The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Annie would have run for the hall if Tibby’s hold on her weren’t so tight. Her blood suddenly felt hot and her toes tingled with anticipation. “I… I… don’t know,” she admitted finally, her voice quivering unsteadily.

  “Why do you not know?”

  She moved a damp lock of hair from her forehead and twisted it behind her ear. “He… he saved me. He helped me to escape. He brought me here and helped me to read. I am… grateful to him for that. But…”

  “But you do not know if there is more than that.”

  Annie nodded, swallowing hard.

  “Do you find him handsome?”

  Again, she nodded, her cheeks flaming again. What a thing to admit to one’s employer!

  “Kind?”

  “Yes.” He was the very description of the word.

  “Why did you go with him?”

  Annie glanced over at Tibby and saw genuine curiosity, but also something else. Something she could not define. But it gave her strength. “Because when I was with him I felt… safe.” She suddenly had to swallow once more. “I hadn’t felt safe in so long, I was afraid to go back. And also…” She blushed at her own daring, uncertain if she could complete the errant thought.

  “I see,” Tibby said slowly, one side of her mouth curving upwards. “Yes, I see. Well, I stand by what I said. I want you to become a lady and take London by storm.”

  “I’m not a lady.”

  “Well, not yet, but you will be when I am through with you.”

  “I doubt I could take anything by storm, Tibby,” she laughed, her nerves fading a bit.

  “Tosh,” Tibby scolded, patting her hand. “It will be a very quiet storm, hardly any noise at all, just a few waves here and there. Maybe a stray bolt of lightning where it is needed. Nothing scandalous.”

  Annie laughed a little and sighed as she wiped a stray tear from her eye. “What will I need to do?” she asked with a sniff. Her mind reeled with the possibilities and expectations and confusion.

  Tibby straightened up and gave her a very serious look. “First, I need to tell you what you can expect from this all of this. You’ve not experienced London at the height of Society, and thankfully, the official Season does not start for some time, so you will get a taste before the insanity commences. After I have told you all, then the rest is up to you.”

  Annie reared back in a bit of shock. “To me? Why me?”

  “Because when it comes down to it, my dear, you must be the one to decide what to do. I shall not force you, nor try to dissuade you. If you choose to do it, I will be thrilled and help you every step of the way. If you choose not, then you will still be my companion and I will be delighted by your company.”

  The older woman’s words were so sincere, so encouraging, that Annie almost cried again. But she was so terrified at the prospect of being on display for all of London that she could only nod jerkily and attempt to regain sensation in her fingertips. There was no way she could do anything so impossible as what Tibby had suggested. But she would hear her out.

  She absently gripped at the fabric of her plain day dress while Tibby began, rather rapidly, to talk about what London was like during the Season. What the people were like. It was plain that Tibby adored being on display and that the hustle and bustle of the Season poured life into her veins. Annie listened with half of an ear, knowing that this was important for her, but also knowing there would not be any point. The dress she wore now was a borrowed and refurbished gown belonging to Mary’s sister, though Mary said it suited Annie far better.

  She doubted that.

  It was impossible to deny that she had not thought once or twice about what it would be like to be a fine lady with the sort of gowns and manners that Moira, Kate, Mary, Tibby, and Marianne all possessed. She had even dreamed about it a few times. But she had never imagined that she would ever have the chance to actually… That anyone would want her to…

  Could she really do something so farfetched?

  “Are you even listening to me, child?”

  Tibby’s voice broke into her reverie and she snapped up to look at her. Clearly, Tibby did not think she had been.

  But Annie had long been used to listening and thinking at the same time.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tibby raised a brow suspiciously. “What did I just say, then?”

  “That I can still be as reserved as I am and will not have to speak to anybody that I don’t want to so long as I speak to someone,” she recited nearly word for word.

  Annie felt a rush of pride at seeing Tibby’s expression of surprise. At least something from her past was useful.

  “Well, well,” Tibby murmured softly, “you may do far better than I expected in Society if you can listen without listening.”

  Heat rushed into Annie’s cheeks and Tibby grinned. “You will have to manage your blush better, my dear, or the men will be all over you. You look quite charming with such color.”

  “Tibby…”

  “I never flatter, darling, not at all,” Tibby continued with a wave of her hand, “and I know that I have described quite a bit just now. But think it over, won’t you? I promise you, you will not regret a moment. We can stop it at any time, just say the word. I think you will enjoy it, though. And I know a certain someone would love an opportunity to see you all dressed up in fine clothes and dance with you as such.”

  Annie’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened. “What?”

  Tibby smirked. “Did I say something? No, no, I don’t believe I did. Well, I shall leave you to your thoughts. Say the word and I shall wave my magic wand over you, my dear. Ta ta!” She rose and swept from the room in one fluid motion, leaving Annie alone on the sofa in the drawing room, feeling as though her stomach had dropped to the floor beneath her toes.

  There couldn’t be any truth to what Tibby was saying. None at all. Duncan would never want… He could never…

  But what if he did?

  Her breath caught in her chest and a strange sound sprang from her. Could it even be possible? She knew she was not indifferent to him, far from it, but would he ever be more than simply protective and kind where she was concerned?

  A twinge of something sharp hit her stomach and she shifted uncomfortably. What would he want her to do? He had brought her here to be a companion; would he be offended if she went beyond his expectations of her? Would he think her impertinent or improper?

  Or would he approve of it?

  Before she could think twice about it, she was on her feet and moving quickly from the drawing room and practically running down the hall to his study. She needed to see him, to know what he thought, to watch his eyes when he answered…

  The door was open and he sat at his desk, head down, writing a letter of some kind. Somehow, he had not heard her frantic approach. She swallowed thickly and knocked lightly on the door.

  He looked up instantly and smiled. “Annie. Please, come in.” He rose and came around the front of his desk, then leaned against it, the fawn of his trousers contrasting brilliantly with the rich mahogany wood of his desk. She ought not to look at his taut, muscular legs. It was most certainly not proper.

  “What can I do for you?” Duncan asked, apparently not noticing her attention.

  She lifted her eyes and bit her lip, suddenly more terrified than she had been since arriving in London. Her fingers began mangling each other and his eyes darted there. A small smile lit his features, and he looked more impossibly handsome than before. His clear blue eyes met hers and he tilted his head slightly.

  “Let me guess,” he murmured. “You’ve just spoken with Tibby about her idea.”

  Relieved, she nodded.

  “And?”

  And what? He was supposed to tell her what to do! Yet his face was remarkably devoid of emotion.

  “And I’m terrified,” she whispered, feeling that at the very least she ought to be honest with him. She could be honest with him.

  “You don’t have to do it, you know,” he
said gently, folding his arms over his chest.

  His kind words weren’t helping her situation. She had to know what he wanted. What he thought.

  How he felt.

  “Tell me what to do,” she pleaded, wishing it didn’t sound so desperate.

  He slowly shook his head, maintaining eye contact, and smiling. “No.”

  She closed her eyes and clenched her hands, exhaling slowly. “Please.”

  “No, Annie.” His voice was so soft, so tender, and she could hear his smile in it.

  There was no sound then, save for the fire crackling in the hearth, and the sound of her breathing, which she struggled to maintain control of. So much weighed on this decision, and no one would help her make it. What was she to do? How was she to…?

  “Annie.”

  She opened her eyes and met Duncan’s gaze instantly.

  “You don’t have to do it,” he repeated. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “Do you want me to do it?” she suddenly asked, a little louder than she had planned. Her cheeks heated at his arrested expression and it took all of her strength to avoid fleeing the room in the face of such impudence on her part.

  He considered her carefully for a moment. “Does that really matter?”

  “Yes.” It mattered. It was everything.

  “That is why I cannot tell you,” he replied softly, still smiling. “I’m sorry, Annie, but if you are going to do this, you will need to decide all on your own. Not for me, not for Tibby, not for anyone. Just for you. Don’t worry about disappointing anyone or gaining anyone’s approval. We will act on your wishes. You must choose what to do, and what you want.”

  What she wanted? She had no idea what she wanted. She wanted to be told what to do. She was a very obedient person, she would do whatever she was told. What she wanted had very little place in her life.

  What she wanted was…

  She wanted…

  “You can choose, Annie. Whatever you want. Whatever will make you happy. You have that freedom. I will stand by you, whatever you decide.”

  A spark of something hot filled her chest and spread throughout her limbs. She nearly gasped at the sensation, and suddenly, she knew what she wanted; what she would do.

  “I’ll do it,” she whispered, unable to keep the wonder out of her voice. She cleared her throat and repeated, “I’ll do it.” She laughed and nodded. “I’m going to do it.”

  He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “All right then. Let’s do it.”

  She returned his smile with one of her own. “Now what?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Now, I think you had better go and tell Tibby before she perishes from curiosity.”

  She giggled and nodded, then ran from the room, feeling as light as a fairy and twice as magical.

  Duncan still sat in his study when Annie returned barely a half hour later. He looked up in surprise, unable to keep the smile from his face. She had a sparkle of excitement in her eyes still, and it was enchanting. Her expression when she had made up her mind had been captivating and taken hold of him.

  “Yes?” he asked teasingly as she bounced back into the room.

  She bit her lip, looking uncertain again. “Did I do the right thing?”

  He chuckled. “You’ve already told Tibby, the thing is done.”

  “I know,” she said, wrinkling her nose a bit. “She’s beside herself.”

  “She usually is.” He tilted his head and looked at her closely. “Second thoughts?”

  She nodded, then shook her head. “No, I… I want to do it. I may never get anything like this again, and Tibby… She believes in me.”

  “So do I,” he said before he could stop himself.

  To his surprise, Annie’s smile deepened and she kept his gaze. “I know.”

  He suddenly had to fight hard to swallow. “If this will make you happy, Annie, then you should do it. That is all I… all we want for you.”

  She did not miss his correction and her cheeks tinged with pink. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He was quite sure he had never smiled so much in his life, but he could not help it when another touched his cheeks.

  “Annie!” Tibby’s screech echoed in the hall. “Annie! Come quick!”

  “Oh lord,” Annie muttered, drawing a laugh from him. She turned to call out to his aunt. “What is it, Tibby?”

  “You have… callers!” Tibby’s voice was ringing with excitement and delight.

  Annie reared back in shock, then looked at Duncan. “Callers?”

  He shrugged and gestured. “Ask who it is.”

  “Who?” she called loudly.

  Duncan put his head into his hand, laughing. This was going to be entertaining.

  “Moira, and Kate, and Mary! They are demanding you come and see them in the drawing room, and are quite excited, if I do say so myself!”

  Duncan clamped his lips together to keep from laughing at Annie’s surprise, and released a few chuckles when her smile threatened to break her cheekbones. She tossed a wild, excited look at him, and he waved her on, knowing he looked too involved, too happy, too delighted himself.

  But he was.

  And he would be lying if he did not admit he was a bit curious about Tibby’s scheme, and what could come from it.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I think your hair is perfect just the way it is, though we may need to instruct your maid how to do it properly. It suits you now, but it should have more movement and intricacy to it for you to really shine.”

  Kate hummed and made yet another circle around Annie, a finger to her lips, her eyes wandering the length of her. She looked rather like a cat circling a trapped bird, a suspicious gleam in her dark eyes. But she also had a small smile on her face that was encouraging.

  “I don’t have a maid,” Annie told her softly, feeling more self-conscious than she ever had in her entire life.

  Kate looked up in surprise. “Then who does your hair?”

  “I do.”

  Moira snickered from where she sat in the straight back chair next to the fire and put a hand over her eyes. “Now what have you to say, Kate? Would you like some help climbing out of the hole you have suddenly found yourself in?”

  Annie and Mary snickered as Kate gave her friend a quelling look, then turned back to Annie.

  “I am very impressed,” Kate replied, giving Annie a broad smile. “You would never know.”

  “I cannot do that,” Mary admitted, pushing off of the wall where she had been leaning. “I am absolutely hopeless when it comes to my hair.” Her arms were folded over her chest and she cocked her head as she studied Annie carefully. “Still, I think a maid would be helpful. Is there anyone who can help you?”

  “There most certainly is!” Tibby’s voice called from the hall, where she was eavesdropping.

  The women snickered and Annie shook her head. “She said she would leave us to it,” Annie murmured softly. “I am learning that means she will listen at the door and voice her opinions later.”

  “Or now, it seems,” Moira added with another laugh, shaking her head. “I am, however, surprised that Marianne isn’t here. She would be a great asset to these discussions.”

  Annie felt her cheeks heat and looked down at the floor. Tibby had informed her of Marianne’s decision and opinions, and while Annie could understand her reservations, she could not deny that she was hurt. She had not seen Marianne since their walk yesterday and she had wondered why. Now she knew.

  Marianne liked her well enough, but only with a certain understanding between them.

  Annie could not fault her for that.

  “Marianne doesn’t approve,” Annie whispered softly, not wanting to speak ill of her. She still liked Marianne a great deal, and she hoped that as long as she kept things as they had been here at the house, they might still be friends.

  If that was still possible.

  Again, Kate hummed, pressing her lips together, her ey
es flashing dangerously. Annie faintly hoped that she never angered Kate. It was a rather intimidating look.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mary soothed, coming over and putting an arm around Annie’s waist. “She will come around. And you’ve got us.”

  “Hear, hear!” Moira cried jubilantly from her chair with a grin. “We are your champions.”

  Kate gave a short laugh and shook her head. “Moira, are you going to help us or not?”

  “What?” Moira asked, cocking her head. “Analyzing Annie as if she were a pig for slaughter or a horse for market? Finding her flaws and where she needs improving? No, I thank you, I shall sit right here and only voice my opinion when necessary.”

  “But her accent…” Kate said, biting her lip.

  “Her manner of speaking…” Mary added, squeezing Annie tightly, which assured her that she was not being cruel, merely honest.

  “Her vocabulary, her dress, her skills,” Kate rambled off, taking Annie’s hand and smiling.

  Moira shook her head. “Not saying a word. I am here for moral support only.”

  Annie gave the woman a strange look. “Don’t you think I need improving?”

  Moira snorted in a rather unladylike way. “Not a bit. You are sweet and kind and far too good for any of us here; yes, including you, Mary Harris,” she added as the others chuckled and Mary curtseyed in response. Moira grinned and looked back at Annie. “All I would say is find a better fitted wardrobe because, really, darling, you are a tiny thing and that must be appreciated. But I rather like your accent and I like you just as you are, so unless you are to be the next sovereign of this nation, no, I do not think you need improving.”

  Annie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and raced over to Moira and kissed her cheek fondly, which Moira returned with a grin and a wink.

  Kate huffed in mock exasperation and put her hands on her hips. “Really, Moira, you say the most extraordinary things when you are expecting.” They all laughed and she took Annie’s hand once more. “We all like Annie excessively or we would not be here. Now stop being so high minded and help us get this girl a proper debut!”