The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Annie’s brows shot up in surprise. Was he teasing her?

  Duncan heaved an impatient sigh. “Annie Ramsey, permit me to introduce to you my friends. In the back there is Nathan, the Earl of Beverton.”

  The dark one who had greeted her bowed, and Annie had no idea how to respond, so she nodded her head and tried to smile.

  “Next to him is Derek, the Marquess of Whitlock.” The most attractive man in the group smiled and also bowed.

  An earl and a marquess? Duncan kept high company, indeed!

  “The blonde one is Geoffrey Harris, newly married and still glowing,” Duncan said, bringing laughs and smiles to his friends’ faces.

  Geoffrey shrugged with a broad grin and gave her a jaunty, but very polite bow. “It is true, I’ll not deny it.”

  Annie could not help but to genuinely smile in return.

  “And last… and most definitely least… the scarecrow in front of you is Colin Gerrard.” Duncan waved his hand dismissively.

  Colin sniffed in a playful manner, then bowed deeply. “Charmed, Miss Ramsey.”

  “It… it is very nice to meet you all,” she said, her voice more than a bit shaky.

  “Our pleasure, to be sure,” Derek told her, his green eyes twinkling.

  She was getting more and more overwhelmed by the second. What did one even say to such men? Her palms were beginning to perspire and her stomach twisted itself into knots. But she must not embarrass Duncan, no matter what…

  “A question for you, Miss Ramsey, if I may,” Colin said with a slight incline of his head.

  She was startled by being addressed so directly and suddenly by one of his friends. “I… I suppose you may…” Really, as if she had any reason or power to refuse him should she have wished it.

  Colin nodded, putting his hands behind his back. “Thank you. When you first met our Mr. Bray here, what was your initial impression?”

  Annie froze so completely winter might well have focused on her entirely. Her impression? Of Duncan? Oh, she had been part terrified, part mystified, and part helplessly devoted from the first. How did she adjust that to sound polite and proper?

  “My… impression?” she stammered.

  “Colin…” Nathan said in a warning tone, watching Annie. Duncan had stiffened and the other two watched with caution.

  “Yes,” Colin told her, ignoring the others completely. “On a scale of a tiny kitten to a ferocious bear, how intimidating was he?”

  The entire room, paintings, statues, and suits of armor alike, seemed to release a breath of relief with the rest of them at those words. All of the men grinned and looked to Annie.

  How was she to respond? She looked up at Duncan, biting her lip anxiously.

  He shook his head, smiling. “Don’t look at me. You must answer him honestly on your own.”

  Honestly? She would never manage that. She looked back at Colin, who waited with infinite patience, his smile warm and inviting, so much so that she simply had to trust him. And she could play along.

  She forced a timid smile. “You know those little dogs carried around by fine ladies? The fluffy ones that bark incessantly and bare their teeth and jump as high as your hip?”

  Snickers began tumbling from the others, but Colin kept his expression very composed. “Hmm, perhaps your hips, my dear, not mine. But yes, I do know. Go on.”

  She blushed a bit at her own daring. “He was a little more frightening than that.”

  The snickers turned to barely restrained chuckles.

  Colin frowned. “Truly? Not a bear?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir.”

  He hummed and glanced at Duncan in confusion, then back at her. “Not even a cub?”

  Annie looked at Duncan herself, who was watching her with unfettered glee and a bit of pride. She would keep that image in her mind always. She somehow turned back to Colin and said, “Well, perhaps a sleeping cub.”

  The rest of the men, Duncan included, laughed aloud, the sound ringing from the hall.

  Colin laughed, then sighed. “Well, take care not to disturb the sleeping cub. He has been known to bite, on occasion.”

  She smiled warmly and allowed him to take her hand when he reached for it.

  He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and bowed. “A sincere and rare privilege, Miss Ramsey.” Then he turned, nodded to the others, and swept from the house.

  Surprised by the shortness of the conversation and the suddenness of the departure, Annie looked around. The rest seemed as stunned as she. Then Derek whistled and looked back at them all.

  “Well,” he said, “now I have seen everything.”

  “Sorry?” Annie asked, not understanding and forgetting for a moment that she was shy and he was a handsome marquess.

  “Colin did not even attempt flirtation with you,” Duncan explained, leaning towards her a bit. “It is simply unheard of. He would flirt with a street light if it gave him the proper inclination.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “Oh.”

  She could not help but to look down at her toes. So the cheerful and friendly Mr. Gerrard would be the first one to realize she was not suited for this life and therefore unworthy of his usual attentions. She could not say she did not expect it, but she wished she had not been so ill a judge of character as to presume real warmth there. She must learn to be more discerning if she were to retain any sense at all.

  “Miss Ramsey?”

  She glanced up slightly at Nathan, who looked more gentle than she would have expected a man of his physique to appear. He smiled faintly. “Colin also never kisses hands. He is never so polite or respectful to anybody. I think you ought to consider yourself quite flattered by his manner just now.”

  He could not be serious.

  And yet the rest were smiling at her with the same expression. Encouragement. Agreement.

  Approval.

  She was undoubtedly going mad.

  “How are you finding London, Miss Ramsey?” Geoffrey asked, his tone and expression warm.

  She swallowed her panic, her throat burning with its dryness. “I… I can’t say, sir. I’ve not seen it yet.”

  He seemed entirely unperturbed by that. “Well, you must as soon as you can. If you do not mind, I could have my wife Mary come pay you a visit, and she could show you around.”

  He wanted his wife to do that? With her? It was unfathomable. “W-wouldn’t a servant be better suited, sir?” she asked, her face tingling with embarrassment. She shouldn’t be so forward as to suggest he was wrong, but neither should he saddle his wife with being forced to spend time with her.

  Now the men looked surprised and looked at each other. “Why would a servant be more suited?” Nathan finally asked.

  She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to view her with a sense of bewilderment that didn’t suit his features. Really, what could he be so confused about? She was little more than a servant, why should a find lady like Mrs. Harris spend any time with her at all? It was one thing for Tibby and Marianne to give her attention, she worked for them and they no doubt had her best interest at heart. But they would not have her mingling with finer people of Society unless Tibby had need of her.

  Why should she know London at all?

  “Annie,” Derek said softly, breaking through her internal reverie. “I apologize, may I call you Annie?”

  She nearly laughed. He could have called her Fred and she would have answered. But she merely nodded.

  He tilted his head slightly. “Why do you think a servant should show you London instead of Mary?”

  Was he under the same delusions as Duncan? It had to be a contagion. “Because I am only a companion to Lady Raeburn. And not a very good one. Nothing special.”

  The room suddenly felt as if all of the air had been sucked out and replaced with ice. Each of the men stiffened and gave her such a look that she would have run for it had her feet any power at all.

  “Let me tell you something right now, Miss Annie Ramsey,” Nathan said with his i
mpressive glower. “You know that Duncan will not tolerate your speaking that way, I presume. Especially with the thunderstorm brewing in his eyes at this moment.”

  She barely glanced in his direction, but she knew it was true. She nodded once.

  “Well, neither will we,” Nathan continued. “You are under his protection while you are here, but you will also be under ours. And furthermore, I think Mary Harris is the perfect person to show you around London and you are more than special enough for her to be seen with. And further than that, I will have my wife Moira come with her. And unless I am mistaken in his character, I believe Derek feels the same about his wife Kate.”

  “I do,” Derek said firmly. “And they are much meaner than we are, Annie, so you had better speak highly of yourself indeed.”

  She swallowed hard, but nodded obediently.

  “You’re scaring her,” Duncan murmured, his stature softening the slightest.

  “You will love them within minutes,” Geoff assured Annie with a smile. “We did.”

  They all nodded with smiles.

  “Well,” Annie managed, when her mind caught up with their actions, “if Lady Raeburn won’t mind…”

  “She won’t,” came a chorus from all of them at once.

  She smiled softly. “Then I would be happy to meet them.”

  “As if you have a choice,” Duncan chuckled. “They would have descended in a flock regardless.”

  “Prepare yourself, my dear,” Nathan said with a sigh, patting Annie’s shoulder softly. “You will need all your strength to endure it.”

  She laughed at his teasing expression. “Yes, my lord. I shall.”

  “No formalities, Annie,” Derek said with a shake of his head. “No more ‘my lord’ or ‘sir’ or any such nonsense. You are one of us now. We take care of our own.”

  If she could believe him, she would have cried.

  But she did not.

  She could not.

  So she smiled and ignored the burning in her eyes, and agreed.

  But someday soon, this charade would end and she would have little to rely on. She could not presume that these men, as charming and polite as they were, would align themselves with her then. And their wives certainly would not. She knew enough of women to know they always held reputation to a high standard, and they could be brutal when theirs was in danger.

  No one would solicit her society.

  But for now, she would let these nice men think it possible.

  They need not know how the world truly worked.

  Not yet.

  She needed to get out of here before the dream ended. She cleared her throat awkwardly and looked at Duncan. “Could I go to the library now? I would like to be available when your aunt wakes.”

  He seemed to sense her discomfort and his warm eyes showed understanding. He nodded. “Would you like me to show you?”

  She shook her head. She needed time away from the delusion she lived in, not to embrace it. “You have friends here. I can find it if you will direct me.”

  He did not looked pleased, but she dared not call it disappointment. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but then, that was none of her business. He could think whatever he liked of her. She would never know.

  The men looked at Duncan hesitantly, but said nothing.

  He quietly told her where to go and she smiled to the rest in farewell, hoping she was not expected to curtsey, and fled as calmly as she could.

  The sooner Tibby’s house was finished, the better. She needed to get out of this house.

  She could not stay here for long, or she would start to believe.

  She would start to hope.

  And life had taught her that hope was dangerous.

  Chapter Eight

  The afternoon light streaming through the grand windows of the library made for a surprisingly warm patch amidst the relative frigidity of the room. Wrapped as she was in the thickest shawl that had been able to be procured for her on short notice, Annie found herself quite comfortable when that light was warming her.

  Others would probably have disagreed with her, but considering she had spent a good portion of her life become accustomed to freezing, she was quite content at the moment.

  Although she had to admit that she wouldn’t have complained had there been a fire blazing in the large fireplace nearby. But she was not yet brave enough to inquire after one. After all, she had barely been in the house a week, and hardly been any sort of a companion at all.

  One must be able to read in order to read aloud.

  And she was far worse at reading than she had feared.

  Not that she was giving it all of her energy at the moment. She was a bit distracted by her memories. She had spent the last few days being entertained by some of the finest women she had ever met. The very first time had been excruciatingly awkward for Annie. The maid who had brought her the news that three ladies were waiting upon her in the parlor seemed to think there had been a mistake and laughed when Annie had risen from her chair and had gone, red cheeked and embarrassed, to meet them.

  They had talked for over an hour.

  Annie had really said very little, answering their questions just enough that they asked more or would discuss her answers amongst themselves. It had given her ample opportunity to study these women more carefully.

  Lady Beverton and Lady Whitlock were imposing, yet surprisingly warm, and had an understanding between them that Annie wondered at. They were rare beauties and the perfect matches for their husbands. Mary Harris, on the other hand, was remarkably plain. Mr. Harris had been one of the most attractive men Annie had ever seen, and yet this woman was quite simply average-looking. Kind and gracious and certainly had a portion of the majesty the other two seemed to possess, but in looks she was certainly no match for her husband.

  It made her instantly like Mary and she was in no way intimidated by her. It had only taken a few minutes with the woman for her to forget all about the inequality of looks and to find her irresistibly charming.

  She had expected them to depart with all politeness when their hour had been reached, but they had surprised her by insisting that she fetch her coat and some sturdier boots so they might take her about London.

  They had only spent a short time out and about and she was convinced she had seen it all, until they promised to call on her in another two days to show her more of it. And they had come, with more energy and excitement, more familiarity, and more interest in her. By all accounts and appearances, it seemed they did not care one way or another that she was to be nothing more than Tibby’s companion. They were as comfortable conversing with her as if she were an equal.

  How was she to ever keep her head when surrounded by such women?

  No one had ever wanted to spend such time with her.

  A cold shiver raced up her spine.

  Some had. And if she did not improve her situation quickly, that future would still be a possibility.

  She returned her attention to the book before her. She was pleased that she had discovered a collection of fairy tales upon her first visit to the library, which she could only tell by the illustrations within. She had spent every morning and as much time as she could in the afternoon or evening trying to read, but she hadn’t managed to get beyond the first two pages. And none of it made any sense to her.

  After struggling for what seemed an age, she closed the book and put her head into her hands, letting the frustrated tears flow. How could she hope to escape what lay before her if she were so utterly useless? She would never be able to earn a decent wage if she couldn’t obtain basic skills needed to work!

  Though Tibby and Marianne and Duncan were generous and kind, not all employers would be. And though they denied such a relationship, she knew the truth.

  She was nothing. She would always be nothing. It didn’t matter if she could read or not, if she knew how to spell her name, or if she could play a simple tune on a pianoforte. She could be as accomplished as any lady of L
ondon and she would still be nothing. It would all be lies.

  She could keep company with a countess and a marchioness, with a future duke, and with the debutantes of fashion and Society, and she would still be nothing. They could change her clothing and give her an allowance and freedom, and it would not change anything. She couldn’t change who she was.

  She was plain, poor, pathetic Annie Ramsey from Yorkshire. Her brother had sold her to the vilest of men for the best profit he could find. Her future was destined to be as dark as her past. And she had run away from it. What horrors would wait for her when she returned?

  And she would have to return. There was nothing for her here.

  Nothing.

  The tears came faster, harder, and she couldn’t stem them. What had she done?

  She had to read. She had to. It was the key to everything. If she could not read, she could not work. She would have two choices then: to stay in London and try to survive, or to return home. She would never survive in London alone. And she could not go home. She could not marry Mr. Thorpe. She could not go back to Frank. She would die if she did. As surely as she lived and breathed at this moment, they would kill her. Her soul first, and then slowly and surely her body would follow.

  She might be nothing; she undoubtedly was. But she wanted to live.

  Although, for the life of her, she could not see why.

  The door to the library opened and she turned her face more fully away. She wasn’t hiding from sight, but it wouldn’t be difficult to miss her. She had yet to be disturbed by anyone when she was in this room, so barely used was it. Duncan had said it was one of his favorite places, yet she had never seen him. She wiped at her cheeks as quickly as she could and quietly reached for the book on the floor. She prayed that whoever it was would be so surprised when they saw the room was in use that they would leave just as soon as they had come.

  She opened the book to somewhere in the middle, and prayed she looked serene.