Anabelle was quite wild with rage and fear when she found Henry in her childhood bedroom, waiting for her. “Henry, oh Henry, that foolish girl has gone and done it,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms.
“What, my love, what happened?” he asked, dropping a kiss into her hair. She looked up at him, feeling the smart sting of tears prick at her eyes.
“Oh, Isadora, that little fool! She's eloped with Haversham!”
Henry eyed the coming dark outside. “Speak quickly, Anabelle. Tell me exactly what you heard.”
She recalled the paltry bit of information that she had managed to glean from the stable boy, feeling bile rise up in her throat. As if the family was not mired in enough scandal to begin with! Now Isadora was completely ruining her reputation by running off and getting married to Devon Haversham against his mother's wishes; what was she thinking? Henry, after a moment's consideration after she relayed the tale, ordered the little stable boy to draw up a fresh set of horses for the carriage.
“Where are you going to look for them?” she cried, watching him take control all over again.
“I have an idea, and hopefully they are not so far ahead in their start so that I may catch up with them before the damage is—” and here he broke off, cognizant of the fact that the both of them knew that in some ways, the damage was already done.
Anabelle bit her lip. She tried to go with him, but Henry bade her stay. Exhausted by the momentousness of the day, but unable to sit still and wait for Henry to come back, Anabelle went back upstairs to her room and paced back and forth for a good long while. Images of the ruin that Isadora was bringing upon herself plagued Anabelle, increased her pacing until she was exhausted enough to collapse onto the bed in a troubled sleep.
Images floated in and out of her brain in a strange loop, offering little relief and bringing only increased worry to her fevered brain. She thought she heard rain outside, but it was only rain from that day, that fateful day at the racing track on the anniversary of her mother's death. It was rain that caused that jockey who was supposed to be riding the horse her father was betting on to slip and sprain his leg badly enough so that he would not ride. On the one day where Anabelle and Isadora had agreed to come with him simply because they could not be caught in the house so rich with memories of their mother, their father had chosen to get roaring drunk and refuse to accept the jockey's decision. It was inconceivable that the horse upon which he endeavored to make his fortune would not be racing at all.
Anabelle shifted in her sleep as she saw her father shake the racetrack master by the collar as the man tried to prevent him from entering the stables. She could hear her voice and Isadora's begging him not to go, but it was all for naught; Lord Givens was like a man possessed, and he paid them as little mind as he would a fly on the wall.
From there on in, there were only flashes, like images printed black and white in the paper. Her father swinging up on the horse. Rain pelting down, all the harder as her father actually managed to pull the horse into the lead. And then that particularly sharp turn, the one where the horse slipped in the mud and its leg buckled out from under it, throwing her father from its back. The scream that froze in her throat even as she tried to rouse herself from her terrible slumber, the same scream that lodged in her throat upon the sight. Leaving Isadora behind, she had run to her father, pushing past all the medics who were trying to arrange his spine back in place. Her father, ashen and immobile on the ground, the rain pelting a merry hell on his face; all he could do was close his eyes against the onslaught and try to shape out words with his lips. Nobody stopped her as she knelt in the mud by his side, and that was when Anabelle knew that it was over, that it truly was. If there was even a hope of saving him, they would have stopped her and been rushing him to a hospital. By the time she was close enough to try and hear the words he was saying, she could tell that breathing had become a labor for him.
“Papa, it's Anabelle,” she cried, praying that he could hear her. She say him respond, and even more furtively attempt to say something. It was clear that it was vital, otherwise he would not be trying as hard, and she leaned in as close as she could so that finally, just finally, she could make out what he was saying.
He was telling her, “Marjorie likes oats.”
And with the final words that he was leaving behind him on the Earth, Lord Givens died right there and then.
“Papa?” cried Anabelle, shaking him slightly. “Papa?” she tried again, shaking him harder this time, the scream that lodged in her throat working its way free until she was crying, screaming, and shaking forever and ever, and the scream of “Papa!” carried its way through her dream and straight into the cold reality of her being.
“Anabelle,” said a male voice, clutching her sweating body tightly. “Anabelle, I'm here, wake up.”
Anabelle poked one wet eye open to discover that the shaking in her dream was also coming from her own body, and that Henry Princely had wrapped his arms around her in a vice grip that felt at once painful and comforting beyond measure. She realized, too, that she was still crying and crying out from the dream, and that everything was sad beyond measure.
“He told me what she eats,” she whispered against Henry's chest, clutching him even tighter than he was holding her.
“What who eats, darling?”
“Marjorie.” She looked up at him, wide-eyed as a child. “Right before Papa died, he told me what his favorite horse eats. It was the last thing he ever said to me. I never told Isadora because it was just too awful, that those would be his very last words.” With a start, the reality of her current world came crashing back around Anabelle and she realized the import of Henry's presence in her room. “Henry, Isadora!”
From the contrite expression on Henry's face, Anabelle became quite certain that he had caught her sister and Haversham in an even more compromising state than they had expected and her mood slunk even lower. She clutched at Henry's shoulders and continued crying.
“Anabelle,” he said gently, lifting her tear-stained face up off of his shoulder. “I knew there was only one priest who would marry them, and he was all the way over in Doveshire. So I raced on with my carriage, hoping to overtake them. I did not get to them in time. They are married.”
Anabelle's heart dropped. But Henry was not finished yet. “I caught them at the roadside inn a half an hour later, and managed to intervene before any, ahem, consummation occurred. Then I dragged both of them all the way back here, and they are in your drawing room now.”
“Henry, but what good is it?”
“Come with me,” he said, and rose off the bed, reaching a hand out to her. Unsure of what was going to happen, she followed him all the way down to the drawing room, where her little sister was sitting beside her own brand-new husband. Given that both of them seemed to be seething with rage, the tension in the room was just about palpable. Relief at finally seeing her sister safe and sound took over everything, however, and Anabelle rushed to her side, embracing her closely.
“What were you thinking, Isadora?”
“I was thinking, sister, that I should be married to the man I love,” hissed Isadora, her normally sleek blond curls in complete disarray. “Why should you be the only lucky one in the family?”
Anabelle was shocked to her core. All those years that she had spent assuring herself that Isadora was the one all the gentlemen noticed, all the personal sacrifices she had made on her behalf, only to learn now that the envy had been on her sister's side the whole time. “But everything I ever did was for you!” she cried, aghast at the fury in her little sister's eyes.
“Even when you wanted to marry Lord DeVere?” Isadora shot back.
Guilt flooded Anabelle. She knew that her sister was right, that she had been thinking of abandoning her entirely. “It was so hard,” Anabelle said quietly, unable to look up at anyone, even though all eyes were now on her. “I was only fourteen when Mother passed, and after that terrible incident with Papa, I was simply bes
ide myself.”
“As if you cared that Papa died,” Isadora said cruelly.
A gasp escaped Anabelle. “How can you say that?”
“I was always his favorite. He cared not a whit for you, what did you even know about horses?”
“That's enough!” came an unexpected roar from Henry, startling the entire company present. Anabelle's chest heaved with the suppression of her despair at her sister's words, but she was bolstered when Henry came up to her and held her firmly by the elbow.
“Besides the fact that the words you speak are simply untrue, Isadora,” Henry said in a quiet and even voice, “You should count yourself unreasonably lucky that your sister has put up with your antics for so long and has attempted to do right by you despite being parentless herself. Until you yourself are thrust into the position where you are forced to take on the entire matter of managing a household and raising a child at the tender age of fourteen, I would recommend that you seal your lips before you say something you may regret.”
“See here, Princely,” said Devon, suddenly awake. “Do not speak to my wife in that manner. I will you not have it!”
“You will not have it?” laughed Henry softly. “Let me tell you something, Haversham, where are your wits these days? What were you thinking when you took Lady Givens to the racing tracks without a chaperone present? Did you think your own reputation so spotless that it would not matter if you took someone else's down?”
At this, Haversham colored slightly. “I did nothing wrong,” he protested, but his voice was just a touch weaker than before, as if he knew that the upper hand did not belong to him.
“You went and married someone your mother expressly did not approve of. Just what did you think was going to follow such an act, Devon? Did you think this would cause her to loosen her purse strings and start accepting all that you do? I think your mother has your measure, Haversham, and I think that you and I both know the deep trouble you have just gotten yourself into.”
At this, the young man's color changed rapidly to a ghostly white, and he was silent for many long moments. “She will not do anything,” he said finally.
“You think so? Or perhaps she will somehow conceive of it to get your hasty license revoked, your marriage annulled, and Lady Givens' name dragged so squarely through the mud that she will be ruined forever and your own purse will be entirely controlled by her?”
The pair of newlyweds paled considerably, and it became clear that such a possibility had not occurred to either of them. It was a heinous thought, and Isadora looked quite like she had been hit over the head with a shovel. Her dreamy eyes looked thoroughly terrified, and in that moment, her extremely young age became appallingly clear.
“What do we do?” she asked, staring beseechingly up at Anabelle and Henry. “Oh, what do we do? We cannot live on my money—I haven't got any! And she may, that old gorgon, she could ruin everything!” And without making any bones about it, Isadora burst into some spectacular tears.
Henry let her carry on for a moment or two before speaking. “Enough with that, Lady Givens. You are a gently bred lady, for all your recent rashness. Your new husband's mother may come around yet, but for God's sake, the two of you must learn to behave responsibly. You cannot continue making the same impulsive decisions you have been making, running around, behaving like children. I suggest you approach Lady Haversham with the news together—”here, Devon's face revealed that he had been planning to leave that task entirely up to his wife, “--and then, in an effort to demonstrate your newfound maturity and familial bliss, you will ask her advice on how to budget according to your needs. Or did you learn nothing from the state your father fell into?”
Anabelle knew she was lost. Hopelessly, entirely lost in this man, this man who spoke the hardest truths when nobody else around him was willing to behave their age. Eyes brimming with grateful tears, she looked up at his calm profile, realizing that if she felt safe with him before, it was nothing compared to how she felt about him now. The feeling lengthened, continued even as Henry escorted her sister and Haversham from the room. Considering his words, she sat waiting for him on the velvet-backed chair where he left her, feeling simultaneously vulnerable and impregnable. She could not stop the hammer of her heart as she waited for Henry to re-enter the room.
When he did, he busied himself with tidying up the mantelpiece, an act that seemed completely insane to her, given the emotions that had just passed through that room.
“Henry,” she called out to him, and found herself unable to continue from the feeling that squeezed her in that moment. He glanced at her curiously, but still said nothing about what had just passed between the foursome. All Anabelle could hear was the loud tick of the grandfather clock, and suddenly, the enormity of what she was not saying became almost completely deafening.
“Thank you,” she said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “Thank you for not telling Isadora that at the end, my father did not talk of her, but of his horses.”
Henry finally crossed the room and sat next to her. As he reached a steady arm around her and drew her into the safe cavern of his body, Anabelle realized, quite simply and irrevocably, that she loved him. She loved Henry Princely, and she would belong to him for as long as he would have her, and if that was only a week, an hour, or a day, it would be enough to last her whole life through.
“I think, my dear, that there has been more than enough pain in here today. There was no need to add to it,” he told her.
Anabelle squeezed his waist tightly. He was hers! What had she ever done to deserve this wonderful, dependable man? Why, she could rely utterly on him. “Henry,” she asked, propping her chin up on his shoulder, “Why did you marry me? You said you did not want to save anybody, and clearly, I need saving.”
Henry looked down at her, the surprise in his eyes completely clear. “I married you because I am in love with you, you silly goose. And we all need saving now and again.”
“You need saving, Henry?” she asked in wonderment, heart pounding even harder at his admission.
“Of course I do,” he answered, shifting their positions so that she was wrapped entirely in his arms, the place that was home to her. “After my father died, I lost my mind. Do you have any idea how many times I thought about running out and leaving my mother to this hell?” He snuggled her deeper. “You and I have much in common, Anabelle. As much as we all would like to pretend that we are perfect, we can no longer don our masks when we lose the people most important to us. And you, my love, have lost so much more than I. And yet you somehow managed to keep your head above water.”
“Hardly.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself! Everybody's family indulges in madness far more frequently than we would like to admit; what kind of man would I be if I did not acknowledge and understand that?”
“The best man. My only man,” she told him, and kissed him with her entire heart.
He smiled warmly. “You know, my mother had not laughed in years before you came along.”
“Truly?” Anabelle was shocked.
Henry nodded. “You brought sunshine into this home simply by being nobody but yourself. You, Anabelle Givens, prove yourself not a damsel in distress, but an equal partner each and every day.”
A lightness came over Anabelle, a sliding of a heavy burden from her shoulders, one that she had not had any idea she bore. And from this lightness came a giddiness that she could not and more importantly, did not want to suppress.
“You mean I am more than just a wife, Henry Princely?” she teased, loving him utterly.
“You are exactly the right kind of wife, Anabelle,” said Henry Princely, and kissed her soundly.
THE END
Boardroom Seductions
Farrah felt a bit nervous about the project that she had to get done. She was working with two of her coworkers on it, and she wondered how everything was going to go. She knew that they were working hard on the whole thing, but she wondered how they were going to rea
ct when all three of them had to get together to work on this. She felt a bit nervous about seeing both of them as well, due to the inner emotions that she had.
Farrah joined this company back in 2009. She had been here for almost six years now, and so far she was almost in an executive-level position. She and her two other coworkers, Maxwell and Darian, were being considered for higher positions. There were others as well, but those three were going to get higher positions. This meant better pay for all of them, and it also meant that they would finally get to have the offices that they wanted. Of course, this wasn’t going to be easy. The project they were assigned was ridiculous, and they all knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy affair. Farrah also had her own personal and private issues to deal with as well, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Farrah had a secret that she was hiding from both of them. She liked them both, and it was getting harder and harder every day to resist these feelings. She wanted to tell them, but she wasn’t sure. She knew that Maxwell had his eyes on someone, but she didn’t really know who. There was also the fact that she had a sneaking suspicion that they were both gay. Maxwell dressed really nice, and Darian and he were both very close. She wondered if this was more than just a little friendship, or if they were possibly lovers.
Farrah didn’t want that to happen, for she knew that if that was the case, all of the pawning that she did would be for nothing. She wanted to be at the same level professionally as they both were, and she wanted them to notice her for who she was. She wanted to have sex with both of them though too, to moan and scream with pleasure at their actions, but she didn’t know how to even initiate that. She just wanted to get close to them and let things take their course. It was hard, but she knew that it would eventually work out for the best.
She actually worked carefully to make this whole thing work to her advantage. She made sure that she was working with both of them for the next project, and when she found out at first that she wasn’t, she begged the project manager to get her into their group. The manager had no clue why the hell Farrah was so adamant about working with those two. She just assumed it was because Farrah wanted to work with the two best men in the business. At first the lady was a bit worried, because then that would mean that she had the three potential bosses of the company all working together, but after a little while, the manager agreed to it. She knew that if the three of them proved themselves it would end up working out for the best.
ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories) Page 12
