A knock sounded at the door and the butler stepped in.
“Keep dancing,” came Lady Angelina’s directive as the butler cleared his throat.
“My lady,” the butler said, “it seems there’s a slight problem at the door with the flower deliveries.”
“A problem, Stockton?” Lady Angelina asked, her brow furrowed.
“Yes,” the servant replied, looking sheepish. “The line to deliver flowers is so long two of the delivery boys have got into a tussle in the street. They are demanding to see the owner of the house.”
“Are you quite serious, Stockton?” Lady Angelina replied, shaking her head. “Well, Beau is gone on business, so I’ll go out and see to it.”
“Would you like me to take care of it?” David called, pausing in the dance. A lady of Bell’s mother’s age and station shouldn’t have to break up a street scuffle.
“No. No,” Lady Angelina said, waving a hand in the air as she stood and made her way toward the door. “Dance. Dance and make conversation as you would if you were at a real ball. I’ll be back shortly.”
The door closed behind Lady Angelina and David resettled his hand on the small of Annabelle’s back. Annabelle glanced up at him. Was it his imagination or did she look…shy? No, that couldn’t be. Annabelle wasn’t the shy sort. But why did she glance down again nearly as quickly? And why did she seem to be staring at his cravat so much? After yesterday’s lessons he’d begun to feel…warm when she’d placed her hand on his sleeve. Her nearness had caused him to breathe in the light scent of her perfume (orchids, perhaps?) and the soap she used on her hair. By the time he’d escorted her to the dance floor for the seventh time, it had been so hot in the room he’d been about to pull off his blasted cravat.
It was ridiculous to be thinking such thoughts about Annabelle. Annabelle was…his friend. A gorgeous friend, perhaps, but it wasn’t as if he had never seen a beautiful woman before. She was helping him learn how to properly court a woman, and meanwhile he was having a host of inappropriate thoughts about her that involved glancing far too often at her decolletage and clenching his jaw. He’d gone home last night and taken a very cold bath.
Today, it was worse, actually, because she was in his arms, and he’d been spinning her around and around while she prettily hummed the melody of a popular waltz. He had a perfect view of her decolletage. It took all he had in him to stare instead at a fixed point on the wall and when he did that, Lady Angelina kept telling him he should look into the eyes of his partner and make polite conversation.
“Don’t worry about Mama,” Annabelle said, pulling him from his thoughts. They continued their one, two, three steps even though Annabelle had stopped humming.
“I do hope she’s all right. Should I go check?” He would love to have a reason to leave the room. Perhaps go in search of a block of ice to sit on.
“No. Don’t worry. Mama won’t brook any foolishness from the delivery boys. You may count on it.”
David shook his head. “I suppose it was bound to happen at some point. A scuffle between the delivery boys. I mean, with that number of bouquets arriving.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “It’s a waste of perfectly good gardens, if you ask me. Besides, I’m certain the one causing the trouble is Lord Murdock’s boy.”
David’s ears perked up. “Murdock? Has he been sending you flowers?”
“Every day,” she replied with a sigh. “The largest bouquets are always from him. That’s why his boy gets into fights. Whenever there is a larger arrangement, he tries to trip the boy who is carrying it. Quite silly, if you ask me.”
David frowned. “How do you know about that?”
“Cara, my maid, told me. She talks to the footmen who’ve been out there watching the proceedings each day. A lot of foolishness.”
“Indeed,” David said, focusing on the innocuous spot on the wall once again.
“Well, I’d say you’re so good at the waltz you could teach me,” Annabelle announced, coming to a stop.
David pulled his arms away awkwardly and their gazes met before he turned away from her and quickly moved over to the mantelpiece to put some much-needed space between them. What was happening to him? It had been quite some time since he’d bedded a woman, but he didn’t usually react this way to merely dancing with one.
“What’s our next lesson?” he asked from the safety of the space about fifteen paces away from Annabelle. He was facing the opposite direction so she couldn’t see him.
Annabelle cleared her throat. “I believe Mama intends for us to dance more tomorrow. The quadrille, the country dance, the scotch reel.”
David closed his eyes. Lord, have mercy. He couldn’t spend a third morning cooped up in this house with Annabelle, touching her. He’d go mad.
“I’m quite proficient at all of those dances,” he announced. At least that was true. He said a quick prayer that his mother had trained him properly on the dances Annabelle had just mentioned. Devil take London if they danced them differently than he knew how. The waltz hadn’t been different. It stood to reason the others would be the same, as well.
“I must say, I’m becoming restless being confined to this house. I’m used to being outside more than the lessons allow.”
Annabelle’s regretful voice met his ears. “Unfortunately, nearly everything I have to teach you is best done in a ballroom or salon.”
He turned to face her, a grin on his lips. “Oh, come now. There must be something we can do that involves leaving the house. For a day, at least.”
Annabelle appeared to be contemplating the matter for a few moments before her face lit up. “Very well. Tomorrow we’ll go for a ride in the park. I’ll teach you how to behave on a carriage ride while courting a lady.”
David expelled his breath in a rush. Freedom. Sweet freedom. “That sounds perfect.”
Chapter Thirteen
Annabelle was already wearing her traveling boots and pelisse when David arrived the next morning. She tied her bonnet beneath her chin, noting with a smile that he seemed positively relieved to see that she was still planning on leaving the house for once.
“We’ll take Cara with us,” Annabelle explained as David opened the front door for her. “After all, a young lady must be chaperoned at all times.”
“Yes,” he replied, nodding. “I know that from Marianne’s adventures. But why isn’t Lady Angelina coming?”
Annabelle sighed. “Poor Mama is out at the flower shops this morning, asking them not to deliver any more. She says the household cannot take it.”
David glanced around the foyer still filled with loads of flowers in various states of decay. “I wondered why the delivery line wasn’t as long this morning,” he replied with a laugh. “And I cannot say I blame your mother for wanting it to stop.” He helped Annabelle down the stairs, past a smattering of delivery boys holding flower vases, and out into the waiting coach. Annabelle’s maid followed them.
Not half an hour later, Annabelle and David were in Hyde Park riding atop his curricle, while Cara sat properly in the back, tending to her sewing. The vehicle was clearly new, and the lovely horses pulling the thing were spirited yet well-trained. Annabelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d ridden in such a fine vehicle. She directed David up a busy dirt road near the Serpentine until they came to a more private lane that led down to the water’s edge.
David expertly maneuvered the horses along the narrow path. “Stop here,” she called when they came to a spot where she knew they would have privacy to talk.
David brought the horses to a standstill, let the reins go slack, and turned to face her. “So, if I meet a lady I fancy at the ball, I should plan to ask her to go riding in the park the next day?”
Annabelle folded her gloved hands together in her lap. “Yes, well. First, you must ensure you’ve made her acquaintance outside of the ballroom. An introduction in the ballroom is fine for a dance, but to greet her on the street, you must pay her a call first and receive a proper
introduction.”
He frowned. “You must be jesting.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Do I look as if I’m jesting?”
“No.” He sighed. “Very well, so I pay her a call, get a formal introduction, and then I may ask if she’d like to go for a ride in the park?”
“Yes,” Annabelle replied. “A ride in the park, or to get an ice at Gunter’s, or perhaps you could invite her and her mother to the opera or the theater.”
David groaned. “I detest the opera.”
Annabelle laughed. “So do I. But it’s a highly approved outing. That is, of course, after you’ve received her parents’ approval. Then, she must be chaperoned at all times—and you must know, the papers will report upon it immediately.”
David’s brows shot up “What? Why would the papers possibly care?”
“The papers are quite attuned to the Season in London. There are entire pages set aside for gossip and innuendo. You’ve already been reported on extensively this Season. You and Marianne. Don’t you read the Times?”
David groaned again. “I read it. But Bell already warned me to steer clear of the gossip pages, lest I become tempted to find the authors of such pages and sock them in the jaw.”
Annabelle laughed. “Yes, well, perhaps that’s for the best, then. But let me assure you, yours and Marianne’s arrival in London has been nearly the biggest story this year, next to Lady Frances’s father, Baron Winfield, being arrested for treason.”
“Yes, I was there for that,” David replied. “Sad scene to see a traitor to his country.”
Annabelle leaned toward him. She’d forgotten that part of David’s rescue from the French prison camp involved Beau and Marianne capturing Baron Winfield. “Tell me, is it true that he and his mistress turned on each other at the end?”
David shook his head. “I seem to recall something like that, but honestly, I was so pleased to see Marianne and Bell, I don’t recall many of the details. I hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks.”
Annabelle gasped, clapping a gloved hand over her mouth. “Weeks?” She’d had no idea his experience had been that awful. She slowly lowered her hand back to her lap. “I’m sorry you had to go through such an ordeal.”
“Are you jesting?” David cracked a smile. “It was nothing compared to being forced to fit into London Society.”
Annabelle shook her head and promptly changed the subject. “Come. Help me down. We’ll go for a walk by the water.”
David glanced about. “Is that usually how it’s done…when riding in the park?”
“No,” Annabelle replied, with a sly smile. “But you said you wanted to get out of the drawing room, didn’t you? Besides, it’s only you and me. No one will be the wiser. Cara won’t say a word.”
David didn’t say another word, either. He hopped down from the bench and made his way over to her side of the curricle. He raised both arms to help her down.
Annabelle braced her hands on David’s shoulders as he lifted her off the seat and placed her gently on the grass. When it was done, she was awkwardly staring up at him, her hands still atop his broad shoulders. Even through her gloves, she could feel his coat was not padded. More than she could say for a variety of gentlemen whom she’d danced with through the years. She gulped and snatched her hands away as if they’d been burned.
Placing both hands firmly behind her back, she turned toward the small dirt path that led to the water’s edge. “This way,” she offered, taking off at a decent pace. David gamely followed.
They made their way down to the water and both silently walked along the bank for a few moments. Reeds and trees blocked their view across the entire expanse. They were in their own private spot, where spring daffodils had begun to bloom, and bright green grass was shooting up all over.
David stopped. Bracing his legs apart, his arms folded behind him, he stared off across the expanse, clearly lost in thought. Annabelle tentatively watched him from several paces away. He looked so confident and certain of himself. Like an army captain, about to give orders to a group of men. His jaw was rock hard, and his eyes had narrowed on the horizon. The fact that he was anxious about attending a silly ball remained unbelievable to her. David had been involved in the things that truly mattered. He’d stared death in the face. There was no way the ton would break him. He was too strong. She could sense it. He would do fine.
She gave him a few moments of privacy before walking over to stand next to him. “A penny for your thoughts, my lord,” she said softly.
He moved his hands on his hips, still staring out at the green water. “Honestly, I was thinking how much I’d like a cigar right now.”
Annabelle laughed. “You know I don’t normally smoke, don’t you? I’ve been meaning to tell you the truth on that score for days now.”
He arched a brow and smiled at her. “You could have fooled me after your performance in the Harrisons’ gardens. You seemed to know precisely what you were doing.”
She readjusted her bonnet, pulling tight at the bow. “I admit, I sneaked a cheroot from Beau’s study a time or two, mostly because I cannot countenance the fact that women aren’t allowed to do certain things based solely on their gender.”
David pulled open his coat and retrieved a cigar from a pocket. “Would you like to share one now? I won’t judge you for it.”
She glanced around, feeling positively scandalized and a bit excited. “Should we dare?”
David shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We seem to be quite alone here.” He pulled a flint from his coat pocket and struck it against a rock near his feet to light the cigar.
“Ladies first,” he said, offering Annabelle the cigar.
“No. No, you go ahead.” She waved it away.
He shrugged again and took a long, deep pull from the cigar, closing his eyes and blowing out the smoke in the opposite direction from Annabelle. Then he offered it to her.
She took it apprehensively, feeling nowhere near as confident as she had that night in the Harrisons’ garden. It was quite different when one didn’t feel as if one had the moral authority. Now she was simply a young woman standing near a lake in the light of day with a handsome young man, doing something illicit. A thrill shot through her. She loved that David wasn’t appalled by the fact that she would smoke a cigar if given the chance. Holding the thick middle of the thing, she put it between her lips and sucked in. The heady smoke stung her mouth, and she blew it out with a long sigh.
“I’m trying to quit, for Marianne’s sake,” David said, as Annabelle handed the cigar back to him. “She thinks it’s a nasty habit. She’s probably right.” He took another long pull and returned the cigar to her.
“Younger sisters can be pests, can’t they?” she replied with a laugh, taking another pull herself.
David’s voice was soft. “I’d do anything for Marianne.”
Annabelle’s mind flashed back to a vision of young Beau lying unconscious on the floor of Mama’s bedchamber, bloody and bruised. “I know what you mean. Beau would do anything for me, too,” she breathed, handing David the cigar again.
“I know I don’t need these things,” he said, lifting the cigar. “But…it’s…comfortable. Familiar, I suppose. Makes me feel as if I’m back in the army. Where I belong.”
Annabelle furrowed her brow. “Why do you say that? You belong here now, of course.”
“Do I?” He looked at the ground, kicking at the grass with one boot. “I don’t even know what ‘here’ is. It feels as if I’m playing dress-up, inhabiting someone else’s life. I know how to be an army captain. I know how to be a woodworker’s son. I have little idea how to be an earl.”
Annabelle frowned. Sadness tugged at her heart. She’d never stopped to think about how different everything must be for David in London. He’d been an army captain, used to risking his life and sleeping in tents with only one book to read. Meanwhile, she and her set were sleeping in perfect peace, in luxurious beds with fine linens, with five-course meals and plenty o
f cream for coffee. David had been called away from everything he knew, everything he was familiar with, to come to London and be the Earl of Elmwood.
“I suppose it won’t help to tell you it’s much safer here,” she offered with a small smile.
A humorless smile touched his lips. “It’s safe here because of the men fighting out there.” He looked off into the distance, taking another long pull from the cigar.
“Of course,” she whispered. “Of course.”
“Listen to me today,” he said, turning toward her and shaking his head. “This is no doubt an inappropriate conversation for a supposed courting.”
Annabelle nodded. “Yes, well. I would say it’s probably not fodder for a real courtship, David. But I do understand. I’ve never had to leave everything I know and am familiar with, but I have spent my life feeling as if I don’t completely belong here either.”
Nodding, David offered her the cigar again. When she shook her head, he tossed it to the ground, rubbing it out with his boot. “Well, before we get back to the lesson, I’m hoping you’ll allow me to show you how to do something for once, my lady.”
She watched as he went off into a nearby copse of trees for a few minutes and came back with a thick stick.
“We have a retriever at our country house who can do that, too,” she announced with a laugh.
He gave her an ironic stare. “I’m not done yet. In fact, I haven’t even begun.”
Annabelle watched him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. What in the world did he intend to do with a stick, of all things?
He fished in his inside coat pocket and pulled out a rather formidable-looking knife.
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “What is that for?”
David grinned at her. “It’s for whittling.”
“Whittling?” Her eyes went wide.
“Yes, and woodworking. My father taught me. I can make all sorts of furniture and things. In fact, he and I once refitted the entire interior of a ship.”
Earl Lessons: The Footmen’s Club Series Page 9
