He couldn’t help but admire her beauty as she sat there; her long, ivory neck, with a few escaped curls resting against it, her high cheekbones, outlined against the dark wood of the piano. Even her ears looked beautiful, with only a simple pearl adorning each lobe. He wished that he could see her from the front, but then she would see him and stop playing.
He longed to reach out and touch the length of her neck with the back of his finger, but he knew that such an act wasn’t likely to endear him to her, and his mother would be upset if she didn’t come to dinner tonight.
He leaned against the door frame and listened to her rendition of Robin Adair, then she moved onto Chopin’s Ballade Number 1. This wasn’t nearly so practiced but it looked as if she was trying to play from memory, and he doubted that she had played for a good few years. Still, she seemed to have a good ear and knew when she had made a mistake and with practice, he had little doubt that she would be extremely proficient.
He knew that he should make his presence known soon or she would be upset with him, so he quietly walked into the room. She was so focused on her playing that she didn’t notice him as he came alongside her and he paused for a moment to watch her. The focus in her expression was possibly the sexiest look that he had ever seen. He wished that she would look at him with such single-mindedness.
Reluctantly he took a few more steps until he was beside the piano, although it still took her a moment to register his presence.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Annabelle stood up, looking flustered.
“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Every instrument deserves to be played; if only they were all so lucky as to get a musician with such skill.”
She blushed. “I’m afraid I’m very out of practice.”
“Nevertheless you play, not to mention sing, beautifully.”
“Thank you,” her blush deepened but she rose to her feet. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I have a trunk from my mother that she says you will need and I am to invite you to dine with us this evening. I should also warn you that I am under strict instructions not to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Playing the piano for the past hour had helped alleviate a lot of the worries that she carried about in everyday life, not to mention that being away from home made it much easier to forget her money worries for a while.
“And what if I refuse?” she teased, a playful smile on her lips.
“Then I shall have to throw you over my shoulder and cart you over myself,” he answered with an easy smile. “Believe me when I say, my mother doesn’t like being refused.”
“Then I suppose I had better accept gracefully.”
Richard looked a little peeved, but he had a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Shame, I was rather looking forward to manhandling you.”
Annabelle froze for a second and for a brief moment, he worried that he may have gone too far. Then she shook her head in consternation
“You are a very naughty boy and if you aren’t careful, I shall tell your mother on you.”
“You wouldn’t?” he said grasping his heart. “Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t tell Mama.”
Annabelle laughed. “Would you like some tea or do you have to get home?”
“No, I have some time.”
Annabelle rang the bell and asked for some tea to be brought up, then Richard went out to the carriage and brought the trunk in. It wasn’t very heavy, so he was curious about its contents. It certainly didn’t contain cooking implements, as he had originally presumed. He left the trunk in the hallway and by the time he re-joined Annabelle, she was serving the tea.
She was seated on the small sofa and he almost sat down beside her, until he remembered that they were actually getting along for the first time and he didn’t want to risk ruining this truce.
“So, is there an occasion for this weekend?” Annabelle asked.
“Just the end of my mother’s mourning period, I believe.”
“She and your father weren’t close then?”
“No, they were, but we knew the end was coming for a while, so we were prepared. We had plenty of time to say our goodbyes.”
“Can I ask…?”
“The consumption. He was ill for a year before he died.”
“Were you there for him?”
“I was. They gave me a month’s compassionate leave when the time drew near, but then I had to return to my regiment.” She could hear the sadness in his voice.
“That must have been difficult.”
“More so for my mother than for me.”
“Couldn’t you have left the Army?”
“Not without serving out my contract, or risk being shot for desertion. My mother had her sisters come to stay but they are all very shy and sheltered ladies. My grandfather was very protective of his daughters, I don’t think he wanted them to get married and leave home. My mother was sheltered too but she was an exception. When she met my father, it was love at first sight. He showed her the world and encouraged her to come out of her shell, so I worried how she would feel without him.”
Annabelle almost felt like crying as he spoke, for she had never known such a love and even although his father had died, she had a feeling that the pain Richard now felt was worth it, for the decades of happiness and love that he had received.
“She seems to have recovered well,” Annabelle noted. “I can’t claim to know her well but after your father died, she used to come into the shop quite often to place an order.”
“Did she?” He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that information. He did remember her writing to him of her sisters; how timid they were and how it vexed her at times. He wondered if she was drawn to Annabelle’s strength and forthright nature; she would indeed be quite the antithesis of his shy and timorous aunts.
Annabelle nodded. “Her visits became less frequent as time went on and she would send a note instead. That’s the reason I was surprised when you asked me to call on her, because it had always been her calling on me.”
“Thank you, for being her friend.”
Annabelle smiled. “Thank you but all I did was share a pot of tea with her occasionally, that’s all.”
“Sometimes that’s all someone needs.”
“How about you, how are you coping with things? It must be a big change from Army life.”
“It is,” he agreed with a smile. “Honestly though, adjusting to civilian life isn’t what’s difficult. Adjusting to my responsibilities, that is a challenge.”
“Weren’t you raised to take over from your father?”
“Of course but there’s a difference between knowing that livelihoods will depend on you, and actually having them depend on you.”
“You will be fine,” she said with a warm smile.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you were a Captain in the Army. You had lives depending on you, not just livelihoods. You just need some time to adjust.”
He smiled, pleased with her assessment. “You’re actually very good company, when you aren’t trying to slap me or throw me out.”
“I think it helps that you aren’t trying to kiss me.” She answered with a smile.
“Perhaps not, but don’t mistake that for a lack of want on my part.”
Her smile dimmed slightly so he quickly moved the conversation on.
“Would you like to attend the events over the weekend?”
“Thank you but no. I think I shall be kept busy enough. Besides, I think that the aristocracy would rather forget that I exist.”
“Nonsense! Besides, your brother is invited on Sunday and as his sister, you have exactly the same right to attend.”
“Why is he coming?” she asked, surprised by the revelation.
“I think that my mother invited every noble person in the south of England. She says that I should start forging relationships with them.”
“Well just… be careful around him.”
He noticed her hesitan
cy. “Why?”
She topped up their tea cups to avoid having to look to him. “He’s a foul human being, that’s all.”
“Even more reason that you should attend, so that you can help me spot his nefarious schemes.”
“I don’t think that would be a very prudent idea, especially if he is there.”
“You don’t strike me as the sort to worry about what is or isn’t prudent. If you would like to come, then come. I can assure you that I won’t let him near you, if you would prefer.”
He could see that she was wavering so he pressed his point home.
“I know that mother would enjoy your company. You have received her for months; why not let her return the favour, just this once.”
“Very well,” she said, shaking her head at her own gullibility. “But don’t think that I can always be so easily persuaded.”
“Of course not,” he agreed. “Now I suppose I had better be getting back to the house. I’ve hardly said two words to Mother since I got back.”
“Of course.” She got to her feet to see him out.
“Dinner is at eight, I shall send a carriage to collect you at quarter to the hour.”
“Thank you. I look forward to it.”
Annabelle opened the trunk to find that it actually contained a selection of gowns, rather than cooking apparatus. She might have felt a little patronised, except that the Duchess had included a letter, explaining that she hadn’t thought to tell Annabelle to bring any evening gowns, which was awfully remiss of her and since they appeared to be a similar size, she had sent some of her own dresses for Annabelle to borrow, should she need to.
Annabelle could see this for the pretence that it was; she didn’t want her guest to feel out of place and since this was the Duchess’s ‘mistake’ she was simply correcting her oversight, sparing Annabelle any embarrassment.
Carol unpacked the five dresses, which thankfully hadn’t suffered for their confinement, and laid them out for Annabelle to choose from. For this evening, she chose a dark blue, off the shoulder dress with a matching short cloak, to keep her warm on the carriage ride to the house.
She sat patiently whilst Carol twisted and braided her hair into an intricate style, pinning or plaiting her curls into submission. Annabelle didn’t much like the look when it was finished, but she did look more like every other lady that she saw wandering around London.
The dress was exquisite however, and it fit perfectly.
The carriage arrived on time and delivered her to the manor and as she stepped out, she felt a little like Cinderella must have, in the story of The Little Glass Slipper. She hadn’t glimpsed the house on her way in but now she felt intimidated; it looked more like a castle than a house. There was a wide, turreted archway that they drove through, into a central courtyard, which was surrounded on all sides by the four wings of the house. Annabelle thought that there must be 300 or more rooms here! She had visited her share of wealthy homes when she was a child, but this was more a king’s palace, than a country or estate house.
Still, Annabelle wasn’t one to be easily intimidated, so she stiffened her spine and vowed to remember that even if she was being paid for her services, she was a member of the aristocracy and had every right to be here.
Richard was waiting for her and she blushed, as his appreciative gaze roamed over her while he helped her step down from the carriage.
Dinner was a simple affair tonight, with just three courses but that suited Annabelle fine, since she was used to only one course at home. The dining room was very grand and the table could easily sit ten, probably many more if its additional leaves were added and as she had been informed, this was just the family dining room. They had another that could seat up to 300!
Thankfully they all sat at one end; Her Grace sat at the head of the table, with Richard and Annabelle on either side of her, giving the meal an informal feeling despite the grandeur they were surrounded by. After their talk earlier, Annabelle assumed that Richard chose not to sit at the head of the table because that had been his father’s chair, so although the arrangement was unusual, she didn’t bring it up.
Discussion was kept light as Lavinia explained a little of the history of the house, such as how Queen Elizabeth had given it to her husband’s family in the early 1600s. It seemed as if everything in the house had a history too, from the paintings that adorned the walls, to the furniture they now sat upon. Annabelle found her stories interesting and oddly, it humanised this grand house. Knowing that this vase had been bought for Richard’s grandmother because she loved tulips, or that the rug by the hearth had been purchased by Great Uncle Peter on a trip to the Orient, made the place seem less forbidding and much more homely.
When the dessert, apple pie, was served, Lavinia turned the conversation away from her home (which she was clearly very proud of) and onto the coffee house.
“I do hope you didn’t have trouble finding someone to cover for you,” Lavinia began.
“Oh, no. My household cook volunteered to do the cooking at the coffee house, and the other servants offered to cover her workload.”
“Offered? They must be very loyal to you.”
“They are,” Annabelle smiled. “I could offer them no guarantees when we left but they still came with me.”
“Then hold onto them. Anyone can buy a worker but true loyalty is hard to find.”
They retired to the drawing room after the meal was finished, and seated themselves on a cluster of chairs and sofas by the fire. The room seemed to be arranged into many of these clusters, presumably so that dinner guests could sit in smaller groups following their meal. In the corner of the room sat another pianoforte, which Annabelle eyed a little enviously.
“I understand that Richard has also asked you to join us on Sunday,” Lavinia said as she accepted a glass of wine from her butler.
“Actually I asked her to share the whole weekend with us, but she insists that she has to work on the desserts.”
“And I do.” Annabelle sounded a little insulted that he apparently didn’t believe her.
“I do hope that you will reconsider,” Lavinia said, “should you find yourself finishing early; I shall look forward to your company on Sunday.”
“Thank you.” Annabelle blushed, and was seriously considering just returning to London when she was finished and skipping the gathering altogether. If Her Grace hadn’t been so nice, she might have done so but she couldn’t be rude to this woman, not after she had been so hospitable.
“I hope you don’t mind if I stop in to see how you are getting on tomorrow?”
“Of course not.” Annabelle assured her. “I look forward to it.”
The evening broke up soon afterwards as Annabelle insisted that she needed an early start in the morning. Richard offered to accompany her home but she wouldn’t hear of it, more for fear that she might invite him inside, rather than fearing what he might do. He accepted her decision without argument but she could see that he was disappointed.
As it happened, Annabelle didn’t rise very early the next day and had to be awoken by Carol. When she realised that the time was 10am, she was frantic for a moment.
“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am, I thought this was early.”
Annabelle let out a long breath. Of course she was right, 10am was early among the upper classes, and most of them didn’t rise until noon. Richard didn’t strike her as a layabout though, neither did his mother. She wondered if he was awaking also at this moment, with sleep tousled hair. Did he wear a night shirt or-
She tore her thoughts away before they could derail her any further.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She should still have time to do what she needed; she just had to remain calm and not allow herself to become flustered.
An hour later she was in the kitchen, ready to start. Since she had no plans to leave the house today, she had worn a simple dress under her apron and was keeping her hair off h
er face with a kerchief, rather than putting it up once dry.
She began with the most complex dish, the three triangular, 10 layered tortes, with alternating slices of vanilla sponge and chocolate cake, with chocolate buttercream between each layer and caramel frosting. The baking trays were square, so Annabelle would have to cut it to shape once finished.
Once the cake mixture was made (using ground almonds in the vanilla slices and ground hazelnuts in the chocolate slices) the baking trays were placed in the oven. She then took the sponges from the oven and whilst they cooled, she prepared the chocolate butter cream.
She was just placing the third thin slice onto the cake, when there came a knock at the kitchen door and Mary opened it to the Duchess. The kitchen maids looked terrified.
“Why don’t you two girls take my carriage back to the house and share lunch with the others servants. I’ll keep Miss Wyatt company.”
“But the washing up-” Sarah tried to say.
“Will still be here when you get back. Now go, enjoy your lunch and do not hurry back.”
The maids hurried off, unwilling to contradict even such an odd order.
Annabelle had got to her feet, also surprised by her appearance.
“Oh, please carry on,” Lavinia said as she placed a basket on the table. “Having you catering for the party reignited an old passion and I thought that I might give a chocolate cake a go.”
“You’ve baked before?” Annabelle asked as she sat down at the table.
Lavinia pulled a long sleeved apron out of the basket, much like Annabelle’s, and pulled it on over her clothes.
“I used to,” Lavinia said as she unpacked the ingredients she would need. “It started when I was a child and wanted to bake a cake for my father. I didn’t get to do much of the baking, of course, but the cook let me ice it. It looked awful but my father loved it.” She sat down opposite Annabelle and began to make her cake mix. “That was it, until after I married. James was away on business for a few days but I was unwell, so I couldn’t accompany him. It was our first separation. The day after he left, I felt much better and began to miss him terribly. I wondered what I could do for him when he got back. Chocolate cake was always his favourite indulgence, so I thought that I would have the cook make one, but it didn’t seem a very loving gesture.
The Reluctant Duchess Page 4