To Win a Wallflower

by Liz Tyner

  He took the decanter and used three fingers to grab the small glasses.

  Nothing would make his father happier than to destroy someone like Annie.

  He walked the gallows steps to his father’s room and opened the door, and could tell by the look on Summers’ face that it had been a long day. His father lay in the bed, dressed, covers sprawled about, yawning, eyes half-closed.

  Barrett stopped.

  The Viscount held his hand out. ‘Share the drink, Son. Share the drink.’

  Barrett put the decanter on the table by the chair and poured three drinks. He handed one to Summers, in part to make his father wait. Then he gave his father one.

  His father smirked at Barrett. ‘Not like you to be gone as much as you have. New tart in town?’ He sized up Barrett. He smiled, a bit of drool out of his mouth. ‘You and that other one look exactly like I did at your age. And some day you’ll look just like me.’ He laughed, spitting on to the floor. ‘Better get to work if you want to have a caring son like you to coddle you and lock you in your room.’

  ‘I’ve made you richer.’

  ‘And I don’t even have to pay you. You steal your wages.’ The man shrugged. ‘You always have to have a thief around. A fact of business.’

  ‘Was it a fact of business to backhand me when I was a child if I didn’t steal enough for you?’

  ‘Yes. I gave you the childhood I never had. I took you into my work and taught you everything. Everything. I let you carry important messages.’

  ‘You let me set up smuggling rings.’

  ‘I knew you would succeed.’

  ‘I was only fifteen and would have been hanged if caught.’

  ‘Oh, but you were much too smart for that. Besides, I’m a viscount.’ His brows rose. ‘I could have had you freed. Someone else would have been hanged. Not my son. You were too valuable in increasing my holdings.’

  ‘I took risks.’

  ‘Good ones.’ He sniffed and it turned into a sneer. ‘The fittest survive. You had to earn your place in life. It’s not that you’re honest, Barrett. Just that it became easier for you to pretend to be. The wealth grew and you needed more time to manage it. You didn’t have time to get your hands dirty any more. So don’t lie to yourself.’

  Barrett shook his head and poured himself some of the brandy. But he didn’t want to drink it, so he left it on the table.

  He gripped the chair back and leaned closer to his father. ‘I told you Grandmother pushed Mother down the stairs and you called me a liar, even when you knew it was the truth.’

  ‘It would have changed nothing. An accident is an accident. You cannot count on someone to break their neck when you push them down the stairs.’ A cough racked his body and he clasped a fist and put it against his chest. ‘My mother did not go so gently on me as we did with you.’

  His father rolled out of bed and poured himself another brandy. ‘I could have left you locked in the cellar until you died. Or I could have said I sent you away and I could have waited another year or so and brought the other rat back.’ He shrugged. ‘Behind my back you gave the other rat an education.’ His father cackled. ‘Two sons born within weeks of each other. A lightskirt and a heavy-skirt and both having a baby at the same time.’

  He’d learned about Gavin when he was around eleven. Irritation at his father and curiosity had driven him to discover more about a brother his own age. He’d searched out Gavin’s mother.

  Gavin had a toddling half-sister he cared about and she’d easily accepted Barrett.

  Barrett had witnessed the relationship Gavin and his sister had. They’d not considered it unusual, this caring they had for family. Not family loyalty, as he’d had preached to him, but concern for each other. Gavin had watched over her as closely as Barrett watched his father, but the duties came from different places.

  Barrett had made offhand boasts to let his father think he was going to a brothel. Instead he’d travelled to the four bare walls that Gavin and his sister shared and pretended to be a part of their lives. He’d known they existed on funds they earned from Gavin’s baking and their taking the cart to the street corner and selling the breads from it. And they’d considered themselves fortunate for the walls and the coal to bake with.

  He’d tried to talk Gavin into trusting him and, when that hadn’t worked, Barrett had pointed out how much better Gavin could provide for his sister if he had the right friends and the right patron. That had been a bargaining tool that Gavin could not refuse.

  The education for Gavin had started as a bit of curiosity, but had been a good investment in so many ways. People hadn’t realised who Gavin’s true father was—they’d always assumed he was the son of the man who’d taught him to speak well.

  His father laughed again. He lay back on the pillow and shut his eyes. ‘The only time you ever took me by surprise was when you were in the wine cellar. I never could figure out which servant was giving you food while you were locked away. You were there a week once and I didn’t expect to unlock the door and have you charge me with a broken wine bottle.’

  ‘It was eleven days. After the first time, I stole the key and had it copied. I put it back and no one noticed. I was safer in the cellar than in my own bed. Finding my way around in the dark gave me something to do. I was not giving you or Grandmother the satisfaction of breaking. I would have died first.’

  He stared at his father and saw his own face, lined, and his life wasted. A life without Annie was no life at all. He wanted to do the right thing by her and step away from her, but the ache inside him gnawed at him more than he believed possible.

  The empty look in his father’s eyes haunted Barrett.

  Now Barrett looked across at the speculative eyes of his father. Barrett chuckled, picking up the glass. ‘To your health,’ he said. ‘May you live long and die a natural death befitting your actions.’

  ‘To yours.’ His father held out the glass. ‘May you have the pox and no one to share it with.’

  His father gulped down the drink and Barrett sipped his. The dull ache in him lodged in his chest. He couldn’t bring Annie into the house.

  To have lived in another life and to have Annie in that world. A world that didn’t exist—of goodness and decency.

  Of Annie lying in his bed. Of her hands, soft, caressing his chest.

  When she touched him, he could forget everything but her. She freed him from his past, soothed the present moment and gave him hope for the future.

  With Annie in his life, he’d never end up like his father. He couldn’t. Annie took his mind from himself and gave him something precious to look at. Something more important to watch over than any funds growing in an account.

  Without Annie, he was nothing more than a poor replica of his father.

  His father ran his finger along the scar on his own chin. ‘I should have paid more attention to you. Then I might have noticed you were a forger and a thief.’

  ‘Your son.’

  ‘I never once said you were a bastard.’ His father laughed. ‘The only thing I never called you.’

  Barrett tilted his chin down and looked across his nose at his father. ‘Oh, how I wished.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. You liked the fight. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.’

  Barrett smiled. ‘Not for long.’

  ‘You’ve got a sweetheart. I saw the notes that other rat gave you on the Carson family. Which one is it?’

  Barrett looked at his father. ‘Why do I need a sweetheart when there are so many other women in the world?’

  ‘To us.’ His father held up the glass again.

  Barrett took a sip.

  Oh, there was no us. There was no sweetheart. But there was Annie.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Annie tried not to bite the inside of her lip. The wallflowers were together, chatting away. She gave Julia a
nd Diana a wave. Meg gave her a strained smile.

  Her own upturned lips were not as natural as she would have wished, but if Wellington’s soldiers had risked the town of Waterloo, then she could dance.

  She turned to the unmarried men who’d gathered on the other side of the room. The music would begin soon and she’d be on the dance floor, hopefully with a partner.

  ‘Oh, there’s Earl Winsley,’ her mother whispered. ‘He’s not met you. His four sons are married, but you never know when one might become a widower.’

  Annie allowed herself to be dragged along and found herself in conversation with her mother and Winsley.

  ‘You’re so thoughtful,’ her mother said, and then the edges of her eyes hardened. She stared over Annie’s shoulder.

  Annie turned, following her mother’s gaze.

  Barrett had walked into the room, looking as if he’d taken his valet to the tailor’s shop with him and just emerged, sparing no expense. His face might have thinned, but it added to his austerity and authority.

  She turned away, hoping he hadn’t seen her. She pulled up the edges of her gloves and met her mother’s eyes. Her mother also pulled up the edges of her gloves. When the conversation ended, her mother led her away from Winsley and to the refreshment table. ‘Show those teeth, Annie. Smile. And do let your arms flash about,’ she whispered.

  ‘I simply don’t know what I would do without you,’ her mother stated loudly as they moved closer to the punch.

  Annie spotted Lord Richard. ‘Let’s detour in his direction,’ Annie said. ‘I’d like to dance with him.’

  ‘Finally,’ her mother whispered. ‘I would have insisted Barrett visit us years ago if I thought it would point you in Lord Richard’s direction.’

  ‘Yes,’ Annie said. ‘He’ll ask. I’ll dance and have a grand time, no matter if his hair pomade smells like sausages. No man watching will be worried about being refused for a dance.’

  ‘I’m sure someone more pleasant will become a widower soon and remember how lovely you look in summer wear.’

  ‘I’m not counting on a widower,’ Annie said, clasping both hands around her mother’s arm and leading them straight to Lord Richard.

  He asked, Annie accepted, and she kept her back straight and made sure to enjoy every last utterance and when he turned the conversation to pork and all its usages, she agreed. It even helped in dancing, she told him, because it gave the dancers something to speak about.

  Admiration flashed in his eyes. ‘You’re delightful.’

  Which was a slightly different look than she noticed in Barrett’s eyes when the dance happened to turn her in such a way that she could see him. She would have expected a bit of smugness in Barrett’s face. Perhaps relief. Or happiness that she had taken his advice and started a search for a husband who would be willing to show up for a wedding ceremony.

  Barrett joined a group of men. They were all in conversation, drinks at hand, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. But if Barrett’s jaw weren’t so cleanly shaved, she would have bet his last whisker that he wasn’t really attending the conversation. She would have thought business talk would have put a happier look on his face.

  When the dance finished, she took Lord Richard’s arm as he started to return her to her mother’s side. She stopped walking and he had no choice but to stop as well. ‘Dancing with you was so lovely,’ she said. ‘And except for the fact that it would be unseemly to dance too much with one partner, I’d love to dance again. Do you happen to know of anyone who might wish to dance with me so I can perfect my steps?’

  ‘Have you been formally introduced to Charles?’ he asked.

  She nodded.

  ‘He hates asking women to dance,’ Lord Richard said. ‘Fears he’ll murder their toes, but...’

  ‘I have sturdy feet.’

  He led her to his friend. ‘Miss Annie quite loves to dance.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Charles answered.

  ‘You are...so thoughtful.’ Everyone was so thoughtful. ‘That is so kind of you to ask me to dance.’

  Both Lord Richard and Charles opened their mouths, but didn’t speak.

  She put her hand out, taking Charles’ arm after she pulled it nearer.

  ‘Uh...’

  ‘Do go on to the dance floor, Charles,’ Lord Richard said. ‘The lady is waiting.’

  Charles looked at Annie’s hand, then her face, and led her into the dance as the music for the next reel began. ‘I’m not the best of dancers,’ he said.

  ‘Then this will be practice for us both.’ She spoke softly. ‘All I care is that you keep your feet moving.’

  He leaned closer to whisper, ‘That I can do.’

  ‘You have quite excellent posture,’ she said. ‘I’ve noticed that before.’

  ‘And so do you, Miss Annie, if I may be so bold.’

  She laughed softly. Dancing was more fun than she expected. Perhaps Barrett should try it above glancing in her direction. ‘Oh, by all means.’

  ‘Charles, you really should dance more often,’ she said when they met in the dance again. She did not want to continue to live her whole life in an attic.

  ‘You’re an easy person to dance with, Miss Annie.’

  ‘That is a beautiful compliment.’

  He blushed. He had the kind of complexion that held on to redness to the very last instance, which she was grateful for, just in case they were being observed. It might be a good thing to the other men, to think she was a woman who could embarrass a man. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.

  When she helped him recover from a missed step, he seemed so grateful. He truly was the perfect dance partner. ‘You just did that to get me closer,’ she said. He smiled again and his cheeks reminded her of a particularly glorious sunrise.

  When the dance ended, she remained close to him. More people seemed aware of her than she’d expected and she didn’t like the feeling that people were watching her. She’d wanted it to happen, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it.

  ‘Did I injure your foot while we were dancing?’ Charles asked. ‘I can help you to a chair if you wish?’

  She laid her hand over his arm. ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m fine.’

  Charles led her back to her mother’s side. ‘Annie is the best dancer I believe I’ve ever stepped on to the floor with,’ Charles told her mother.

  Her mother beamed, her head nodding as she spoke. ‘She is so thoughtful. Sits by me for hours, reading to me.’

  ‘And what books are your favourites?’ he asked Annie.

  ‘I just read one by Eliza Parsons.’

  ‘At my request. To me. Aloud,’ her mother said and then looked over Annie’s shoulder, before glancing back at Charles.

  Annie hoped her mother wouldn’t say she was thoughtful again.

  ‘I never give the housekeeper any instructions either, as Annie has taken over that duty for me as well. She’s beyond compare.’ Her mother’s gaze iced over. ‘A treasure. Simply. A. Treasure.’

  Barrett was behind her. Annie knew it without looking. Her mother’s face gave it away.

  ‘I understand that completely,’ Charles said.

  ‘I thought I might dance with—’

  Barrett’s voice from behind her.

  ‘Oh, thank you.’ Her mother stepped completely around Annie and held out her hand. ‘I’ve hardly danced a step all evening.’

  He raised one brow, but reached out his hand to her mother, and pulled the back of her hand close to his lips. Kissing the air. ‘A dance with your daughter would be wonderful.’

  Barrett looked every bit of his elevated birth. Even the simple tie of his cravat contributed to his status, almost seeming to shout out that he didn’t need to spend any extra time on something so frivolous. His eyes commanded the room.

  Annie gave a small pivo
t on the heels of her slippers. He knew how to ask people to dance as well as she did. And to refuse, just as she was about to do.

  Annie schooled her face to look uninterested and turned to Barrett. ‘I must decline—’ she put her hand to her bosom ‘—as I have just agreed to tell Charles about the book I’ve been reading.’

  Her heart thumped so loud she hoped no one could hear it or see it throbbing in her throat.

  ‘By Eliza Parsons,’ Charles said. ‘Have you read any of her novels, Barrett?’

  ‘No. I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Oh, you would not be interested at all.’ Annie turned from Barrett and peered at Charles. ‘It has a castle and no one wants to go to the upstairs at night because that’s where the ghosts live.’

  Charles raised a brow. ‘Sounds interesting.’

  ‘I couldn’t do it justice in the telling,’ Annie said to Charles. ‘I must lend you my copy.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Charles said.

  ‘Well, now that we’ve got that settled,’ Barrett said, holding out his arm for Annie’s hand. ‘Dance?’

  Charles excused himself, probably a bit intimidated by the ferocity in Barrett’s eyes.

  ‘I really can’t,’ Annie said. She lowered her voice. ‘I have epidemeosis. A rare case. And the physician has said I must not get too tired. Why, just this very morning he said that if I danced with the wrong person, someone who could upset my humours, it could be very disastrous.’ He had actually said that and then winked at her.

  Her mother gasped. ‘I thought you were cured,’ she whispered.

  ‘I didn’t want to tell anyone.’

  ‘Of course,’ Barrett said. ‘That epidemeosis is serious.’

  ‘I now have a severe case.’ She turned to her mother. ‘I believe the physician reminded me to be in contact with people I’ve not been in close quarters with before. He said it will build up my resistance.’

  ‘Well, Annie...’ her mother reached out, patting Annie’s arm as she glared at Barrett ‘...I will tell your father and we can take you home.’