her cheek growing warm beneath his palm. “But… w-what of Lucy?” she stammered helplessly as he drew her to him. “She…she holds you in the highest esteem, sir.”
Drake chuckled and kissed her forehead. “I hold your sister in high regard as well.”
“What I mean to say,” Anna said, trying again, as he nuzzled her neck, “is that she holds you in… great esteem.” And she laid a hand on his chest, pushing a little, to impress on him just how much Lucy esteemed him.
Drake looked down at her hand on his chest and sighed. “Pray tell, what am I to do? I will admit that I had come very close to making an offer for her, but then something rather remarkable occurred. I was quite blinded by you, Anna,” he said, and lowered his head, kissed her chastely on her lips.
This was it, her prize. She was supposed to feel triumphant, the victor with the spoils. But she felt nothing but a vast emptiness and a sorrowful feeling, because she never wanted to hear those words from anyone but the one man she could not possibly hope to hear them from. Yet how could she possibly push away the man who would offer for her because of her feelings for a man she could never marry?
Her head was aching with confusion, and she forced a smile, pushed lightly against Drake’s chest again. “Lucy’s feelings are very tender on the subject, and I suppose she is wondering about your intentions.”
Drake gave her a dumbfounded look, then abruptly laughed. “I don’t understand. You would have me tell your sister that my affections lie with you, is that it?”
“No, no,” Anna said, uncertain what she wanted him to say. “But you should set it to rights with her.”
Drake slipped his arm around Anna’s waist. “If I… set it all to rights with her, might I assume, then, that I should pay a call to your father to inquire as to my suitability as a future son?”
“What?” she exclaimed. His opinion of her may have changed, but she could not believe he’d reach this conclusion so soon, before any real courtship.
She must have looked shocked, for Drake laughed. “You precious child! I’m asking you if I should inquire as to the availability of your hand?”
A hot rush of panic flooded her brain; her heart was twisting with all the wrong emotions. “Should you?” she echoed, and all she could seem to think of was Grif, and frantically searched her mind for the right thing to say.
“I thought this was what you wanted, Anna.”
For the love of God, what had she done? “I would think that… you, Mr. Lockhart… you should not make a… hasty… inquiry?”
“And would that be a hasty inquiry?”
“Umm…” Dear God, what should she say? That she couldn’t decide how, exactly, she felt about him any longer, if indeed she felt anything—other than that it would be a good but standard match of fortunes and she would gain some respectability in the eyes of the ton for having made a match at all—but that her heart would always be with another? Or that she was fairly certain, given the events thus far, that she did not feel the heart-pounding eagerness to see him or touch him any longer, but, in fact, felt a bit of revulsion when he touched her?
“Everyone believes you intend to offer for Lucy,” she suddenly blurted. “Including Lucy. And Father… Father will believe there has not been a, ah …proper…”
Drake lifted a brow.
Proper, proper …“…proper amount of courting!” she exclaimed with a bit of relief for having thought of something.
It worked. Drake smiled. “I understand. I shall wait before I inquire. I should think the end of this affair would suffice,” he said, and smiled.
Dear God, she had the space of two days to think of a way out of the wreckage she’d created.
Drake put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to him. “I shall wait to speak to your father,” he said low, “but I shan’t wait to kiss you.” He planted his mouth on hers, and Anna tried not to grimace too terribly.
It was an overall uneasiness that had Grif searching for an exit from the Featherstone mansion in the waning hours of the afternoon, somewhere outside, away from all the bustle of guests arriving and settling in, just somewhere he might at least draw a breath when he thought of Anna.
But the direction of the gardens was not readily apparent in a house of such size, and he was soon wandering about the ground floor of the spacious mansion, peeking through doors, marveling at the wealth of the English ton. It far surpassed anything he’d ever seen in Edinburgh, and frankly, most anything he’d seen during his Grand Tour of Europe.
He had heard in one of the gentleman’s clubs that Lord Featherstone, a viscount, had inherited part of his wealth, but had gone on to double it by investing in the East India Company. Featherstone was perhaps an example of the very best match an Englishwoman could hope to make, and Grif rather imagined Lord Whittington, Lady Featherstone’s father, would want to make similar matches for his remaining two unmarried daughters.