The Earl of Davenport: Wicked Regency Romance (Wicked Earls' Club #7)(11)



Anne stared at the earl, who was waiting for Claire to respond to his request for time alone with Anne. Claire turned to her, her pretty arched brows raised in question.

Anne shrugged. Why would he need a moment alone with her when it was Claire he was proposing to?

Clearly someone needed to speak so she cleared her throat as delicately as possible. “Excuse me, my lord, but did you mean to direct that question to me?” Moving to Claire, she gripped her sister’s elbow, giving her arm a squeeze of solidarity. This was it. The moment they had all been hoping for. She tried to summon up happiness, or at least some sort of satisfaction. Instead, she felt ill. Swallowing down the sick sensation, she forced an even tone. “Though it is inappropriate, indeed, I’d be inclined to step outside if it is what my sister wishes.”

Davenport’s eyes glinted with laughter. She knew without a doubt that he was remembering the way she’d sent her maid out of the room just the day before. But her reputation was an entirely different matter. She had little to lose, whereas Claire had everything. Besides, it wasn’t as though she was denying the young lover a chance to be alone with his intended, she had every intention of doing everything in her power to help this engagement be as expeditious as possible.

This was, after all, everything she had hoped would happen after her talk with him yesterday. So why was she still clinging to Claire, loath to leave her sister alone with the legendary rake.

“My apologies for the confusion,” he said, not trying to hide the laughter in his voice. “But I meant to ask your sister, Claire, for a moment alone with you.”

She exchanged another questioning look with Claire, but her sister looked just as confused as she felt. Yet again, it fell on her to speak.

“But… But why?” Anne asked.

Davenport’s head fell back as he let out a short bark of laughter that did odd things to her insides. “Why, indeed?” He turned his attention back to Claire, ignoring Anne’s question. “Miss Cleveland, I assure you that I have no ill intentions toward your sister. But, you see, I have come to ask for her hand in marriage and for this I would prefer a bit of privacy.”

Anne’s entire body went numb. Blood rushed from her head, making her lightheaded. Surely she’d heard wrong. He couldn’t possibly mean what he’d said. He was teasing, that was it.

He continued on, seemingly oblivious to the gaping stares of the two women before him. Three, she supposed, if she counted Greta, who was still hovering in the doorway.

He gave Claire a polite smile. “You do understand, do you not?”

After another silence, Anne was shocked even further when Claire nodded quickly, her hand reaching over to squeeze hers, which still rested on her arm. Then Claire’s reassuring squeeze turned into a firm grip as she wrenched herself free from Anne’s clinging grasp.

Anne could do little more than stare and stutter protests as Claire gave her a helpless shrug before backing out of the room, tugging Greta along with her.

When the door shut behind them, Anne was all too aware of the fact that she was alone with Davenport. Again.

This could not be happening. Surely there was some mistake.

She stared at the earl who looked entirely too at home in this house. “You have it all wrong,” she cried, not bothering to follow any sort of etiquette as she was fairly certain that no rules of etiquette applied to a situation such as this. She rushed forward, crossing the distance to where he stood leaning against a desk. “You were supposed to propose to Claire.”

He grinned. “Was I now?”

“Yes! You were.” She shook her head. He was being deliberately obtuse. He was teasing her, toying with her. That, more than anything, broke her out of her stunned state. Pulling herself to her full height, she set her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. “If this is your attempt to humiliate me, it is not appreciated.”

His brows shot up in what looked to be honest surprise. “Anne, I didn’t—”

“We both know that I am not a respectable option, but Claire is, and I made it very clear that our situation is…” She faltered, family pride temporarily flaring up alongside anger. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him just how dire their situation. “I made it clear our current state is a delicate one, and to tease me or, more importantly, my kind, sweet sister, that is too much. You cannot come here and give her hope that—”

He gripped her waist and pulled her close. Before she could register the shock of feeling his hard, warm body pressed to hers, he leaned his head down, and all thoughts were driven out of her skull. She opened her mouth to say… something. Heavens knew what. But then his lips closed over hers, effectively cutting off her speech.

For countless seconds she stood there, too stunned to push him away. And then, much to her chagrin… too curious. His lips were warm and firm against hers. She could feel his breath against her skin and it made her tingle. His body was so close, she could feel the heat coming from him. She felt stunned, like a bird that had flown into a window.

Her heart started to race. And then his lips moved, slowly at first. Surprisingly gentle as they glided over hers, teasing her lips apart. She gasped when his tongue touched her bottom lip. He took advantage of her gasp to probe deeper, his tongue slipping into her mouth with an insistence that felt possessive. Like she was his to explore.

Lord help her, she allowed it. Her body seemed to be acting entirely of its own volition, or maybe it was just responding to his. She wasn’t sure she could have stopped him if she wanted to.

Maggie Dallen & Wick's Books