The Cinderella Countess

by Sophia James

  ‘Where do we go from here?’

  Her question was brave for it tackled their dilemma head on and he decided to answer in kind. ‘Either you leave, Annabelle, and we never see each other again, or you stay.’

  ‘Stay?’

  ‘Here.’

  ‘I cannot...’

  ‘I promise I will do nothing you don’t want me to.’

  For the first time he saw her dimples.

  ‘I won’t press you for anything.’

  He couldn’t believe he had said that. But he meant it. If there was nothing more than the promise of a simple touch, he would accept the offer. All he wanted was for her to be there, by him.

  When she nodded he felt his heart beat faster in his throat. He hoped Annabelle did not see the power she held over him.

  ‘I have sent word to your aunt to say you are with me so that she will not worry.’

  Her glance met his. ‘Or she will be more worried than she was before.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She thinks you are dangerous to me in ways that I cannot fathom. She thinks all that has happened with the carriage accident and the fire has come about because of my association with you.’

  ‘And what do you think?’

  ‘That she is probably right. Before meeting you my life was centred around Whitechapel and healing. No one there wished for my demise. More usually they were glad for my help.’

  ‘And then everything began to happen after you came to Portman Square to aid my sister? God, you don’t think it was any of us, do you? My mother might be a bitter woman and inclined to depression and delusion, but I am certain she would not flout the law.’

  Was it himself who had put her in danger by asking for her services? Had someone seen her with him and decided that in Annabelle Smith there lay a pathway to revenge? He had enemies, he knew he did, but still he could not think of one who would take things to the extent of trying to kill an innocent.

  ‘I want to see you safe, Annabelle, in any way that I can.’ The light was falling and inside the shadows gathered.

  He stood then and crossed to the window, looking out over the city, at the rooftops and at the road below which was almost empty at this time of the late afternoon.

  He felt at a crossroads. Take one step in any direction and his life would change for ever. He needed these next moments to count.

  ‘Whenever I touch you I feel that I have come home.’

  One tear traced its way down her cheek, falling to her gown, wetting the silk so that the yellow of it turned darker. Almost gold.

  ‘But I am not a saint, Annabelle. Barely even a ghost of one and I confess that I have known lovers in the carnal way many a time.’ Turning, he made himself say more. ‘But I also swear I have never wanted a woman as I want you, never burned as I do for your touch.’

  He stopped as she walked across to him, holding her fingers against his cheek in the way of a caress. He closed his eyes and he felt her warmth across his mouth and around the shape of his lips.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ she whispered and for a moment he did not understand what she was saying. Break his heart? Slice away any hope?

  ‘Your lip. It is cut.’

  He smiled.

  ‘What would happen, if I said yes? That I would stay tonight with you, here in the house of your friend?’

  ‘Then I would have to ask you to marry me, Annabelle.’ He tried to make the words sound kinder, but the shock of them arced through him, a troth he had never once before given in all the years of his life, but words torn from need and hope.

  She shook her head, the dark of her curls falling across the yellow in her gown. There was a deep frown on her forehead. ‘It would ruin us both and I will not be the cause of that.’

  He brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them along the healing wounds on her skin. His broken lady, brave and true.

  ‘So if I will not marry you and I cannot be your mistress, where does that leave us?’

  ‘Here,’ he answered and his lips came across her mouth, tasting and seeking, finding acquiescence, her body speaking with the words she could never say. Accepting.

  * * *

  His kiss this time was nothing like the others. Instead it was slow and soft and gentle. There was a sadness there, too, as if this would be the very last time he held her close. With it came an intimacy that was staggering.

  Neither of them closed their eyes, the gold of his own saturated with desire as their bodies began to move together. Opening her mouth further, she felt his tongue tasting, felt his hands on her face drawing her in, felt the beat of his heart speed up to match her own. Cleaved into one. Hers. Her man. Thorn with his honour and his beauty and his braveness. Thorn with his Earldom and his family and his responsibilities.

  She would not tell him she loved him, not now and not like this. But she did love him. To the very bottom of her heart and soul. She wanted the best for him. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to have a place in the world, in his world, the world of the ton.

  Breaking off the kiss, she dropped her forehead against his chest. She needed to leave before she could not. Removing the bracelet he had given her, she handed it over to him.

  ‘I cannot keep this.’

  He nodded and let her go, one step between them and then two.

  ‘You are sure?’

  ‘We live in different worlds, my lord, and what might work at first would eventually not. Could you live in Whitechapel, with all its customs and idiosyncrasies, in a two-bedroom house with the street at your doorstep and a thousand things that are unfamiliar and frightening and dangerous?’

  ‘A different world from the one I’m used to, you mean? One I was not conversant with?’

  She nodded. ‘Portman Square is as foreign to me as is society with all its many and intricate expectations and unwritten rules and there would be so many things I would do wrong. I would be as lost there as you would be in Whitechapel, no touchstone to simply be. Then afterwards, after it all failed, to be left with regret and hatred...’ She stopped. ‘It would be impossible to survive such a thing. I know it.’

  ‘I always thought you were brave, Annabelle, brave enough at least to try?’

  ‘Brave enough to let you go, too. To wish you well in your new ventures and to hope that your life should be exactly as it was determined when you were born an earl.’

  She hated how her voice had begun to shake. Another moment and he might hear it. Just one more to get through to appear to be in control. She saw him swallow and the emptiness in his eyes broke her heart.

  ‘The carriage shall be brought around then to take you home, Miss Smith.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  He did not put the bracelet down, but kept it in his fingers, turning the stones. Belle could feel his eyes on every part of her body. A farewell. A valediction. The tightness in her chest made it hard to take in breath.

  * * *

  Once back in the apartment in Kensington she went in to see Alicia in her bedchamber. Her aunt was reading.

  ‘I received the message and did not expect you back so soon. Are you all right, Belle? You look pale.’

  ‘What happened with the man in your life, Tante Alicia. The one you loved when you were young?’

  Her aunt sat up and carefully smoothed out all the creases on her sheet before speaking. ‘He married another and they lived happily ever after. When he left my heart was shattered and it was a long time before it began to mend. I could not suffer that twice, so I made it my mission to never cross his path. My family had lost its place in the world, you see, any lands and houses we once owned were gone and we were largely shunned by society. I had no position left to be in his life, no way of becoming the woman he needed.’

  ‘Yet you were well brought up? You were hardly a poor match for him? Did he eve
r try to see you?’

  ‘Many times. It was, in truth, part of the reason that we came to England.’

  Breathing out, Belle put her head in her hands.

  ‘The Earl of Thornton almost asked me to marry him today.’

  Alicia’s concern was obvious. ‘What answer did you give him?’

  ‘That I could not. That I would never fit. That I would ruin him if I was to ever say yes.’

  Old hands came to cover her own, the age spots easily seen. ‘I think that was the right decision, Annabelle.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes. You did just as I did. You are allowing the Earl to live his life as it ought to be lived. The life he was born to. The life he would miss for ever if you had only thought of yourself.’

  ‘But it hurts. Here.’ She placed her hand across her heart.

  ‘It would hurt more to see the Earl’s possibilities dissolve before your eyes. He would say it did not matter, but in the end it would. Then there would only be blame and hurt. You would see it in his eyes when he could no longer hide it and hate yourself for it. Just as I would have done had I followed my heart.’

  ‘I think we should leave here tomorrow early in the morning. Mrs Roberts has offered us a room. Just for now it would be a good start and then who knows where we might go.’

  ‘I will get up and pack our things. At least after the fire we do not have much.’

  Alicia’s voice shook as she said this. Another move at her age difficult and unwanted and Belle felt a further arrow dart into guilt. If she were not to survive this...

  ‘None of this is your fault, my love, and I will be perfectly fine, so stop worrying.’

  The ghost of relief was there as she turned to her own room to find her things. Thorn had not asked her to marry him from love, she thought. Lust was more of a reason and the sheer want to keep her with him, two people from completely different worlds who somehow had been drawn together.

  Then I would have to ask you to marry me, Annabelle.

  Those were his words when he had realised she might stay. A duty. The honourable thing to do. There was nothing of adoration in such words, nothing of the things she felt at all. The Earl of Thornton had uttered them only because it was the right thing to do.

  She folded the few clothes she had in a bag along with the painting Lady Lucy had insisted she take and then she sat down on the large bed and closed her eyes.

  ‘Help me,’ she whispered whether to God, her mother or the world in general she knew not which. Then she breathed in deeply three times and stood. Whatever happened next she would survive it because the worst of all possibilities had just taken place. No one and nothing could ever hurt her again as badly as Thorn just had.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lytton did not go straight home, but made a diversion to White’s to sit for a while in the quiet of the place and simply be. When Aurelian came over he almost thought to leave but decided against it, his friend’s smile full of concern.

  ‘You look exhausted, Thorn. From business or from love?’

  ‘Love?’

  ‘It is becoming known around town that you have installed a new mistress in the rooms vacated by your last one.’

  ‘Who is saying that?’

  ‘One can barely move in the ton without eyes watching and as Miss Annabelle Smith is more than beauteous she is a worthy target.’

  ‘She is not my mistress. I tried to ask her to marry me, but she refused.’

  Lian began to smile. ‘Mon Dieu, Thorn. You have what?’

  ‘You heard?’

  ‘Mon Dieu, but how the mighty have fallen. I thought you always said that you would only marry for convenience? This situation is hardly that.’

  ‘Which is the problem. Miss Smith feels our worlds would never fit. She turned me down because of it.’

  ‘To protect you? She sounds like an angel.’

  ‘I think she is.’

  ‘I can’t believe this is you speaking? Wait until I tell Violet. Does Shay know?’

  ‘No. You are the first person I have seen since her refusal.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘I need to talk with Catherine to break off any agreement between us. I also need to talk to the old aunt of Annabelle’s, for I think she does not trust me and I can’t quite understand why. After that I will go to Rundell’s and purchase the most beautiful sapphire ring that I can find. Perhaps that will convince her of my sincerity.’

  ‘Women want the words, Thorn. I don’t think a priceless bauble is quite what the unusual Miss Smith would desire.’

  ‘What words?’

  ‘Talk to Violet or Celeste before you make your next assault. They will let you know exactly.’

  ‘I might just do that. Is your wife at home tonight?’

  Aurelian’s laughter worried him.

  * * *

  The Dowager Countess of Huntington, Annalena Tennant-Smythe, graced Lytton with a visit two days later. As a woman who seldom left her home in Essex he was astonished to find her calling card in his hand.

  ‘Put her in the blue salon, Larkin. I will come immediately.’

  She was far smaller than he imagined and when she looked up at him Lytton felt a shock of astonishment. This was the same woman who they had passed outside Wilton’s office as they’d left and she had Annabelle’s eyes. The same colour and shape. The same startling blueness with grey just at the very edges.

  Was he going to see Annabelle in everyone now that she had disappeared, packing up her things from his apartment and gone to God only knew where?

  Whitechapel, if he could guess but unless she wanted him to find her he knew that he would not be able to locate her for all the looking in the world. The place had its own sense of loyalty and in the alleys and the small joined narrow roadways people could be hiding for ever.

  ‘My lady. It is a pleasure to welcome you here.’

  The woman turned directly towards him, her prim figure outlined against the large window behind. ‘My grandson by all accounts tried to kill you, Lord Thornton, and I have come to apologise for his foolish and dreadful behaviour. He almost struck a woman in public, too, it is being said and I presume she was the woman I saw you with at the Magistrates Office? There are whispers he hates you for returning my steed to me at Highwick, which was a kindness that I cannot thank you enough for.’

  ‘You do not need to apologise for the Earl. It is his shame.’

  ‘No. It is also a family shame and, believe me, the Huntingtons have had more than their share of scandal.’

  ‘My family is much the same.’

  At that she laughed and deep dimples graced each cheek. Another reminder of Annabelle. He reached for the brandy and offered her a drink.

  ‘Oh, I never drink alcohol, Thornton, for it does not agree with me. I get drunk on a drop of the stuff.’

  ‘Perhaps you would rather some tea?’

  ‘No, for I shall only stay a few moments.’

  Lytton was quite charmed by her forthright honesty. Her hair was snow white and the plain navy gown she wore sat well upon her. She balanced on the very edge of the leather wingchair nearest the fire. Her knuckles were white as she screwed her hands together, fingers full of substantial rings.

  ‘My grandson will return to Highwick within the week to lick his wounds, I suspect. His father was a bully and he is turning out just the same. Don’t have offspring, Thornton. They can only be a disappointment.’

  ‘You have other children?’

  ‘No. My only daughter was killed years ago with her family while journeying in Europe.’ She did not continue and there was a shake in her voice that had not been there before.

  ‘But enough of all that. I have come with a gift for you. A swap if you like for the stallion you sent back to me. This one is a mare. I have named her Countess, a pers
onal vanity, I suppose, but I find it difficult to imagine her being called anything else.’

  ‘I did not expect repayment.’

  ‘No one has ever done such a kindness for me before. More normally I am out of sorts with the world, but you have restored my hope. I will tell my grandson that if there are any more outbursts like the one you encountered I shall cut him off entirely from the largesse of my own personal fortune. He was a difficult sullen boy who has turned into the same sort of man. My son’s son. Two peas in a pod.’

  She stood at that and collected herself. ‘Before I go, though, I should like to ask you one question. You have been seen in the company of an unusual healer, a Miss Annabelle Smith by all accounts. I am presuming she was the woman I briefly encountered the other day as you walked to your carriage and I should very much like to meet with her.’

  ‘I am afraid she is rather reclusive, my lady.’

  ‘It is said she resides in one of your apartments?’

  ‘She did, but she left with her aunt and gave no forwarding address.’

  ‘Could you give her a message from me?’

  Bringing out a sealed envelope from her reticule, she handed it over. ‘It is a private correspondence, Thornton, so if time passes and you truly do not see her then I trust you will burn it. But I sincerely hope she may be contacted in some way.’

  The day just got stranger. Did the Countess wish for some medical advice? he wondered. She looked quite hale and healthy, the tone of her skin radiant and her eyes clear.

  Everything that concerned Annabelle Smith always had that edge of mystery and here it was again.

  ‘I shall do my best.’

  When she stood Lytton saw desperation in her eyes, an emotion so strong that he almost stopped her to ask what is was she wanted from Annabelle. But manners prevented such a direct and inappropriate enquiry.

  A few moments later when her carriage pulled away from Portman Square the bright livery caught his eyes, gold against blue. Had not Roberts mentioned something of the same colours on the conveyance that had knocked Annabelle down on the Whitechapel Road?