by Olivia Drake
How shocked the noble guests would be if they were to learn that their host had gone off alone with the governess. She would face gossip and censure, the ruin of her good name. But the thought was only fleeting. Being with Simon meant far more to her than winning the approval of small-minded aristocrats.
Besides, this excursion would be their secret. No one need ever know.
They arrived at his closed study. Simon fished in an inner pocket of his coat for a key and unlocked the door. When he ushered her inside, there was a lamp already burning low on a nearby table.
“I was hoping you’d agree to come here,” he said. “You seem to be as interested in the Celtic site as I am.”
His gaze held a trace of uncertainty that she didn’t quite understand. Did he fear she didn’t share his zeal for antiquities? The thought touched her heart. “I’m not simply interested,” she said. “I’m fascinated to see things that were made thousands of years ago. So where are they?”
“Straight ahead. You’ll need some light.”
He nodded at his desk in front of the night-darkened window. Hurrying forward, Annabelle saw that the broad mahogany surface held an array of shadowy objects. Simon brought over a lamp and turned up the wick. As the flickering flame illuminated the scene, her eyes widened in amazement.
There were so many items she didn’t know where to look first: gold jewelry inlaid with precious stones, a pottery urn with faded images painted on it, a tiny stylized horse made of hammered silver, swords and small wooden statues and many other things whose purpose she couldn’t readily identify.
Simon pointed to a long narrow object inlaid with bits of red and blue gemstones. “I believe the piece that Nicholas picked up was once a part of that scabbard. You can see where it broke off the hilt.”
“Simon, this is astounding.” She walked around the desk to view more of the items. Most had a sheen of dirt and an overall air of neglect. Others, like the scabbard, were damaged in some way. “It will take you months to clean and catalogue everything. I don’t even know what some of these things are.”
“Here’s one that’s simple enough.” He handed her a shallow gold bowl that was beautifully engraved with horses and stags. “I believe it may be my favorite piece.”
“The workmanship is marvelous—oh, there’s a ring inside.” Annabelle plucked out a dainty gold circlet with an inset gemstone. Carrying it closer to the lamp, she turned it to and fro, and the polished stone winked a deep midnight blue in the light. “How lovely! It looks like a sapphire. What do you think?”
He stood watching her, his mouth curved slightly in an enigmatic smile. “I think you should try it on.”
His gaze held an intensity that bespoke his desire to kiss her. In her inmost depths, she felt a corresponding rise of passion for him. He must have brought her here in the hopes of charming her. And who was to stop them from indulging themselves? They were all alone. No one else need know …
But she had made up her mind. She must not encourage him. As tempting as he was, the life he had offered her held no honor.
Her heart sore, Annabelle lowered her gaze and slid the sapphire ring onto her finger. By its perfect fit, it had to have belonged to a woman. Unlike the other items, however, the ring had a timeless elegance that stirred a melancholy ache inside her. If only …
Needing to fill the silence, she murmured, “I wonder who owned this. Do you suppose it was a wedding ring?”
Simon stepped closer. He took her hand and examined it in the lamplight. “It was actually a betrothal ring.”
She glanced up at his enigmatic expression. “How can you be sure?”
He smiled faintly at her. “Because it belonged to my grandmother.”
Annabelle could only gape at him in uncomprehending shock. His words reverberated through her mind, but she couldn’t fathom his purpose. His grandmother?
She shook her head. “I—I don’t understand.”
“It’s the only piece on the desk that didn’t come from the site. I placed it there for you to find.” His voice lowered to a husky murmur. “Because I want you to wear it, Annabelle.”
His thumb stroked lightly over the palm of her hand. He was gazing at her with a passionate intensity that thrilled her to the core. Yet an awful fear crept through her happiness. He had said nothing of love—or marriage. And that could mean only one thing.
Her eyes filling with tears, she tugged at the ring. But her hands were shaking too much to remove it. “If this is another bribe, Simon, I don’t want it.”
He took her fingers in his, stopping her frantic efforts. “Darling, it is not a bribe. Well, perhaps it is, but not in the way you’re thinking. Please, will you just hear me out?”
Annabelle went still, her heart beating swiftly. His manner held a desperation that was utterly unlike his usual charm and finesse. And yet she didn’t dare allow herself to hope. The pain would be too devastating if she was wrong. “Go on, then.”
His fingers remained tight around hers. “I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days,” he said in a halting tone. “And I realize now why I made such a dishonorable offer to you. Even though you’d come to mean so much to me, I had to keep you at arm’s length, just as I’d done with Nicholas.” Grimacing, Simon glanced away for a moment, then looked squarely into her eyes. “You were right to call me a coward, Annabelle. I have been very much afraid to love again.”
He looked so tortured that she felt a softening in her breast even though she wasn’t yet ready to forgive him. “I’m not Diana,” she murmured. “I would never betray you as she did.”
“I know that, I think I’ve always known it. But because of her, I’d sworn never to open my heart again. Yet here I stand, madly, hopelessly in love with you.” On that breathtaking statement, he brought her hand to his lips. “I want you to be my wife, Annabelle. Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”
A surfeit of emotions welled up into her throat. Never in her wildest dreams had she allowed herself to think that Simon harbored such deep feelings for her. She had feared that for him it was just a fleeting physical passion. Overcome by joy, she felt incapable of formulating words. So she slid her arms around his waist, pressed her face into the crook of his neck, and let her actions speak for her.
He held her tightly, brushing kisses over her hair. His hands moved over her back as if he never wanted to let her go. Then their lips met in a sweetly ardent kiss that was rife with mutual love.
Simon drew back slightly and touched his forehead to hers. “That does mean yes, doesn’t it?”
The trace of worry in his voice burrowed into her heart. “It means yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Oh, Simon, I love you so much. Why else do you suppose I allowed you such liberties that day in the bedroom?”
A twinkle entered his eyes. “I thought you’d merely succumbed to my superior lovemaking skills.”
“Well, I certainly can’t deny that you have a way with your mouth and hands.”
Smiling seductively, she traced her fingertip over his damp lips, and he smiled back as they gazed into each other’s eyes. The richness of desire spread through her body, and what a blessing that she no longer had to resist it. The slow caress of his hands over her breasts and waist honed her passion for him, and she murmured, “There’s no need to go back to the ball straightaway, is there?”
As she spoke, the clock on the fireplace mantel chimed the midnight hour. His hands stilled and he glanced sharply at the clock. “Yes, we do have to go, or we’ll be late for our dance.”
She moved her hips against him. “We could dance right here, just the two of us.”
His lashes lowered slightly and he gave her a look that told her exactly how much he craved her. Then he clenched his jaw and firmly set her back from him. “As tempting you are, my love, I am determined to partner you in front of society. The supper will be the perfect time for us to announce our engagement.”
He turned down the lamp, then caught her by the hand and led her
out of the study, locking the door behind them.
As they started down the dim corridor, arm in arm, Annabelle tried to fathom why she disliked the notion of publicizing their betrothal. “Must we share the news tonight? Can we not keep it to ourselves for now?”
He cast a surprised look at her. “Why hide it? I want all the world to know that you’ll be my bride.”
“They’ll know soon enough.” To soothe him, she stroked her hand over his cheek. “Simon, you must remember I’m merely the governess. Even worse, I’ve no knowledge whatsoever of my family—I might be the baseborn daughter of a highwayman for all I know. And because the people in that ballroom judge everyone by their bloodline, there will be many who’ll brand me a fortune hunter.”
“Let them try,” he said, his voice radiating resolve. “I’ll set them straight.”
“I don’t doubt you’ll defend me. Yet I don’t wish to spoil this evening with gossip and ill feelings. It’s far too special to us.” Sensing that he was weakening, she added, “Besides, there’s one person who ought to be the first to know.”
A wry smile tilted his mouth. “Nicholas.”
She nodded. “He was so despondent at missing the ball that I promised him I would awaken him at midnight with a treat. He asked if you would come with me. Will you?”
Simon took her into his arms and kissed her brow. “It shall be as you wish, my love. But we will dance first. I insist upon that part.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
In short order, they reached the ballroom to find the dancers assembled and waiting. She had been anxious that they would miss the opening bars, but Simon assured her that the musicians would not begin the supper dance until he arrived. A sharp buzz of conversation ensued as they walked to the dance floor. Many of the guests turned to stare, the ladies whispering behind their fans.
The rumor mill was already operating in high gear.
Annabelle held her head high as they took up their position for the waltz. Simon gathered her close. As she placed her hand on his shoulder, the sapphire on her finger sparkled in the candlelight. Would any of the guests observe that she now wore the ring? Would they ask each other if she’d had it on earlier in the evening?
Let them wonder. She would not enlighten them. Tonight was for her and Simon alone.
As the musicians began to play, he smiled at her and the world faded away. No longer did she notice the throng of onlookers or the other couples on the dance floor. Only the two of them existed, whirling around in perfect time to the music. For the first time, she felt free to flirt with him in the manner of ladies and gentlemen.
“It is far more pleasant to dance with you, my lord, than with the girls at the academy where I grew up.”
“How comforting to know my skill compares favorably to that of adolescent girls.”
She laughed. “I’d tell you more about how accomplished you are, but it would go to your head and then living with you would become quite impossible.”
In the midst of their banter, his expression took on a potent quality. “I am most impatient to live with you, Annabelle. Do you know how much?”
The deeply passionate promise in his gray eyes stirred a flurry of anticipation in her. She felt it in every part of her body, a mad fervor to be his wife. Would he wait until their wedding night to seduce her? Oh, she hoped not. It was so unladylike, this hunger for him to whisk her away to his bedchamber and do all manner of wicked things to her.
At the end of the dance, he leaned close to whisper to her. “I’ll fetch a plate. Go upstairs to the nursery and wait for me. We shouldn’t be seen leaving together or your reputation may be tarnished.”
Annabelle suspected her character was already in question with many of those present. And when they both went missing, wouldn’t people put two and two together, anyway?
Yet his protectiveness made her feel cherished. As he headed to the supper room and she went toward the main door, Annabelle was too happy to pay heed to anyone who might be gazing askance at her. She was betrothed to the finest, most gallant man in all of England. A man who loved her enough to acknowledge his mistakes and correct them. A man who freely admitted his love for her. The reality of that still seemed like a wonderful dream.
She couldn’t resist glancing down at the sapphire ring. How heavy it felt on her finger, yet how perfect. As a token of Simon’s affection, it was more precious to her than the crown jewels. When she looked up again, the milling crowd parted and she found herself gazing straight at Lady Danville.
She was staring at Annabelle’s hand, too.
Lady Danville raised her chin and gave Annabelle a look so malevolent it could have curdled milk. She said something to the stout matron beside her, who shook her head disapprovingly.
As much as she disliked Lady Danville, Annabelle actually felt sorry for the woman. It must be a bitter blow for her to see her plans for her daughter put to ruin by a mere governess.
But charity only went so far. Annabelle maintained a serene countenance until she left the ballroom. Then her buoyant spirits brought a smile to her lips as she proceeded through the dim corridors and up to the nursery.
The schoolroom was dark, and she lit a candle from the embers of the fire. Walking toward Nicholas’s chamber, she decided it might be wise to warn the nursemaid that Simon would be coming.
She peeked into the smaller bedroom, but the cot was empty, the covers undisturbed. Where was Elowen?
Opening the opposite door, Annabelle saw Nicholas fast asleep in the big canopied bed. The fire on the hearth had burned down to glowing embers. The nursemaid didn’t occupy the rocking chair in the corner. She wasn’t in the bedchamber at all.
The woman must have stolen outside to the Samhain party.
Irked, Annabelle wondered if there was time to go and find her, but as she left the schoolroom, she met Simon coming up the stairs with a plate and two glasses of champagne. Annabelle told him what had happened. “I don’t like for the duke to be here all alone,” she said. “What if he has a nightmare and cries out?”
“He has nightmares?” Simon asked with a frown.
“No, but he might and I wouldn’t want him to be frightened.”
His eyes searched hers, and for a moment she thought he might lecture her on coddling Nicholas. Instead, he surprised her by asking, “Did that happen to you as a child?”
Biting her lip, she nodded. “I remember someone motherly when I was very young, a woman who rocked me to sleep and comforted me. But she died when I was not quite five. After that, I slept by myself in a little room off the kitchen.”
He tenderly brushed back a stray curl. “My sweet Cinderella. If it makes you feel better, we’ll send a maid up here when we leave.”
She did feel better, but that was purely due to his presence. It felt good to share her troubles with him. Someday, they would be discussing their own children this way. The notion filled her with such hope and joy that she blinked back tears.
Upon entering the duke’s chamber, Annabelle placed the candlestick on the bedside table. She settled onto the edge of the mattress and gently stroked Nicholas’s cheek. He stirred a little and blinked at her. Then he sat up straight and rubbed his sleepy eyes.
“Miss Quinn! You came! And you brought Uncle Simon!”
Simon chuckled. “She brought more than that. Here is the midnight treat you were promised, Your Grace. But I warn you, it’s for all of us to share.”
Into the boy’s lap he placed a large china plate heaped with a vast array of delicacies. There was so much Annabelle hardly knew what to try first. A slice of raspberry cake. Petite rolls of paper-thin ham stuffed with cheese. Bacon-wrapped oysters. A little pastry oozing with lobster salad. Sugared almonds that sparkled in the candlelight.
Nicholas went straight for the chocolate éclair. In between big bites, he asked, “Is it really midnight?”
“A bit later,” Annabelle said, selecting a tiny lemon tart. “But close enough.”
Simon handed
the boy a folded handkerchief to wipe his mouth. “At the stroke of twelve, I was waiting for the fairy godmother to turn Miss Quinn into a pumpkin, but it never happened.”
Finding that hilarious, Nicholas went into a fit of the giggles. “It’s the coach that turns into a pumpkin. And Miss Quinn isn’t Cinderella, anyway.”
“Hmm. I daresay she isn’t, at least not anymore.”
Annabelle glanced over her shoulder at him and they shared a heart-melting smile. He had seated himself directly behind her, and she leaned back into the cradle of his chest while she nibbled on her tart. His hand rested casually at her waist, his thumb drawing lazy circles on her midsection. Rather than stir her desires, the arrangement made her feel warm and cozy, as if they were truly a family.
A family. All of her life she had felt alone. Even so, she had not really known what she was missing. It was this, a sense of belonging, of having people to love who would be a part of her life forever. The notion brought a lump to her throat.
Simon reached for the two glasses of champagne he’d placed on the bedside table, handing one to Annabelle. “This celebration calls for a toast. To the most beautiful bride-to-be in England.”
As Simon clinked glasses with her, and they smiled giddily at each other, Annabelle noticed that Nicholas was watching them in confusion, his forehead puckered.
She reached out to gather his small, sticky hand in hers. “Sweetheart, your uncle has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted. That means I’ll soon be your aunt.”
“Your aunt Annabelle,” Simon clarified. “Or Aunt Cinderella, whichever name you prefer.”
Nicholas’s eyes widened as big as saucers. He looked from her to Simon and back again. “Does that mean you’ll stay with us, Miss Quinn? You won’t go away even when I’m at school?”
She drew him into her arms, treasuring the smallness of him and his little-boy scent. “No, I’m not going away. Not ever. I’ll always be here waiting for you.”
“But … won’t you go to London all the time now? Like Mama and Papa used to do?”
