“Thank you,” Louisa said, as soon as Lady Challis had departed. “I could never have read in front of everyone.”

“I know,” Annabel said. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to reading from Miss Sainsbury in front of the entire party, either, but at least she had had some practice at that sort of thing. She and her siblings had frequently performed theatricals and readings at home.

“What section shall we perform?” Louisa asked, thumbing through the book.

“I don’t know. I’m not even halfway through yet. But don’t,” Annabel said sharply, “make me the goat.”

Louisa chuckled at that. “No, no, you shall be Miss Sainsbury, of course. Mr. Grey will be the colonel. Oh dear, we’ll need a narrator. Perhaps Mr. Grey’s cousin?”

“I think it would be much funnier if Mr. Grey played Miss Sainsbury,” Annabel said, all nonchalance.

Louisa gasped. “Annabel, you are evil.”

Annabel shrugged. “I can be the narrator.”

“Oh, no. If you’re going to make Mr. Grey be Miss Sainsbury, you must be the colonel. Mr. Valentine will be the narrator.” Louisa frowned. “Or perhaps we ought to ask Mr. Valentine if he wishes to take part before assigning him a role.”

“I didn’t get a choice,” Annabel reminded her.

Louisa considered that. “True. Very well, let me find an appropriate passage. How long do you suppose the reading ought to be?”

“As short as we can possibly get away with,” Annabel said firmly.

Louisa flipped open her book and then flipped over several pages. “That may be difficult if we’re avoiding the goat.”

“Louisa…” Annabel warned.

“I assume your ban also extends to sheep?”

“To all four-legged creatures.”

Louisa shook her head. “You’re making this very difficult. I have to eliminate all of the shipboard scenes.”

Annabel leaned over her shoulder, murmuring, “I haven’t got to that point yet.”

“Milking goats,” Louisa confirmed.

“What are you ladies looking at?”

Annabel looked up, then melted a bit inside. Sebastian was standing over them, presumably seeing nothing but their bent heads as they pored over the book.

“We will be performing a scene,” she said, with an apologetic smile. “From Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel.”

“Really?” He immediately sat beside them. “Which scene?”

“I’m trying to decide,” Louisa informed him. She looked up. “Oh, by the way, you are Miss Sainsbury.”

He blinked. “Really.”

She made a small motion with her head toward Annabel. “Annabel is the colonel.”

“A little bit backwards, don’t you think?”

“It will be more amusing that way,” Louisa said. “It was Annabel’s idea.”

Sebastian turned the full force of his gaze to Annabel. “Why,” he murmured dryly, “am I not surprised?”

He sat down very close to her. Not touching; he would never be so indiscreet to do so in so public a place. But it felt as if they were touching. The air between them had grown heated, and her skin began to prick and shiver.

In an instant she was back by the pond, his hands on her skin, his lips everywhere. Her heart began to race, and she really, really wished she’d thought to bring a fan. Or a glass of punch.

“Your cousin shall be the narrator,” Louisa announced, completely oblivious to Annabel’s overheated state.

“Edward?” Sebastian said, sitting back as if he were completely unaffected. “He’ll enjoy that.”

“Really?” Louisa smiled and looked up. “I just need to find the right scene.”

“Something dramatic I hope?”

She nodded. “But Annabel has insisted that we not include the goats.”

Annabel wanted to make a pithy comment, but she hadn’t quite got her breathing under control.

“I don’t know that Lady Challis would appreciate livestock in her drawing room,” Sebastian agreed.

Annabel finally managed to breathe evenly, but the rest of her was feeling very odd. Shivery, as if her limbs were desperate to move, and there was a tightness beginning to coil within her.

“I never even considered a live goat,” Louisa said with a laugh.

“You could try to draft Mr. Hammond-Betts,” Sebastian suggested. “His hair is rather fluffy.”

Annabel tried to focus her eyes on a spot right in front of her. They were talking right over her, about goats, for heaven’s sake, and she felt as if she might burst into flame at any moment. How could they not notice?

“I don’t imagine he would take kindly to the request,” Louisa said with a bit of giggle.

“Pity,” Sebastian murmured. “He does look the part.”

Annabel took another shallow breath. When Sebastian dropped his voice like that, soft and husky, it made her positively squirm.

“Oh, here we are,” Louisa said excitedly. “What do you think of this scene?” She reached past Annabel to hand the book to Sebastian. Which of course meant that he had to reach past Annabel, too.

His hand brushed her sleeve. His thigh leaned into hers.

Annabel jumped to her feet, knocking the book out of whatever person’s hand it was in (she didn’t know; didn’t care, either). “Excuse me,” she squeaked.

“Is something wrong?” Louisa asked.

“Nothing, I, ehrm, just…” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be right back.” And then: “If you’ll excuse me.” And then: “Just a moment.” And then: “I-”

“Just go,” Louisa said.

She did. Or rather, she tried. Annabel was in such a hurry she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, and when she reached the doorway she only just managed to avoid crashing into the gentleman entering the room.

The Earl of Newbury.

The giddiness bubbling along inside Annabel died in an instant. “Lord Newbury,” she murmured, dipping into a respectful curtsy. She did not wish to antagonize him; she merely wished to not marry him.

“Miss Winslow.” His eyes swept across the room before coming back to hers. Annabel noticed that his jaw tightened when he spied Sebastian, but other than that, the only expression on his face was one of satisfaction.

Which naturally made Annabel nervous.

“I shall make the announcement now,” he told her.

“What?” Somehow she managed to make that not come out as a shriek. “My lord,” she said, trying to sound placating, or if not that then at least reasonable, “surely this is not the time.”

“Nonsense,” he said dismissively. “I believe we are all here.”

“I haven’t said yes,” she ground out.

He turned to her with a withering glare. And then said nothing else, as if nothing else was necessary.

He did not even think her worthy of a response, Annabel fumed. “Lord Newbury,” she said firmly, placing a hand on his arm, “I forbid you to make an announcement.”

His face, already florid, turned nearly to purple, and a vein began to bulge in his neck. Annabel removed her hand from his arm and took a cautious step back. She did not think he would strike her in so public a setting, but he had punched Sebastian in front of their entire club. It seemed wise to distance herself.

“I have not said yes,” she said again, because he was not responding. He was just looking at her with a thunderous expression, and for a moment she feared he might actually have an apoplectic fit. Never in her life had she witnessed another human being so angry. Spittle was popping from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were huge and froglike in his head. It was horrific. He was horrific.

“You don’t get to say yes,” he finally spat out. But his voice remained a harsh whisper. “Or no. You have been bought and sold, and next week you’re going to spread your legs and do your bloody duty by me. And you will do it again and again until you produce a healthy boy. Are we clear?”

“No,” Annabel said, making sure that her voice, at least, was perfectly clear, “we are not.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Let’s see, Lady Louisa, which scene have you chosen?” Sebastian grinned as he reached for Miss Sainsbury, which had fallen to the carpet after Annabel knocked it from his hands. What fun that he should be doing a recitation from his own work. A bit absurd that he should be playing Miss Sainsbury, but he had enough confidence in his manhood that he felt he could carry it off with aplomb.

Besides, he was rather good at this sort of thing, if he did say so himself. Never mind that the last time he’d read for an audience he’d fallen off a table and dislocated his shoulder. He didn’t regret it in the least. He’d had the housemaids in tears. Tears!

It had been a beautiful moment.

He scooped up the book, straightening to hand it back to Louisa so that she could find her place again, but when he caught her worried expression, he paused. Then he turned, following her gaze.

Annabel was standing near the doorway. So was his uncle.

“I hate him,” Louisa whispered vehemently.

“I’m not terribly fond of him myself.”

Louisa grabbed his arm with a force he would not have imagined she possessed, and when he turned to face her, he was startled by the ferocity in her eyes. She was such a colorless thing, and yet at that moment, she was positively ablaze.

“You cannot let her marry him,” she said.

Sebastian turned back toward the door, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t intend to.”

He waited, though, to see if the situation would right itself. For Annabel’s sake, he did not wish to cause a scene. He was well aware that Lady Challis had planned the house party with the Grey-Winslow-Newbury love triangle as the main source of entertainment. Anything that even hinted of scandal would be on every London gossip’s tongue within days. Unsurprisingly, every eye in the room was set firmly on Annabel and Lord Newbury.

When they weren’t stealing glances at Sebastian.