Marianne indicated the door. “Go on, or they will come find you. I will see you at supper.”
Annie nodded and rose, heading swiftly for the door.
“Annie?”
She turned to look back at Marianne.
The girl was still wearing the softest of smiles. “I think you could quite safely call yourself Anne for the public. Not too far off of your real name, yet still refined enough to be respected. Perhaps Anne Remington? It would suit you well.” Her smile grew briefly. “Just a thought.”
The lump that instantly formed in Annie’s throat prevented her from responding more than a heartfelt croak of “Thank you” before she fled the room. But her heart felt lighter than it had in ages.
Duncan felt himself unnerved by a silent house, wondering where the ladies had gone.
Well, perhaps only one woman in particular.
He gave up all pretense and began to seek out Annalise. She was not in the library, nor any of the drawing rooms. He frowned and asked one of his maids if they had seen her, but they had not. Where could she be?
Just as he was about to give up, she appeared from the entryway, her cheeks rosy from the cold. She rubbed her hands together and blew on them. She looked as fresh and bright as the first flowers of spring. Her wardrobe changes had only enhanced her beauty and natural grace, and whoever was now working with her hair seemed determined to torment him. Each day it was swept up differently, displaying her delicate bone structure, yet looking as though the removal of a single pin would send the whole coif tumbling around her tiny shoulders. She was, in fact, the very image of his most secret fantasies.
He swallowed hard, hoping his tongue stayed in his head, and bowed politely. “Annalise. How lovely you look today.”
She stopped in surprise, her eyes widening. She considered him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”
“Were you out walking just now?” he asked, awkwardly descending the stairs.
She nodded, her smile growing. “Yes, Agnes and I went out for some air. I think I enjoyed it more than she did.”
He grinned. “Oh? Was it too cold?”
Annie shrugged one shoulder. “Not so bad, but not as pleasant as I hoped it would be.” She tilted a half smile and continued to walk.
He frowned and came beside her, matching her pace, clasping his hands behind him so he would not be more tempted to take her own and warm them in his grasp. “Oh? Why not?”
Annie laughed softly and gave him an amused look. “You were not with me.”
As if she were unable to believe she had spoken the words, her eyes widened and her hands shot to her mouth. She exclaimed a stuttering “excuse me” and dashed away, her cheeks flaming.
Duncan stared after her, his mouth gaping wide, his entire being numb. She had wanted him to… He shook his head slowly, finally regaining feeling in his fingertips. His neat hair became once again disheveled as he ran his hands through it. He turned from the hall and fled to his study, heart pounding, breathing uneven.
Annalise Ramsey was going to be the death of him.
But oh, what a glorious death it was destined to be.
Chapter Thirteen
Supper was nearly silent, which never happened, and everyone knew it.
Marianne looked between Tibby and Duncan repeatedly, her clear brow furrowed in confusion. Duncan had no answers for her. The girl sitting next to him had him so distracted that it was all he could do to bring his fork to his mouth. Half of the time he wasn’t even certain that there was food on it.
Tibby was giving him a hard look from across the table, but really, what did she want him to do?
And from the looks of things, Annalise was not about to strike up conversation either. Not that she ever did, but she was even more reserved than usual this evening. He knew the reason for that. She was embarrassed by her boldness.
He wished she wouldn’t be. He had rather enjoyed it.
Steady on, he chided himself. It was hardly proper table manners for him to be thinking of something that embarrassed her with such pleasure, particularly when her cheeks were still flushed from it. He loved the way she looked when her cheeks were so colored. And she became quite embarrassed fairly easily. Tibby undoubtedly wanted to cure her of that before sending her out into Society, but he hoped that she wouldn’t lose it entirely.
On the other hand, she was so breathtaking when flushed that her suitors would outnumber that of his sister’s.
And that thought did not please him at all.
“Duncan, is the food not to your liking?” Tibby squawked suddenly.
He looked up in surprise. “I beg your pardon, Tibby?”
She gave him a hard look. “You are glowering so monstrously at your lamb that it has died again out of fright. Either you are ill or something has upset you. Which is it?”
He sensed the curious looks from the other two women at the table and felt heat on the back of his neck.
“I am perfectly well, thank you, Tibby,” he muttered as politely as he could.
Her expression did not change. “Then kindly refrain from such thunderous expressions at the dinner table. It will undoubtedly give me indigestion.” Her eyes flicked between him and Annalise so quickly no one would have caught it, except Duncan as he glared at her.
She returned his look with a daring one of her own.
“Chilly nights give you indigestion these days, Tibby,” Marianne said with a half-smile, “so I can hardly think Duncan’s expressions will affect your mutton so disastrously.”
“You underestimate Duncan’s power.” Tibby sniffed and gracefully speared a boiled potato. “He frightens my dogs on a regular basis. Have you not seen this, Annalise?”
Annalise looked up suddenly and her charming flush vanished in favor of ghostly pale. “I… I have not…”
“Surely, you must have,” Tibby pressed, her eyes twinkling in a way Duncan did not care for at all. “Tell me, do they appear frightened when you read together? His voice alone might well set them to shaking.”
“Tibby!” Marianne scolded, seeing the obvious discomfort in Annalise. “Your terrified terriers are not…”
“Corgis, Marianne, corgis!” Tibby leveled a glare at her niece. “Honestly, useless alliteration is a waste of vocabulary. And it does not change the fact that Duncan really ought to make more of an effort to at least pretend he is as handsome as other gentlemen. Don’t you think, Annalise?”
“I don’t… That is, I don’t…” Annalise flushed again and the fumble in her words betrayed her panic.
“I thought I might go for an early morning ride tomorrow,” Duncan announced, desperately trying to put an end to Tibby’s scheming madness.
That seemed to do the trick. Tibby only allowed one brow to rise as she asked a silent question, her lips quirking.
“You?” Marianne laughed. “You hate early mornings.”
He gave his sister a glower that made her grin spread so far her eyes crinkled. “If you ever rose before luncheon, you would know that I thrive upon early mornings and am quite productive because of it.”
“I have seen it myself,” Annalise said in her soft, uncertain way.
Duncan allowed himself to look at her, smiling proudly.
She blushed just a bit, that maddening, barely-there smile tickling her cheeks.
“There, you see?” Duncan turned to face his sister again. “A witness.”
Marianne rolled her eyes and laughed. “Very well, I stand corrected.”
“Would any of you fine ladies like to accompany me for a ride?” he asked, looking at each in turn.
Marianne snorted and shook her head. “I thank you, no. I adore you, brother, but not that much.”
That was not surprising. He looked to his aunt, who laughed loudly. “At my age? A horse ride in the morning? I think not, you silly boy. I would be quite bedridden for days. I only ride in carriages now.”
His heart thudded and he nodded with a fond smile. He looked to Annalise, who had w
atched all the proceedings with only half interest. Now, however, her eyes were on her plate.
“Annalise?” he asked softly. “Would you like to go for a morning ride?”
She chewed on her lip for a moment, then caught Marianne’s eye and stopped instantly. “I fear I… have not ridden in some time. It would be slow going.”
“I don’t mind,” he replied instantly, his voice too eager. “It’s London after all, not the country. I would be happy to take whatever pace you like. If the early morning will not trouble you.”
Annalise favored him with that soft smile he adored. “Oh, no, it would be no trouble at all. I… don’t mind early mornings.”
Marianne groaned as she swallowed her bite of food. “I do. Duncan is quite right, I dread waking up before luncheon. And it takes ages and ages to wake me.”
Duncan chuckled and looked at his sister. “You sleep like the dead, Marianne.”
“And gladly!” Marianne grinned cheekily.
Annalise sighed to herself. “Oh, that sounds lovely. I’m a terrible sleeper. The slightest sounds wake me.”
Duncan nearly laughed at his sister’s expression. She looked positively appalled.
“Truly?” Marianne wrinkled her nose and picked up her soup spoon. “That sounds dreadful.”
Annalise smiled and gave a slight shrug, looking back down at her food. “I’m used to it by now. The only times I have slept through an entire night are after I’ve had a good beating.”
The entire table froze as surely as if they had all turned to ice. Marianne had her spoon halfway to her mouth, her eyes ice cold and her mouth in a taut line. Tibby blinked repeatedly and her face tightened, her only sign of distress evident in the trembling of the fork in her hand.
Duncan stared at Annalise in horror. Not at her words, but at suddenly understanding just what horrors were in her past. She had become accustomed to those beatings. They had been a regular part of her life. He had never wanted to hold her more than he did at that moment.
Tibby slowly touched her serviette to the corner of her mouth.
Annalise looked up from her plate, realizing what she had said. Her eyes widened in dismay and her chin suddenly quivered dangerously. She put down her silverware with a loud clatter and whispered a tearful “I’m sorry” as she pushed back her chair and ran from the room.
Duncan watched her go, too stunned to do anything more than blink.
Marianne put her spoon down in disgust. “Are we to deal with that often?”
“Be quiet, Marianne!” Tibby ordered sharply. She looked up at Duncan with pleading eyes. “Duncan?”
He nodded and excused himself from the table, not that anyone paid him heed, and went in search of Annalise.
He did not have to search long.
He found her on the stairs crying, her face in her knees.
“Here, now, what’s this?” he asked gently as he came and sat next to her.
“I am so sorry I ruined supper,” she said into her knees, her voice muffled and tearful.
He sighed and put a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles on it. “You’ve ruined nothing, Annalise. Family supper is not a formal affair. And there was no need for such distress.”
“I will be distressed!” she protested loudly, still keeping her face in her legs. She sniffled and shook her head. “I will never be a fine lady like Marianne or Tibby and pretending otherwise is ridiculous. I’m not made for it, and I am always saying the wrong things and I used the wrong fork, and I cannot make polite conversation. It’s hopeless.” She began to cry anew and her body shook with her tears.
“Annalise, look at me,” he ordered softly.
She shook her head again.
He stopped his rubbing and set his other hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I need to see your eyes. Please.”
She hesitated only a moment, and then turned her head to look at him.
Those eyes. He allowed himself to look deeply into them, smiling softly. “You are a fine lady in your own right. Perhaps you don’t know what to say and what not to say, perhaps you have not yet learned to control your tongue, perhaps you cannot balance four books on your head while descending three flights of stairs singing an aria.”
That drew a watery chuckle from her and his smile briefly grew.
“Well, guess what, Miss Annalise Ramsey? Surprise you as this might, I cannot do those things either.”
She sniffed and moved to put her head back. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not,” he insisted, taking her chin and turning her face back to him. “I swear, I am not teasing you.” He sighed and shrugged. “I constantly say things no one should say, speak my thoughts, blunder around like a raging bull, and make a general mess of things. I’m an oaf, Annalise. A great hulking oaf dressed in the clothing of gentlemen. Very fine clothing, I grant you; it’s probably the only thing I do right. After all of these years, I’m still not a perfect gentleman. And I have not endured the horrors that you have.”
“You’re not an oaf,” she murmured so softly he could barely hear.
“What was that, love?” he asked, leaning closer.
She cleared her throat and sat up slightly. “You are not an oaf. You are very graceful, and a perfect gentleman. And you have endured enough,” she added, her eyes searching his.
He smiled and pressed his lips to her hair, inhaling her fragrance. “You sweet thing, you will make me quite arrogant.”
She returned his smile, her eyes now warm, with no trace of tears left.
He stroked her cheek softly. “Don’t be ashamed of who you are and what you have survived. You are brave, strong, and powerful, Annalise. I am in awe of you.”
“Really?”
He nodded once. “Really.” His voice suddenly sounded raw, even to him.
And she noticed. She slowly sat up all the way, turning to face him almost completely, her eyes fixed on his. They darted down to his lips, then back to his eyes, her cheeks flushing at being caught. His mouth curved into a smile as he felt her skin warm beneath his touch. The air between them suddenly seemed thin, and his chest tightened with a now familiar pain. Breathing seemed unimportant at the moment.
His thumb stroked her cheek again, and her lips parted on a breath. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. She was so soft, so sweet, and the sigh that escaped her matched his own. It wasn’t a particularly passionate kiss, but it was full of something else, a deeper emotion that began thrumming through his system. He pulled back and felt his heart skip when she innocently followed him, and he, helpless to resist, took her mouth again.
He had never felt anything like it before. The strangest, most heady of sensations swirled around him and filled his very being. It was as if his entire life had just begun, that he hadn’t truly lived until his lips had touched hers.
Which was, of course, ridiculous.
He broke off again and this time, she did not follow, thankfully. He didn’t think he would have been able to stop if he’d kissed her again. She opened her eyes and released a soft breath that danced across his face. In her eyes, he saw the same desire, the same emotion, the same confusion that he had felt, and it nearly undid him.
He smiled at her and dropped his hand from her cheek to take the cold hand that rested in her lap. “Are you still hungry?” he asked softly, wishing he didn’t sound so winded.
“Starved.” Her expression was so innocent, so lovely, so breathless…
He swallowed hastily and stood, pulling her up behind him. Then he playfully offered his arm. “Well, let’s hope Marianne saved some for us. She tends to eat quite a lot when out of public sight.”
Annalise giggled as she took his arm, and no sound had ever been more musical to his ears. He grinned and led her back into the dining room.
He would deal with his swirling emotions later, when he could properly decide on a sensible course of action. But one thing he knew for certain: he was in trouble.
A great deal of trouble.
Not that Annie minded. Being out of doors, in any weather, was refreshing, and as she was in Duncan’s company, she could not have been happier.
She felt entirely overdressed in her new riding habit. It was a dark grey wool with fine gold buttons and a deep green embroidery, and it was both warm and comfortable. But she had never owned a riding habit before, and she felt like a peacock. She was a charlatan, a common woman imitating the fashion, airs, and style of fine ladies of Society. But the look in Duncan’s eyes when he had seen her arrive at the stables was worth her own personal discomfort.
Riding sidesaddle was a new experience for her, and that took some adjustment. She had only ever ridden as a man does, which she knew was entirely improper. Duncan had seen her distress when she had seen the new saddle she was expected to use, and he had very patiently helped her up, then led the horse around the stable yard as she learned the motion and felt a natural rhythm begin.
Riding along now felt more comfortable than before, but only because of the comfortable pace they were keeping. She could never have galloped in such a style.
Another reason not to become a high lady of fashion.
“You ride well,” Duncan commented from her side.
She glanced over at saw the warmth in his eyes and his smile. She remembered how warm and powerful his lips had been as they had touched hers. Had that really been only the night before? It felt as if it had been a lifetime. Would she ever have that opportunity again?
“Thank you,” she said hastily, realizing with a flush where her thoughts had been leading her.
His smile deepened, and her knees shook, though she was quite secure upon Misty. She had learned that Duncan didn’t smile often on his own, but he seemed to smile in her company often enough. She didn’t dare consider the implications of that.
“You look very pretty when you blush so,” he murmured softly.
The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4) Page 17
