Free Lord Ruthven's Bride by Tarah Scott Page B

speak with the families of Lord Harley’s victims. I wish to identify the jewelry.”
    Annabelle’s father shook his head. “I have known Monroe for over thirty years. I still cannot believe he is a murderer.”
    “I’m sorry, Papa,” Annabelle said.
    Her father’s expression cleared and he looked at her. The smile she’d grown accustomed to played at the right corner of his mouth as it always did when he softened toward her. He opened his arms and she rose and rushed to him, heedless of the room’s other occupants. He enfolded her close and she felt more like ten than twenty.
    “I am sorry,” she mumbled into his shirt.
    “As you should be,” he replied.
    Annabelle drew back, locking gazes with him. “It was all my fault. Lena warned me.”
    “Someone always warns you.”
    She nodded and he released her. She caught Calum’s gaze, his expression drawn. He’d been worried. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that he deserved a better wife. She slid her attention left, where Lord Ruthven stood staring at her. Her cheeks warmed. Calum shifted and she started when he looked from her to Lord Ruthven.
    “Annabelle, perhaps you should retire for the evening,” her mother said.
    Annabelle looked sharply at her mother. “Yes, of course.”
    “I will have bathwater sent up.”
    Annabelle nodded. “Thank you, Mama.”
    She started toward the door. When she neared Calum, he said, “May I have a word with you, Lady Annabelle?”
    Annabelle couldn’t prevent a glance at Lord Ruthven before nodding. “Of course, my lord.”
    He reached the door before she did and opened it, then followed her into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
    Annabelle turned to face him, but he cupped her elbow and led her several steps from the drawing room door before stopping.
    “I am sorry,” she blurted.
    “How in God’s name did you get embroiled in this, Annabelle?”
    Annabelle winced inwardly. As always, he spoke with deference, but she heard the worry in his voice.
    “I wanted to know what Lord Harley buried.”
    “Your mother mentioned you being in his private study with Ruthven.”
    “Oh no, I wasn’t with him. He, too, was snoop—er, in Lord Harley’s study, and when he saw me there, made up an excuse to get me safely away from the earl.”
    “What excuse did he make up, Annabelle?”
    She blinked. “Why-well, that he and I...”
    Calum’s mouth thinned. “And your father said he saved you and your mother last night. What was that about?”
    Blast his brain. He never missed a thing. “On the way home from the party last night we encountered highwaymen.”
    “Highwaymen?” he burst out. “I knew I should have escorted you home.”
    “We had no way of knowing what would happen,” she said.
    “Yet Ruthven was there.”
    “Coincidence. Nothing more.”
    “Just as it was coincidence that he was in Lord Harley’s study when you were there, and he was watching Miss Morgan’s home when you were kidnapped. My God, Annabelle, you were kidnapped, and by your appearance, very nearly killed.”
    Lord Ruthven had recounted saving her from Lord Harley, but he hadn’t given details and she hadn’t been asked to elaborate.
    “Lord Ruthven explained why he was at Miss Morgan’s home,” she said.
    “Yes, I heard every word. What you don’t seem to realize is that in the last day he has been there every time you have been in need.”
    She stared. Was he jealous?
    He shook his head. “I am sorry, Annabelle. I have no right to be angry with you.”
    She laid a hand on his arm. “But you do. I shouldn’t have entered Lord Harley’s study and I shouldn’t have gone to the arboretum to investigate.”
    “You could have told me you thought something was wrong with the earl.”
    She smiled gently. “That’s just it. I didn’t think anything was wrong. I was simply nosy.”
    “Why did you not tell me highwaymen attacked your carriage last night?”
    “I-I didn’t think of it.”
    Hurt appeared in his