The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4)

by Rebecca Connolly

  He grinned at her and looked so pleased that she could not even manage to find the apology she had begun to formulate. For Mr. Tarlingen was a kind man, even if he was abysmally tiresome.

  “That was rather harsh,” she giggled, looking at the man in question as he attempted dancing with poor Gemma Templeton.

  Duncan hummed a delighted sound. “I thought it was rather accurate, actually. And far kinder than I could have said. Perhaps I should save Gemma.”

  “Perhaps you should.”

  It proved unnecessary, as Colin was suddenly there and saving her himself.

  Both of them burst into laughter and did their best to hide it from the rest of the room, but Annalise turned and used Duncan’s size to hide herself.

  “Oh, I cannot breathe for laughing,” she gasped, clutching at her chest.

  “I wonder if you have any idea how adorable you are.”

  Her laughter died at the low, heated words rumbling in the chest of the man beside her. She glanced up at him to find his eyes fixed intensely on her, raking across her features, never missing a single pore of her skin. She blushed and looked away, tucking her chin down.

  “No, no, look at me,” he whispered, touching her chin. “Don’t hide.”

  She forced herself to look up at him, cheeks pink.

  His smile was soft and tender. “I know you’re embarrassed, Annalise, but you shouldn’t be. And you should never hide your eyes. I will always want to see them when I say something that pleases you or when you are amused. If only you could see how they dance.”

  She smiled, still embarrassed. “You are kind.”

  Duncan laughed softly. “I am rarely kind, but I am always truthful.”

  “Always?” she asked suspiciously, hoping to tease him out of his serious tone.

  His head gave the briefest, slowest nod. “Always. And now I will truthfully say that you are beautiful.”

  Her cheeks flamed once more. “You’re biased,” she protested.

  “But I am not blind.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. But instead of kissing the back, he pressed a hot kiss into her gloved palm, sending shivers of heat through her frame.

  Her breath vanished and her knees shook beneath her skirts.

  His eyes were like flames of cobalt blue, scorching every inch of her, though they had not moved from her face. He didn’t seem steady either, his chest beginning to heave. “Annalise,” he rasped, her hand still so close to his mouth she could feel his breath.

  “Begging your pardon, Miss Remington, but might I trouble you for this dance?”

  Annalise dazedly looked over at Lord… What was his name? … He was married to Derek’s sister, she knew that, but at the moment she barely knew her own name, let alone his. Duncan stepped back and released her hand, apparently as cool as cucumber.

  “Of course,” she managed, smiling for whoever it was. “It will be my pleasure.”

  He held out his hand and she set hers in it, allowing herself to be led. She wanted desperately to look back at Duncan, but knew she would have no composure left if she did.

  So she would dance with this gentleman, and the next, and the next, until her heart and her mind could agree once more.

  Duncan moved for the terrace as fast as his feet could while not actually running in a crowded ballroom. He watched Annalise dance her dance with Lord Beckham, knowing she was safe with him, but still feeling his pains of jealousy. He had barely managed to avoid actually declaring himself to her in the middle of their engagement ball.

  False engagement, he reminded himself. He was not actually engaged to her.

  Now she was dancing with someone else, and he could not bear it. She was too beautiful, too lovely, too sweet. He felt too much, burned too much, wanted too much. He was becoming an animal, incapable of concise thought or concrete feeling. He was simply a burning mass of sinew and limb, impersonating a controlled man.

  And the vaunted control was fast unraveling before him.

  “Where are you headed so fast?” Colin asked as he caught up to him.

  “Air,” he panted, his mind and body whirling independent of each other, senses all on alert.

  “Oh dear. Are you going to be ill?”

  “Too warm.”

  “You are? Is the room too warm?” His friend actually gasped. “Good heavens, are you going to faint?”

  “Need… air…”

  He burst outside and moved to the very edge of the terrace, gripping the railing tightly, his breathing rapid and heavy.

  Colin came to stand beside him. “I say, are you quite well?”

  He shook his head. “No. And yes.”

  Colin snorted. “Thank you so much for clearing that up.”

  Duncan swallowed, clenching his eyes shut. “I’ve never felt worse. But I’ve never felt so alive.”

  “Oh, well, that is much better.”

  A growl and a sigh combined in his chest. “You don’t understand what this feels like.”

  “Apparently, neither do you.”

  He lashed out and gripped Colin’s shirt tightly. “Go away.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He pried his eyes open and looked at his friend, unmoving in his hold. “I am fraying at the edges. Either distract me or go away.”

  Colin glanced back into the ballroom, then back at him. “Annalise is dancing with Lord Oliver.”

  He tossed his friend aside, not caring if he stumbled or not. “AWAY, Colin!”

  He heard no response for a moment, which was always suspicious where Colin was concerned. And then, “Saints above… You’re in love with her.”

  He laughed without humor. “Caught on, have you?”

  “I… I…” Colin stammered, which was shocking in and of itself.

  Colin never stammered.

  “You what?” Duncan asked slowly, still gripping the railing.

  “I have no words.”

  He did not expect that reply. He turned to look at Colin in surprise.

  Colin looked rather bewildered himself.

  “No words?” Duncan repeated. “You?”

  “I know.” Colin shook his head in astonishment. “But for the first time since any of you have fallen or thought yourself fallen, I have nothing flippant to say.”

  Duncan barked a laugh. “I appreciate that.”

  “You should,” his friend said, sounding more serious than Duncan had ever heard. Colin briefly glanced into the ballroom where Annalise could be seen dancing, then looked back at his friend, his eyes somber. “And for pity’s sake, man, make her yours as soon as you can manage. Bad things happen when men in love wait.”

  Duncan slowly raised a brow at him. “You speak from experience?”

  Colin’s expression changed back to his typical carefree one. “Of course. Three of my best friends have been turned into complete imbeciles over love. I have seen quite enough.”

  But there was something in Colin’s eyes that showed a surprising darkness, a haunting, hollow look that was ill-suited to all Colin had ever been.

  He wanted to ask on it, but Duncan had never been a man who interfered in another’s business without cause. Curiosity was not good enough. And Colin was obviously loathe to discuss whatever it was.

  Duncan pushed off of the railing and looked back into the ballroom with a sigh. Then he grinned and started forward, adjusting his cravat more perfectly.

  “What are you doing?” Colin asked, sounded as worried as he was curious.

  “I am going to dance with my betrothed,” he informed him, as if that was obvious. Really, it should have been. Who would not want to dance with her when she was clearly the most beautiful creature in existence, let alone in that ballroom?

  And he loved her.

  More than anything he ever felt in his life, he knew he loved her.

  And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

  “You cannot possibly do that!” Colin gasped, hurrying behind him.

  “Why not?” he laughed as he neared the door
s.

  Colin put a hand on the handles to keep him from entering. “You have already danced with her twice and we have not been here above an hour. A third time would be cause for comment. I am telling you, Duncan, you cannot dance with her again.”

  Duncan leveled a mischievous grin at his friend and felt the animal within him sneer. “Watch me,” he growled, shoving his hand aside and re-entering the crowded room, his gaze and his intent both evident for all to see.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three days later, Annalise was miserably plunking out notes on the pianoforte, reveling in being alone with her distress. The ball had been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, and Duncan had been wonderful. For a few hours, at least, she found herself wondering if he might actually care for her as more than a friend and protector. He had been ardent in his attention, both in view of the public and outside of it. He had surely convinced the world that they were well and truly engaged.

  He had nearly convinced her.

  But something must have happened towards the end of the evening, for he and all the other men had vanished and none of the women knew why. They had appeared not too long after it had been noticed, and all appeared distracted by something, but there was no explanation. Duncan was back to being the aloof version of himself that she had come to despise, and she had no more hint of that man from the ball.

  She had gone shopping for a trousseau with Tibby and the girls, including Marianne, but she found no pleasure in it. The gowns were to be delivered in a week, all prepared for the nuptials that had no date.

  She had heard that their explanation for not having set a date was waiting for word from her family on the continent, and everybody knew that could be a laborious enterprise. Especially given that her “family” were touring the whole of the area, so no one could be quite certain where exactly they were. Duncan assured everyone he would set a date the moment he had their approval.

  He would never have her family’s approval.

  She shivered as she recalled the end of the ball. She thought she had seen Thorpe there, but Kate had assured her that the man had been barred from the event and would not be allowed in. Everyone seemed so sure they had prevented everything bad from happening.

  It did absolutely nothing to keep the feeling of dread from invading her heart.

  Albert Thorpe was far more dangerous and conniving than any of them thought.

  And he would not be stopped.

  She had received another letter from him this morning, but it had been more of a missive. Three words only on the scrap of paper:

  I’m warning you.

  She had not shown this to Duncan, nor the four others she had received since the ball. She knew he would not take them seriously. How could he? He knew nothing about this man but what others had informed him. He did not know Thorpe like she did.

  He feared nothing and no one.

  He did not even know fear.

  Her fingers were moving of their own accord now and she played a slower, more melancholy version of the song Marianne had taught her. It was odd how perfectly suited it was when played in such a way. It was as if her heart were playing its lonely, broken song through her fingertips.

  She was not a skilled player, but the song was simple enough that it didn’t matter. She was not playing for an audience, no one would hear but her, so it made no difference anyway.

  When the song finished, she let her hands rest in her lap and released a heavy sigh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She closed her eyes in agony.

  Duncan.

  She swallowed hard and forced herself to keep her chin up. But she did not turn to see him. She couldn’t, not when her emotions were so close to the surface.

  “You’ve never played it like that before,” he murmured, and she could hear him moving closer. “It was beautiful, but also the saddest thing I have ever heard. What can I do? How can I help?”

  She would have laughed had the pain in his voice not broken her heart. “You’ve done everything, Duncan,” she whispered, willing the quiver out of her voice. “I will be well enough.”

  “I don’t want you do be ‘well enough,’ ” he said, his voice directly behind her. “That’s not acceptable.”

  She sniffed and looked down at her hands. “Well, it’s the best I can do at the moment.”

  She heard him sigh. “Will you look at me? Please?”

  Unable to deny him anything, she turned on the bench and faced him. The agony in his expression sent a wash of tears into her eyes, which only made things worse.

  “What is it?” he pleaded, his voice low, as he brushed a leaked tear away.

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered as another tear fell.

  He sunk to his haunches before her and took her hands. “Of what?”

  She gave him a look. “Of what? Of… him! I can’t… I cannot even say his name without trembling. I worry every day that I will see him and feel that fear. That he will hurt one of our friends or Tibby or you, and I can’t bear to think…”

  “Shh, no, no, no,” he hushed, gently overriding, and squeezing her hands more tightly. “You don’t have to fear anything, sweet. We have things well in hand, I promise you.”

  “He was at the ball, wasn’t he?” she demanded on a hard swallow.

  He released an irritated breath. “Somehow he made it through our security measures, but he was quickly removed. No harm done.”

  She laughed bitterly. “No harm done? Duncan, he is an evil man! And he is not as easily stopped as you all seem to think! Why won’t you take this seriously?”

  He looked surprised by her outburst. “We are.”

  She shook her head hastily. “No, you don’t understand. None of you understand. He is the reason why I ran away from home. I could endure Frank and his beatings if I had to, I could live my miserable normality for as long as God wanted, content to ignore and be ignored by the rest of the world. But when he told me that I would basically be sold to that man, to have to legally endure whatever he saw fit to inflict upon me… I have never wanted to die more in my entire life.”

  “Annalise…”

  She felt her chin quivering. “It couldn’t be worse than what I was living. I didn’t want to live like that, always fearing, always cowering…”

  “What happened?”

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “I met someone who changed my mind. Someone who made the idea of living not only a pleasant one, but a necessary one.” Using every bit of bravery she had ever imagined herself to have, she pulled one of her hands from his hold to reach out and gently touch his barely stubbled cheek. “And I haven’t looked back since.”

  His breath caught and his eyes widened at her touch. She saw his throat work at a swallow as she absently stroked his cheek again.

  Then suddenly he surged forward, his now free hand diving into her hair and cupping the back of her head, dragging her mouth to his. His lips were hungry, nearly crazed in their energy, and her heart hummed with delight. Her hand moved of its own accord, grasping his face near his ear, her fingertips barely toying with his hair. She sighed against him, felt herself molding more perfectly against him, and whimpered when he broke off with a violent gasp. He quickly soothed her with the gentlest, softest of encores, then wrapped his arms around her and held her to him as both of their hearts tried to resume a more normal pattern.

  “Have mercy,” he whispered into her hair as he stroked her back. “I have almost no control with you.”

  She breathlessly laughed into his shoulder. He had no control? She was ready to come apart at the seams! “Am I supposed to apologize for that?” she asked, her voice muffled.

  “Heavens, no,” he chuckled, kissing her head. He swallowed and held her more tightly for a second, then released her and sat back on his haunches, eying her carefully, slight color in his cheeks. “You’ve not been as happy lately, have you?”

  She knew she looked as surprised as she felt. “I have been very ha
ppy.”

  He raised a disbelieving brow. “Not as happy as before. This engagement is not very fun for you, is it?”

  She bit her lip and shrugged one shoulder. “Has it been fun for you?”

  He twisted his mouth to one side and hummed. “That is the problem then, isn’t it? We need some fun.” He stood and held out a hand to her.

  She hesitated for a moment as she gave him a look. “What are we doing?” she asked as she trustingly put her hand in his.

  He grinned and looked rather like a schoolboy. “It snowed last night. I think the back garden is still untouched. It seems a shame to not play in it.”

  “Play?” she asked slowly as he pulled her to her feet.

  He gaped at her. “Have you never played in the snow?”

  She shook her head, wondering how one even did such a thing.

  He looked sad for a moment and stroked her cheek. “Then today will be long overdue, indeed. Go change into a warmer dress and your warmest coat and things. I will meet you at the kitchen door in fifteen minutes.”

  “All right,” she said slowly, smiling at him curiously.

  He winked, then bowed over her hand and kissed it politely, though the stroke of his thumb was not so polite. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

  He quirked his brow and strode away for the stairs.

  Regret it? How could she ever regret a single moment she had spent with him? Her lips suddenly burned in memory, and she touched them with trembling fingers. Was this all really happening? To her?

  She would not doubt it long enough to question, not when there were more moments to be had. She giggled and raced up the stairs to her bedchamber, excitement rising within her.

  Minutes later, she was at the kitchen door, tamping down the urge to shift her weight like an excitable child. Duncan appeared in a coat and scarf, no hat on his head, but he held one in his hand, as well as another scarf.

  She took it and looped it around her neck, then took his hand and let him lead her outside.

  They walked and talked for what seemed ages, all lightheartedness and fun. He showed her how to build a man of snow, and took a great deal of care to educate her on the proper foundations and methods of the thing.