by Liz Tyner
‘You can’t have children with him.’ Her mother reached out and adjusted the pillow. ‘The physician would be a better man to court.’
‘If I never marry, it’s unlikely I’ll have children.’
‘Well, it’s not all the joys you’d think.’ Her mother wiggled her toes, then put her head against the chair back and rested her eyes.
She looked at her mother. ‘I need to get out more.’
Her mother touched the ribbons of her dress decorating her collar, straightening. ‘But are you interested in marriage? Or is this a folly as your sisters had and that caught up with them?’
Annie didn’t answer.
Her mother turned to Carson. ‘It’s your turn. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Don’t count on me to catch the two of you in a compromising position.’ Her father snorted. ‘That little device is well off the table.’
She rolled her eyes and ignored the heat in her cheeks. ‘Barrett has no wish to marry me. He practically embroidered it on a pillow and propped it in front of my face. Or at least, that is what he says. That he has no wish to marry. He likes to work. It fills him with deep happiness, or whatever is inside him.’ She thought of the chunks of coal in the fireplace. ‘Perhaps his insides are black.’ And perhaps coal could ignite.
Her father straightened his back. ‘And he does have strange ideas about how one should work all the time.’ Her father tilted his head down, shaking it from side to side. ‘You already sound like him. A little too direct. If he has walked away from you, you should let him go. A man who thinks in profits must see you as a value high above others or you will be leading separate lives from the moment of the wedding breakfast.’
‘If he doesn’t wish to court me, then I would like to see if anyone else wishes to court me. It would be good to know.’ Perhaps someone who could make rosewater smell so masculine it could make her insides burn.
‘I might like a living son-in-law in London,’ her mother said, she picked up a handkerchief from the side table.
‘I would like to dance,’ Annie said, ‘and I would hate to think of Barrett believing that I am one of those insensible women who might be like Madeline Trotter and fall for the first viscount’s son who notices me. I would like him to know that I am carefree, happy and could care less that he does not want to court me.’
Sticking her head out the window and shouting at him had been a mistake, but she could show him she really wasn’t like that. He might understand, but even if he didn’t, she was tired of living in the attic. And the black-hearted Barrett had best hope his heart was truly black, or she intended to make it glow red-hot. Innocence. She was leaving that at the window.
She looked at her mother and then at her father. ‘I will likely end up a spinster. But not one whom no one wishes to court. Just one who doesn’t wish to court. There is a difference. I would rather not be dismissed so easily.’
‘I understand. After all, you are twenty-two. And don’t speak to us as if we’ve not tried to find a husband for you. You just haven’t cooperated,’ said her mother.
‘Except for Mr Barrett,’ her father said, neck craning to the door as if he expected Barrett to be standing there. ‘I still think he wanted to court you, Annie. I would have never let him move in had I not thought so. I mean, really—’ he held out a hand ‘—what other reason would he want to stay here for if not wishing to know the family better? I didn’t want another child conceived under my roof. I moved you upstairs so I could be certain his motives were more honourable than dishonourable.’
‘You must consider the bachelors of the ton.’ Her mother fanned her face with the handkerchief. ‘You would make a good wife. You have all the requirements. Good teeth. Hair that stays in place. Your arms look well in the summer dresses.’
‘So will you help me put these arms to good use?’
‘Yes. And your head. Don’t forget to use the head,’ her mother said. ‘They come in handy in a courtship. Just ask that Trotter woman. But don’t show your hand. That is never good until it has a ring on it.’
‘Mrs Carson.’ Her father’s face tightened and he glared. ‘Don’t be telling your daughter such nonsense. You never said such a thing to Honour and Laura.’
‘Perhaps I should have,’ she said. ‘Dance carefully, Annie. You’ll be the one living with the consequences.’
* * *
Barrett sat at his desk. Telling Annie goodbye in person had been like telling her spirit to enter his thoughts and not leave. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out the jewelled pin. He’d meant to return it to Annie, but he’d not been able to part with it.
She’d been wearing it the first time he saw her face. At the top of the stairs. Her hair tousled just enough to be glorious. A simple jewelled pin above innocent eyes.
He took a last look at the jewel and put it back in his pocket.
He put his elbows on the table and both palms over his face. He shut his eyes and rubbed them, trying to get Annie from his mind. He was just too tired. That was causing him to lose his concentration. He did not need any more thoughts of the Carson household.
Annie kept chasing him through his dreams and he’d rarely dreamed before. But those were better than the waking moments when he realised she was not to be in his life.
Instead he was to have a life of guarding his father and keeping the man from destroying everything they both had worked to build. His father likely would tear down all his holdings just for spite.
His father had tried to escape twice in the past few days and Barrett couldn’t get anything but a gleeful laugh when he asked his father why. A new game. To be played until his father tired of it.
Annie’s face appeared in his thoughts. To hold her would be so comforting. But wrong. He couldn’t bring her to his father’s house, ever. The risk of having his father find out he cared for someone was too great. He could never risk focusing attention on her so much that his father reacted. Annie could be hurt. Or killed.
His brother opened the door.
‘How is Annie?’ Barrett asked.
‘Oh, good to see you, Gavin,’ his brother mocked. ‘Please do come in and have a seat.’
Barrett put down the silver pen he used, opened the drawer and pulled out one of the feathered quills he’d used in the past. He tossed it straight at his brother. The feather flew to the edge of the desk and then spiralled down to the floor. ‘That’s how well your humour flies with me.’
Gavin picked it up and held the quill. ‘Better than yours does with me. I just looked in on the Viscount. He called me Barrett and slung a plate at me. You should have him put away.’
‘Tried it. He escapes. Woke up one morning and he was opening my bedroom door. I almost didn’t see the knife, but I knew something was odd by the way he kept one side away from me.’
‘Why do you put up with him?’
‘I’ve lived this way my whole life.’ He laughed to himself. ‘And I expect that the afterlife will be more of the same.’
‘Well, better the heir than me,’ Gavin replied. ‘Oh, and there was something else I meant to tell you. Something I forgot.’ He closed his eyes and used the nib end of the quill to scratch his cheek. ‘What could be something from the Carson household that I might forget?’
‘Gavin. Did I ever return the honour when you knocked me on my—?’
‘You had it coming.’ Gavin threw the quill up into the air, letting it flutter to the ground. ‘Just like the fact that you might be invited to a wedding some day. Have you heard that Mr Carson has plans for a new son-in-law?’
Barrett jerked his head up. Then he realised that Gavin must be speaking of Annie’s sister, Honour. ‘I know you were fond of her.’
‘Not really.’ Gavin locked his knees and seesawed for just a moment, hands behind his back. A spark of amusement appeared in his eyes. ‘I think it would be the on
e you are fond of, Annie.’
‘Annie has never courted.’
‘Doesn’t mean she isn’t planning to.’
‘I wish her all the best.’ He kept his face card-player-straight.
‘I believe she is on her way to finding it.’
‘And why do you think I view her any differently than any other woman I have spent a brief amount of time with?’
‘You didn’t expect anything from her. She’s the only person you’ve ever spent more time than the minimum with who did not have to repay you. We all pay a stipend to you, one way or another. Those invitations to Lord Allen’s soirées. Tell me those are not an effort on his part to keep his landlord happy and tell me that you don’t go for purely business reasons.’
‘What of it?’
Gavin’s eyes held the same look of their father’s before he lashed out. ‘Even I. You paid for my education and now I weave my way around society and help you find out the weaknesses of people.’
‘No one forces you to live to the height of your profession.’
‘You mentioned that my skills were great, speaking in the right ears, and then I became welcome in the best households. I’m like a stench in the air, bringing the buzzard to the carcass. You are so much like the Viscount. I see it now as I am around more.’
‘Perhaps you should keep your visits to him and stay away from me.’
Gavin turned to the door, putting his hand on the wood. ‘How would you exact your revenge?’ He faced his brother. ‘I’ve seen you take it with your fists and with your funds.’ He paused. ‘A whisper that I’m not a good physician? That someone else is better?’
Barrett stood. ‘You know me better than I thought. Tainted blood runs in both our veins. You can’t escape it either.’
‘And how could I take my revenge on you?’ Gavin asked. ‘By kissing Annie?’
‘Take any revenge on me you please and I’ll give it back. Touch Annie and I’ll break you. A thousand times over.’
‘Oh, you can trust me. I’m family.’ Gavin backed out. ‘Somehow I think I’m forgetting to tell you something.’ He gave him a bow and pulled the door shut behind him as he walked out.
Barrett jumped up, moved to the doorway and opened it. ‘Gavin,’ he shouted.
His brother didn’t turn around, but whistled a few notes before letting them fade.
Barrett had risked his life for the money to send his brother to school, methodically stealing from his father, and nothing was free. He gripped the door, but let his brother continue down the stairs.
Their blood was tainted black. He’d noticed it in Gavin, too. The façade. The pretence of being just what the person in front of you expected, while pursuing your own goals.
‘Oh,’ Gavin said, stopping and turning around. ‘I don’t appreciate your sending me after her sister. I may not go.’
‘You’ll go,’ Barrett said.
‘Yes. I will.’ He faced Barrett. ‘But this repays you. No wagers, no bargaining. No more. My life is my own from that point on. I don’t even wish to see the Viscount on your schedule. I know him now as well as I’ll ever need to.’
‘Your life has always been your own.’
‘As long as I did exactly as you directed. You may be my brother, but I detest my father and you’re little better. You think everyone is a bit of meat for you to drain the blood out of. Even our father. You can’t tell me you don’t have a certain joy in keeping him locked up.’
Barrett ignored him.
‘Oh, now I remember what I was going to tell you.’ Gavin’s words popped into the air, like a burr sticking into the skin. ‘Lord Milsap’s soirée.’
Barrett stared at his brother, waiting.
‘Should be quite the event,’ Gavin inserted, putting a hand on the doorway. ‘Lots of music. Lots of dancing. Lots of—you know, the type of stuff you thrive on—business being conducted with drinks in hand.’
‘I wasn’t planning to go.’
‘Well, that may be for the best. It turns out that Lady Milsap saw Annie at the dressmaker’s when she was having new gowns made.’ He slowed his speech. ‘At least that is the way her mother recounted it to me when she preened about how her daughter will be attending a society event—Lord Milsap’s soirée.’
‘Annie?’ He raised his eyes. ‘She’s attending?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Gavin’s eyes had the same shine of their father. Even he had not escaped. ‘Carson has confided, not so confidentially, to me and about a hundred others, that he would like to see his gem of a daughter on the arm of a true man who appreciates her beauty and her good sense to not fall for a certain viscount’s son. Apparently Carson intends to secure a husband for his youngest daughter. You know the man talks when he’s nervous. He also talks when he’s angry, particularly if he feels someone has overlooked his daughter.’
‘My Annie is—’
‘Your Annie now has two husband-hunting parents, a new interest in cosmetics to hide the shadows under her eyes and what I would classify as a case of revenge on her plate.’ Gavin’s eyes blinked, asp-like. ‘She appears to be planning to take herself straight to the first eligible man with a title equal to or greater than yours, or a fortune equal to or greater than yours, or maybe just someone breathing. Who knows?’
‘Not Annie. You’re lying.’
‘You convinced her quite well that you were throwing her over. And you even taught her how to think like a member of our family.’ He raised his chin. ‘Be proud, Barrett. Be proud.’
Barrett responded with venom and Gavin backed out of the hallway, chuckling. ‘Hoisted with your own petard, eh, Barrett?’
Gavin left, whistling.
Barrett looked straight ahead. He was still standing, but he was tumbling into a choking abyss.
He’d seen Annie’s wrist and helped her make a fist, and found himself being pulled into her path. She’d captured something inside him and he’d had to fight to get away. But he hadn’t escaped completely.
Annie. Was it asking too much to have one person that he could trust completely? One person he could speak freely with for the first time in his life?
But to pursue her would be using her, and bringing her into a world she had no idea existed.
He tried to push the thoughts of Annie as far back in his mind as he could. He did not need more weakness in himself. But if he could have one thing it would be a person whom he could trust in his life.
Yet that wasn’t possible. He could not trust himself, so no one could trust him.
Barrett walked back into the room he’d left, and moved to his desk. His boot caught the leg of the desk and he crashed forward. As he righted himself, he shoved his arm out and swept the papers around him on to the floor. He returned to his chair, the desktop in front of him smooth.
He didn’t care if he was just like his father. He couldn’t escape it.
He reached into his waistcoat and took out the hairpin in his pocket and placed it on the table, staring at it. The damn pin. Sunlight seemed to glisten over it, even with the curtains pulled.
‘Mr Barrett,’ Nettie’s voice squeaked from the doorway. She held a tray in her hands, eyeglasses sliding to the tip of her nose and the scent of the steamed vegetables reaching Barrett. ‘I thought you might like to eat something.’ She took one step forward, then stopped, ignoring the scattered papers around the desk.
‘I’m not hungry.’
She took another step forward. ‘You need to keep your strength up.’
He pressed his lips together. No one had ever told him before he needed to keep his strength up.
‘Perhaps the roast,’ he said, indicating with his eyes that she could sit the tray down.
She moved forward, seeming oblivious to the clutter on the floor as she stepped over it.
She propped the tray at the edge of the table and set the roa
st beef in front of Barrett, and then a wine glass, and arranged everything around the pin as if she could not see it.
He put one finger on the pin and slid it towards Nettie. ‘See that this is returned to the Carson household.’ He held the pin trapped against the table and he didn’t raise his hand from it.
He spoke. ‘It’s for her own good.’
Nettie held the tray in both her hands, staring at the fingertip trapping the pin on the table.
‘I’m sure it is.’ She waited a moment.
Nettie stepped back, then she turned and bustled to the door. ‘I can return it later,’ she said, a chirping cheerfulness in her voice as she left. ‘Leave it anywhere I can see it and it will be gone before you know it.’
He slid the pin back and put it in his pocket.
Taking the fork, he stabbed a piece of the meat and bit into it. Tasted like it had been boiled in swamp water.
The fork clattered to the table and he stood.
He would only attend the soirée to return the pin. It wasn’t as if he would need to talk with her for more than a second.
And if she was husband-hunting, then she might want the jewel to wear for her courtship. She seemed to place great stock in the pin, not wanting to leave it behind when she left her home. He touched his pocket. And he certainly didn’t need any kind of memento of Annie Carson.
‘Barrett... Barrett...’
The voice carried through the walls. His father summoned him.
He stood. He would die alone. He could not risk having a child who might grow up to become like his father, or treating a child as he had been treated. His grandmother had shared tales of the ancestors linked by blood and the shared evil that ran through all their veins.
He had heard the stories all his childhood. Of his great-grandmother who’d killed her husband in his sleep. Of an uncle who’d smothered a wife and poisoned her lover.
Every day he’d been told of the virtues of revenge.
He could not put a princess in a world of evil, particularly if it flowed in his veins.
He thought back, trying to remember when he had cared for someone and when he had ceased to have feelings. He supposed he’d cared for his mother, not that he truly remembered much about her except the day she died.