More Than a Duke(88)

Anne looked to Jasper. He stood, laconic as usual, hands clasped behind his back.

“Jasper, there is a favor I would put to you.”



He inclined his head. “You need but ask.”



“I need you to arrange one additional meeting tomorrow.”



He quirked a black eyebrow.



She drew in a steadying breath. “Following my meeting with the Marquess of Rutland,” Her throat closed up. “I’d like to see Lord Stanhope. Alone.”





Chapter 22



Seated in the corner of the 8th Duke of Bainbridge’s spacious office, Anne glanced for surely the hundredth time at the long-case clock across the room.



“He’s not due ‘round for another fifteen minutes,” Jasper called from his place at the mahogany desk, head bent over his ledgers.



She played with the precious pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. “I know that,” she felt inclined to point out.



He dipped his pen into the inkwell “Do you?” he asked, taciturn as usual. He continued to work away.



She very well knew the time Lord Rutland was scheduled to meet with Jasper. Just as she knew the time of his then meeting with Harry. She’d lain awake until the morning sun peeked across the horizon going over exactly what she’d say, drawing on every last negative perception everyone and anyone had ever possessed of Lady Anne Arlette Adamson.



As she’d stared down at her untouched breakfast plate she’d convinced herself she could carry through with her plans, because she loved Harry, even when he could not love her, loved enough for the both of them. Loved him enough to do that which was truly selfless.



She tapped her feet on the hardwood floor. Jasper picked his head up and gave her a pointed look. She continued to beat the hasty, staccato rhythm upon the floor. “Do you believe I can reason with him?” She toyed with the spectacles in her hands, running her finger over the delicate frame.



“I believe if you cannot, I can,” he said, in the low, hoarse voice that had terrified her since their first meeting. In other words, he’d find some way to silence Rutland.



A knock sounded at the door. Anne dropped her spectacles. They fell with a soft clink upon the hardwood floor. She surged to her feet as the butler opened the door. “Your Grace, the Marquess of Rutland to see you.”



In walked the man who’d see her ruined, bold as if he owned the office, really quite an impressive feat considering her brother-in-law had every last single lord and lady in London quaking in his presence.



Jasper remained seated, in a blatant statement of disrespect.



The butler closed the door quietly behind Rutland. “Bainbridge.” he said, a cruel edge to that terse greeting. “A pleasure, and of course a surprise. To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected meeting?” Though, he, Jasper, and Anne all knew there was nothing surprising about this meeting. Well, with the exception of her forgotten figure in the corner.



She took a step forward. “My lord.”



Lord Rutland’s tall, well-muscled frame went taut and he turned stiffly to face Anne. “My lady,” he said, the two-word greeting faintly mocking.



She ticked her chin up a notch. “I’d speak with you.” she said before her courage deserted her and she begged Jasper to handle the loathsome fiend for her. But with all she’d planned for the day, this was certainly the least difficult task she’d undertake.



Jasper stood. “I’ll be right outside the room,” he murmured. He fixed a frosty glare on Rutland that would have had most other men quaking. Instead, the sinister lord inclined his head with icy amusement in his dark eyes. Jasper closed the door with a soft click. She suspected he hovered at the other side, prepared to storm the room and take Rutland apart if she simply whispered it.



Anne smoothed her palms over the front of her skirt. She eyed the impassive gentleman. He’d earned a reputation amongst the ton as a black-hearted fiend, whose presence was accepted amongst fashionable Society for his old, distinguished title. “My sisters believed my efforts in speaking with you today were futile.” Surely a man who’d loved so passionately was still capable of some good?



He spoke on a lethal whisper. “And what do you believe, Lady Anne?”



She managed a weak smile. “You wouldn’t be here if I felt that was the case, my lord.” She took a step toward him, and another, and another. He remained rooted to his spot, his expression a blank mask. “I’ve thought a good deal about…” Her cheeks warmed. “About your discovery. That is my meeting with Lord Stanhope.” She furrowed her brow. “Er, well, them both really.” He quirked a chestnut eyebrow, that very human gesture transforming him from monster, into someone quite…human.