His predatory gaze sent a small shiver up her spine. How often had she seen that loathsome glance? “You look fatigued, Mother,” Annabelle suddenly said, keeping her voice calm with effort as she moved across the room toward her mother’s chair. “Let me help you to your room.” She wanted her mother away, and to that end, she would press the issue whether Walingame wished it or not.
Fortunately, her mother’s presence seemed to be of no concern to him. Walingame merely addressed a pleasantry to Mrs. Foster as she and Annabelle walked past him.
But the moment Annabelle and her mother passed out of earshot, her mother hissed, “Who is that terrible man? He wouldn’t leave, even though I told him in no uncertain terms that you were away from home and I didn’t know when you’d return.”
“He’s just an acquaintance from London. I hope he hasn’t bothered you too long.”
“No, thank heaven—he only just arrived in the past hour. But he wouldn’t be deterred from sitting down,” she noted disapprovingly. “Even when I said I’d rather he return when you were at home. And the ill-mannered wretch kept asking any number of questions about you,” she added pettishly. “None of which I answered with any clarity because I didn’t wish to oblige him. I do hope he will leave soon. He’s not at all the sort of acquaintance I would wish for you.”
“I’m sure he’ll leave forthwith,” Annabelle replied, when she wasn’t at all sure what Walingame might do. “And thank you, Mama, for being so astute as to circumvent his questions. He is not a connection I wish to keep. By the way,” she inquired with a casualness she was far from feeling, “did the babies bother him with their cries?”
“They’ve both been sleeping like lambs, the dears. And luckily, too, for I’m sure he would have frightened them out of their wits. His curt, brusque tone and scowl are most uninviting.”
Annabelle was both grateful and relieved it wouldn’t be necessary to explain Chloe’s daughter. That her sister’s tragic story might have become a morbid tale for public consumption would have been distressing. “Why don’t I get you a nice cup of tea, Mama,” she offered as they entered the small breakfast room at the back of the cottage. “And once our visitors have left, I’ll come and tell you of my pleasant day.”
Chapter 18
“I heard you were dancing attendance on my mistress,” Walingame said with a sneer the moment Annabelle and her mother left the room. “So I thought I’d best come and fetch her back.”
“Strange,” Duff drawled lazily, “I understand she broke with you and left no word of her whereabouts. Which, no doubt, is why you haven’t previously troubled her.”
“She’s lying,” Walingame growled. “Women like her always lie.”
“We disagree,” Duff murmured. “And rather than cause the lady any further distress, I suggest you hie yourselves back to London.”
“Lady?” Walingame snorted. “She’s hardly that.”
“She’s very much a lady and under my protection.” Duff’s brows rose faintly, a half smile playing about his mouth. “I hope that’s perfectly clear.”
Dougal rose from his chair. “I told you as much,” he said to Walingame. “Come, it’s time to go.” He didn’t like the chill in Darley’s voice, nor the hard look in his eyes. The marquis’s temper was well known. He’d killed a man in a duel before leaving for the Peninsula. Not that the scoundrel didn’t deserve to die, but Langley’s demise had been the proverbial straw, as it were. Dueling was illegal—Duff had taken part in too many. And this last duel—a royal duke’s mistress had been involved—brought with it the possibility of prosecution. Duff had been forced to flee England until the scandal died down.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Walingame snarled, standing his ground.
“You should be.” Soft menace underlay the words.
Walingame took a threatening step forward.
Duff didn’t move; he didn’t so much as blink. “Name the place and time, Walingame,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.
“Don’t be a fool,” Dougal hissed, grabbing his friend’s arm.
Walingame shook off Dougal’s grasp, but he was sweating and his color had risen. “Is she worth dying for?” he blustered.
“I have no intention of dying,” Duff replied calmly. “You, on the other hand, have to decide if you wish to leave this mortal coil.”
The bastard was cool as ice, Walingame thought resentfully. Not that he intended to meet Darley on the dueling field. Principles of honor were for other men—stupid men. “I’ll be back,” he muttered, “and we’ll see who’s left alive.”
Duff smiled tightly. “Anytime. Although, I won’t be careless like Harmon.” Walingame had hired thugs to viciously beat the viscount rather than face him at twenty paces like a man.
“Fuck you,” Walingame growled.
“I think not—if it’s all the same to you,” Duff mockingly replied.
Frustration and fury turned Walingame’s face a poisonous shade of purple. His mouth opened and shut, and then, with a snarling growl, he brushed past Duff. Dougal was quick on his heels.
The outside door slammed a moment later, the crack of a whip was heard, and soon after, the rattle of a chaise as it picked up speed.
Peace descended on the parlor.
With a faint smile, Duff walked over to the settee, sat down, and calmly waited for Annabelle to return.
———
The marquis was sprawled in a comfortable pose, his eyes half shut, when Annabelle entered the room.
His lashes lifted, and pushing up into a seated position, he pleasantly inquired, “How is your mother feeling?”
“Very well now, thank you.” Standing in the doorway, Annabelle surveyed the room and smiled. “They’re gone.”
His gaze was innocent as a saint’s. “I told you I could accomplish the task diplomatically.”
“And quietly,” she breathed in astonishment. “I didn’t hear a voice raised in protest.”
“There was very little to hear. I told Walingame he wasn’t welcome and he apparently understood.”
Her brows rose. “That sounds very much out of character for Walingame.”
Duff shrugged in a small, dismissive gesture. “I suspect Innes’s voice of reason helped sway Walingame,” he lied. “Innes pointed out there was no further reason for Walingame to stay, since you’d broken with him anyway,” Duff added, both statement and query in his softly murmured addendum.
“I did break with him!” Annabelle replied emphatically, wanting no ambiguity on that score. “There was absolutely no question that I broke with him!”
“Well, then—everyone understands everyone else, I’d say,” Duff quietly acceded. “They’re gone, and for my part, I say good riddance.”
“Oh, yes… absolutely!” Annabelle exclaimed, finally allowing herself to exhale a great sigh of relief. “It’s really over, isn’t it? I can’t thank you enough,” she quickly went on, answering her own question. “We all thank you!” She opened her arms in a sweeping, all-encompassing gesture. “My mother, Molly, and the babies thank you, too!”
“Then all’s right with the world once again. Come, sit by me.” Duff patted the settee seat, feeling a deep contentment, feeling like he did long before Waterloo. As though life held promise and pleasure was his by right. “If you don’t think your mother will mind,” he added, with inherent good manners.
“She’s with Molly in the breakfast room having a cup of tea,” Annabelle noted, moving across the room. “Walingame will be the topic of conversation for quite some time, I suspect. Neither Mother nor Molly found anything pleasing in him.”
“There aren’t many who do.”
“Don’t look at me like that.” She stopped in her tracks and frowned slightly. “I was coerced—not that you have to believe me, but it’s true.”
“In what way were you coerced?”
Standing a little straighter, she met his gaze with unswerving directness. “I don’t have to tell you.”
�
��Of course you don’t.” Although restraint echoed in every syllable.
“Oh, very well,” she said with a sigh, not knowing if she was giving in to that small hint of temper in his voice or her own better judgment. Duff had, after all, summarily dealt with Walingame. “I owe you a considerable favor, so if you wish an explanation, I shall give you one,” she added, moving forward once again. “Also, I very much don’t want you looking at me like that.”
He smiled. “Like what?”
“Like you might be thinking of shaking the information out of me.”
“Don’t mistake me for Walingame,” he murmured, a flash of umbrage in his gaze. “You needn’t tell me if you’d rather not.”
“What I’d rather do is forget any of this happened. I’d like to pretend you simply drove me home after a lovely, glorious afternoon at your lodge and my life will continue to be filled with more such joy.”
Her voice suddenly held a note of desperate unhappiness, and without a care for whether the other occupants of the cottage saw him—a startling circumstance, had he noticed—he reached out, pulled her onto his lap, and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “I’m jealous of any man you’ve ever known.” He didn’t even blanch at the admission, nor did he question its veracity. “You may tell me as much or as little as you like about whatever you like. It makes no mind to me. As far as I’m concerned, the subject is closed. And on a more pleasant topic, if you don’t think your mother will miss you too much, let’s make plans for tomorrow.”
“You offer me paradise, Duff. Truly—-in every fathomable shape and form.” And she allowed herself to dream for a moment that life could remain in this blissful state forever.
“You’ve given me back my life. Why shouldn’t I offer you anything and everything?”
If only she could let herself believe that men like Duff were more than a fleeting pleasure. That paradise truly existed somewhere close enough for her to reach, that she would be allowed to dwell there and bask in its beauty. “Why don’t I see what Mother says,” she murmured in lieu of dreaming impossible dreams.
“And if I can help you in any way with Walingame, you need but ask.” He was tactful enough not to say he wanted exclusive claim to her time and person. Nor did he fully acknowledge that such feelings would have been incomprehensible to him short days ago.
“Perhaps he won’t be back.”
“Perhaps.” At her terror-stricken look, he quickly added, “I’m sure he won’t be.”
But Annabelle had been on the stage too long not to recognize unspoken nuances in others. Walingame would be back; she could read it in Duff’s eyes. “In any event,” she offered, not wishing to dwell on painful thoughts and also wanting Duff to understand why she’d tolerated Walingame so long, “I’d like to explain my relationship with him.”
He should have said it wasn’t necessary. He should have brushed off her attempt at disclosure. But he was no longer indifferent as he had once been to his ladyloves and because of that, he remained silent.
“Soon after I first came to London,” she began, “I signed a note with a moneylender. I’d just begun my career at Drury Lane and was short of funds.” She chose not to say she was desperate to send money home for her mother and Chloe. How could a man like Duff understand that degree of privation? “I went into debt, and not long ago, Walingame discovered my business dealings with Crasswell and purchased my note from him. There was scarce any balance remaining, but knowing Walingame was anxious to buy it, Crasswell charged him an exorbitant price that I was forced to assume. I sought legal help, but Walingame threatened to find my family and tell them all, so legalities became immaterial.”
“When did all this transpire?” Duff asked as though he could tally the number of days she’d been obligated to Walingame and by so doing, allay his jealousy by commensurate degrees.
“Early this year. Before that, I’d always been independent. You know that. I’ve never lived under anyone’s protection. Walingame was impossible, of course, threatening to embarrass me in a number of ways. I paid him off as soon as I could and left him.”
He took comfort in her explanation. He felt better knowing Walingame had no further claim to her.
He was comforted as well, knowing if Walingame pressed his suit with Annabelle, he would kill him.
If necessary.
If the man didn’t have sense enough to cease harassing Annabelle.
Duff was no better or worse than others when it came to the accepted codes of conduct in society.
It was a violent time. Life was cheap.
Men, women, and children could be transported for stealing a loaf of bread, sometimes hung for less. And while the aristocratic world was immune to the more brutal laws of England, beneath the elegant dress and fine manners, they had their will of each other in any number of barbarous ways. Wives were beaten by husbands. Husbands were cuckolded by wives. Men fought duels over the turn of a card or some senseless outrage.
Or over a woman.
Chapter 19
“Darley was ready to dispatch you on the spot,” Dougal murmured, lounging in the corner of the chaise, his legs propped up on the opposite seat.
“I doubt it,” Walingame muttered, uncorking a brandy bottle and taking a long draught.
“Deny it all you wish, it’s true. You could see it in his eyes. And Darley has never had any scruples about putting a bullet in an adversary. Not to mention, most of his duels have been over some ladylove’s so-called honor. You were lucky you came out of there unscathed.”
“You run off at the mouth, Dougal. As for Darley, I’ll see that he pays for his bloody insolence.”
Dougal grinned. “Thinking about hiring some thugs again?”
“If need be,” the earl growled, immune to issues of honor. Right and wrong were mere words to him.
“Keep in mind, Darley might be on the lookout for a crowd of roughs. He said as much.”
“I don’t care,” Walingame spat. “All I know is that he’s going to pay one way or another for fucking my mistress.”
“He may not be fucking her.” Dougal didn’t add, And it didn’t look like she was yours.
“Acquit me of stupidity,” Walingame muttered. “They smelled of sex when they walked in.”
“Not from where I was sitting.”
Walingame snorted. “They’d spent the day in bed. I’d bet my stable on that.”
Dougal grinned. “Since I’d like your stable, could we find out whether they had sex or not?”
“Very humorous, I’m sure. Remind me to mock your female attachments. Not only is Janet Ferguson so shapeless one can’t tell if she’s coming or going—she doesn’t discriminate whom she takes into her bed. I hope you understand you’re not alone in fucking her.”
“Nor do I wish to be,” Dougal drawled, his inamorata one of the hotter women he’d ever bedded despite her boyish form and indiscretions. “And I hardly think Annabelle Foster could be considered your exclusive property,” he bluntly pointed out.
“Regardless, I intend to have her back in my bed in short order,” Walingame declared firmly.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
Walingame smiled wickedly. “The usual way. Through guile.”
Chapter 20
Duff had tea with Annabelle, her mother, and Molly before he left. He also asked Mrs. Foster for permission to fetch Annabelle the following morning and was speedily answered in the affirmative.
He stayed for some time, enjoying the company, making plans with them for the summer as though he was a member of the family. It was near sunset when he and Annabelle said their good-byes. They stood together at the garden gate, the sun pinking the horizon, the scent of flowers perfuming the air, a palpable serenity enveloping the scene.
“I can’t remember when I’ve had a more pleasurable day,” he whispered, taking her hand in his behind the shield of her skirts.
“Nor can I. I thank you again for my happiness and your gallantry in all things. It’s del
ightful to have Walingame gone as well.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll send some servants over to help your mother and Molly with the children and a few men to stand guard as a precaution.”
She shook her head. “I wish you wouldn’t. Such actions might unduly alarm Mother.”
“Your mother won’t mind one or two maids, will she? Come, say yes to that, at least.” As for the guards, he would see that they stayed out of sight. But they would be there for his peace of mind, if not hers.
“Very well,” she replied politely, not wishing to continue the argument.
“Good.” He gently squeezed her fingers. “Tell me you’ll think of me tonight,” he murmured.
She smiled. “How could I not?” A man like Duff was not easily forgotten.
“I’ll be here at ten to fetch you. I wish I could kiss you good-bye.”
“No more than I. But Mother and Molly are probably peering out the windows.”
He sighed softly. “So I must be well behaved.”
“I’m afraid so,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears.
“Darling, don’t cry—don’t—especially when I can’t take you in my arms and comfort you.”
She sniffled and snuffled and a moment later offered him a quivering smile. “There. I’m fine. I’m probably still rattled by all that has happened.”
“Walingame won’t bother you again. Don’t worry about him another second.”
She nodded, forcing back her tears. “I shan’t. ‘Til tomorrow, then.” If Duff didn’t leave soon she was likely to burst into a veritable fit of weeping.
He released her hand, bowed faintly, and with a smile took his leave.
As his phaeton drew away from her gate, he waved.
She managed to maintain her smile until he was out of sight. Wiping away her tears, she turned and with a determined tread, briskly walked back to the cottage.
They would have to be gone by morning.
There was no question of staying now that Walingame knew where she lived.
When someone loves you Page 13
