The Wicked Wallflowers: Regency Boxed Set (Chronicles of a Bluestocking)

by Tammy Andresen

  His butler held out a tray with the note. He took it and ripped open the folded paper. Blinking twice, he read it again. “How did she even know where I live?”

  “I don’t know, my lord.” His butler stared straight ahead, his expression blank.

  Luke ran his hand through his hair. Of course, Mr. Peterson didn’t know to whom he referred and he’d best keep it that way to protect her reputation. “Have my horse saddled.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Mr. Peterson answered.

  “And go to bed. I’ll let myself in.” Luke stood, leaving the rest of the whisky untouched. It had already made his head fuzzy. Likely why he’d just asked to have his horse saddled. Annabelle had asked to meet him in her garden. Nothing else. No explanation as to why. Not that it mattered. Just the thought of being alone with her again made the ache in his chest ease and his pulse race. She already knew the why didn’t matter. He’d do what she asked simply because she had.

  Putting on a hat and coat, he headed out into the cool night air and climbed onto the waiting steed.

  The London streets were quiet and dark, only the occasional lamp lighting his path. He wanted to push the horse faster but he let the animal take his time, picking his way through the streets with a steady clopping.

  When he reached the end of Annabelle’s street, he tied the horse to a nearby hitch and walked the rest of the way, steering down the alley where the garden gate was located. It creaked softly as he entered, and he heard a rustling to his left.

  “Luke?” Annabelle called into the darkness.

  “It’s me,” he replied as he moved toward the sound of her voice. She lifted a candle, the glow of warm light illuminating her features.

  She stood, stepping toward him, a smile pulling at her lips. “You came.”

  “I’ll always come if you need me.” He reached for her waist, pulling her close. “What’s wrong?”

  She melted against him, gripping his biceps as the smile slipped from her face. “My father, he’s going to sell the land to Marksman or—” Her breath caught.

  “Or what?” he asked, wrapping an arm about her waist. With the other, he took the candle and set it on the bench where she’d been seated.

  “He looked at me tonight like he never had before. Well, he actually looked at me for a change. And what he saw was another item to be bartered and sold.” She gripped his arm tighter. “At your meeting tomorrow, he’s going to try to convince you to marry me for the property.” She swallowed. “He thinks you might want it for yourself.”

  Luke held her tight, his hand fisting in the back of her dress. “Because I gave Marksman a difficult time?”

  She shrugged, but he felt her heartbeat jump. “I have to confess that I encouraged him to think so. I was trying to buy time but if he intends to sell me to the highest bidder then I suppose there is little point in my deception.”

  He leaned down and captured her lips with his own. Her words calmed his own fears about their future. She’d called him here to tell him honestly what she’d done and give him all the facts. That meant something, but he couldn’t land on what as her soft lips yielded to his, parting open and allowing him to sweep his tongue into her sweet mouth.

  She gasped against him, her body molded to his as their hearts beat in rhythm. He brushed his tongue into her mouth again, touching the tip of hers with his. Her knees buckled and he held her tighter as he kissed her over and over.

  They stayed locked together for several minutes until he slid his mouth along her jaw, kissing a trail down her neck to the collar of her Spencer coat. He wanted to strip her clothes off, see every inch of her. Or at the very least more of her. But he pulled himself back. He hadn’t even said what he’d come here to tell her. “Annie,” he breathed against the skin of her neck. “I don’t want you to worry. I know what to do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Annabelle looked up into his dark eyes, safely tucked against him. “I thought you might. Tell me what.”

  He reached a hand up cradling her neck. “Try not to panic.” Then he leaned down and spoke against her lips. “I’m going to offer for your hand.”

  Her heart did jump. But somehow, against him, it wasn’t panic but excitement that throbbed through her. “You want to marry me? Why?”

  “Hear me out.” He kissed her cheek. “I know you want your cottage and to do your research. I respect that. I need a male heir to do my duty to the title.”

  She stilled, her hands suddenly feeling heavy. “My research?”

  He kissed just under her ear. “I told you tonight. I planned to marry at the last possible moment, but you made some excellent points. So I thought we could help each other. You provide me with the child I need, and I’ll give you the freedom you desire under the safe umbrella of my name. We’ll both get what we want.”

  She leaned back further, then looked into his eyes. “It’s an excellent offer. But you’re wrong about living apart from your wife and child. There’s no reason you can’t be part of their lives.” Not that she was advocating they live together. However she felt about him, she couldn’t commit herself to that life. Not after her father’s emotional abandonment.

  His face hardened. “You don’t know me yet, Annie. I told you what he did. I’m also capable of that sort of violence. I feel it in my veins. Don’t you understand?”

  She scrunched her brow. “Most men are. It’s the choices—” But she didn’t finish as he pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length.

  “I told you what he did to me, but I didn’t tell you about the beatings that happened almost every week.” His face shuddered. “I keep to myself but when I was in school, I was prone to fits of temper. I fought with other boys all the time; I hurt a few of them, Annie. He’s inside me and I can’t take the chance that I’ll do to you and our child what he did to me and my mother.”

  Annie swallowed and gave a nod. Perhaps she was being naïve, but she didn’t believe it. He was too kind underneath his rough exterior. “Can I ask you a question? Was your father prone to drinking spirits?”

  He gave a stiff nod. “How did you know?”

  “A guess.” She reached for his cheek. “Are you?”

  He jerked his head back and forth. “I don’t like the loss of control.”

  Annabelle nodded. She suspected as much and she’d guess that he did drink a fair bit in school. But now, he’d given it up. The scientist in her had observed his behavior from the first. He wasn’t a danger and she trusted him more than any other man she’d ever met at this point. Marriage wasn’t what she’d wanted for her future. But his offer was the best she was going to get. Not only did she feel safe with him but his proposal left room for her to meet her other lifelong goals. “Wanting control is something that I understand completely.”

  He dipped his head down and captured her lips with his. One of his large hands still cradled her head as though he’d wrapped her in a protective cocoon. “I’ll give you the life you want if you let me.”

  She reached up and touched the scar on his cheek. “I now know how a hermit crab feels tucked inside a shell.” Then she gave a small nod. “I’ll marry you.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses touching. “I won’t let you down. Or I’ll try my best not to.”

  “I know you will,” she replied, still holding his cheek. Annabelle closed her eyes as her finger rested on his scar. Their wounds, inside and out, were deep. She’d seen the ocean take a strong ship and smash the vessel to pieces. Here in his arms, she was safe. But she had the feeling, so different from every other that she’d had before, that once they separated, she’d be in danger of smashing against the rocks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Annabelle woke late, her eyes flying open as she tried to clear her groggy mind. What time was it? She scrubbed her face. Had Luke already come to see her father? Glancing at the clock, she jumped from the bed. Quarter until nine, she read as she padded across the floor, stretching her back. She’d snuck in so late that s
he hardly felt as though she’d slept at all.

  After hurrying to dress, she pulled her hair into a simple knot and made her way downstairs exactly as the clock struck nine. Only hours had passed since she’d seen Luke, been held in his arms, but somehow, everything had changed. Or perhaps she’d changed. She had honestly thought she’d never marry and last night, she’d accepted his proposal.

  She supposed she’d accepted an offer to only be half married. Or perhaps the better term was occasionally married. Or perhaps married for a short time? None of them were actually true. She’d remain married, she’d only live as a married woman for a short time and then she’d commence living her own life. The life she’d always planned.

  Why did that sound so hollow? Was it the fact she’d have a child in tow? Luke had assured her that she’d have all the help she desired. And honestly, the thought of having a child to teach and nurture filled her with hope, not dread.

  So why did the arrangement suddenly seem unsatisfactory?

  She came to the top of the stairs, cobwebs stringing across the chandelier. They didn’t have the staff to keep up with the house. As she looked down into the foyer, her eyes landed on Luke, standing in the doorway, removing his coat and hat. Her breath caught as her heart jumped in her throat.

  Seeing him, she understood what had escaped her moments before. She was drawn to him. She liked being near him, around him. More than that, his presence made her happy. She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. She was in love with him.

  He brought his gaze up and she froze, her hand coming to her throat. Surely, he would see all the emotion written on her face and he’d walk directly back out the door. This was not their agreement. He didn’t want to live with a wife full time, and she still wasn’t certain she wanted to give up her research to be a full-time wife. Then there was the book. How could she engage rakes with a husband? Luke most assuredly would not approve.

  Her father came down the hall. “My lord,” he called. “Glad to see you.”

  Luke looked at her for a moment more before he lowered his eyes to her father. “Shall we get down to business?”

  “Of course. Right this way. I don’t keep a study anymore, so we’ll have to talk in my workshop.”

  Her father turned and Luke followed, disappearing down the back hall and out to her father’s shop.

  Annabelle drew in a deep breath and turned back to her room. She should eat but she wasn’t hungry. Instead she retraced her steps and grabbed two books from atop her desk. The first was her field journal. She added to it every summer. The sketches and field notes were the ones she’d used to submit her papers. Whenever she faced doubts, scanning its pages always refocused her with what was important. The second book was the chronicle her friends had begun. Penny had recorded her mother’s story, along with her own. And Chloe had written about her courtship with Dryden. Caroline had also added her kiss in the garden that had led to her ruin.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected to find in their stories. But somehow, she thought they might provide clarity.

  With that in mind, she carried them to the dining room where she scooped up a simple plate of eggs and toast and made her way to the sitting room.

  Setting her field journal to the side, she nibbled on her food as she read the stories again. Four points of data did not a study make but it was a start and as she read, she noticed some similarities. The stories that hadn’t ended well, honestly, the men had left a distinct trail of selfish behavior. While the stories that had…those men and the ladies had often acted selflessly and in the benefit of the other party. She tapped her chin. His temper might be a real problem.

  She rested her chin on her hand. She wasn’t certain she’d done anything at all.

  “Why do you look so glum?” a deep voice rumbled behind her.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin. “When did you arrive?” She looked up to find Luke thumbing through her field journal.

  “Some minutes ago.” He quirked a brow. “The butler announced me, Annie.”

  “But we’re alone.” Her gaze drifted to her journal. While it was filled with scientific facts, it was personal. Her skin heated. “And why are you reading that?”

  “We’re alone because we are engaged. And I’m reading it because you were so engrossed, I was looking for something to do. But I have to confess, this is amazing. How did you collect all this data? And why didn’t I know you could sketch like this?”

  She stood. Looking at him now, her worries melted away. “It hasn’t come up. I find drawing quite soothing.” She turned the page and pointed to a picture. “These jellyfish glow at night, lighting the water. They are stunning beyond what you can imagine.”

  “Will you show me someday?” he whispered close to her ear.

  “Didn’t you just say that we’d be married? Are you planning on ever coming to visit my seaside cottage or will I never see you again?”

  He straightened up. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  She reached for his hand. “Then don’t. I’m sorry that I asked. We can figure all of that out later and, honestly, nothing would make me happier than to have you come see me while I study.” Her insides clenched. She wanted him to be there all the time.

  Her chin pulled back. That couldn’t be right. She didn’t want to be tied to a man. Even one she cared for. Maybe especially one she had feelings for. She’d only be setting herself up for pain.

  But then she thought about his words yesterday. About how he shouldn’t be around his own family. Annabelle knew he was wrong. His fear rather than rational thought drove him to make such a decision. And she couldn’t feed into that fear by doubting him too. Was she giving to Luke, emotionally speaking, if she reinforced his doubts?

  She closed her eyes. It was likely the same for her. Her fear of another man rejecting her the way her father had, kept her from wanting to give her heart away.

  As if she’d summoned him, the door opened. Turning her head, she watched her father come in through the door, a bottle of whisky in hand. “It’s the best I could do on such short notice.” He held up the amber liquid.

  Luke’s hand tightened on hers. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t partake.”

  “Not partake?” Her father shrugged. “I rarely do myself. But today is cause for celebration.” He poured a generous amount of liquid into a glass cup. “Your new husband is giving me a stipend.”

  “We’re not married yet.” Annabelle’s throat tightened. She didn’t know whether to kiss Luke for getting her land or slap him for financing her father’s habit.

  “When you’re a marquess, it’s all very speedy.” Her father grinned.

  “That’s enough,” Luke said, placing a hand on her waist. “I’ll be the one to tell her. Why don’t you take your drink back to your study?”

  Her father frowned. “You can’t celebrate with me? I’ve not had any friends, I’ve been so dedicated to my work. This is my moment. I deserve to have—”

  Luke let her go and in a moment he was across the room with his face in her father’s face. “I said go back to your study,” he growled as he grabbed her father by the shirt front, giving him a shake hard enough to send the whisky sloshing out of the glass and onto the carpet.

  Annabelle raced after him, not sure if she wanted him to stop or shake her father harder. “Luke.” She touched his back. “Let’s get through the wedding before you hurt your future father-in-law.”

  Damn. The buzzing in his brain slowed at the sound of Anabelle’s voice and reason began to return. He’d nearly lost his temper again, shaking the teeth out of her father.

  Not that the man didn’t deserve it, but still. This was about Luke’s control. Or rather his lack thereof. This was exactly why he’d set Annabelle up under his protection and then leave her be. She’d been through enough with her own father, she didn’t need to deal with the mess his had left behind.

  She skimmed a hand down his back. “When is the wedding?”

 
He unclenched his fingers from the front of the baron’s shirt. “Two days.”

  “Saturday?” she cried tugging on his sleeve. “So soon?”

  Her father’s eyes were wary as he took a step back. “I’ll leave you two to discuss the details.”

  “That would be best.” He forced through his barely parted lips. He still had the urge to knock the man senseless. But as he scurried out the door, bottle in hand, a more pressing matter forced his violent thoughts from his mind. Calming his skittish bride.

  The door closed and he pivoted around to face her. “Has your father always been so self-involved?”

  “Always,” she answered, her mouth tugging down at the corners. “I’ve consoled myself on more than one occasion that it isn’t just me. He makes an emotional attachment with no one. Not one person. It’s like he isn’t able to understand other people’s needs, only his own.” Her mouth pinched. “The first summer we didn’t return to visit the ocean, I studied him instead. He never even noticed me watching him.”

  His heart sank like a stone in his chest. “That is heartbreaking.”

  Her mouth pinched and she stepped closer. “Let’s not discuss him any further. We’ve more pressing matters. Why is our wedding so soon?”

  He shrugged. He couldn’t tell her that he had a powerful need to have her close to him. Such a confession would reveal how difficult letting her go was going to be. “It seemed prudent to finish this deal before Marksman had the opportunity to make a counteroffer.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “That does make sense.” She shifted closer and placed her palm on his chest, directly over his heart. “Will we stay in London after we’re married?”

  “No,” he answered, trying to keep his breathing regular but his heart sped up. “It’s nearly summer. We should get your cottage underway, don’t you think?”

  She flexed her fingers massaging his chest. “How long will the cottage take to build?”