Indiscretion Read Free Page A

deeply into his eyes… if he touched her, well, she didn't know what she would do. He might possibly stir up the settled ashes and find a few embers still smoldering from their affair, and all hell would break loose.
    "What question, Anne?" he said again.
    "Where you spent the last year," she said, shaking off the unwelcome memories. "It was obviously in a lunatic asylum."
    "How did you guess?"
    "They probably have your cage waiting for you in the institution," she said.
    "Do you still like to be kissed behind the knees?" he countered, teasing her back.
    Before she could react, an interior door painted in gold opened and two footmen appeared, oblivious to the thunderstorm brewing under their very noses. "Her Majesty will see you now. Come this way, please."
    "I don't trust you," Anne whispered as Patrick waited politely for her to proceed him. "I think you're nothing but trouble, and I shall do my utmost to avoid you."

 
     
     
     
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    S he was too upset to appreciate the significance of being ushered into the Queen's private sitting room. She caught a dazzling impression of gilt everywhere, and a case of Sevres ornaments opposite a carved fairy-tale cradle that sat beside the Queen's armchair. Her Majesty had given birth to a princess only a few months earlier.
    Anne had not been to court since David had died. Even before then her appearances had been sporadic. She and David had preferred their quiet life in Hampshire, far away from London or from the Highlands where a handsome rogue had seduced her. She had needed solitude to ponder her life, her wild impulses, and solitude had suited her well.
    She had never felt for Patrick's very proper, very British cousin, the Baron of Whitehaven, the same reckless passion she had felt for him. She would never abandon herself so foolishly like that again, but she had come to feel a kind of love for David, and they had enjoyed a peaceful life together. At the least she would always be grateful to him for rescuing her from her parents and the odious assortment of suitors they had considered to take her off their hands. David had given her shelter and security, and the freedom she needed to indulge her passion for horses.
    "Lady Whitehaven," she heard the Queen say, "how good it is to see you again."
    She felt herself go through the motions of a curtsy and a proper response; one did not initiate conversation, the Queen did. She followed protocol, but her mind was focused on something else.
    The Queen turned her attention to Patrick, and Anne stared at the cradle, thinking of the child she had lost to a miscarriage early in her marriage. It was for David that she had kept up her connections at court. Appearances had meant so much to him, and he had been kind, but he hadn't exactly left his widow financially prepared. Money had trickled out of his hands like water. He'd lent to anyone who asked him, and Anne found she would have to struggle to afford a modest lifestyle. Family obligations also had their price. The cost to keep her ailing aunt sheltered and to maintain her own small stables rose every year. She hoped to sell her Berkeley Square residence before winter.
    The low murmur of Patrick's voice sent a shiver of anxiety down her spine. Sometimes she still dreamed of him. Sometimes she still woke up with a pounding heart, reliving the moment when she had cast propriety aside to be with him . All her upbringing, all common sense had abandoned her, and sh e was shocked at what they had done. For months afterward she had been so numb, pretending she felt nothing but resentment for him; in f ac t, he was the only man she had ever been attracted to in her life. And marrying him had been out of the question—her parents would flay her alive before giving her to such a rogue.
    She took a slow breath. By the time Patrick had left Scotland, she had resigned herself to her mistake and married another man, her short-lived affair swept under the carpet and her heart so bruised, she