To Win a Wallflower

by Liz Tyner

  She didn’t want another round of anger erupting in front of her and she knew her parents would simply refuse to consider any arguments Annie presented.

  Annie raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. The dance lessons had been a frivolous waste of time.

  She did want to dance, though.

  With someone like Barrett, only...different. Agreeable. Someone who could make rosewater smell like leather and make her wonder how it would be to touch the skin beneath it.

  Chapter Eight

  Barrett knew better than to tell his father to be quiet. The Viscount moved around, slamming one book after another on to the shelf. He never read the volumes—he only used them for weapons. His father enjoyed the tomes more then than if he’d actually read them.

  Barrett took the one book his father did peruse—the ledger—running a thumb along the cold bindings.

  He missed the Carson household with its perfect blandness. The mother worried about her head and her feet and the father hardly knew which end of a pen to use, and Annie was planning who knew what. He could understand her irritation at being trapped in a world of such sameness, but better that one than so many others.

  He’d kissed her wrist. He shouldn’t have.

  Her wrist. So delicate. Small. He paused, all thoughts focused on Annie, recalling as much of her as he could. Her thin shoulders. The hollow at the base of her neck, a perfect place to put his lips. Her face, full of guiltlessness he’d never seen before, and so palpable he could almost taste it.

  Mentally, he traced her body, from the softness of her cheek, down the slender neck, to her breasts, her waist...

  Damn. He needed that affliction his brother had tossed on him. Especially where Annie was concerned. If only his brother hadn’t insisted on that silly wager.

  A book thumped against the wall, bringing his mind back into the room.

  Barrett had once wondered why his father didn’t tear the books from their bindings in his rage. It wasn’t as if he ever planned to read them. His father considered the books a sign of intelligence and a sign of wealth. He sometimes threw them, but he never burned them in the fire or tore them. The rages were controlled actions. The appearance of reaching beyond sanity, but crafted to never injure anything priceless. Only replaceable items would be damaged.

  After his mother died, Barrett had realised he could be replaced. He’d overheard his father and grandmother discussing suitable prospects for marriage to provide another heir. But then his grandmother had died and his father had let the idea fall by the wayside, preferring not to be bothered with what he called the heavy-skirts.

  Gavin walked into the room. ‘Summers told me I’d find you here.’ He dodged the book that flew by his head. ‘I suppose you win. Or lose, depending on what your life might be with someone like Annie in your life. But as the wager is clearly done, I will probably be looking in on our father more. Just not starting today.’

  Gavin watched the Viscount, looking ready to throw a book back.

  ‘Don’t bother yourself getting upset with his rages. It only makes them more fun for him,’ Barrett said, closing his ledger and standing. ‘He prefers to stir the pot and, if he can’t find one, he stirs the air.’

  Barrett moved closer, tossing the book into his father’s chair.

  His father reached to grasp it, momentarily transfixed by the ledger, then chuckled. ‘Just what I was looking for.’

  Gavin looked at his father. ‘As we’ve been getting to know each other, sadly, I no longer envy you your childhood.’

  The Viscount looked up, absently turning pages. ‘There’s two of you, isn’t there?’

  ‘As far as we know.’

  ‘There might be another sister. A little spindly girl who cried all the time.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Do I have any more brothers?’ Barrett asked.

  ‘I’ve said no. I meant no. If I was younger—’ He turned the page of the ledger, scouring it, his finger running the columns. ‘Then you would get what you had coming for asking questions twice. And then you’d get what you had coming for speaking to me.’ He turned another page. ‘Not that I mind, really.’

  He looked straight into the physician’s eyes. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Gavin.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Now I remember. Your mother was such a tart. Saucy. Quite a handful.’

  Their father looked at Barrett. ‘And how did you find him?’

  ‘The mail you sent me to post. I had a copy of your seal made, or near enough to pass. I often opened your letters and rewrote and sealed them again if needed. Years ago, you’d written his mother a letter telling her that you wouldn’t be sending any funds her way for Gavin’s schooling and to leave you alone or you’d make things worse for her. She was dying. I doubt it could have been much worse.’

  The Viscount scratched his whiskery chin. ‘I did send some coal her way the year before that, I just didn’t want to think about her.’

  ‘Gavin and his sister were baking bread and selling it. He’d learned to put ribbons in Doria’s hair, make sure she was scrubbed and let her sit at the cart and look hungry.’

  His father grunted and his chin moved back and forth. ‘He’s a physician. He says I am in good health. I like him. You, I tolerate.’

  ‘High praise,’ Barrett replied.

  ‘He said you paid for university.’

  ‘Yes. You weren’t watching the accounts as closely as you thought.’

  His father coughed. ‘Education is such a waste when you can be making money instead. Or taking money.’

  Their father pointed one bony finger at Gavin and then one at Barrett. ‘Neither of you is worth the powder and lead it would take to kill you.’ Then he laughed, reaching to twist the seal ring on his little finger. ‘My boys. There is hope yet. A forger and a physician.’ He stared at Gavin. ‘I would never have sent you to school, but...’ He shrugged. ‘Fortunate now.’

  Barrett gave a quick nod to the door and he and his brother stepped outside. ‘Remember what I said. Don’t turn your back on him.’

  ‘I can see why. I thought Annie would take your mind from him. As your physician, I would say you need a heart.’

  ‘You are not my physician.’

  ‘Thankfully, as you would make a terrible patient. You have no patience and cannot follow directions.’ He yawned. ‘I thought the Carson woman’s smile might sway you and she’s the most agreeable of the sisters.’ Gavin chuckled. ‘Only a woman who has been trained to follow along with everyone else’s opinions would work for a bear like you.’

  Barrett stopped moving. ‘Why didn’t you choose her for yourself? I’m sure you could have convinced the family to let you court her.’

  Gavin nodded his head. ‘Her older sister. She didn’t seem to like me, though. I stopped in a few months ago and Mr Carson asked me to see if I could figure out what was wrong with Honour. I diagnosed her as being with child. Turns out I was right.’

  ‘You’ll get over it.’

  ‘Don’t know if I want to.’

  Barrett laughed and felt the edges of the sound. ‘Father is wrong. We aren’t alike. You have a heart. I am happy with my lack of one.’

  ‘I would say you have a ghost of one somewhere in your body.’ He held up two fingers pressed together. ‘About this big.’

  ‘I tried to fall in love once. A chore.’

  ‘Madeline wasn’t the right woman for you.’

  ‘She was perfect for me. She had her own kind of ledger book and she kept an eye on what everything cost her. And if a woman like that can’t keep me interested, then no one can. I was relieved when I didn’t have to squire her around.’

  He’d not lied. Madeline had been the perfect woman. Calculating. Aware. Always an asset on his arm. But she’d not affected his heart. She’d turned his head and then turned his stomach.

/>   Arms crossed, Barrett leaned against the doorway. He pushed away the image of Annie’s wrist that flittered through his mind. Weakness would do no one any good. Not him. Not her.

  ‘Go back to keep an eye on the Carsons,’ Barrett told Gavin. ‘I’ve almost finished the plans I have for him and I need to check the background on the other shops around him. I plan to own all the properties on that side of the street from the booksellers to the cutlery business.’

  ‘Mr Barrett,’ the carriage driver called out, cap in hand, running to the base of the stairway.

  Barrett turned to the new arrival, waiting as the man stomped his way up the stairs.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ve found out about the woman as you asked me. The old woman outside the Carson house. She’s the crone the ladies of the ton hire to tell their fortunes.’

  He’d heard of her, but he’d never seen her before. Odd that such a crone was at the Carson household. And he was certain Annie was the cause of it.

  ‘Do you know where the fortune teller lives?’

  The man nodded. ‘She moves around a bit, but you can likely find her on the North Road just before the Earl of Standridge’s estate. She is said to know so many secrets people are afraid to make her go on her way.’

  ‘Just like me,’ Gavin said, bowing.

  ‘Please go away,’ Barrett said, then turned to the carriage driver as Gavin left. ‘I won’t need you to find out anything else. Thank you.’

  Barrett walked into the room, shutting himself alone with his father.

  ‘So you are taking over Carson’s shops.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Didn’t he have three daughters?’ his father asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  His father burst out laughing. ‘Of course you would. It’s your business to know such things. How a man’s daughters marry affects his fortunes.’

  Barrett watched his father, ignoring the words. His thoughts remained on Annie. Annie—a jewel, ready to be taken by the first thief who happened upon her.

  He doubted any man who’d stood as close to her as he had would not have been aroused. She just did that to a man. Without even being aware. The twists and turns of her body as she’d moved to deliver blows had been almost more than he could bear. Heat rose in his body even when he thought of it. She’d struck at him and it had been so easy to deflect her. Her parents should listen to him and get her married off to a milksop who would cherish her.

  He had to get her out of his thoughts. She was little more than another society daughter who worried over the colour of her dress and spent too much time staring at her fingernails. He’d update the ledgers and get a night’s sleep, or try to. Tomorrow he would wake and Annie would be erased from his mind. Gone.

  Barrett watched his father study the columns of ink.

  ‘I thought about buying Carson’s business. But he didn’t want to sell to me and his wares didn’t seem profitable.’ The old man stared at the pages.

  ‘He had no choice. I choked off his suppliers, raised their prices and he must now pay so much that he cannot make a profit. Not that he was making much of one anyway.’

  His father nodded. ‘I made a good choice when I kept your grandmother from killing you.’

  ‘She told me I had you to thank for my life and I didn’t think she meant it in a paternal way.’

  He nodded. ‘I had no wish for another marriage, nor the task of starting over with a new heir. Just didn’t make sense to put all the effort into you and then take a chance on so many variables.’

  Barrett had lived with his father’s reasoning so long that he didn’t question it at all. He reached over and took the ledger back. ‘Let’s review the accounts together then. I would hate not being able to give you a return on your investment.’

  The man nodded, chewing nothing and never looking up.

  Barrett sat at the desk in his father’s room, gradually surrounding himself with papers. Sometimes his father stood at his side, reading, too, and gave an insightful comment. His business knowledge always amazed Barrett. His father had more ledger book inside him than any person he’d ever seen.

  Finally the old man tottered over to his bed and fell asleep.

  * * *

  Barrett dozed, but in the early hours, a knock awoke him and he called out to enter.

  Summers held a note to Barrett, letting cool wisps of air into the room. ‘The physician dropped this off a few moments ago, but he could not stay. He has been summoned to the Carsons’ again. Mrs Carson is having the vapours one moment and the wrath of heavens the next.’

  Barrett took the note, the paper cold to his touch. He read. Annie had disappeared, leaving a letter behind that said she was going after her sister. The old woman’s cart had been seen outside the house in the night.

  His father woke, staring at the paper in Barrett’s hand.

  ‘So you don’t know whether Carson has three daughters, but you certainly know enough to get a missive when the mother is distraught.’ He chuckled. ‘Careful, Son. You’re more like me than you know. Sounds like you might have a child on the way.’

  He left without answering his father.

  Chapter Nine

  Annie had had to stay awake in order to be sure she wouldn’t miss meeting the old woman and she’d not been able to rest in the back of the rickety cart. The blanket she’d sat on had been used more by animals than by people, and she’d be glad to get away from the scent.

  The darkness had lingered and Annie rested with her reticule held close while she leaned on her satchel. The wheels on the cart must have nearly worn off the axles because it wobbled with a regularity that Annie had become accustomed to after an hour. They took a detour from the main road and the cart stopped at the ragged camp, but it was a true home. The grass had been worn away. Wood gathered. Chickens were scratching about. Stumps had been cut for seats around the fire. Canvases had been stretched at another firepit, making a three-sided enclosure to trap the heat and keep whomever might sit under it warm. Firewood was stacked just inside and around the edges, adding to the walled feeling of it.

  When the cart stopped, she put her reticule on the satchel and pushed them to the edge of the cart, then jumped out. The old woman walked to Annie’s side and Annie snatched the reticule close.

  The woman’s eyes glittered and she took the satchel. ‘You act as if I might steal.’

  ‘I think you no different than I am,’ Annie said.

  The woman cackled. ‘Then I will keep my eyes on my silver,’ she said.

  She put the satchel down by a stump.

  ‘Pardon me,’ Annie said, walking to the woods. ‘I shall need a chamber pot.’

  ‘Behind the canvas,’ the woman said. ‘It’s hidden by the ivy. I wouldn’t get too close as there are stinging nettles there and you’ll be itching all the way to Scotland.’

  Annie took the reticule with her and hurried as much as she could. Then when she returned, the woman seemed to have forgotten her presence.

  * * *

  In an hour or so, the soup was done and she handed Annie a bowl.

  ‘Ed will travel with you on the mail coach,’ the old woman said as they sat around the camp eating their breakfast.

  ‘A mail coach?’ Annie took a bite of the rough stew, trying to force her teeth tight enough to gnaw the last bite of meat softer. It didn’t work. She swallowed the chunk.

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow you’ll both take it and when you arrive in Scotland, you’ll be able to find your sister.’

  The old woman’s eyes darted to the road. A rider on a horse was on the road, moving in their direction.

  The men in the camp moved closer to the central part, all eyes focused on the road.

  The man slid from his horse, still too far away for his face to be clear. Annie lowered the bowl.

  The man wal
ked closer, his hat and the riding boots making him appear taller than any of the men around her. It wasn’t only the width of his shoulders that made everyone in the camp take notice. She knew it. He walked with the assurance of having an army behind him, or maybe within him.

  She’d recognised Barrett in the dark, she realised. As she’d known she would.

  She could feel her body becoming smaller as he strode towards them.

  She took in air, forcing herself still and to sit straight, waiting.

  ‘Appears you have a parcel that I’ve been looking for.’ His words were to the crone, but his eyes were on Annie.

  He kept moving nearer and placed himself with nothing between the two of them. She realised he’d led the horse a few steps closer to the men. A barrier on four legs.

  ‘My daughter. She’d be for sale, but you likely don’t have any coin on you.’

  Barrett didn’t move. ‘How much did she pay you to take her?’

  ‘My daughter pays me nothing and she won’t stop eating. She costs more than she’s worth, but I feel like a matchmaking mama and wouldn’t mind seeing her with a man such as yourself.’

  ‘You should keep to your own business,’ Annie spoke to Barrett, keeping her words strong.

  ‘Right now that is you. Let’s go,’ he said to Annie. ‘I’m tired. Your parents are worried. Your mother has had to send for the physician.’

  ‘Tell her I’m fine,’ Annie stood, walked behind the fire and put the bowl on a stump. ‘The physician will take care of her. I’m not leaving.’

  ‘You will.’

  The men around her stood.

  ‘I’ll take you all on one at a time, or together. That’s best. It’s over quicker.’

  ‘Don’t get his blood on the rug,’ the old crone said, looking at her men and kicking up dust. ‘I just cleaned it.’ She cackled.

  Annie crossed her arms and stared at him. She forced all her strength into her legs and her glare. ‘I’m going to be with my sister. She needs me more than my parents do. And if she wants to return home, I’ll find a way to get her there.’