The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Duncan gave his aunt a look of sheer and utter bewilderment. “Twenty thousand pounds? Where in the name of Christendom is she going to obtain twenty thousand pounds, Tibby?”

  “Why, from me, of course.”

  Now he was positively thunderstruck. His house could erupt in green flames and he would not be any wiser.

  “What?” he choked out.

  Tibby dropped her chin just a touch, her bright eyes leveling him to the ground. “I am giving her twenty thousand pounds. I have the fortune to do whatever I please, and it will not infringe upon Marianne’s portion, nor yours. Though I daresay neither of you need anything from me, given your own living, however reluctant you are to spend it.”

  “That is not the point,” he growled, resenting her for even bringing it up.

  “I know,” she replied firmly, her amusement dimming. “I know, Duncan. What I am saying is…”

  “It’s your money and you can do what you like with it?” he suggested with more than a hint of irony.

  “Exactly so.”

  He did not like the smug expression on his aunt’s face. He did not like this plan of hers. But he also knew his aunt well enough to know that if he got in her way, she would run him over with her coach and team of horses, then back the whole rig up and run him over again for good measure.

  “I will not agree to this scheme of yours,” he said slowly, keeping his voice level and his words careful, “nor support it…”

  “Duncan!”

  “…unless I am sure that Annie wants to participate.” He gave Tibby a hard look of his own. “She has to want it, Tibby. You cannot force her. She must understand completely what will be expected. You thought she had a hard time fitting in here with us as a companion? She will now have to blend in seamlessly into the most vicious pool of carnivorous monsters that has ever existed. She has no idea how Society is.”

  He saw his aunt stiffen, saw the way her expression froze, and the worried light that entered her eyes. She had not considered all of that, he could see. Why should she? She was one of the wealthiest and most influential people in Society. She could go where she liked however she liked and not care a sniff for the opinions of others.

  Annie was a fresh young face with no history, no fortune, and no accomplishment to speak of.

  London would eat her alive.

  “And what will you do, Tibby,” Duncan continued, his tone remaining even, “if she does find an eligible man who wants to marry her?” His throat dried at the thought and he had to swallow, praying his composure was still intact. “Will he find her true identity a betrayal? Will he find her past abhorrent? What will your ideal potential husband for Annie do when the truth comes out?”

  “It should not matter,” Tibby muttered stubbornly.

  “It should not,” he agreed, “but it will.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Would it stop you?”

  Duncan jerked where he sat, and barked, “What?”

  “If you loved a young woman, and you found out a truth like Annie’s, would it stop you?”

  He felt as though he were walking on ice and the slightest misstep would send him flying into danger. He wet his lips and released a brief sigh. “No. But not all men have my past, nor my opinions.”

  “Can we not try?” Tibby asked, leaning forward eagerly. “I am not saying that we will parade the sweet girl around like a peacock, or even turn her into a debutante. We saw the trouble that created for Mary and Geoffrey last year.”

  Duncan sat back and raised his brows in surprise. “You knew about all of that?”

  Tibby waved a hand at him. “Please, darling. You underestimate me.”

  He had to chuckle. “Apologies. Of course, you knew.”

  She nodded, then folded her hands and sighed herself. “No parading, Duncan. No debutantes. No snobbery, no false behaviors. Annie will be entirely herself. But in the sort of places and among the sort of people that will give her the best chance for happiness and security. Don’t you want that for her?”

  “I want her to be happy,” he murmured. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “So… I may try?”

  He smiled at her, finally, shaking his head. “I told you, only if Annie understands what this entails and she wants to. If she agrees to it willingly… not forcibly,” he broke off with a final warning look that she nodded at, “then I will agree.” His smile turned rueful. “And since when do you need my permission to do anything?”

  She sniffed and sat back, already looking victorious. “I do not. It is merely a formality.”

  “Of course,” he replied, nodding obediently. “Formality.”

  “I will take care of her, Duncan,” Tibby said quietly, all pomp and airs gone. “I give you my word. I will be her dragon.”

  “And I her defender,” he murmured. “Don’t turn her into Marianne, Tibby.”

  “God forbid.” Tibby crossed herself and rolled her eyes. “One is quite enough.”

  He nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt at saying such things about his sister. But at the moment he feared nothing more than seeing Annie change into something she was not. He wanted nothing to change about her. Ever.

  “Annie would never be Marianne, though,” Tibby said thoughtfully. “She is too sweet, too shy, and too innocent to ever be so. And I intend to keep her that way. We shan’t let Society change our girl, now shall we?”

  “No,” he breathed, still feeling his heart wringing itself out in his chest. He was uneasy about this plan, and probably always would be.

  But he could not deny that the prospect of dancing with Annie at a ball surrounded by his friends did have a certain appeal to it.

  He looked back at his aunt, who watched him steadily. “A niece of your late husband’s from his previous marriage? Really?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It was a thought, Duncan.”

  “Which late husband, I wonder?”

  Tibby scoffed and rose. “Rupert, you impertinent man. His family was riddled with all sorts of random relatives, the likes of which most people had never heard of.”

  “I did not know that.” He smirked as he leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “I always liked Rupert. How shocking is his family?”

  She turned to face him with a look. “Some things, Duncan Bray, you honestly do not need to know.”

  He burst out laughing as she boldly left the room without glancing behind her even once.

  Chapter Ten

  “I won’t do it.”

  “You won’t? I don’t understand.”

  “What is there to understand? I will not do it. I refuse. Absolutely and emphatically no.”

  Duncan pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger and exhaled sharply. “Why not?”

  “You have to ask? You do not see any potential problems here?”

  He snorted. “Of course, I see potential problems, this idea has nothing but problems in it for most parties involved. But I don’t see any reason why it should keep you from helping.”

  Marianne did not reply, which was unlike her, so Duncan raised his head to look at her. She stared at him with her mouth agape, her entire being apparently offended. “Why it should…? Duncan! She does not belong in Society! Do you even hear yourself? You and Tibby want her to raise herself so far above her station that it places her on a level with…”

  He glowered at her, his ire rising within him. “What, Marianne? With you?”

  She closed her mouth, but her glare remained fixed. “Yes, as a matter of fact. You said Tibby is giving her twenty thousand pounds? Preposterous. Even with extensive training and an entirely new wardrobe, she could hardly pass for five.”

  “Don’t be mercenary,” he growled, patience rapidly wearing thin.

  “Nay, I will be mercenary!” his sister cried, rising out of her chair. “Money is everything! Money brings position and power and influence. Without it, you cannot get anywhere. Annie has nothing to offer anyone. She has no fortune, no family, and no talents! You t
hink she can survive for one hour in a London ballroom? She will not fool anyone. She is too poor and too plain to entertain such aspirations. You cannot raise her to this level, it throws everything Society holds important into complete degradation.”

  “You place entirely too much importance on the opinions and appearances of Society.”

  “And your complete lack of regard makes you stupid to the point of imbecility.”

  Duncan looked at his sister in shock. She had never spoken to him in such a way before, and he had never imagined she would have reason to. “Tread carefully,” he threatened, his tone far more dangerous than he had ever allowed with her before.

  But it seemed Marianne would not heed him. “You cannot hide what she really is, Duncan. She is a poor little urchin who deserves the pity of the world, but not their welcome. She is not well-bred, in fact she could hardly be more ill-bred. A horse tradesman is all the relation she has in the world, and from your own account, he is a woman-beating drunk. Yes, I can imagine that will go over quite well with the bachelors of London.”

  “Marianne, I am warning you.” Any sensible being on earth would have heard his barely concealed rage and stayed far away from rising temper. His sister had no such sense, and no such cares. She did not fear him.

  “You will make our family a complete laughingstock!” she cried. “When these lies, these fabrications come to light, and mark my words they will, it will be the end for us. By association with her, we will all become ridiculous and the stuff of mockery!”

  His knuckles were white as they clenched the arms of his chair, though how he was still seated, he could not have said. “No more,” he said, his voice low, seething, and taut, “than you have already made yourself.”

  Marianne looked as though he had slapped her.

  Faintly it registered to him that his words were harsh, but not enough to force him to stop. “Do you think that I am so ignorant as to what people say about you, Marianne? And what they say about me because of it? Do you even know how many rumors I have had to quell, how many lives I have had to threaten to protect your reputation, or what shreds actually remain of it? I have never in my life cared about what is said about me. And neither, it seems, have you. So forgive me if I do not take your opinions into consideration with regards to Annie. You are spoiled, self-centered, and in want of discipline, which I have neglected to give you, and that is my fault. I gave you too much freedom, and now it’s too late. But mark my words, Marianne, if you don’t check yourself, you will fast find that you will turn into…” He trailed off, even as his chest heaved with his fury.

  Marianne lifted her chin, daring him to finish, but having no idea what he would say.

  He shook his head, unable to complete his worst fear vocally. He exhaled slowly, fighting for control. “You have your own say in this. I cannot force you. Stay out of it, if you will, but you will not make things more difficult for her. You will not insult, degrade, or deride her. You will keep your mouth shut where she is concerned if you cannot say anything good. I dare not ask you to defend her, because I know that is asking too much of your pride, but you will not injure her. Do you understand me?”

  Perhaps it was the eight years between them, perhaps it was the authority in his voice, perhaps it was nothing other than a bit of sense smacking her in the face, but she only held her stubborn chin high for a fraction of a moment before she nodded. Her eyes were misty, but she shed no tears. His words had been brutal and he knew it, but they had also been truth. And it was long past time she heard them.

  “Are we done here?” Marianne asked bitterly, her voice not nearly as steady as it had been.

  He gave her a single nod, torn between wanting to hug her and wanting to rage at her.

  She rose and turned to leave his study, then turned back to him. “I like Annie. I admire her. I daresay I even love the girl, as much as one might love someone like that. But that does not make her my equal.”

  “I thought you were going to adopt her.”

  She sniffed with far too much conceit and gave him a look of complete and utter superiority. “Rather as one might adopt a puppy, Duncan. Not a sister. She could not aspire to equal me.”

  He considered his sister with sad resignation. “No, Marianne. You could not aspire to equal her. But you should.”

  She inhaled and stiffened visibly, her eyes widening a touch. Then her jaw tightened and she whirled from the room, stomping down the marble halls, her steps echoing each angry stride.

  Duncan closed his eyes and barely restrained a moan of pain. His sister had several points, all of which he had considered long into the night and continuing through the morning. But she was also quite mistaken about several things, and he was horrified at the creature she was becoming. How could she be so cruel and heartless?

  His fears were coming true. She was turning into their mother.

  Not that his mother had actually been heartless or cruel. In fact, she had been anything but. If, however, one had asked any member of Society who knew her, they would have disagreed. Their mother had put on the same sort of show for the world that Marianne now was, only Marianne acted the part in private as well.

  She didn’t know what the rumors said about her. She didn’t know what they said about their mother. Oh, she had heard some things, enough to know that she didn’t want to be accused of becoming her, but she had no idea. He had shielded her from that.

  She also did not know the truth about their family.

  Perhaps it was time she did. But it would mean admitting to the past, and Marianne would be ashamed of it. Of them.

  Of him.

  Did he dare risk that?

  After their conversation just now, he did not know.

  He was disappointed that Marianne would not help Annie, should she agree to Tibby’s proposition. But thinking back on it, he couldn’t say he was surprised by it. Luckily, he had other alternatives, ones who might not share his sister’s opinions.

  But then, he could never be sure. They had surprised him in the past.

  Annie needed to agree before he proceeded any further.

  And at this point, he was not sure he wanted her to.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Annie fumbled anxiously with her hands in her lap as she considered Tibby. “You don’t want me to be your companion anymore?”

  Tibby reached across the small table in the morning room and took Annie’s hand. “No, dear girl. I want you to be my niece.”

  That made no sense of any kind. “Your… niece?”

  “Well, the niece of my late husband from his previous marriage.” Tibby shook her head, sending her tightly curled hair dancing like flames. “It will all be such a mess to sort out that no one will ever take the time to unravel it. But I want you to join us in Society. I want you to have a debut like all the other pretty young girls in England and have a real London Season with balls and parties and suitors. I want you to be a lady.”

  Annie felt the breath leave her lungs in a massive exhalation. “What?”

  Tibby nodded, smiling as if she had not just asked for the impossible. “You are a delightful girl. So sweet and kind and patient, and you will do anything to please anybody. You have had such a hard time of life and yet you have no bitterness or hard heartedness in you. It shows remarkable maturity for one so young. Anyone would be blessed to have you as a companion.” She squeezed her hands tightly, so tightly that her large rings began cutting into Annie’s skin. “But I do not want you to merely be someone’s companion. I think you can be more.”

  “More?” Annie felt as though her brain were working through mud and mist. How could she be more than a companion when she was barely capable enough for that?

  “Yes, Annie. More. I think, with enough training and adjustments to your hair and wardrobe, you can be just as graceful and elegant in public as you are in private. Enough so that you could even find a match out of the highest society of London.”

  Lightheadedness suddenly hit Annie and
she clung to Tibby’s hand as if it were a rope tossed to a victim of the sea. Waves upon waves of dizziness rolled over her and she closed her eyes tightly to get her bearings.

  “Take a breath,” Tibby’s voice soothed, sounding very maternal indeed. “Breathe in slowly…”

  Annie tried to do as she was instructed, and found very little air going in, but quite a bit coming out. Her heart began to race, pounding against her ribs brutally.

  “Breathe, Annie.” Her voice was now commanding and firm, and Annie was instantly obedient.

  Slowly, the room stopped its spinning, though her face and brow were now covered with a sheen of anxious perspiration that mortified her.

  “That is better,” Tibby sighed, coming to sit by Annie and rubbing circles on her back. “I can see I shall have to be more careful with you than I thought.”

  “I’m sorry,” Annie whispered shakily, moving to wipe her face with her sleeve.

  “No, no, my dear,” Tibby said, holding Annie’s arm to stop her. “Handkerchief. Do you have one?”

  Annie nodded and pulled the one in her pocket. Her fingers trembled as she wiped her face, her lungs still aching from her panic.

  “Where did you get that?”

  Annie jerked as Tibby’s voice reminded her that the only handkerchief she possessed was, in fact, Duncan’s. She shot a terrified look at his aunt, fearing the worst. But Tibby’s eyes were soft, just as her voice at been, and she took in Annie’s clutching hold on the fabric with interest.

  “Is that what he used on your wound?” she pressed.

  Annie nodded. Her cheeks were flaming and she could not manage to swallow. What in the world would Tibby think?

  Tibby sighed and smiled at her. “Sweet girl. I am going to be remarkably impertinent at the moment and ask you something terribly personal. Do you have feelings for my nephew?”