The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4)

by Rebecca Connolly

  His voice was so venomous Annie trembled at the sound. No person she had ever met had ever sounded so deadly, not even Thorpe or her brother. This man was clearly no gentleman, as he wore the clothes of a commoner and had the fit build of a tradesman or dockworker. His face was darkened with stubble, but his features were chiseled as starkly as that of a statue.

  He pulled on Thorpe’s arm harder and Thorpe strained up, his breath hissing though clenched teeth painfully. “I haven’t had to kill anyone in some time, but I am more than willing to start again with you.”

  He turned and threw Thorpe against the wall opposite. Thorpe cried out as his face slammed against the brick, and turned back, his nose already bleeding. He wiped at it and glared at the man.

  “Go now,” the man said in a restrained voice as he stood between Thorpe and Annie. “Before I change my mind.”

  Thorpe hissed and made a move towards Annie, which sent her scrambling backwards, but the man was there, and shook his head as he used his arms to shield her.

  “Don’t do something that will make me have to hurt you.”

  Thorpe glared at Annie, wiped his bleeding nose once more, and then disappeared from the alley.

  Annie shuddered when he was out of sight and collapsed to the ground, her knees no longer able to hold her. She buried her face in her hands as the tears flowed in panicked sobs, shivers wracking her entire frame.

  “It’s all right, he’s gone now,” the man said, his voice far more gentle.

  A hand settled on her shoulder and she jerked away with a frightened gasp, looking up at him.

  He held up his hands and crouched to her level. “You don’t need to fear me, Miss. Are you hurt?”

  She searched his eyes for a moment, and exhaled when she saw no danger. “No,” she murmured.

  He reached out a hand again and helped her to her feet. He looked at her face intently for a moment, then shook his head. “Yes, you are.” He touched her cheek with a gentle finger, but she winced at the pressure. “That will bruise.”

  She sighed and pushed back a lock of hair behind her ear with a sniff. “They always do,” she murmured bitterly.

  He said nothing for a moment, but she caught a flash of sadness and pity. He brushed dirt off of her shoulders as she brushed at her skirt. “Why did you meet with a man alone in an alley?” he finally asked, his tone slightly accusatory.

  She glanced up at him in defense, then realized how it must have appeared. She unbuttoned her glove and rolled back her sleeve to expose her wrist, where her fair skin was already turning purple and black. “It was not by choice, I can assure you.”

  He hissed and brushed two fingers across it, shaking his head again. He took her hand gently in his much larger one. “You should not walk alone in London, Miss. Not with the likes of him running around. Do you need anything?”

  She shook her head with a sniffle. “I just want to go home.”

  He wiped a tear from her unbruised cheek. “Of course, you do, pet. Do you have an escort?”

  Again she shook her head, pushing her sleeve back down. “No.”

  He grunted and released her hand. “I will send someone back with you.” He whistled down the dark alley, then put a hand on her shoulder and turned her back towards the street. “You’ll be all right now, Miss. Safe as can be, I promise.”

  “How can I ever thank you?” she murmured, wiping at her cheeks.

  She could hear him smile. “Avoid dark alleys and dangerous men, Miss. That will save me a lot of trouble.”

  “Who are you?”

  He hesitated, then patted her shoulder. “They call me ‘the Gent.’ And I am someone you can trust, Miss. That is all you need to know.”

  She looked back at him. “Trust is not an easy thing, sir.”

  He grinned, displaying gleaming white teeth. “No, Miss. You’ll just have to trust me on that, won’t you?”

  Annie found a way to smile. “I suppose I must.”

  He bowed to her, then gestured towards the street. “Go on, Miss. You’ll be all right getting home.”

  She nodded again. “Thank you,” she said, her voice catching.

  He touched his cap and turned down the alley, disappearing into the darkness.

  She looked around for whoever was supposed to follow her, but saw no one. Still, he said she would be safe. With a shiver of apprehension, she went out into the light street, now busier than before, and headed straight for Duncan’s house, praying he was not at home.

  He could not see her like this.

  Duncan was beside himself.

  A note had just been delivered to him in his study, in the same hand as his usual informant, describing an incident involving Miss Ramsey… not Remington, but Ramsey… and a man in an alley that he had intercepted, and assured Duncan that Miss Ramsey was well and whole and on her way back home, and he would keep an eye on her in the future. The note was signed only “The Gent,” which was more than Duncan had known previously, but it did not account for his knowing Annalise’s true identity.

  Or for what had really happened.

  He paced his study again, ramming his hands into his hair. His heart was racing and he could barely breathe but for fear. She had been accosted in an alley? Or had she met someone intentionally? The note had not been descriptive, but he knew better than to question it. The man’s identity wasn’t important now, not when Annalise had not yet arrived.

  Who was the man in the alley? Why had she met with him?

  Where was she?

  He heard the sounds of the front door open and he burst from the room.

  Annalise was hurrying towards the stairs, her eyes cast down.

  “Annalise,” he barked, not caring how he sounded.

  She jerked and looked at him, then turned her face away. “Duncan.”

  “Where have you been?” he asked as he neared her.

  She hesitated on the stair and he saw her hand tremble as she removed her glove. “I must… go to my room, Duncan. I am tired.”

  He exhaled sharply and turns towards the stairs. “I have just received this, Annalise.” He thrust the note out at her. “Would you care to explain it?”

  Her trembling hand took it from him, and she turned more fully away.

  He waited impatiently, wanting to force her to face him, wanting to crush her to him, wanting…

  She moaned and faltered to one side.

  He was to her in an instant, steadying her. “What is it?” he rasped, unaware until that moment just how much he had missed her. The last week had been torture, being away from her. Forcing himself to pretend he did not care.

  He did care.

  Too much.

  She exhaled and handed him back the note, then untied her bonnet, stiffened, and turned to face him.

  He reared back at the bruising that had begun to form on her left cheek and jaw. He could not restrain the anguished growl that escaped him as he gripped her chin in his hand and turned her face to see it better.

  Now her hands were not the only ones shaking.

  “What happened?”

  Annalise winced at his tone and a tear leaked from one of her gorgeous eyes.

  He was going to go mad. He swiped the tear away roughly with his thumb. “What happened, Annalise?” he asked again, too tormented to lower his voice.

  She wrenched her jaw out of his hold and seized his hand, pulling him into the nearest room. Once inside, she shut the door, still clinging to his hand, and then sat on the sofa. “Please don’t shout,” she whispered.

  Only then did it occur to him that her hands were not shaking, but her entire frame.

  He sank onto the sofa beside her and covered her hand with both of his. “I’m sorry, forgive me. I have been beside myself with worry. What happened?”

  She took a deep, shaky breath, and released it slowly. “I went for a walk today. Alone.”

  He felt a growl start in his throat, but she cut him off with a look.

  “On my way back, a man came up
behind me,” she continued, swallowing. “He… forced me into the alley, and he struck me repeatedly. This man… The Gent… stopped him from hurting me any further, and sent him away.”

  “He should have killed him!” Duncan raged, shooting to his feet and pacing frantically. “I would have strangled the man with my bare hands! I would have beaten him to a pulp! I…” He gripped the back of his neck and seethed. “Why didn’t you scream, why didn’t you run?”

  Annalise rolled her sleeve and shoved her forearm out. “I tried!” she protested, her voice thick with tears. “I tried, Duncan.”

  He nearly buckled at the angry bruises that disfigured her pure white skin. “Who was he?” he begged, his voice near to cracking. “Did you know him?”

  Annalise hesitated, her throat working. Then, at last, she nodded. “His name is… Albert Thorpe.”

  Duncan had never heard of him. “And he is…?”

  She bit her now trembling lip. “I’m… supposed to marry him.”

  Duncan stared at her in horror. “What?” he mouthed more than asked, all of the air in his lungs suddenly gone. She was… engaged?

  “My brother used to… bring men to the house,” she managed, her composure breaking. “They never touched me, but they… looked. They watched while I would be forced to do chores, the most menial and dirty chores he could think of. Shoveling stables, scrubbing the fireplace, whatever would get my clothes the dirtiest and embarrass me most. Then he’d hit me. And they laughed when he hit me. And he would… take bids from them. For me.”

  Duncan was going to be sick. He couldn’t move, couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t hear anymore, he couldn’t bear to…

  “Albert Thorpe was the worst of them,” she continued, squeaking as a few more tears fell unnoticed from her cheeks. “He would trap me into corners, never touching, but he would say the most… awful things. Ugly things. He liked it when I was being hit. He laughed the most. And he told me exactly what he would do to me when I was his. Then Frank… told me he had sold me to him. For the highest price. And then I… I saw him here in London. He knew me, but I never thought… I never…”

  Her voice finally broke and she sobbed, covering her face in shame.

  Duncan stumbled towards her, inarticulate sounds escaping him. He gathered her into his arms as he knelt before her. “Oh, my sweet Annalise,” he breathed, fighting for control himself, stroking her hair. “My sweet, brave girl.” He kissed her hair and rested his mouth there, inhaling her scent.

  She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his shoulder.

  “Don’t cry, Annalise,” he murmured, tightening his hold. “Don’t cry, sweet. I can’t bear it. It’s all right, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

  “I’ve never been more terrified in my life,” she sobbed, hiccupping as she clutched his shirt. “I thought he would kill me. I thought…”

  “Shh, shh,” he soothed, kissing her hair again. “That’s enough, you’re all right. It’s all right now.”

  She released a shuddering sigh, and he felt her nod against him.

  He closed his eyes tightly and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Can you tell me what he said to you today? Everything that happened?”

  Her clenching hold tightened. “Don’t let me go,” she whispered, sounding very much like scared little girl.

  He shook his head. “Not for a moment. I’ve got you.”

  She waited a long moment, then softly told him of the entire exchange.

  Duncan was suddenly torn between holding Annalise close and leaving to find Thorpe and rip his heart out. He could hardly see straight for the fury that boiled within him. How dare that man torment Annalise. How dare he accost her in the street like some common trollop. How dare he lay a single finger on her head.

  He released an unsteady breath and inhaled her calming fragrance. She was incredible. Extraordinary. He replayed the exchange over and over, and found himself able to give a hollow laugh. “You told him to call you Annalise?”

  She released a watery chuckle and shrugged. “It is my name, after all.”

  He closed his eyes and took her head in his hands, pushing her back slightly. “Yes, it is, sweetheart. Yes, it is.”

  Her eyes glinted with unshed tears, but she smiled at him. It made his heart ache that this sweet, beautiful creature had endured so much by those who should have loved her. That she should know such pain and anguish. That he could not protect her from everything.

  “I was so scared,” she whispered, another tear making its way down delicate curve of her cheek.

  He smoothed it away. “I know. But you will never have to be so again. He will never touch you again, I promise you that.”

  She shook her head and looked down, swallowing hard. “I don’t want you to put yourself out for him. Don’t do something that could get you into trouble, Duncan. I couldn’t bear that.”

  He put a hand under her chin and gently forced her to look at him. “Annalise, I will do whatever it takes to ensure your protection, your safety, security, and peace of mind,” he vowed. “I don’t care what it takes or what it causes or what it may do to me. I will do anything. I have to. I want to. And I will.”

  Slowly, barely breathing, she nodded.

  As softly as he could, he stroked the sensitive skin where she was struck. “He touched you,” he breathed in agony. “He touched you and he hurt you. No one will ever do that again. Ever.” He stroked it again and then pressed his lips to it, his mouth tracing the angry marks as if they could heal it. As if his will alone could mend her.

  “I promise,” he whispered against her skin. He sighed and tucked her head beneath his chin, enveloping his arms around her.

  He might not be able to protect her from everything.

  But he would damn well do his best.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Duncan sat alone in his study, hardly any light in the room, staring off at nothing. His hand absently moved along his jaw in thought. He had finally gotten Annalise calm enough to be able to sleep, though his ears were straining to hear the faintest sounds of distress from her room. He had counted the paces from this room to hers. Fifty-three. He could cover that distance very quickly, and all the forces of heaven and earth combined could not stop him from rushing to her side if she was frightened.

  The clock on mantle struck two o’clock, and he was surprised it was not later. This day felt as long as a lifetime.

  Tibby and Marianne had been informed of the situation after supper, as Annalise had declined dining with the family. Duncan had made her excuses, then shared the truth after they had dined, mostly because he had been interrogated. Marianne had excused herself from the room and gone directly to Annalise’s, and he had not seen her since. Tibby had sat with him quietly, occasionally asking questions of him, but most of the time she had simply looked older than he had ever seen her. He had asked if she was well, but she had barked that she was not the one they needed to worry about at this time.

  Only then did it occur to him just how much Annalise meant to Tibby. She was not just an amusing project for her entertainment, Tibby truly had adopted her as her own.

  She had left for her room sometime after that, saying fewer than five words to him.

  He had attempted to prepare for bed hours ago, but his mind and his heart were so torn and tangled that he was beyond restless. He had to do something to protect Annalise, but beyond only letting her out of the house under armed guard, he could not think how. There was no proof that the man who attacked Annalise was Thorpe beyond her word. Even the Gent had not known his identity at the time, and he had no way of contacting him for a witness, so there could be no action against Thorpe.

  He would not want to drag Annalise through that.

  Much as he would like to, he could not attack the man or have others do so. Not without just cause. Not without causing more rumors and problems for Annalise. If they had been anywhere else, perhaps that would have been possible, but London wa
s London, and it was one of the reasons he hated it so.

  He had no way to avenge the woman he loved.

  For he did love her.

  He was an idiot to think it could be anything else. He had loved her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. It didn’t matter that he was the protective sort or the kind to do a good deed. Love explained everything. Why he couldn’t breathe when she was away, why he couldn’t breathe when she was near, why he would go to such lengths for her, why his every thought was about her and for her, and why he hated seeing any other man in her presence.

  She was his and his alone.

  He winced as he recalled those had been Thorpe’s words, almost exactly. Annalise did not belong to anyone. She was no man’s property, and no man could claim her. He wanted her for himself, but he could never call her his. There was no possession involved.

  No matter how strongly he felt it.

  Because he was hers. Hers to command, to destroy, to push away.

  He was not going anywhere.

  And he refused to sit by and do nothing.

  So he had done the only thing he could think of. He had written to his friends.

  He didn’t like to trouble them, particularly with something so personal, but among them were the best and most able minds in England, in his opinion. Not to mention wealth, power, and prestige. He had asked them to come in the morning to discuss an urgent matter, and had left it at that. It was best not to reveal anything until they were here in person.

  He wouldn’t sleep tonight. How could he, with so much at stake and so much unknown? He would sit in this room until he knew what to do. Or until his friends did. But they would not come until the morning, and by then he should have…

  “Duncan?”

  Blearily his raised his eyes to the open door, and his eyes surely deceived him.

  Standing there in his home were Nathan, Derek, Geoffrey, and Colin, all looking as if they had been preparing for bed, with no waistcoats or cravats, yet awake and alert.