The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(60)

She smiled up at him, and something inside his chest wrenched. How was he to keep her safe?

Edward was still pondering that question two hours later. He leaned against a wall and watched Anna lead a panting gentleman in a country reel. She clearly needed a husband, but he couldn’t imagine her with a man. Or rather, he couldn’t imagine her with another man. He scowled.

Someone coughed deferentially at his elbow. A tall young man with a bob wig stood next to him. His Geneva collar identified him as Vicar Jones.

The vicar coughed again and smiled nearsightedly at him through his pince-nez. “Lord Swartingham. So good of you to attend our little local entertainment.”

Edward wondered how he managed to sound like a man twice his age. The vicar couldn’t be over thirty. “Vicar. I’m enjoying Mrs. Clearwater’s soiree.” To his surprise, he realized that he spoke the truth.

“Good, good. Mrs. Clearwater’s social events are always so well planned. And her refreshments are just delicious.” The vicar demonstrated by gulping enthusiastically at his punch.

Edward eyed his own punch and made a mental note to check on the vicar’s stipend. Obviously the man was not used to decent food.

“I say, Mrs. Wren is certainly cutting a dashing figure on the dance floor.” The vicar squinted as he watched Anna. “She looks different tonight.”

Edward followed his gaze. “She isn’t wearing a cap.”

“Is that it?” Vicar Jones sounded vague. “You have sharper eyes than I, my lord. I wondered if she’d bought a new dress on her trip.”

Edward was raising his own cup of punch to his lips when the vicar’s words sunk in. He frowned and lowered the cup. “What trip?”

“Hmm?” Vicar Jones still watched the dancers, his mind obviously not on the conversation.

Edward was about to repeat the question a little more forcefully this time when Mrs. Clearwater interrupted them. “Ah, Lord Swartingham. I see you know the vicar.”

Both men started as if they’d been goosed simultaneously in the arse. Edward turned a strained smile on his hostess. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the vicar was peering around as if for escape. “Yes, I’ve met Vicar Jones, Mrs. Clearwater.”

“Lord Swartingham has most graciously helped with the new church roof.” Vicar Jones made eye contact with another guest. “I say, is that Mr. Merriweather? I must have a word with him. If you’ll excuse me?” The vicar bowed and hurried away.

Edward eyed the vicar’s retreating form with envy. The man must have attended the Clearwater soirees before.

“How lovely to have a moment alone with you, my lord,” Mrs. Clearwater said. “I did want to discuss your trip to London.”

“Oh?” Maybe if he caught the elder Mrs. Wren’s eye. It wasn’t done to just abandon a lady.

“Yes, indeed.” Mrs. Clearwater leaned closer. “I have heard that you were seen at some most unusual places.”

“Really?”

“In the company of a lady we both know.”

Edward’s attention swung back to Felicity Clearwater. What the devil was the woman talking about?

“Fe-lee-ci-ty!” A male voice, rather the worse for drink, yodeled nearby.

Mrs. Clearwater winced.

Squire Clearwater was making his way unsteadily toward them. “Felicity, m’dear, mustn’t monopolize the earl. He’s not interested in talk of fashions and fr-fr-fripperies.” The squire dug a pointy elbow into Edward’s ribs. “Eh, my lord? Hunting’s the thing. A man’s sport! What? What?”

Mrs. Clearwater made a sound that, in a male, might have been considered a snort.

“Actually, I don’t hunt much,” Edward said.

“Hounds baying, horses galloping, the smell of blood…” The squire was in his own world.

Across the room, Edward saw Anna put on a wrapper. Damn it. Was she leaving without bidding him good-bye?

“Excuse me.”

He bowed to the squire and his wife and pushed through the mass of people. But at this hour, the soiree had become quite crowded. By the time Edward reached the door, Anna and Mrs. Wren were already outside.

“Anna!” Edward shoved past the footmen in the hall and pushed open the door. “Anna!”

She was only a few steps away. At his shout, both she and Mrs. Wren turned.

“You shouldn’t walk home alone, Anna.” Edward glowered, then realized his slip. “Nor you, Mrs. Wren.”

Anna looked confused, but the older woman beamed. “Have you come to escort us home, Lord Swartingham?”

“Yes.”

His carriage was waiting nearby. They could ride, but then the evening would be over in a matter of minutes. Besides, it was a beautiful night. He signaled the carriage to follow behind them as they walked. He offered Anna one arm and Mrs. Wren the other. Although the ladies had left the party early, the hour was late and it was dark. A full moon shone, gloriously large in the black sky, casting long shadows before them.

As they neared a crossroads, Edward heard the sudden clatter of running feet ahead of them, loud in the quiet air. Immediately he set the ladies behind him. A slight form flew around the corner. It veered toward them.

“Meg! Whatever is the matter?” Anna cried.

“Oh, ma’am!” The girl bent double, clutching her side as she tried to catch her breath. “It’s Mrs. Fairchild, ma’am. She’s fallen down the stairs, and I can’t help her up. I think the baby’s coming, too!”