Earl Lessons: The Footmen’s Club Series

by Bowman, Valerie

  “All in due time, my lady. For now, I’ll thank you to stop acting as if I’m bothering you. I’ve spent long enough trying to do things the right way.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Annabelle asked, half-afraid to hear the answer.

  “Let’s just say I happen to have quite a lot of money riding on the hope that you’ll finally come down off your high horse and marry this Season. Marry me, in fact.”

  Her nostrils flared. “You’re insane.”

  “No. I’m a man who is tired of being at the beck and call of every simpering debutante who’s named the catch of the Season. Lady Julianna tossed me over last year. I refuse to be humiliated again.”

  Annabelle wrenched her wrist from his grasp and this time he let her go. He gave her a tight smile and smoothed his coat front. “I’ll see you back in the ballroom, my lady. And this time we shall dance a full dance.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What is today’s lesson?” David asked the next morning as he stared out the front window of Bell’s town house. He’d heard Annabelle come into the room behind him, but he hadn’t turned around. If he turned around, he would see her, and if he saw her, he’d want to kiss her again, and that was something he couldn’t allow himself to do. Not after her cold reaction last night. Well, to be fair, her reaction had been hot at first. So hot he’d had the passing thought that if circumstances were different, he could have taken her right there on the verandah, with her sitting atop the balustrade, her long legs straddling him, knees hugging his hips, while he slowly pumped into her. Damn. He shook his head. That wasn’t a helpful thought.

  Last night when he’d left her outside, he’d been angry, though he had no idea why. Something about the way she’d dismissed his kiss, after obviously enjoying it, had put David out of sorts. Not only had she dismissed the kiss, he’d also seen her dancing with Murdock again later that night. And she’d just told him a few days ago that when a couple danced more than one dance at a ball, rumors of their fondness for one another were soon to follow.

  David had briefly considered asking her to dance once more with him, but he’d decided against it. No doubt she’d turn him down, and if she didn’t, well, he hadn’t had the heart to be charming any longer.

  They’d ridden home with Marianne and Lady Angelina in nearly complete silence while poor Marianne had attempted to punctuate the silence with an opinion or two on the ball and its guests.

  Now he was standing here, in Bell’s town house, refusing to face Annabelle as she stood behind him.

  “It’s customary to bow when a lady enters the room,” came her clipped voice.

  Slowly, he turned to face her. She was wearing a light blue day dress and white kid slippers, with pearls at her throat and her ears. Her hair was curled into a short bob at the back of her head, and she looked as beautiful as ever, though she wore a decidedly pinched look on her face. Even so, David felt his body’s reaction to her. He turned sharply to the side. “Is it? How gauche of me. I’m obviously in need of more lessons.” He bowed. There. That had been blasé, hadn’t it? Not at all like a man who was even now remembering their kiss so vividly it physically hurt.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I would say that today I should teach you not to take liberties with ladies on verandahs, but it’s too late for that.”

  He winced slightly and turned away from her again, closing his eyes, grateful she couldn’t see his face. “Don’t worry,” he ground out. “I’ve learned that lesson well.”

  “So you didn’t kiss Lady Elspeth last night, too?” Her voice went up an octave.

  David’s brows snapped together. What the hell would make her think that? Gaining control over himself finally, he turned to face her once again. He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “What do you think?”

  She moved farther into the room toward the settee, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve no idea what you’ll do one moment to the next.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Her nostrils flared. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  David shrugged. “I saw you dancing with Lord Murdock a second time. Changing your mind about marriage?”

  “That’s none of your affair,” she shot back.

  The words stung. Like arrows to the heart. But after he’d absorbed the shock, David realized immediately that she was right. “Indeed,” he said, nodding once, careful to keep any inflection from his voice. He stepped forward and clicked his heels together, standing at attention, like he’d done a thousand times in the army. He wasn’t here on a social call. He was here for a lesson. She’d certainly never given him any reason to believe these meetings were anything more. “My apologies. What am I learning today, my lady?”

  The tension drained from Annabelle’s face, and she expelled her breath slowly as if she too realized they’d had an interaction they should never repeat. She turned back toward the door of the salon and said over her shoulder, “Come with me to the dining room. I’ve helped the servants to set up a faux dinner setting. Mama should be back from the milliner any minute. We’ll talk about all the different courses and silverware and the proper etiquette for dinner conversation.”

  “Excellent,” he replied, falling in line behind her.

  David followed Annabelle out of the salon, down the wide marble-floored corridor, around a corner and into an enormous dining room. It was even larger than the one in his grandfather’s—no, his—town house. Would he ever stop thinking of everything as belong to his grandfather? The coaches, the horses, the town house, the country estate. It all felt borrowed, borrowed by the imposter in a life he was pretending to have. Spending time with Annabelle was just another part of the ruse. Normally, he’d never have had an opportunity to spend so much time with a lady as lovely and accomplished as she was. He’d had no right to kiss her last night. But she’d looked so fetching under the moonlight and she nearly dared him to, by saying that a gentleman would ask a lady for a kiss. Why, the girls he’d kissed in Brighton…he’d never had to ask first. He bloody well knew they were interested. Of course, if they hadn’t been, he’d have immediately stopped. He wasn’t the sort of blackguard who would force any sort of intimacy on a woman, even a mere touch, let alone a kiss. He might not be completely schooled in the ways of London Society, but he knew when a woman wanted him, and he’d seen the look in Annabelle’s eyes last night when they’d danced, felt her hand tighten on his arm, seen the desire in her eyes when she’d looked up at him in the garden, and heard the tremor in her voice when he stepped near, touched her. They wanted each other. Perhaps it was wrong. It was certainly inconvenient. But they were attracted to each other, and there was something in the way that she kept denying it that made him want to test her.

  Why in the bloody hell had she danced with Lord Murdock twice last night? According to her mother, it was completely out of character for her. Was Murdock such a catch or…was Annabelle trying to make David jealous?

  Or was he just a fool who had imagined all of it? Damn. Perhaps he owed her an apology.

  David glanced around the dining room. The table had been laid as if a large dinner party was going to be held there. The sixteen-person table was filled with a variety of dishes, plates, cups, glasses, bowls, utensils and serving ware. Not to mention napkins, tureens, platters, knives, linens, and tablecloths.

  “You can’t just have a simple dinner in the Beau Monde, can you?” he asked, shaking his head.

  “No,” she replied, with a short, sweet smile. She spread her hand in front of her as if presenting him the dining table. “Now, we’ll begin with the basics. I’m certain you already know that guests queue up in the salon in order of rank for a dinner party.”

  “Yes, that much I knew.”

  She nodded. “You’re an earl, so that means you’d only ever come after a duke, a duchess, or a marquess or marchioness.”

  “That’s what I understand,” he said with a sigh.

  “If t
here was no female of your station at the party, you’d escort the female with the next most prestigious title into the room.”

  “Understood,” he replied.

  “I am the daughter of a marquess, so I would enter the room as if I hold that title.”

  “If you were to marry Murdock, you’d retain that position.” The moment he said the words, David wanted to kick himself.

  She nodded again, a blank look on her face. “Yes. If I were to marry Murdock, I would become a marchioness and would be even more powerful than the daughter of a marquess.”

  “Much better than a countess,” he grumbled.

  “What was that?” she asked, cupping a hand behind one ear.

  “Nothing,” he replied batting his eyelashes at her innocently.

  She cleared her throat. “Once the couples enter the room, they are seated male, female, male, female. And depending on the type of dinner party, which is decided by your hostess, one speaks with either the people on one’s left or right, or one speaks with those across the table. It’s much more common to speak only with those on the left and right.”

  “I’m certain I’ve made that mistake,” David said with a sigh. “In Brighton we speak to everyone at the table.”

  Annabelle folded her hands together primly. “That is not civilized. The conversation would quickly become unmanageable.”

  The sound that came out of his throat was half-snort, half-laugh. “I agree. It was often unmanageable, but always enjoyable. My parents rarely invited anyone to dinner who we didn’t like.”

  Annabelle shook her head. “That is impossible. One must invite certain people to one’s dinner parties, regardless of one’s feelings.”

  She was speaking so formally. Quite unlike their other lessons. She was clearly trying to reiterate, after their kiss last night, that she was merely his tutor and he, her pupil. “What if one doesn’t care for the company of those one must invite?” he countered.

  She busied herself with straightening the already perfectly straight tableware. “Caring for their company is certainly not a pre-requisite for an invitation to a dinner party.”

  David rolled his eyes. “Let me guess what is…wealth, title, and status.”

  “Precisely. I do believe you’re learning, my lord.” Leaving off with the tableware, she splayed her hand toward one of the chairs. “Now, please take a seat at the head of the table. I’m going to show you how you should behave if this was a dinner party at your home.”

  * * *

  Nearly two hours later, Lady Angelina had yet to return from the milliner and David had learned the proper usage of every single implement on the table—and some that the servants brought up from the kitchen for show. He knew about à la russe and à la francaise dinner service, the proper usage of a finger bowl, the proper placement of a variety of confusing wine glasses, each holding a different type of wine, and how to gracefully end the dinner without a hostess. He also now knew far too much about the care and placement of napkins.

  He and Annabelle had fallen into a sort of unspoken truce, where she only mentioned the lesson at hand, and he only asked questions about the same. It was far less entertaining than their previous lessons had been, but far more expedient, he supposed. He missed her laughter, her teasing him. But he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He shouldn’t have kissed her last night. That was all there was to it. It had only made things awkward between them. And made him want to kiss her again. Neither was good.

  “Marianne should be your hostess until she is married. Then she will be the hostess here, as she will be Beau’s wife,” Annabelle said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “And your mother will step aside?” David asked.

  “Exactly,” Annabelle replied. “Mama will be the dowager Marchioness of Bellingham once Beau and Marianne are married.”

  “Perhaps Marianne should be here too, learning all of this,” David said, daring to crack a smile.

  Annabelle’s countenance remained completely blank and her back ramrod straight. “Lady Courtney is seeing to Marianne’s lessons, and they are coming along nicely from what I can tell.”

  “Lady Courtney is an excellent teacher…as are you,” David said, hoping the compliment might make her smile. Might make her seem more like the pre-kiss Annabelle.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said, not even looking at him.

  Damn. He did need to apologize again. Groveling was probably in order. “No, thank you, Lady Annabelle. I owe you an apology for my behavior on the verandah last night.”

  “I should have slapped you,” she said calmly, smoothing a hand over a napkin that sat on the table in front of her.

  His brows shot up. “Did you want to slap me?”

  “No,” she admitted with a slight smile. “But to do otherwise was to encourage your behavior.”

  David expelled his breath. Oh, she didn’t have to worry about that. He was far from encouraged. “What if I promise never to do it again?”

  Annabelle stood and walked to the door. “I would say you shouldn’t make a promise if you’re not completely certain you can keep it.”

  Before David had a chance to react to that entirely unexpected reply, Annabelle said, “I believe we’ve learned enough for today, my lord. I’ll see you at the at the Milfords’ ball tonight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Milfords’ ballroom was blazing with the light of a thousand candles hanging in the chandeliers high above the dance floor when David stepped in with his sister on his arm. He and Marianne had come alone tonight in his grandfather’s—his—finest coach.

  “You’re taller than me, David. Do you see Annabelle or Lady Angelina?” Marianne asked soon after they’d made their way toward the dance floor.

  David had already been scouring the ballroom for any sign of Annabelle. He and Marianne had come alone tonight because Lady Angelina and Lady Courtney had decided that after the previous night’s incident in which David cut in on Annabelle’s dance with Lord Murdock, it would be less grist for the gossip mill if they didn’t arrive together again.

  “I don’t see what it matters,” David had grumbled in the coach on the way to the party, as Marianne had been explaining it all to him. “You’re going to be Lady Angelina’s daughter-in-law soon and Lady Annabelle’s sister-in-law. That’s why we all came to the party together last night.”

  “Yes,” Marianne had replied, “and that would have been a perfectly lovely explanation, if you hadn’t cut in on Annabelle’s dance last night.”

  “I thought it was all the rage,” David pointed out.

  “So did I,” Marianne replied with a sigh, “but when Lady Angelina paid me a call this morning, she explained that it still might be cause for gossip. You must remember they do things quite differently here than we’re used to.”

  “I remember,” David groaned. “Wait. Lady Angelina paid you a call? This morning?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “No reason other than she was supposed to be at my dinner table lesson this morning.” He shook his head, dismissing the thought. David plucked two flutes of champagne from the serving tray of a passing footman while continuing to search the crowd for Annabelle and her mother.

  “I don’t see them,” Marianne said after a few more moments of searching herself. “But I do see Lady Elspeth. She’s coming this way.” Marianne gave David a conspiratorial grin from behind her flute.

  David barely had a chance to turn to look before Lady Elspeth and her mother were upon them. “There you are, Lord Elmwood,” Lord Elspeth said. “Good to see you again this evening.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” David replied, bowing. He couldn’t help but wonder if Annabelle would be proud of him for remembering to bow. In Brighton men nodded to ladies and treated them cordially, of course, but bowing and curtsying was a more formal London requirement.

  There were several moments of excruciating small talk while Marianne asked after both Lady Elspeth and her mother’s health, their enjoyment of the ball
so far, and some mention of the weather before Marianne not-so-subtly elbowed David in the ribs, a clear indicator that he was expected to join the conversation.

  “Yes, my lady. I, too, find it unseasonably warm today,” he managed, as he continued to search the crowd for any sign of Annabelle. Perhaps she’d decided not to come after all. Perhaps she’d taken ill. Why was he so worried about her whereabouts? He could act perfectly gentlemanlike without her. He’d done it before, and he would do it again. Besides, Marianne was here to keep him in line if his behavior strayed at all.

  “Who are you searching for, Lord Elmwood?” came Lady Elspeth’s whisper.

  He glanced down to see the young woman looking up at him with adoring hazel eyes. Damn. He’d been rude to not give her his full attention. Poorly done of him. “Oh, er, no one. No one in particular.” He ensured that his gaze remained fixed on Lady Elspeth while he spoke. Marianne and Elspeth’s mother were engaged in their own conversation beside them.

  A sly smile tugged at Lady Elspeth’s lips. “You’re looking for Lady Annabelle, aren’t you?”

  David nearly spit his champagne. “What? No. Why would you ask that?” He smoothed his hand down his shirtfront, somewhat rattled by the accusation.

  Lady Elspeth rocked slowly back and forth upon her heels. She shrugged and brought her own champagne glass to her lips. “Rumor has it that you’re smitten with Lady Annabelle.”

  He arched a brow. “Rumor, is it?” he asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant. “From what I understand, ‘rumor’ is filled with inaccuracies.”

  Lady Elspeth continued to meet his stare in a most disarming manner. “Perhaps,” she allowed. “But at times rumors prove to be true.”

  “Lady Annabelle is soon to be my sister’s new sister-in-law,” David added as if that connection explained everything. “She and her mother have graciously offered to help my sister and I navigate Society.”