by Tarah Scott
Annabelle chewed her bottom lip. She could easily listen in. Good Lord, no. She had promised her mother and father that her snooping days were over. How could she possibly look them in the eye if she broke that promise only days after giving it? She dove back into the needlework with a vengeance. The embroidered picture of a small garden was to be a belated wedding gift for Josephine and Nicholas. If she worked hard, she could give it to them before they left for Nick’s home in the north.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and she glanced at the door for the dozenth time. At this rate she wouldn’t finish the picture before Christmas. She wondered if she should take the needlework and go in search of her mother or Lena. With one of them to talk to the work would go quicker.
And you wouldn’t think about him, her mind quipped.
And she wouldn’t hear him leave.
She’d lost her mind.
She dared not leave the room until Lord Ruthven left, for she would not be able to resist going straight to her father’s study and eavesdropping. Annabelle paused. Eavesdropping on her father would be nothing like snooping in Lord Harley’s business. It was her father, after all, and he didn’t pose the same danger Lord Harley had.
A shiver slid down her spine. She had come so close to being murdered...and Lena. Tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. She was now grateful to be alone. The desire to cry hovered close to the surface these days. She pulled a handkerchief from her dress pocket and wiped her eyes. She hoped this strange despondency would pass soon. She didn’t understand it, and dared not share her misery. Her parents had duly chastised her, but she had seen in their eyes that they understood how close they came to losing her, as well as Lena.
Lena, her mother’s second cousin, had grown up with Annabelle and Josephine, and was as much a part of the family as she and Josephine. Losing her—Annabelle shoved the morbid thoughts aside and blinked away the moisture that clung to her lashes. She and Lena were safe. There was no need to think about what could have been...except that what could have been was her fault.
She released a slow breath. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she had with Lord Harley. Any strange behavior she saw would be reported to her father. Her stomach growled. Annabelle glanced at the clock sitting on the end table. 12:30. No wonder she was hungry. She threaded the needle into the fabric, then placed the hoop atop the small sewing box on the couch beside her. She set the box on the table, then rose and headed out the door and down the hallway.
Annabelle neared her father’s study and slowed at the sound of voices. Lord Ruthven had arrived more than an hour ago. Would they discuss Lord Harley for that long? What if something was wrong? She crept closer to the door. This wasn’t the same as spying on Lord Harley. Carefully, she pressed her ear to the wood.
“I understand what she means to you,” her father said. “But you must remember your station in life.”
“I do not cast aside a—”
“Anything interesting?”
Annabelle spun at the sound of Jo’s voice. Her sister stood, arms folded over her breasts.
“I-well-I was just—”
Josephine lifted a brow. “Just...”
“Oh, Jo, you know they’re talking about me,” she said in a whisper.
“You think very highly of yourself.”
“That’s not it, and you know it.” Annabelle glanced at the door. “Papa isn’t pleased with me, and I know Lord Ruthven doesn’t like me.”
Jo grasped her arm and started toward the hallway. “I think the viscount doesn’t dislike you any more than he likes you.”
Annabelle wrinkled her nose. “That’s a roundabout way of saying he doesn’t care at all.”
“I imagine he cares. He did save your life.”
Annabelle waved a dismissive hand. “He would have done that for anyone.”
“You seem to know him well.”
Annabelle pulled free and stopped, her stare on Josephine. “Any ninny can see he’s an honorable man.”
“Only yesterday you said he was maddening.”
Annabelle blew out a frustrated breath. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t honorable.”
“He saves people and is honorable,” Jo said. “You seem to be on intimate terms with him.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “You met the man once. Can you say you didn’t learn that much about him in that one meeting?”
“I very much appreciate the fact he saved my sister.”
Her father’s study door abruptly opened. Annabelle whirled.
Her father looked at Josephine, then settled a frown on Annabelle. “What is going on?”
Annabelle’s mind raced. They’d taken only a few steps from the door. Did he suspect she was snooping?
“Cook sent us to tell you that lunch is ready,” Josephine said. “Would you like something sent up?”
Their father’s eyes shifted to Annabelle for an instant, then he looked back at Jo and nodded. “Have her send something for Lord Ruthven as well.”
“Fine, Papa,” Jo said, then looked at Annabelle. “Would you like to tell Mother and Lena that lunch is ready?”
“Of course.” Annabelle started to turn, then saw Lord Ruthven sitting in one of the chairs near the hearth, his eyes on her.
A strange thrill rippled through her. Then he shifted his gaze to the paper resting on his knee and Annabelle’s heart fell.
She was an idiot.
* * *
“It really is best that we left Inverness. Don’t you agree?” Lena said.
Annabelle placed her reticule on the side table beside the settee and crossed to the bay window overlooking the hills with Dornoch Firth in the distance. Her father’s sudden decision to send her and Lena to Aeckland Castle with Josephine and Nicholas had angered her at first. But he’d been right. He and Mother would follow in a few days, but this trip removed Annabelle and Lena from the rising gossip.
No one dared say a word directly to her or Lena, but she’d heard the whispers. Many delighted in speculating how much pain Lord Harley had inflicted on his would-be victims. Worse, some implied that she and Lena had gone with him of their own accord, then her father had accused Lord Harley of murder in order to save their reputations. Fools. They blamed everyone but themselves because they didn’t want to admit that they hadn’t recognized the monster they called friend.
Annabelle stared out the window at the distant sparkle of water nestled between the rolling hills. Would Lord Ruthven be forced to escape the oppressive weight of Town? Society had denigrated him for ferreting out Lord Harley’s evil. Where would he go?
His uncle owned land north of Aeckland Castle. She’d heard her father mention that he held land near Inverness, as well. Lord Ruthven could shut himself up there indefinitely. He would become lonely, though. Annabelle laughed at the idea. She couldn’t imagine him caring if he was alone. In fact, he probably preferred it. The few times they’d come in contact he had been brusque to the point of rudeness. But who wouldn’t have been rude when he witnessed a young woman rifling through a gentleman’s desk? No, she corrected. Not a gentleman. A killer.
Annabelle wrapped her arms around herself. How close had she come to dying that night? What of Lady Copeland? What did she think of the fact that she’d been cavorting with a killer? And what did she think about the fact that Lord Ruthven and Annabelle knew she’d been alone with Lord Harley? Probably nothing. At the time, she’d been furious at having been caught with him. But a week had passed and Annabelle and Ruthven had said nothing about her. By now she must know they didn’t intend to say anything.
Lena appeared beside her, wrapped an arm around Annabelle’s waist and leaned her head against Annabelle’s shoulder. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“One of the most beautiful places in the world,” Annabelle said.
“You say that as if you wish to be anywhere but here.”
Annabelle leaned her head against Lena’s head. “I am very glad to be here, and I am mostly glad that
you are here with me.”
Lena straightened and looked at her. “I have never seen you so melancholy. What is wrong?”
Annabelle considered making something up, but Lena knew her too well. “I haven’t quite gotten over our ordeal.”
“Still feeling guilty?”
“That is part of it,” Annabelle said. “I do not quite know what else is bothering me. Perhaps it simply takes time to fully put an experience like this in the past.” She shifted her gaze to Lena. “You weren’t similarly affected?”
“Things were quite as bad for me as they were you. You literally battled the monster.” A smile softened her face. “And you did it for me.”
“It was the least I could do, considering I got us into the mess. And you would have done the same for me.”
“I would have,” Lena said. “But, still, you came much closer to death than I did. I cannot imagine... You are very brave.”
Annabelle gave a small laugh. “I was terrified.”
“Action in the face of fear is the definition of bravery.”
She hadn’t felt brave when they’d fallen from the carriage. Annabelle remembered the blood on Lena’s temple where her head hit a rock. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Annabelle said.
Lena led her to the settee and gently urged her onto the cushion, then sat beside her. “I don’t know what you would do without me, either.”
Annabelle blinked. “What?”
“Look at you. I am here now, yet you are a mess. You would be completely lost without me.”
Annabelle grasped her hand. “I would be.”
“But I am here, and all is well.”
Annabelle released her and leaned back against the cushion. “Only because Lord Rushton saved us.”
“Not so,” Lena said in a crisp voice. “If you hadn’t gotten us away from Lord Harley, then led him on that chase, he would have killed us before the viscount arrived. You saved us.”
If not for Lord Ruthven and Mr. Benning, Lord Harley would have killed them both.
Lord Ruthven had saved them...and she hadn’t truly thanked him.
Chapter Thirteen
From the corner of her eye, Annabelle glimpsed Nick enter the parlor. She started as Lord Ruthven stepped up beside him. Good Lord, what was the viscount doing here? Her father spoke of him coming to Tain to learn about the property his uncle had left him, but Annabelle hadn’t expected to see him at Aeckland Castle. Both men had their sleeves rolled up to their forearms and dust caked their boots. Still, Lord Ruthven’s sleek, dark hair glistened raven black in the sunlight that poured through a nearby window.
He shifted and Annabelle yanked her gaze to the teacup she balanced on her lap. Her heart began to beat fast, but she willed her hand steady and lifted the cup to her lips. She smiled at Lady Hilary who had said something that made the other three ladies in their group laugh. What interest could Ruthven and Nick possibly have in the ladies who were visiting her and Lena?
“Oh my,” Miss Fletcher murmured, “look who is here.”
Lady Hilary’s attention shifted to something behind Annabelle. “I understand he is quite an eligible gentleman,” Lady Hilary said.
Annabelle groaned inwardly as she took another sip of tea. Lena sent her a covert glance over her teacup and telepathed with a roll of her eyes, a newly titled gentleman is always quite an eligible gentleman.
“Tell us, Annabelle,” Lady Hilary said, “what was it like being rescued by such a handsome man?”
“Did you swoon in his arms?” Miss Fletcher said.
Annabelle nearly dropped her cup onto the saucer. “I did not swoon.” Though she had cried when Lord Ruthven lifted her into his arms.
“I would have,” Miss Fletcher said.
Amusement twitched at the corner of Miss Duncan’s mouth. Annabelle had met Miss Duncan only today and liked her immediately.
“I would not mind being rescued by him,” Miss Fletcher said.
Annabelle snapped her attention onto her. “It was not a pleasant experience.”
Miss Fletcher shot the other ladies a knowing look. “No need to pretend, Annabelle.”
“You believe being kidnapped is pleasant?” Annabelle demanded.
“We were very fortunate that Lord Ruthven and Mr. Benning arrived when they did,” Lena cut in.
“Exactly what did happen?” Lady Hilary asked.
Barely an hour had passed since the ladies’ arrival and they’d pounced upon the first opportunity to gossip. Annabelle’s parents had instructed her and Lena to say nothing. Not that she would have given details to Lady Hilary—or Miss Fletcher. They were both terrible gossips and Miss Fletcher, in particular, loved to embellish.
“The newspapers said you were kidnapped in broad daylight right off the street in Inverness,” Miss Fletcher said in a whisper.
“By papers, you mean gossip sheets,” Miss Duncan said.
Miss Fletcher sniffed. “Everyone pretends they don’t read the sheets, but they do. And lest you forget, papers like the Bull report on many subjects. Not just happenings.”
“The Bull is a rag,” Miss Duncan said. “Have they, perchance, written about Lord Harley’s upcoming trial, or shed light on the case in order to ensure that Lord Harley doesn’t escape justice because he is a rich nobleman?”
“Miss Fletcher bristled. “I have not read the Bull these past few days, but I can assure you it is a respectable paper.”
“Perhaps their business section is respectable,” Miss Duncan said. “But their gossip section is nothing more than fairy tales.”
Miss Fletcher looked at Annabelle. “Is it not true that Lord Harley kidnapped you in broad daylight?”
“It was still daylight when he forced Annabelle and me into his carriage,” Lena said.
Annabelle shot Lena a quelling look.
“See,” Miss Fletcher said in triumph. “That is exactly how the Bull reported the incident.”
“Anyone can get a detail like that correct,” Miss Duncan said. “I daresay little else they printed resembles the truth.”
“That is unfair,” Miss Fletcher cried, and even Lady Hilary groaned.
“Please, Leslie,” Lady Hilary said, “You are defending a gossip column. I advise you to cease this ridiculous argument.” She gave a tiny nod to something beyond them, and Annabelle knew that Nick and Lord Ruthven were joining them.
* * *
Lord Grayson started across the parlor and James followed. Accompanying the earl here had been a mistake. Lady Annabelle wore an ivory silk day dress and her hair lay piled atop her head in a mass of soft brown tresses that he longed to touch. How he was going to manage being in her presence the next few minutes, much less the next week or next year while her father trained him how to manage his late uncle’s properties?
They reached the ladies and Annabelle lifted her eyes from her teacup. Their gazes locked. He didn’t care for the weariness evidenced by the tiny pucker of her brow. Was she getting enough sleep or did she suffer from fitful dreams as he did? If she did, her dreams were surely nightmares inspired by monsters like Lord Harley. His nights, on the other hand, were filled with dreams of reaching for her in bed and pulling her warm body flush against his.
“Ladies,” Grayson said, “may I present Lord Ruthven. Lady Hilary, Miss Fletcher, Miss Duncan.”
Miss Fletcher and Lady Hilary lowered their lashes and murmured demure greetings.
“My lord,” Miss Duncan said in a clear voice.
“You remember Lena,” Grayson said.
“Lord Ruthven,” she said. “It is good to see you.”
“And you, Miss Summerfield. Lady Annabelle,” he said.
“Oh, yes, good to see you, my lord.”
He hid a laugh. The lady acted as if she had just noticed him.
“I’m sorry to intrude, Annabelle,” Grayson said, “but Josephine wants to know if you saw Mrs. MacBain’s daughter today when you visited Tain.”
“I don’t know her. Was I supposed to see her? Jo said nothing of it.”
Grayson shook his head. “She heard from another of the villagers that her daughter was ailing and Jo simply wondered if you knew anything of it.”
Her brows drew down. “Someone should have told me. I would have made a point of seeing her.”
She glanced at her guests and James wondered if she intended to desert her guests and go into the village this very minute.
“You can look in on her tomorrow,” Grayson said. “Today is lovely, however. Have you ladies considered a walk?”
She narrowed her eyes. “No, we have not.”
“Sun would do you good,” Miss Summerfield said.
Lady Annabelle scowled.
“Please say yes,” Lady Hilary said.
A gleam lit Annabelle’s eyes. “Only if Nick accompanies us.”
“Oh yes!” Miss Fletcher and Lady Hilary chimed in together.
“Ladies,” he said, “surely, an old married man like myself isn’t good company—”
“I think an old married man like yourself will be fine company,” Lady Annabelle interjected.
“Josephine may have other plans for me,” he said.
“I have no doubt of that,” Annabelle said in a dry tone that elicited titters of laughter. “But, at the moment, we need you more than she does.”
“Then I suppose we must all go.” He looked at James.
“You must come, Lord Ruthven,” Miss Fletcher cried.
James blinked. “I have been working all day. I am no’ fit company for ladies.”
“As fit as I am,” Grayson said.
James looked at him. This is what he got for hobnobbing with nobility.
“Shall we say fifteen minutes?” Lady Hilary said.
Miss Fletcher gave a delighted clap of her hands. “Perfect.”
James glimpsed the frown on Lady Annabelle’s face—and the twitch of amusement on Miss Duncan’s mouth before he turned with Grayson and strode from the room.
