Page 32 of Never Dare to Masquerade with a Maiden

“Perhaps, as Lord Guernsey suggested, he could assist in my stead.” Ian’s brow rose and lowered ever so slightly as he uttered Warren’s title. If he hadn’t had his full attention on the footman, he would have missed the subtle inflection. Is Ian challenging me?

Anne glanced over at Warren as she shook her head and let out a chuckle. “Warren? Heavens, no. He’s like a brother to me.”

What scheme had Anne concocted now?

The right corner of Ian’s mouth curved before the man pinched his lips together tightly as if preventing himself from speaking his mind.

“Interesting,” Anne muttered and then came to stand next to Warren. “Now that I’ve clarified my relationship with Warren, will you change your mind and assist me?”

When Ian didn’t reply, she elbowed him in the ribs, prompting him to say something. “It’s true. We are more like siblings than friends.” Ian flinched as he uttered the word “friends.” Olivia’s words from earlier whispered through his thoughts. Were Ian and I close prior to my fever and my father banishing him and Olivia from Guernsey Manor?

Like he had shared with Olivia, Warren repeated, “The past is in the past. I don’t recall what transpired prior to me falling ill, and I hold no one at fault. If I’ve offended you, please do not hold that against Anne. She rarely seeks help from others, so if there is anything I can do to persuade you to help her, please let me know.”

Unlike his earlier responses, this time, Ian’s was quick and direct. “Stay away from Olivia.”

“I cannot and will not let Olivia leave me again.” He gave Anne an apologetic look.

“My request has nothing to do with Olivia.” Anne declared.

“Those are my terms.” Ian moved to the window from which he entered and straddled the sill as he addressed Warren, “You know where and how to find me if you change your mind.”

In a blink, the footman had disappeared soundlessly into the dark. Anne rushed over to the window and stuck her head out. “Ian?”

Warren crossed the room to pull her back in from the cold, but she pulled back of her own accord and rounded to face him, tears already streaming down her cheeks. Never having seen Anne cry, Warren was at a loss as to how best to comfort her.

“I told you to stay out of my affairs.” Anne walked past him. “I told you I would help you win Olivia’s hand.” She crossed the room and opened the door. “You have ruined everything. Please leave.”

The weariness in Anne’s voice was so foreign, Warren had no choice but to obey her wishes. He left the room, and as the door closed behind him, Anne’s words haunted his steps as he walked back to his chambers. He’d failed Anne like he’d failed Olivia all those years ago.

Olivia tucked her hands tightly under her bum as she sat and stared at her chamber door, waiting for Ian’s return. Terrible at lies, she’d stretched the truth. Stretched might also be an exaggeration if she were to be honest with herself. Ian rarely pried, but when he did, she was incapable of keeping secrets from the person who knew her best.

In a state of panic, she had blamed the heightened color that still warmed her cheeks on her insecurities about Anne and Warren’s relationship, rambling on and embellishing details like a ninny. If she had shared the truth of what actually transpired in the guest chambers, she would have found herself standing in front of a reverend nine days too early. After Ian stormed from her chambers, she remained hidden, afraid her features would reveal all in a household filled with individuals who were all far too intelligent for their own good.

As each hour passed, her ability to remain still dwindled. Mind racing with all the possibilities of what Ian might do, she jumped off the edge of her bed and began to pace. Ian wasn’t reckless; he was far too clever and controlled. Would Warren refuse to see or talk to her again, like others had in the past after Ian paid them a visit?

She stopped in front of her door. Should she return to the Guernsey residence? An image of Warren with a battered face made her reach for the latch, but she froze as booted footfalls echoed through the door. Listening carefully, she determined it wasn’t Ian who was headed her way but rather Lord Camden, whose footsteps were lighter and quicker.

Olivia swung the door open, and standing not a foot away was Ian. He’d tricked her! She shifted slightly to her right to look behind the man who was gloating without the least bit of modesty and asked, “Where have you been?”

“Out.” While Warren retorted with questions, Ian’s favored responses were limited to one bleeding word at a time.

Olivia reached for his arm and pulled Ian into her room. “Well?”

Rather than answering, Ian meandered over to the window and pulled back the curtain to peer out at the barest streaks of dawn. Once he let the material fall back into place, Ian turned on his heels and clasped his hands behind his back. Jaw set in a stubborn line, he was clearly not in the mood to partake in conversation.

She tried again, this time softening her tone. “Do you agree with me that Lady Anne is far more suitable for the role of Warren’s wife?”

“No.”

“Why ever not?”

“It is as Warren claims. They care for one another like siblings. Their love for one another is not of the romantic sort.”

Her unladylike snort of laughter had her covering the lower half of her face with her hand. “And how would you know the difference?”

Ian crossed his arms over his chest and stared directly at her. “Trust me, I know.”

Her brows snapped together at his ominous tone. A tone he rarely used. She searched his face for clues as to what he was thinking but he’d donned the mask of indifference that he had mastered over the past few years, preventing her from reading his mind like she used to.