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Overview
SECRETS OF A RUNAWAY BRIDE
Valerie Bowman
Miss Annie Andrews is finally free to marry the man she loves. With her overprotective sister out of the country on her honeymoon, nothing can prevent her flight to Gretna Green—nothing, that is, but an abduction by the wrong gentleman.
When Jordan Holloway, the Earl of Ashbourne, promised to look after his best friend's sister-in-law, he didn't realize she would prove so difficult. But when he spirits her away to his country house to prevent her elopement, he discovers that the tempting beauty knows how to put up a fight. To make matters worse, he's stuck playing the role of honorable protector...when what he really wants is to run away with her himself.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781466813205 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | St. Martin's Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 03/26/2013 |
| Series: | Secret Brides Series , #2 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 384 |
| Sales rank: | 169,110 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Valerie Bowman grew up in Illinois with six sisters (she's the youngest) and a huge supply of historical romance novels. After a cold and snowy stint earning a degree in English with a minor in history at Smith College, she moved to Florida the first chance she got.
Valerie now lives in Jacksonville with her two rascally dogs. When she's not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV and PBS. She is the author of books including Secrets of a Wedding Night and Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage.
Valerie loves to hear from readers. Find her on Facebook and Twitter.
Valerie Bowman is an award-winning author who writes Regency-set historical romance novels aka Racy Regency Romps! Since her debut in 2012, Valerie's books have received starred reviews from Publisher's Weekly, Booklist, and Kirkus. She's been an RT Reviewers' Choice nominee for Best First Historical Romance and Best Historical Romance Love and Laughter. Two of her books have been nominated for the Kirkus Prize for fiction and New York Times bestselling author Lisa Kleypas calls them, "Too delightful to miss!"
Valerie has a B.A. in English Language and Literature with a minor in history from Smith College. By day, she is a technical editor at a computer software company. By night, she combines her love of writing, history, and romance to craft stories about people falling in love.
Originally from Rantoul, Illinois, Valerie lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her family including her two rascally dogs. When she's not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV or PBS.
Read an Excerpt
Secrets of a Runaway Bride
By Valerie Bowman
St. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2013 Valerie BowmanAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-1320-5
CHAPTER 1
London, Late September 1816
Annie Andrews was halfway up the side of Arthur Eggleston's town house — scaling an oh-so-convenient and strong ivy vine — when the telltale clip-clop of a horse's hooves stopped her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, this was not good.
Despite the fact that she was in the alley at the back of the house and it was dark as pitch, she'd just been discovered. She knew it.
Please let it be a servant.
But even as she wished it, she knew it couldn't be. A servant in the alley on horseback? No.
And the odds of it being Aunt Clarissa were decidedly low as well. Annie had ensured that lady had been well into her cups and asleep before she'd even attempted tonight's little escapade. Besides, Aunt Clarissa was horribly frightened of horses.
Annie bit her lip. Then she slowly turned her head.
She gulped.
It was worse than a servant. Much worse.
"Lost?" The arrogant male voice pierced the cool night air.
Jordan Holloway, the Earl of Ashbourne, swung his leg over his saddle and dismounted.
Oh, drat. There was absolutely no plausible way to explain this. Annie lifted her chin in an attempt to retain her dignity. As much as one could when one was clinging precariously to a vine.
The moon peeked from behind the clouds, casting a bit of its glow upon the scene as Lord Ashbourne strode up the steps and stood regarding her, his arms crossed over his chest. He leaned back against the stone balustrade, crossed his booted feet negligently at the ankles, and watched her with a mocking look on his oh-so-handsome — too handsome if you asked her — face. The man was easily two inches over six feet tall, possessed broad shoulders, narrow hips, a straight nose, dark slashes for brows, dark, ruffled hair, and the most unusual knowing gray eyes.
"If it isn't the runaway bride." He grinned. "What are you up to this time, Miss Andrews?"
Annie gritted her teeth. She hated it when Lord Ashbourne called her by that ridiculous name. The runaway bride. Hrmph. As the closest friend of her new brother-in-law, Lord Ashbourne had just so happened to have been involved in coming after her following an unfortunate incident in which she'd run away to Gretna Green with Arthur last spring. But that had been months ago and things were different now. Ahem, present circumstances notwithstanding. And it was so like Lord Ashbourne to mock her while she wasn't in a position to kick him or at the very least give him a condemning glare. It was exceedingly difficult to conjure condemnation while perched on a plant.
Her palms sweaty, Annie tightened her hold on the vine and summoned what indignation she could muster. "I don't see how it's any of your business." But even as she said the words she knew how ludicrous they were. "How did you even know I was here?"
"Let's say I made an educated guess. But, before I assist you in removing yourself from this ridiculous ... situation," he drawled. "I insist you tell me why, exactly, you're doing this."
Annie blew an errant leaf away from her mouth. "I don't require your help, Lord Ashbourne. I'm quite capable —" She glanced down. It was at least a five-foot drop to the porch below. She'd just have to jump. She tugged away from the vine, but discovered, to her dismay, that the hem of her gown was snagged upon the brambles.
Lord Ashbourne shook his head. "Seriously, Miss Andrews, why?"
She expelled her breath, still trying to retain a modicum of dignity. Oh very well. Some explanation was obviously in order. "It's not as bad as it looks. I merely wanted to get Arthur's attention. I planned to toss a rock at his window and —"
"A note sent round to his door would not suffice?" Lord Ashbourne's mocking tone did not waver.
Annie clenched her jaw. Why, oh, why was she always at her very worst when Lord Ashbourne appeared? It was quite a phenomenon, actually.
"And Aunt Clarissa?" Lord Ashbourne continued. "She's asleep, is she not? After imbibing a good bit of port?"
Annie bit her lip. "Sherry." As companions went, Aunt Clarissa was a great deal of fun, but an apt chaperone she was not. The woman was overly fond of spirits, in a variety of forms.
"As I suspected. Very well, there's no help for it." Lord Ashbourne uncrossed his ankles and took a step toward her, lifting his arms to pluck her from the vine like a foolish little grape.
Just then, the back door opened. A ray of candlelight splashed across the porch. Annie's eyes flashed wide. Pure terror pounded in her chest.
She held her breath. Who had discovered her? Please don't let it be —
Lord Ashbourne didn't wait. He quickly grabbed her by the waist and pulled. She gave a small yelp before tumbling into his arms and sliding down the front of him, her body pressed to his.
And that's how Annie came to be completely tangled in Lord Ashbourne's arms when Arthur Eggleston, the man Annie loved, the man Annie intended to marry, strode onto his back stoop.
* * *
Jordan's first instinct was to set Miss Andrews's delicate form on the porch and break their contact.
She was a nineteen-year-old troublemaker with a penchant for putting her reputation at risk. The little baggage had proven to be nothing but trouble since her sister, Lily, and his closest friend, Devon, had left for the Continent on their honeymoon trip. They'd both begged Jordan to keep an eye on the chit. Miss Andrews, it seemed, required more than one chaperone, especially since their closest female relative and only suitable companion, Devon's eccentric aunt Clarissa, was overly fond of the bottle.
Jordan had spent the past sennight following Miss Andrews around and ensuring she was not making a fool of herself in her dogged pursuit of that sop Arthur Eggleston. But it seemed the closer Jordan watched her, the more outrageous her antics became, culminating in this particularly egregious bit of madness here this evening.
She was about five feet four, with a mass of wide brown curls, an impertinent nose, warm dark eyes, and a penchant for trouble. "Spitfire" was the word that readily came to mind. And while Jordan was mentally counting the days until Lily and Devon returned to properly see to the girl themselves, he had to admit to a sort of reluctant admiration for Annie. Things were never dull when Miss Andrews was involved. That much he would allow.
At the moment, her lithe body pressed against his was making him feel things he shouldn't, however. He needed to disentangle her from his arms. Immediately.
Eggleston cleared his throat and sanity returned to Jordan's mind with a vengeance. He quickly plucked Miss Andrews's arms from around his neck and let her slide down the length of him until she was standing on the porch next to him, a chagrined look on her pretty face.
Arms crossed over his chest, Eggleston glanced between them, a mildly perturbed expression on his face. "Miss Andrews, Lord Ashbourne. What is the meaning of this?"
Annie backed away from Jordan quickly, her breath coming in short pants. She snatched her arms behind her back and didn't meet his eyes. "Arthur. We were just ..." Annie bit her lip. That was her tell. Jordan had played enough hands of cards to learn a person's giveaway and the past week spent in Miss Andrews's company had informed him that when she was up to no good, she nibbled her pink lips with her perfect white teeth. It was a bit endearing, actually. And extremely convenient for him.
She glanced away. Her other tell. "That is to say ... I'd come over to ..." She stopped, words obviously failing her.
"Anne," Eggleston said, giving her a stern stare. "For your sake and the sake of your reputation, I shall pretend I didn't see this."
Jordan fought the urge to roll his eyes. First of all, this was the same man who'd nearly destroyed Annie's reputation last spring. His concern now was a bit too little too late for Jordan's taste. Secondly, if Annie had been Jordan's potential fiancée and he'd just caught her in the arms of another man, he'd be pounding the bloke into a pulp about now. But this dolt obviously wasn't jealous enough even to take a swing at him. Probably better for Eggleston's sake, of course, but leave it to Arthur Eggleston to be little more than inquisitive.
Annie swallowed. "Yes, Arthur. Quite right. It won't happen again."
"I'm glad to hear it. Now, may I escort you home?" Eggleston asked Annie, giving Jordan a once-over.
"No need. I was just about to escort her myself, Eggleston," Jordan replied with a smirk.
Annie nodded. "Yes, I'll be quite fine."
"Very well," Eggleston continued, looking down his nose at the both of them. "Then I shall call upon you tomorrow, Anne, for our usual afternoon ride in the park."
Annie bit her lip. "Yes. I should like that very much."
"Good evening." Arthur turned on his heel, reentered the house, and shut the door with a resounding crack.
The whoosh of air from the door tousled Annie's curls. She plunked her hands on her hips and glared at the door, completely ignoring Jordan. "He didn't seem a bit jealous, did he? Next time I shall just have to kiss you."
CHAPTER 2Lord Ashbourne nearly dragged Annie down the street to her own back porch. He'd return for his mount later. Thankfully, Colton's town house wasn't far. He jerked open the back door, yanked her into the darkened kitchens, and spun her away from him.
Annie wrapped her arms around her middle. Now that she was alone with Lord Ashbourne again, she wanted to sink through the floor. That comment about kissing him had merely flown from her mouth. As things often did. But she hadn't meant it ... really. Though making Arthur jealous was an idea worth exploring. She glanced up hesitantly at Lord Ashbourne.
She was always an idiot in the earl's presence. Always. And to make matters worse, he seemed to be present a great deal more often of late.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Lord Ashbourne demanded, brushing the dust from the sleeves of his midnight-blue topcoat. "Have you any idea what that incident could have done to your reputation?"
Annie straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Two actions she often seemed compelled to do in Lord Ashbourne's company. "Not that I expect you to believe me, but I really hadn't any intention of actually climbing inside Arthur's window."
Lord Ashbourne gave her a dubious look. "I'm glad to hear that."
"That would be much too scandalous," she continued. "And despite my sister's insistence, Ido have a care for my reputation."
Lord Ashbourne narrowed his eyes on her. "Let me see if I have this right. You believe climbing up the side of a house in the middle of the night consists of having a care for your reputation?"
She tossed her hands in the air. "I didn't expect to get caught, obviously."
"I see. But that hardly explains why you were climbing up the shrubbery in the first place."
Annie folded her hands serenely. "As you know, Arthur and I are courting and —"
Lord Ashbourne put up his palm to stop her. "Courting? Is that what you call it? What I know is that you have been making a spectacle of yourself chasing Eggleston around while he demonstrates remarkably little interest."
Annie swallowed. That hurt. But she wasn't about to allow the arrogant Lord Ashbourne to see it. "I don't expect you to understand, Lord Ashbourne, but Arthur and I are in love."
"Forgive me for pointing it out, Miss Andrews, but I daresay if Mr. Eggleston returned your affections, you wouldn't be forced to attract his attention by climbing up the side of his house. You're not Romeo. And if anyone should be doing insane things like scaling the side of a town house, it's him, not you. If anyone other than Eggleston had been the one to see that, you'd be an outcast by now."
Annie winced. Why did Lord Ashbourne have to make so many good points? "I admit, it was poorly done. I should have thought about it more, before I ..." She glanced down at the tips of her slippers, convinced her face was an outrageous shade of pink by now. "It's just that Arthur hasn't quite come up to scratch the way I'd hoped he would and ..." Oh, this explanation was hopelessly inadequate. She might as well just stop talking.
Lord Ashbourne leaned a hand against the countertop and regarded her as if he were speaking to an idiot. "You don't see anything wrong with that? If Eggleston loves you, why would you need to make a fool of yourself over him?"
The "fool" part hurt too. Annie clenched her jaw. Last spring, Arthur had been eager to marry her. Yes, it was true that the bit about her having no dowry had become public knowledge and his affections had cooled temporarily. But that had been because of his father's misgivings, not Arthur's. They'd found each other again and run off to Gretna Green unsuccessfully.
Now, months later, she had an indecently large dowry settled upon her, thanks to her new brother-in-law, but Arthur appeared to be taking his time. He escorted her on a ride through the park every afternoon and called upon her, but he'd made no move to offer for her formally. Annie was convinced it was a combination of his fear of Lord Colton, who obviously disapproved of him, and his desire to please his own father, who obviously disapproved of her. And it didn't help matters that Arthur spent an inordinate amount of time escorting his spinster sister to Society events. Sigh.
The problem was, Arthur tended to listen to whomever he was with at the moment, and whenever Annie had convinced him that they should marry, he'd return home and speak with his father, and his father would convince him to keep his options open. Arthur was only two and twenty, after all, and didn't need to settle down so quickly. It was all Annie could do to dissuade Arthur from listening to his father.
But despite all of that, Arthur loved her. She knew it. He'd told her so. He was the only man who'd ever paid her so much attention, ever told her she was lovely, ever thought of her as something more than just a good friend. And she wasn't about to let go of him.
Besides, Lord Ashbourne couldn't possibly understand. The man could get any woman in the country — well, any woman but her — with a crook of his handsome finger. He knew nothing about the rigors of the marriage mart or her relationship with Arthur.
Very well. That was not entirely true. In addition to tonight's unfortunate incident, Lord Ashbourne did know one thing about her relationship with Mr. Eggleston. The one thing she desperately wished he didn't know. That she'd run away with him. Another sigh. Again, always an idiot in Lord Ashbourne's presence. With. Out. Fail.
Annie squeezed her hands together. "I'm very sorry for any inconvenience I've caused you, Lord Ashbourne, but you should know better than anyone that Mr. Eggleston is indeed interested."
He reached out and plucked a leaf from her hair. "If you're referring to your ill-advised trip to Gretna Green last spring, yes, I remember."
Annie cringed. Oh, now she was sure her face was bright pink. As pink as the trim on her favorite bonnet.
Lord Ashbourne pushed his hat firmly atop his head. "I'm leaving now. No damage was done, thank God, but if something like this happens again, I'll be forced to inform Aunt Clarissa."
Annie hid her smile. Aunt Clarissa could barely ensure her shoes were on the correct feet, let alone keep Annie from doing exactly as she pleased.
Lord Ashbourne pulled open the back door and tossed over his shoulder, "Miss Andrews, please. Have a care for your reputation. If not for your own sake, for your sister's."
"I will consider everything you've said, my lord," Annie replied. No, she wouldn't. But she nodded as she watched him go. Then she shut the door behind him, locked it, and pressed her back against it. She let out a long breath. Just like Lily, Lord Ashbourne didn't understand. It wasn't that Annie didn't have a care for her reputation. She simply prized following her heart over silly things like Society rules and strictures.
She peeped out the window to see Lord Ashbourne swing up onto his mount. She narrowed her eyes and tapped a finger against her cheek. Perhaps it was no coincidence that Lord Ashbourne happened to be wherever she was of late. She might just have to take a bit more care to not be such a ninny in his company. The man was ... imposing. She touched her fingertips to her waist where his strong hands had lingered minutes earlier. A shudder coursed through her.
Lord Ashbourne was a famous rakehell, a dashing rogue, a confirmed bachelor, and her brother-in-law's oldest and closest friend. He ran with a fast set and did as he pleased. He was handsome, charming, and completely the opposite of what Annie was looking for in a mate.
But, oh my, being pressed against him when he'd pulled her from the vine had been ... delicious.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Secrets of a Runaway Bride by Valerie Bowman. Copyright © 2013 Valerie Bowman. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
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