All of the women laughed and Annie felt a weight lifted off of her shoulders. She might be in for a rude awakening of just what Society expected and what she would have to endure and become, but these women seemed to like her in spite of her many flaws. They knew where she needed adjustments and were willing to help her make them.
She had never known what it was like to have friends, but she suspected this was as close as she would get.
“I don’t need much by way of clothing,” Annie said, trying to be helpful. “I can mend and alter myself.”
All three women looked at her in surprise.
“Can you really?” Moira asked, her eyes lighting up. “Excellent. I am coming to see you to help me let out some of my gowns. As I grow larger, my dresses grow smaller, it is most inconvenient.”
Kate shook her head. “Moira, you are not going to employ Annie as a seamstress. She is a lady now.”
“Who said I would pay her?” Moira shot back, making Annie giggle helplessly. “I was thinking of a trade. She helps me with my gowns, I help her learn how to navigate Society.”
“Yes, since you do that so well, dear.”
Moira narrowed her eyes, but could not help the smirk on her face.
“Ignore them,” Mary murmured into Annie’s ear. “They always do this.”
“I like it,” Annie whispered back. “I’ve only ever known fighting. This is much better.”
Mary squeezed her again. Then she spoke in a slightly louder voice. “First thing I think you should know, Annie, is that there is always a better dress. My sister had to teach me that unfortunate lesson myself not too long ago. You look very pretty just as you are, but for a lady, I am sorry, but you must have some new dresses.”
Annie wrinkled her nose, unsure if she liked that idea. New dresses were always appealing, but she did not think she would enjoy the extravagance. Not when this would not last. Not when she already felt so in debt to them, to everyone.
“I have never met a woman who looked so uncomfortable at the prospect of new gowns,” Moira announced from her chair, looking a little concerned. “And I was there for Mary’s fittings. Are you quite well? Are we overwhelming you?”
“A bit,” she admitted shyly, her cheeks blushing.
“Sorry,” Kate told her with a sigh. “I know we are overbearing. We bombarded Mary last year. But we would not do so if we didn’t love you.”
“You barely know me,” Annie reminded them as her cheeks warmed and her eyes burned.
Moira came out of her hair and went directly to her, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. “We know you well enough,” she insisted fiercely. “And we adore you. So you will just have to put up with us, all right?”
Annie swallowed hard and nodded against her, blinking back the tears in her eyes.
Moira pulled back and grinned. “So. For starters…”
“I thought you did not think she needed improving,” Kate said from behind her, looking a bit misty-eyed.
Moira sniffed a bit superiorly. “I still don’t. But that does not mean a little refinement could not help. Even Mary could be more refined.”
“Excuse me,” Mary protested with a laugh. “Have you met yourself?”
Moira ignored that comment. “You ought to know that all polite members of Society address each other as Mr. or Miss or by their title, if they have one. So in public, I am Lady Beverton or my lady. Kate is Lady Whitlock or my lady. And Mary is Mrs. Harris.”
Annie nodded carefully, trying to absorb it all. “And I curtsey?”
“In greeting, yes. But not deeply. In private, you must still call us by our first names. None of us permit formality out of company.” Moira looked so severe that Annie had to laugh. Duncan’s friends had said the same thing, and it was evident that these women were quite suited to their husbands.
Kate cleared her throat and stepped around Moira. “Now. We must figure out how to introduce you. I know Lady Raeburn had some ideas, shall I call her?”
“I think she can hear,” Mary muttered as Tibby entered the room right at that moment.
“I have always loved the name Tabitha,” Tibby announced grandly. “But then, I am quite biased…”
It was too quiet in the house. Far too quiet, considering he knew that at this moment, Moira, Kate, Mary, and Tibby were all in a room together plotting over how to help Annie make her debut.
Knowing that, the quiet made him uneasy.
They’d been together for nearly two hours, and he knew Annie would most likely be going mad under the scrutiny and her mind would whirl at the complexities. It was quite a lot to deal with for even those who had been used to Society, let alone one who had never even seen a dance hall. No doubt she would rethink her concession to the idea and would search for ways to escape.
He would not blame her.
His stomach growled angrily and Duncan groaned in response. He had worked through the luncheon hour and now, far too early, he was famished. He would not be able to have a true meal until later, as Tibby took control of everything no matter where she was, and she insisted on family meals at set times.
It was probably for the best. After all, Marianne had been remarkably absent since their fight and she would have to make an appearance there. Even in her foulest of moods, she did not go against Tibby.
But that did not mean he could not find something to eat to tide him over.
He set aside his diminishing pile of correspondence and pushed off of his desk. His kitchen staff was used to him wandering down there at odd times. No one so much as batted an eye at it now.
He slowly opened his door, desperate to not make any sound at all if possible. If Kate knew he was venturing down to the kitchens, she would force him to bring back pastries. More than one of their kitchens had been suspiciously depleted of pastries when Lady Whitlock was visiting.
When he was assured of his safety and secrecy, he ventured forth, feeling the slightest bit ridiculous about sneaking around in his own house.
He got halfway down the hall when he stopped.
Annie came out of the drawing room, closed the door behind her, then leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. He saw her exhale slowly, and tip her head back just a bit.
She was so beautiful it made his teeth ache.
And she looked tired.
Before he could stop himself, he changed course and headed in her direction.
“Good day,” he said softly.
Her eyes snapped open and she hastily pushed off of the wall.
“No, no,” he insisted, waving her back. “Please.”
She gave him a careful look, then took up her position again. “Good day,” she replied, leaning her head back once more.
“Are they wearing you out?” he asked as he came and stood next to her against the wall.
Annie released a heavy sigh. “Yes. And no. There is just so much to learn and remember and understand, and I can’t… I cannot,” she corrected with a furrow in her brow, “keep it all together in my head.”
“Yes, it can be a bit daunting,” he admitted. “Would you believe that I had to learn all of this myself at one time?”
She turned her head and raised a brow. “No, I would not.”
He nodded, surprised at what he was going to tell her, but not wanting to stop. “My family was not always wealthy. In fact, my parents were fairly poor. My mother was the youngest daughter of a powerful Scottish laird, and her father was desperate to marry her off. My father happened across her by accident and they fell in love, married, moved to England, and started a life together. Hardly any money at all. My father’s family was a once well-respected family, but his oldest brother hated him and cut him off. He started to work in trade to make up for the lack of funds, and that is hardly something Society likes to hear.”
Annie was listening with such intensity that Duncan felt the need to say everything perfectly, yet he was entirely at ease, as if talking to her was the most natural thing in the world. As if s
haring his family’s less-than-reputable past was perfectly normal.
“I was born during all of that,” he continued, swallowing the dryness that began in his throat. “I was used to running around like a street urchin without manners or cares. I went to a local school with other boys, but it was hardly a decent education. Sheer basics were all that we received, and we were content with it.” His mind was suddenly filled with memories of a long-forgotten past, and he felt himself becoming lost in it. “We were all content. We wanted for a great deal, I know that now. There was so much we didn’t have, but we were happy.”
“What happened?” Annie asked softly.
Duncan shook his head and looked back down at her. “When I was eleven, a man came to our home and said a distant cousin of my father’s had died without children and we were the only relative eligible for inheriting his estate and fortune, which was quite extensive. We all removed to Brockleton Park in Shropshire and started a new life. A different life. And I had to learn how to be a gentleman.” He shook his head, remembering the agitation of a young man trying to please his relations, live up to expectations, and yet still be himself. “Marianne was just a little girl,” he said, “she doesn’t remember any of this, and very few members of Society still recollect it. But my father never felt he deserved that fortune. Mother had no such reservations, she had been used to a sort of station in Scotland. But Father rarely expended any money at all. He used what he could to help others, as he remembered too clearly what it was like to suffer.” He trailed off once more, remembering his parents with a deep ache in his chest.
A soft hand reached out and touched his arm. “They sound like wonderful people,” came Annie’s gentle voice.
Duncan covered her hand with his own. “They were.” He smiled at her with too much emotion in his heart and his throat. “I am telling you this so that you can know that you can do it. You can learn and remember and become all that you need to. And I will say again, Annie, that you don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” she replied, her emerald eyes searching his, “but I want to. Don’t you think I should?”
“I already told you that I am not telling you what to do,” he scolded gently. “I will never tell you what to do.”
She huffed a bit, and a strand of hair danced on her breath. “That is going to be frustrating.”
He chuckled and touched the underside of her chin. “You are just going to have to make up your own mind.”
“That is not so easy for me,” she whispered.
“I know.”
She sighed softly and twisted her lips. “They want me to choose a name.”
His brow furrowed in surprise. “A name? For what?”
“Well, I can hardly be Annie Ramsey in Society, can I?” She shook her head and rubbed at her face. “So now I must pick a new name, and I can’t. Who am I supposed to be if not myself?”
He frowned and held her hand a bit tighter. “You can be whomever you want. Be yourself. Don’t let them change you.”
She smiled and it took the breath out of him. “They won’t. But even you must admit that choosing a new name for yourself is not easy.”
She had a point there. He exhaled and thought for a moment. “Well, are there any names you have ever wanted to be called?”
“Not really.”
“Any other names you have been called before? Anne, perhaps?”
She bit her lip and chewed for a second. “My mother called me Annalise,” she finally said.
Duncan felt a slow smile start on his lips and spread into his cheeks. “Annalise? That is beautiful. Why did she call you that?”
Annie looked away quickly, her cheeks becoming tinged with pink. “It’s my real name.”
Duncan stood stock still in shock. The very name was music to his ears, would roll off of the tongue and lips like a sonnet. “Why don’t you use it?”
She shrugged. “My father didn’t like it. He insisted I only be called Annie. She only called me Annalise in private. Then she died when I was thirteen and nobody has called me that since.”
Duncan swallowed and tilted her face back to him. “I am going to call you Annalise from now on.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head quickly. “No, don’t.”
“Why not?” he asked her. “It is such a beautiful name. Why not use it?”
She lowered her eyes. “It’s too beautiful for the likes of me.”
He felt as if he had been kicked in the chest and anger curled in his gut like a flame. “I am going to call you Annalise,” he said again, choosing to ignore her absurd statement.
Again, she shook her head, this time with more force. “No.”
“It is your name, Annalise,” he ground out, trying to keep his voice calm.
“It’s too…”
He put a hand over her mouth and glared at her. “Don’t let me hear you say that again,” he warned in a low, dangerous voice. “I will not let you put yourself down like that. Your mother gave you a beautiful name, and you are more than worthy of it.”
She looked up at him with wide, almost hopeful eyes. He removed his hand, trying to ignore the fire that was starting in the center of his palm.
“Do you really think so?” she asked him.
He nodded firmly. “I know so.”
She licked her lips quickly. “No, I mean… Duncan, that is… Mr. Bray…”
“Duncan will suffice,” he growled.
“Do you… Do you really think…?” She ducked her chin and looked away, her cheeks positively flaming.
Duncan’s heart lurched and his pulse quickened. He put his hand under her chin and slowly tilted her face back up to him, almost succeeding in not looking at her lips.
“Yes, Annalise,” he murmured, his voice far too rough for comfort. “I think you are beautiful. I think you are very, very beautiful. A man would be blind to think anything less.”
His eyes looked down at her lips again, and heaven help him, they parted slightly under his gaze.
Annie did not breathe, and neither did he.
He felt himself leaning towards her, pulling her chin closer.
He exhaled a puff of air and fought for control. It was too soon, too much, he could not…
He lifted his chin a fraction and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her brow, the taste of her skin like the sweetest honey.
He heard her small gasp, and he felt the faintest shudder course through him. He needed to step back, to let go…
He needed…
“Annie! Where are you?” Moira called from the room. “Tibby says you can play a little and Kate is dying to hear it!”
Duncan’s hands were suddenly empty as Annie stepped away, looking at him with those wide eyes, confused, and something else. Something darker. Something his chest ached with.
He swallowed hard and nodded. “Go on, Annalise. They are waiting for you.”
She bit her lip, for a moment, then nodded herself. She didn’t say a word as she slowly turned and went back into the room.
Duncan turned and put both hands to the wall and exhaled forcefully as his mind and body tried to settle.
He needed to stay away. For her own sake. She was too determined to please, too unsure of her own self. He could not influence her.
He needed to let her choose.
But right now, he needed to sweat and exert himself and feel his muscles ache with too much activity. And he possibly needed to draw blood.
He turned from the hall, grabbed his long coat, and began the long walk to Colin’s house, wishing his heart would resume its normal pacing.
Chapter Twelve
“Really, Duncan, if you are going to come over to fence this often, I am going to need to find you an additional partner. I cannot take anymore sessions like this.”
Duncan wiped his sweat-drenched brow with a sleeve and glanced over at the also heavily perspiring Colin. “I thought you enjoyed physical activity.”
Colin glared at him as his chest still
heaved with his panting. “I do. I don’t even mind the perspiration. I do very much mind four fencing sessions in a week when there are other things I would rather do. And when a man of my stature fences, or does anything for that matter, with a man of your stature, four times in a week is rather like twelve, and I am quite done for.”
Duncan grunted as he sheathed his foil and handed it to a servant. “Fine. I will find someone else, then, and take my tiresome exertions elsewhere.”
“That is not what I meant,” Colin scolded as he did the same, then sat on the floor and leaned against a stone pillar. “What is going on?”
“I don’t know what you…”
“I am many things, Duncan,” he interrupted, “but an idiot is not one of them. What is troubling you?”
Duncan looked at his oldest friend, then sat next to him against the pillar. “My house is overrun with females.”
“And the problem is…?”
He shook his head. Colin was still Colin even when he was trying to be serious. “It’s Moira, Kate, Mary, and Tibby helping Annalise to become a lady.”
Colin winced and shuddered. “That would get me out of the house, too.” Suddenly his friend gave him a surprised look. “Wait, Annalise?”
Duncan felt his cheeks heat. “That’s her real name. It suits her better, don’t you think?”
“It certainly does. Very pretty.”
Duncan swallowed, not feeling the need to be reminded of that.
Colin seemed to mull over the change, then asked “And where is Marianne in all this?”
Duncan shrugged his massive shoulders. “She keeps to herself and her friends these days. She doesn’t want any part of it. She doesn’t approve of Annalise reaching for such heights in Society. It brings her to Marianne’s level.”
“Spoiled brat,” Colin spat, kicking his boot a bit.
Duncan raised a brow at him in surprise.
“Sorry,” his friend muttered grumpily, “but you know she is.”
“I know.” He sighed and leaned his head back. “I told her so. I told her the rumors about her were going to ruin us faster than anything about Annie could, and with her behavior…”
The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4) Page 15
