Annabelle: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters' Series Book 2)

by Audrey Harrison

  The dance started, and Stuart took her hand as they moved towards each other in casting off by the second pair. As they came around to face each other, Stuart started the conversation. “How long do you stay with Lord and Lady Stannage?”

  “I’m not sure; it was an open invitation,” Frances replied.

  “I was thinking perhaps we could travel home together? I could escort you, and you would be welcome company for me,” Stuart said.

  “That would be very welcome; I am not well travelled enough to be sure I am not being mischarged for items,” Frances admitted.

  “It would be my honour to act as your protector,” Stuart responded. He meant to be teasing, but the words had stirred a feeling inside at the thought of being her protector. He would still have offered had his feelings not developed into something stronger than the long-standing acquaintances he suspected Frances thought them.

  Frances laughed, pleased she was separated by the dance. She would never be one who could respond quickly with an amusing retort, but that did not lessen her enjoyment of being with a handsome man in a ballroom.

  They remained purely polite until they stood at the bottom of the set. Stuart had the urge to make the moments of solitude count. “Would you do me the honour of joining me on a walk in the morning? Unless of course you wish to spend time recovering from the excesses of tonight.”

  “I’m hardly likely to suffer from any sort of excess after two dances!” Frances laughed.

  “Tell me that at the end of the evening when you have spent the night dancing; I know you’ll be regretting not wearing your most comfortable slippers,” Stuart teased.

  “Ah, my secret is out! It is always a difficult decision: the new tight slippers or the comfortable slightly grubby ones,” Frances said, with mock seriousness.

  “Ladies always go with the new, rather pain than comfort.”

  “If you look at my feet, you will find comfort always wins with me.”

  Stuart did look down, and Frances, feeling bold, stuck out her foot to show the previously worn slippers. A smile spread across Stuart’s face as he appreciated the action not to mention the glance of a slender ankle wrapped in a white silk stocking.

  “You have increased in my estimation, Frances; may I call you Frances now we are grown?” he whispered. “Pretty, sensible and charming all wrapped up together: a heady mix.”

  Frances blushed. Stuart had never her given name previously, the sound of it on his lips sending ripples of pleasure through her; but it was also the compliment that caused her to colour. She was sure it was said for fun, but she glowed inside. They continued on through the dance and into the second one. Stuart was constantly teasing her with the result that she separated from him at the end, her skin glowing with a whole range of pleasurable feelings buzzing through her body.

  Stuart left Frances and sought out William; his pupil was talking to some neighbours, arguing about which was the better city: Rome or Florence? Stuart was pleased William was talking with authority and passion; at least some of his lessons had been absorbed. He waited until there was a natural lull in the conversation and then took William a little to one side.

  “Miss Latimer is sitting out the dances; she has not been in the area long,” Stuart said quietly. It would not be the thing to have others overhear Stuart begging for a dancing partner, causing embarrassment to the lady in question.

  “Yes, I have noticed her sitting down,” William acknowledged. “She has a very pleasing face and manner; what age is she?”

  “Three and twenty, I think, although I don’t know what her age has to do with her requiring a dancing partner,” Stuart replied, a little sharply.

  “I am in my prime, dear Mr Adams,” William said with a wink. “I need to be looking out for hearts to conquer before I finally settle down.”

  “Cause any damage to Miss Latimer’s heart, and you’ll have me to answer to; she’s an old family friend,” Stuart responded. His jaw was aching he was gritting his teeth so hard. He knew William was jesting; he was no rake, but the thought of men looking upon his friend as a conquest suddenly had him longing for their journey home. There no one would abuse her; they all treated her with the respect she deserved: at least that was what he hoped.

  William laughed, “Don’t worry; I shall be the perfect gentleman,” he assured his tutor and moved towards Miss Latimer.

  Stuart had the dubious pleasure of watching his pupil charm Miss Latimer. She laughed very often while they danced; her eyes lit, and her colour deepened as she seemed to enjoy William’s company. Stuart mused over the ability of the confident young man to woo anyone he wished. He, on the other hand, had perhaps left it too late to be so carefree, always tending to err on the serious side of life. For the first time, while watching William and Frances, he wondered if he had missed out a little and pondered trying to make up for lost time. If his plans went according to his hopes, there would be no more time wasted.

  *

  Annabelle stifled a yawn; it was late, and she had danced every dance. She longed to take off her slippers, stays and hairpins, in which order she could not decide as they all seemed to cause equal levels of pain. It had been a good evening; it had felt relaxed, and everyone seemed to have had an enjoyable time.

  Even Frederick had enjoyed it; she knew because she watched him as much as she could without it distracting from being a hostess. When he laughed, she smiled even though she was not within the same grouping. She could not help responding to the deep rumble that escaped his lips when he found something genuinely amusing.

  She felt relaxed, possibly much to do with the two or three glasses of wine she had consumed during the evening, but if they helped her to enjoy herself as she used to, she welcomed the effect. There had been no thoughts intruding into her happiness, no flashes of faces she would rather forget.

  She smiled when Frederick approached her. “Those are the last guests departed; we can congratulate ourselves on surviving the night,” he smiled at her.

  “Caroline can be a smug older sister in that she was correct in saying we should hold a ball,” Annabelle said.

  Frederick flopped down on the sofa beside Annabelle and leaned back, “That’s all I need: a smug sister; she’s bad enough anyway!”

  Annabelle pushed his leg. “You are mean; she did everything; we could take the glory but did nothing to earn it.”

  “Just as I like it,” Frederick muttered, closing his eyes.

  Annabelle shook her head, but she smiled at her husband. “You’d best not fall asleep here; the maids will be up in a few hours, setting the fires.”

  Frederick groaned but then opened one eye. “It was a good night for us wasn’t it?” he asked quietly.

  Annabelle flushed but nodded her head. “It was.”

  “I’m glad,” Frederick said, opening his other eye. “Do I ask too much in hoping there could be more like tonight?”

  “I don’t think that is an unreasonable wish,” Annabelle said honestly.

  “I’m glad. I want more evenings like this.”

  “You want to socialise more?” Annabelle asked a little surprised.

  “If it means each night is as good as this, yes, I do,” Frederick said, and he meant it. Everyone tonight accepted him for who he was or, if they didn’t, they hid their feelings. Perhaps with more contact with others, they would tire of the comments and ridicule.

  “I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Annabelle said quietly.

  Frederick took hold of her hand. It was a gentle grasp not a touch meant to alarm her. “Thank you, but I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  Annabelle squeezed his hand in return. “You will have my full support.”

  Frederick decided he would try something; the moment seemed right. “I would normally offer to escort you to your chamber, but I don’t wish you to be worried that I would try to force or cajole my way in. I won’t ever do that.”

  “I know,” Annabelle said, looking do
wn at her hand still enfolded in his. “I would like your escort.”

  Frederick stood without saying anything else, Annabelle also rising as her hand was still in his. They nodded a goodbye to William and Stuart, the only two left downstairs and left the room.

  Annabelle’s heart was pounding. She knew Frederick had made the suggestion so they could be private, and she believed he would not go back on his word. The apprehension still built though as they took each step.

  Frederick stopped at Annabelle’s chamber door and touched her face gently. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said quietly. “Do you know I could look at you for the rest of my days, and it would not be enough?”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Annabelle said, her mouth dry. She licked her lips and swallowed nervously.

  “When we shared a bed, I would sometimes watch you sleep and wonder how I had managed to secure you.”

  “We somehow managed to compromise each other,” Annabelle said with a smile, immediately feeling the guilt that he had been forced into a marriage he should not have had to endure.

  Frederick chuckled, “Yes, we did; but you are not ready to be completely mine yet, are you?” he asked gently.

  Annabelle’s eyes flew to Frederick, her face covered in a blush. “I’m sorry.”

  “Will you be one day?” he persisted.

  “I hope so,” Annabelle responded truthfully.

  “Then I will wait,” Frederick said, moving his hand and touching her hair gently. He knew if he rushed her there would be a repeat of what had gone before; he could see the fear barely suppressed, but her words and actions were giving him the courage to push her a little.

  “Thank you,” Annabelle said.

  “I would like to kiss you though; would you like to kiss me?”

  Annabelle gulped. “I-I think so.” She did want to kiss him; she had liked when he kissed her the first time in the study. It made her lean in to him and return the kiss. When they stopped at the first inn, she had not objected to the first kisses, but when the kiss became more passionate, it was spoiled, and she did not know how to stop that happening.

  “Shall we try and see if you do?” Frederick whispered. His every nerve ending was alive and tingling to touch her. If she refused him, he believed he would collapse on the floor in a weeping heap.

  Annabelle nodded, unable to speak. Frederick leaned forward without touching anything other than the hair that he was gently twisting through his fingers. His lips brushed hers and then hovered above her lips. He knew he had to tread slowly even though he did not know why. He thought it was because she was repulsed by him, but her recent behaviour did not support that. If it was because she was very afraid of relations between them, he was prepared to move slowly. He had never been an innocent girl; he could not imagine what she felt, but he was prepared to be patient.

  Annabelle’s eyes flickered to his unspoken question. Frederick bent once more and brushed her lips again. She tasted so good, of wine and warmth, but he held back. She still looked afraid, and it turned his stomach that she might be afraid of him, but something at that moment was telling him that was not it.

  He kissed the end of her nose, making Annabelle smile slightly. “You are perfect,” he muttered, before kissing her along her jawline. His kisses were featherlike and teasing.

  Annabelle was not sure if it was the result of the wine relaxing her, but she did not want the kisses to stop. They were sending feelings through her body she had never experienced before; her thoughts went no further than the touch of his lips. She leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes with pleasure.

  Frederick smiled and moved up to her lips once more. He whispered endearments between kisses; he was sure she needed the reassurances. Little by little he lengthened the kisses, gently pushing her to a more intimate kiss, but he pushed very slowly. He was encouraged by the whoosh of breath that escaped if he pulled away from her and the gentle moan she sometimes gave when his lips returned to hers.

  He moved his fingers from her hair and stroked gently along her jawline. Annabelle’s eyes opened in alarm. “Sh,” Frederick whispered. “Don’t worry; I just want to touch you. Your skin is beautiful; I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  Annabelle focused on the words. “You won’t, will you?”

  “No, never,” Frederick assured her.

  “Thank you,” Annabelle responded and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. Frederick was taken a little aback at the movement, but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, holding her still.

  Annabelle felt something she had not felt for many months: safe. She sighed and closed her eyes. He was not the same: it was not going to be the same; she suddenly realised that closeness could be different. They stayed still for a few moments before Annabelle lifted her head to look into Frederick’s eyes. They had darkened with passion, his pupils dilated. They didn’t look too dissimilar when darkened, but Annabelle had ceased to notice their difference weeks before.

  “Thank you,” she repeated.

  “What for?” Frederick probed gently. He now knew without question there was something deeper going on.

  “For making me feel safe,” she said simply.

  Frederick knew without a doubt that she had been hurt badly. With difficulty he forced himself not to grit his teeth and demand to be told who had been cruel to her. He would find out, but he would wait for her to tell him because he was determined that, after tonight, they would be spending as much time together as they could, and one day she would tell him of her own free will.

  “I won’t hurt you; and I want you to know that I don’t want to leave you here. I want to come to bed with you, but I won’t,” he said quickly, noticing the alarm in her eyes. “I am going to do as I promised and leave you at your door. Goodnight, my lady,” he said, before wrapping her in a slightly deeper kiss.

  It was the deepest kiss he had given to her but he still could have gone further. He held back and eventually pulled away from her, smiling that her eyes struggled to focus on him. “Goodnight Annabelle.”

  Chapter 6

  Frances smiled to see Stuart already seated in the dining room, eating a hearty breakfast. His plate was piled with ham and bread that he was eating with gusto, only stopping at her entrance. “Good morning,” she said, curtseying to his bow.

  “Good morning; we appear to be the earliest to rise,” Stuart said, returning to his breakfast.

  “It is the sign of a successful ball when everyone is exhausted and loathe to leave their beds, I believe,” Frances smiled, accepting food from the footman.

  “As you did dance for most of the evening, I shall understand if you wish to withdraw from your agreement to go for a walk. I unfairly asked at the start of the evening when you would have lots of energy. I should have perhaps waited until the effects of your dancing had taken hold and then asked you.”

  Frances was pleased that he had noticed she had danced but spoke quickly. “I am perfectly capable of walking and have even donned my oldest boots in expectation of a long walk.”

  “Excellent,” Stuart replied, suddenly looking forward to the morning ahead. He desisted from talking too much; staff were present, and he wanted to spend time with Frances without being conscious of staff listening in.

  They left the dining room before anyone else emerged. Frances went to retrieve her pelisse and bonnet while Stuart put on his hat and gloves. He was tucking his fine ivory topped cane under his arm, when Frances hurried through the hallway.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she breathed, straightening her bonnet.

  “Not at all,” Stuart replied easily. “Shall we?” He offered his arm, and Frances took it, feeling a little overawed by the situation. It was not usual for her to be escorted by a very handsome man.

  They turned away from the main drive and started to explore the gardens. They wandered along the gravel pathways, admiring the flowers and the vistas along the edge
of the ha-ha.

  “William has told me that on a clear day one can see the sea from the folly on the hill,” Stuart said, indicating a stone structure on a distant mound. “Would you like to take a picnic there one day?”

  “Yes, that would be very pleasant,” Frances replied.

  “I make the offer depending on if your time allows it obviously,” Stuart said quickly. “I think I have more free time than you.”

  “Not at all. Lady Stannage doesn’t really need me here; she is quite busy. I think she needed a familiar face to ease her transition into married life,” Frances said. “I’m enjoying my stay though; when Joan left the area, I knew I would miss her, although perhaps not all of her characteristics, but we did spend a lot of time together.”

  “She was a force to behold,” Stuart said diplomatically. He remembered a young girl who was selfish, self-centred and very often manipulative. Frances had been one of the victims of Joan’s personality, too weak and caring to stand up to her, so she carried along with whatever Joan decided she wanted to do.

  “She was unhappy most of the time; I felt sorry for her,” Frances admitted.

  “I don’t suppose you have found many who shared that opinion,” Stuart smiled, his eyes laughing at the innocent Frances.

  She caught his expression and blushed, embarrassed but at the same time a little indignant at the patronising tone. She stood slightly taller. “Oh, I know what you think of me: little gullible Frances, but you’re wrong,” she said.

  “Perhaps too kind hearted?” Stuart said teasingly.

  “I slapped Joan across the face once in a room full of company,” Frances said with a gleam in her eye.

  Stuart’s step paused. “Are you funning with me Frances?” he asked.

  “No, not at all; your mother was there to witness it,” Frances said, remembering the day she had successfully shocked everyone in the room. “I did not carry out the action lightly, but Joan had stepped beyond the boundaries of polite behaviour and was hurting people in the process, including herself. I had to put a stop to it, and it had seemed the only effective way.”