The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(45)

“You offend me deeply,” the viscount said as he smothered a yawn. “Besides, you yourself must’ve engaged in debauchery of one sort or another at the goddess’s domain. Admit it.”

“True.” Edward frowned at his mug. “But I won’t be for very much longer.”

The viscount looked up from inspecting the silver embroidery on his coat. “Never say you intend to be a chaste bridegroom?”

“I see no other option.”

Iddesleigh’s eyebrows arched. “Isn’t that a rather literal—not to mention archaic—interpretation of the bridal vows?”

“Perhaps. But I think it will make for a successful marriage.” Edward felt his jaw clench. “I want it to work this time. I need an heir.”

“I wish you luck, then, my friend,” Iddesleigh said quietly. “You must have chosen your lady carefully.”

“I did indeed.” Edward stared into his half-empty mug. “She is from an impeccable family; it goes back further than mine. She isn’t repulsed by my scars; I know because I asked her myself—something I omitted to do with my first wife. She’s intelligent and quiet. She’s handsome, but not beautiful. And she comes from a large family. God willing, she should be able to give me strong sons.”

“A Thoroughbred dam for a Thoroughbred sire.” Idde-s-leigh’s mouth quirked. “Soon your stables will overflow with hearty, squalling progeny. I’m sure you can hardly wait to begin getting offspring on your intended.”

“Who is the lady?” Harry asked.

“Sir Richard Gerard’s eldest, Miss Sylvia—”

Iddesleigh made a muffled exclamation. Harry glanced at him sharply.

“Gerard. Do you know her?” Edward finished slowly.

Iddesleigh studied the lace at his wrists. “My brother, Ethan’s wife was a Gerard. As I remember, the mother was something of a tartar at the wedding.”

“She still is.” Edward shrugged. “But I doubt I’ll have much contact with her after we’re married.”

Harry gravely raised his cup. “Congratulations on your betrothal, my lord.”

“Yes, congratulations.” The viscount lifted his cup as well. “And good luck, my friend.”

A COLD NOSE against her cheek woke Anna. She peeked and saw brown canine eyes only inches from her own. They stared at her urgently. Pungent doggy breath panted in her face. She groaned and turned her head to glance at the window. Dawn was just brightening the sky from a drowsy peach color to the more alert bright blue of day.

She looked back at the watching canine eyes. “Good morning, Jock.”

Jock took his forepaws from the mattress beside her head and backed up a step to sit down. He was very still, ears up, shoulder bunched, eyes alert to her every move. The very epitome of a dog waiting to go out.

“Oh, all right. I’m getting up.” She padded over to the basin and made an abbreviated wash before dressing.

Dog and woman crept down the back stairs.

Coral lived in a fashionable street near Mayfair, which was lined with white stone houses only a few years old. Most of these were quiet now except for an occasional maid washing the front steps or polishing a doorknob. Normally, Anna might feel uncomfortable walking about in a strange place without an escort, but she had Jock to accompany her. He leaned closer as if to protect her whenever anyone else approached. They strolled in companionable silence. Jock was busy sniffing out the intriguing smells of the city, while she was lost in her own thoughts.

During the night, she’d thought over her situation, and when Anna awoke this morning, she’d already known what she must do. She couldn’t meet him tonight. She was playing with fire, and she could no longer hide the fact from herself. In her need to be with Lord Swartingham, she’d flung aside all caution. She’d recklessly hared off to London and traipsed about a bordello as if it were a Little Battleford musicale. It was a miracle he hadn’t discovered her. And the incident the night before with the drunken bucks was too close. She could’ve been raped or hurt or both. How hypocritical of her to scold men for doing the very thing she’d done for the past two nights. She winced at the thought of what Lord Swartingham would have said had he found her out. He was a very proud man with a terrible temper.

Anna shook her head and glanced up. They were only a few houses down from Coral’s residence. Either her footsteps had led her back or Jock had a homing instinct.

She patted the dog’s head. “Good boy. We had better go in and start packing for home.”

Jock perked up his ears at the word home.

At that moment, a carriage pulled up in front of Coral’s house. Anna hesitated, then retraced her steps around the corner and peeked back. Who could be calling at such an unfashionable hour? A footman jumped down from the carriage and placed a wooden step under the door before opening it. A male leg advanced, but withdrew inside the carriage again. She could see the footman moving the step an inch or two to the left; then a burly man with heavy shoulders descended. He stopped a moment to say something to the footman. From the way the servant bowed his head, it looked to be a set-down.

The burly man entered the house.

Was he Coral’s marquis? Anna contemplated this turn of events while Jock waited patiently by her side. From what little she knew about the marquis, it would perhaps be prudent if she didn’t meet him. She didn’t want to cause trouble for Coral, and she was uneasy at the thought of letting someone of quality see her at Coral’s residence. Although it was extremely unlikely she would cross paths again with a marquis, the incident the night before with the drunken bucks had made her wary. She decided to enter the house from the servants’ entrance and thus perhaps escape notice.