Scandalous Weddings by Barbara Dawson Smith & Brenda Joyce & Jill Jones & Rexanne Becnel

Author:Barbara Dawson Smith & Brenda Joyce & Jill Jones & Rexanne Becnel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

"I think you should sit down," Adam told Lizzie after they had finished breakfast and were alone in their rooms.

"You are scaring me! You behaved so oddly all through the meal. What is wrong?" Lizzie cried, gripping his arms.

Adam led her to an overstuffed chintz chair and pushed her gently down. "Darling, prepare yourself. I have recalled how I know that gentleman who joined the Rossini party last evening."

Lizzie blinked. "What? Oh, you mean Mr. Wainscot? Adam, that is hardly of importance-"

"I last saw him at Annabel's wedding, Lizzie," Adam said softly. "He has changed his hair, done something to his nose. But it is Braxton."

Lizzie turned starkly white. "You mean-"

"Yes. It is that damn thief himself."

He was walking through the lobby when Annabel saw him. Although he was clad as a respectable valet, Annabel would have known him anywhere. Her eyes widened and she froze, then she ran after him, grabbing his elbow from behind. "Louie!"

He whirled. And glanced all around them before holding her gaze with his own. "The guvnor told me you had met 'im, Miz Boothe, but by Gawd, we can't be seen together." His silver front tooth flashed.

Annabel's heart continued to pound. "I want to talk with you. I have to talk with you." She could hear how low and strained her voice sounded. But she was tense. How could she not be? She was caught in a terrible dilemma, harboring affection for a man whom she should hate and even wreck vengeance upon. Instead, she was obsessed with him once again, or perhaps she had never stopped being obsessed by him, not in two achingly long years. Perhaps she had only deluded herself into thinking she was over him after he had abandoned her and she had returned home.

In the interim since her aborted wedding, she had buried herself in one pursuit or another, keeping herself so occupied that she could not dwell on the past, feel the pain of the present, or think of the future. So she could not think. But his appearance had changed all of that.

There was no denying it, and no way to convince herself to feel differently about him: she was drawn to him against all common sense, against her very will; somehow, in some way, her heart was irrevocably attached to him. And now Braxton was here, and he was in danger and she was terrified for his safety. "Louie, come with me," she said firmly. She felt as if she were on a path of self-destruction, but she could no more stop herself than she could halt a locomotive flying down the Union tracks.

He shook his head, but she took his arm and began propelling him through the lobby and out the front door. When they were outside, and standing some distance from the two stone urns guarding the hotel entrance, Louie shook her off. "Are you still a madwoman?" he cried.

Annabel folded her arms and stared. How fortunate that Louie was once again aiding Braxton.

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