The cabby cleared his throat, out on the footpath.
Annalies hesitated. She wanted to kiss Tobias goodbye, but could not. Not here. They were already risking much, standing together in this way.
Tobias smiled and gave her a nudge toward the door. “Go.”
Annalies took her satchel from Mrs. Thistlethwaite and hurried down the steps.
She was on her way.
MARBLETHORPE WAS AN ENORMOUS HOUSE, with wings and annexes which had built up beside it over the years, to accommodate the large number of people who lived there permanently, plus their kith and kin. The staff who helped run the house also lived on the estate with their families, in cottages behind the stables, where the sea air wafted through the valley every afternoon like clockwork.
Annalies did not see everyone who lived in the big house when she first arrived. They had interests and affairs of their own which took them about the estate, or even farther afield. She also wasn’t sure who in the family would visit for the Easter period. Her correspondence with the family members had fallen away over the last year. The only people she regularly exchanged letters with were her two elder sisters, Mairin and Bridget. They were as busy with their own affairs as Annalies was with hers. Weeks sometimes passed between letters.
She had failed to attend last year’s annual gather at Innesford, which was where she most often learned most of the news about the family.
Annalies arrived in the late afternoon and asked for afternoon tea to be served to her in her room. She took her tea at the window, watching the sea sparkle on the horizon, her sketchbook beside her.
She prepared for dinner, which was always a noisy, busy affair in this household, and descended to the big drawing room. It was already crowded, with nearly as many people as Innesford hosted for a gather. Annalies circled the room, saying hello and exchanging news. This time, she could speak of her own news, with pride and with complete honesty.
When she told Natasha and Raymond about Newman, neither of them looked even the slightest bit shocked that Annalies had conducted a business deal by herself, and for such an enormous amount.
“Why, someone must sell your paintings,” her mother said, her tone reasonable. “I confess I never did understand how hanging them for free in a gallery like the Royal Academy would generate an income.”
“It does not, is the simple answer,” Raymond said. He sipped his sherry. “Have you spoken to Catrin lately, Annalies?”
“No, not at all. She and Daniel are in Belgium, aren’t they?”
Raymond shook his head. “They’re back in London. I ask, only because while I admire your business acumen, it is actually against the law for you to enter into a business contract.”
Annalies gritted her teeth. “Because I am a woman…” she muttered.
“Enunciate, my darling,” Natasha said. “Grunting is not pretty.”
Annalies rolled her eyes. “Because that is all I am good for, apparently.”
Raymond laughed.
“I have entered no contracts, anyway,” Annalies declared.
“Actually, you have,” Raymond assured her. “Newman called it a gentleman’s agreement, although it is still legally binding. It is called a verbal contract, Annalies. You both agreed to terms. They can be upheld by the law and you can be penalized for failing to meet them.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I had no idea…”
Raymond nodded. “Written contracts would be much safer, anyway. You must speak with Rhys before you leave. He or Ben or Stephen could represent you, as you do not have a husband for that role. Catrin has experience with this.”
“She does?” Annalies was amazed. “Why on earth has Catrin a need for business agreements?”
Natasha smiled. So did Raymond. “You must ask her to explain. It is not my secret to share.”
“Although it will be known by everyone by summer,” Natasha added.
Annalies absorbed that. “Then…you do not mind that I am conducting business and…and selling my own work?”
Raymond laughed. “You have my admiration, Lisa Grace.”
“You remind me of your father,” Natasha added, taking Raymond’s hand. “Especially just now when you explained the deal you had made with Mr. Newman.”
“I do?”
Raymond nodded.
Annalies barely remembered her father. Raymond was more a father to her than Seth had ever had a chance to be. Although it was pleasing to know she had a small connection to the man her mother still mourned and missed.
Peter entered the drawing room, stealing all her thoughts.
Annalies gazed at him hungrily. It had been months since she had seen him, and she picked out the details which had changed, and the ones she had forgotten—which were few. He was tanned and fit, and vitally alive.
Uncle Vaughn met Peter at the door and shook his hand, instead of the family traditional hug. He hung onto his hand and drew Peter into the drawing room. Elisa sat on a comfortable chair and Peter kissed her cheek and settled on the seat beside her, talking softly.
Annalies pulled her attention away from him. It was appropriate that he spend time with his parents. She had no right to demand his attention, anyway.
Raymond watched her closely.
Annalies gave him a stiff smile. “I will speak with Uncle Rhys, as you suggested.” She moved across the room, to where Rhys was standing by the big fireplace, her heart thudding unhappily.
Why did discretion and secrets bother her so much, these days?
When dinner was announced, she found herself on the same side of the long table as Peter. As she couldn’t see him without leaning far forward over her dinner plate, she resigned herself to chatting with Jenny and Jack, and Emma. She could also converse with Lilly and Jasper, who had traveled down from Northallerton for the holiday. Emma seemed distracted, though, and Lilly was quiet. Jasper carried most of the conversation, making Rhys and his Annalies laugh, while Lisa Grace tried to pretend Peter was not sitting four chairs down from her.
After dinner, the men retreated to the library for cigars and brandy. Annalies braced herself for the banal chatter of women around the teapot, a tedious custom she despised.
Only, as soon as the men had disappeared, Princess Annalies repositioned her spectacles and said, “Good lord, at last! Banes, the brandy and the whisky if you please.”
Jenny moved up along the table, digging in her pocket.
“Oh, may I have one, please?” Lilly said, as Jenny extracted a silver case from her pocket.
Jenny leaned past the princess and held out the case, while Lilly plucked one of the new-style cigarettes from it and sat back with a pleased expression.
Emma, on Lilly’s right, watched the two women with steadily widening eyes.
Banes, the second footman, placed large brandy balloons in front of the princess, and Jenny. Elisa raised her hand. “A small one for me, please. It does help me settle for the night.”
Natasha shook her head as the footman held out a burning taper for Jenny to light her cigarette with. He carried the taper around the table to Lilly, who inhaled with practiced expertise, then delicately plucked a piece of tobacco from her tongue.
Emma looked as astonished as Annalies felt. “You smoke, Jenny?”
“Now and then,” Jenny admitted, and blew a thin stream of smoke across the table.
Natasha shook her head. “It is completely unladylike.”
“Everyone does it, Mama,” Lilly replied.
Peter did not. Annalies had never smelled tobacco upon him the way she did with other men. Did he keep his breath sweet and clean for his preferred pastime?
Her heart squeezed when she thought of him with other women. Was he giving them as much pleasure as he had her?
Annalies gripped her hand in a tight fist beneath the table, and asked for tea, when the footman reached her.
“So, Lisa Grace,” the princess said, as she picked up her brandy and sniffed, then swirled it just like a man would. “I und
erstand you have closed an astonishing business deal recently.”
Annalies lowered her teacup and glanced at her mother.
Natasha beamed. “I am proud of you, daughter. You are in discrete company here, too.”
Lilly leaned forward. “Was it an interest-bearing deal, Lisa Grace? Interest is such a wonderful financial tool—I’ve found it useful over the years.”
Annalies blinked.
“Who is your client?” Jenny asked her.
“Tell them what the bottom line is, first,” Aunt Elisa said, her voice wavering.
“Bottom line?” Annalies repeated.
The princess nodded. “In accounting, the bottom balance—the bottom line of the sheet—is where the total is written, once all assets and liabilities are accounted for.”
Annalies had a little practice in thinking in terms of expenses and revenue. She knew what an asset was—something of value. The few times anyone had described another person or object as a liability, they had meant it in a negative way. By inference, she must assume liabilities were something which removed value—the opposite of assets.
The assets in this deal were the paintings she would create, which Newman would pay her for. There were no liabilities she could think of. “The bottom line,” she told the princess, “is ten thousand pounds.”
The silence spoke of their astonishment.
“For your paintings?” Emma asked, looking strained.
“Yes,” Annalies replied. “For ten of them.”
“Oh, my…” Jenny breathed. Then she laughed. “Now I feel quite inadequate.”
Everyone laughed with her.
Annalies went back to drinking her tea, feeling the glow of pride in her middle, warming her in a way she had not felt in far too long. The only thought which marred the moment was the wish that it was Peter listening to her speak of this enormous success and applauding her acumen.
When the giant grandfather clock in the front hall chimed nine with its deep notes, Annalies pleaded tiredness from the day’s journey. She climbed the stairs to her borrowed room. The hallway was empty of people, the carpets thick underfoot, and the gas mantles turned down to a deep orange glow. There were no children on this level. Their bedrooms were on the next floor.
Annalies stepped into her bedroom, feeling a tiredness tugging at her which had little to do with physical weariness.
As she closed the door, Peter pressed his fingers to her lips, to stop her from crying out, then pulled her into his arms.
Annalies melted against him, trembling with surprise and pleasure. “Why are you here?” she breathed.
“Because I could not stay away.” His voice rumbled against her, warm and low. He held her against him, his hands smoothing their way up the satin of her basque, to where the low gown finished. His fingers stroked the flesh on her shoulders, while his lips hovered just over hers. “Do you know how many times since August I have contemplated racing to London, to find you and do this? This and much more…” His lips touched hers. “And now, with you within the same walls as me…I haven’t the willpower to resist.”
His kiss was deep and as sweet as honey. Annalies could no more deny him than fly.
She reached out behind her, fumbling for the door key.
Peter bent her over his arm, reached and locked the door for her, then swept her up off her feet and carried her to the bed.
Chapter Fourteen
Peter resettled her against his shoulder, which gave Annalies the happy chance to stroke and taste the flesh of his chest with her fingertips. In the near full moonlight coming through the window, his tanned skin was a syrupy coffee color, rich and soft. She must remember this color for later, she reminded herself.
“I didn’t think you would be here,” he said softly. “You never attend family things anymore. You weren’t at Innesford in October.”
She sat up abruptly. “Oh, Peter, you would not believe what has happened!” She kept her voice down, too.
He smiled. She could see the curve of his mouth by the way the darker shades of his beard shifted. “You may be surprised. Tell me anyway.”
Annalies sat up and crossed her legs. She didn’t care at all that she was utterly naked and that the moon bathed her in ghostly light. With pride, she gave him the full story of how she had met Mairin and Iefan and then Archibald Newman, and the deal she had struck with him.
Peter drew in a sharp breath as she spoke the amount. “Astonishing…” he breathed.
Annalies finished her story and Peter said nothing else, not for long moments. She gripped her hands together. “What is wrong?” she whispered. “Are you not pleased?”
His chest rose and fell. “You don’t understand how truly pleased I am for you.” His voice was deep with sincerity. “Do you not see what you have done, Anna?”
“I sold my own paintings,” she said.
“Oh, so much more than that,” he assured her. “If you are careful with the proceeds, if you invest them properly, you will derive an income from them. A small one, but you will be a woman of independent means. You will never have to worry about selling another painting in your life.”
Annalies felt the jolt down to her toes. Her blood fizzed. “I had not thought of that. But…I want to paint.”
“And you can,” Peter said. “Only, now you can paint whatever you want and not what everyone else wants. You have severed yourself from the Royal Academy’s influence. You are independent in every sense of the word, Anna.”
She threaded her fingers together. Peter had reacted far more deeply and differently than she had expected. “Only a small income?” she asked softly.
He laughed. “If you keep painting, you can add to that with every sale. It is entirely up to you, Annalies. You are free from ever having to abide by anyone else’s wishes.” He sat up and kissed her soundly. “I am so very pleased for you.” He curled his hand around her neck. “More than that,” he murmured and drew her to him.
Much later, when she could think clearly once more, Peter propped a pillow against the brass frame and settled against it. “How long are you staying at Marblethorpe?” he asked.
The moon had moved beyond the window already, and he was merely a darker silhouette in the dim room. She couldn’t see his eyes any more.
“I’m only staying for Easter,” she replied.
“Then back to London?” His tone was uninterested.
Annalies’ heart pattered uneasily. “I go straight to Carlisle from here.” She made her tone light. “I must earn my independence, now.”
Peter’s shoulders and chest lifted. A deep breath. He straightened the sheet around his hip, his chin lowered. “And Tobias? How does he fair?”
Annalies knew it cost him to speak Tobias’ name, to ask the question at all. It would also cost her to answer truthfully, but Peter deserved the truth. “He is getting worse,” she said softly. “He is too ill to travel, even though I think the country air would help him.” Her eyes ached, as tears pressed behind them. She didn’t often let herself think of Tobias’ future, not this clearly.
Peter tucked her against him and kissed the top of her head. He didn’t tell her everything would be fine, because they both knew it would not.
AFTER FIVE WONDERFUL DAYS, AND even more glorious, earthy nights with Peter, Annalies packed her trunk once more and traveled to Carlisle. In Carlisle, the Newman family coachman stood waiting for her upon the station platform, his cap in his hand. His uniform was shiny with brass buttons and a fur collar against the cold. His boots gleamed. He introduced himself as Captain Stanley.
“Lady Williams, this way, if you please,” Stanley told her. “Gordons will collect your trunk for you.” A footman in a smart coat with a family crest stitched on the breast moved into the compartment she had just vacated. He lifted down her trunk and carried it to the trolley he had standing by.
Other passengers, even those in first class, were glancing at Annalies and the regally outfitted Captain Stanley, and she tugged her coat fr
ont self-consciously.
“The Newman family is well known here,” Captain Stanley said, his tone kindly. “The townsfolk tend to take note of the family’s visitors.”
It was the same for the families of peers, she realized. The village which looked to the family also observed their behavior, which was why her mother and Raymond had always insisted upon setting a good example.
Proper behavior in public was the watchword across the entire greater family. Inside the family, we do as we please. How many times had she heard that? For a long time, she had forgotten it. Easter spent at Marblethorpe, watching the ladies of the house relax in scandalous ways, while thoroughly dissecting subjects which Annalies had heard few men discuss, had reminded her of the family creed.
She smiled stiffly at Stanley and shivered. “It is cooler here, isn’t it?”
“You will be quite comfortable in the carriage, my Lady. This way, if you please.” He led her through the station and onto the footpath beyond. A large, new coach stood at the curb, with a pair of grays. The coach had the same shield on it that the footman wore on his coat. The footman had tied her trunk to the back of the carriage and was standing with his hand on the open door, ready to help her up.
Annalies settled in the luxurious coach. She studied the tucked and pleated white silk lining on the walls, the sconces and the soft bench she sat upon. A small, closed iron container stood against the wall, between the benches. Heat radiated from it, warming the carriage. Annalies had seen such heaters before. They were filled with hot coals.
A blanket was folded and sitting on the opposite seat, made of stripes of wool in various shades. Curiously, Annalies reached out to run her fingers over it, as the carriage rolled forward with no jerking or bumping. It was beautifully soft and warm to touch.
She put her glove back on, thought-filled.
When Scotby House came into view, Annalies was barely surprised to see an establishment as large and complex as Marblethorpe. Perhaps the only surprise was to find Archibald Newman waiting for her on the top step of the grand front entrance, instead of the usual butler.
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