Anne Barbour by Step in Time

“Oh, my dear, I can’t tell you what that means to me. Now, do let me call for some refreshment. And I must let Aunt Biddy know that you are here. You remember her, do you not?”
    Ash remembered very well the formidable woman who was Squire Bonner’s sister. A picture formed in his mind of a profusion of iron gray hair and a long, large-featured face that put one in mind of an affronted horse. Beatrix Bonner was a force to be reckoned with in the Bonner household, and Lianne had chosen well in persuading her to act as chaperon.
    Lianne rose, and with a fluid movement crossed to the bellpull. Turning to Ash, she remarked casually, “Do you go to the Marchford ball next week? I collect all the world and his donkey will be there.’ At Ash’s assenting nod, she continued smoothly, “I shall take you up on your declaration of friendship by being so bold as to solicit your escort. There is nothing so wretched as attending a ball with one’s aunt, after all.” Musical laughter flowed from her lips like silken ribbons.
    Ash’s insides clenched. “I—I’m afraid that will not be possible,” he said slowly. He read the disbelieving surprise in her eyes and continued hastily. “I am escorting someone to the ball.”
    “Escorting someone?” Her expression grew rigid for a moment before she smiled and asked archly, “Is she anyone I know?”
    “I rather doubt it,” he replied dryly. “Her name is Amanda Bridge.”
    “No, her name is not familiar to me.” Lianne’s gaze was concealed by the silky curtain of her lashes. “Is there something I should know, dear friend?” she asked playfully.
    Ash took a deep breath. “Perhaps there is. I have proposed marriage to her, Lianne.”
    Her eyes flew open and she stared up at him, shock apparent in every line of her body. “Marriage?” she whispered, her hand at her throat. “Oh, Ash, how could you?”
    At this, Ash stood abruptly. “What do you mean, how could I?” he asked bitterly. “Did you expect me to enter a monastery?”
    “No, of course not—I only meant—”
    “It is my duty to marry, after all. I must produce an heir, to say nothing of repairing the Park, and there are Andrew and Dorothea. Andrew is studying for the bar and Dorothea has gone to live with my Uncle Breverton and his wife, the Park having become virtually unlivable.”
    Lianne exhaled a sharp, little sound that seemed to echo in the silence of the room.
    “This Miss, er, Bridge is wealthy, then?” she asked in a barely audible voice.
    “Her father is a mill owner, and has fingers in a hundred other pies. I daresay he could buy Golden Ball.”
    “I see.” Lianne’s lovely mouth curved in a tentative smile. “I must ask for your forgiveness once again. I, of all people, have no right to censure you for making an expedient marriage. Although, I wish—” Her hand fluttered upward to come to rest on his sleeve, and he covered it with his own. Unknowing, he moved closer to her until she was suddenly standing in the curve of his embrace.
    “Oh, Ash,” she said, gasping, “I cannot bear it!” She threw her head back against his shoulder, and tears glistened in the dark lashes that fanned her cheeks. “Surely, there must be some hope for us!”
    Ash’s arms tightened around her involuntarily, and with a groan he bent his head to hers. Her mouth was as soft and warm as he remembered, and he felt a familiar tide of wanting sweep over him. His kiss grew hot and urgent. Lianne’s supple body shuddered in response and her lips parted under his. His hands moved along her slender back, only to be stilled at the sound of footfalls in the corridor outside the parlor. Abruptly, he released her and she sprang away from him, her eyes wide and staring.
    In the few seconds before the door opened to admit the butler, she had patted her hair and composed herself. “You may serve us, now, Hobbes, and please inform my aunt that we have a visitor.”
    Ash, his heart thundering in his ears and his