by Lucy Monroe
To think the letters affected Lady Hamilton, his intended’s best friend and sister-in-law. The entire ton knew how her husband indulged her. It was too good to be true, for anyone but William. When he was finished plucking Lady Hamilton’s plump purse, he would find a way to use the letters to further his advantage with Lady Annabelle. There would be a way. His luck demanded it.
William walked into the seedy pub, tugging his cloak more firmly about his face. His cohort should be waiting at a table near the fireplace. He spied Thorn. The man looked like a proper villain, unlike William. William could never have carried off the blackmail bit. He was too refined.
“How did it go?”
Thorn jumped. “Ah, it’s you, guv. Went just like you said it would. She turned white as a bloody sheet on a nobleman’s bed. She’ll pay alright.” William nodded. He knew it. Lady Hamilton loved her husband and her husband had a horror of scandal. Another tidbit the entire ton was privy to.
“Send her a message where to meet you with the money.” Thorn shifted in his seat and slid a sidelong glance at William. “I don’t write so good, guv.”
What was the weasel up to? Stench from the man’s unwashed body assailed William’s nostrils and he wanted to gag. Soon, he would not need to consort with any but his own class. For now, this degenerate was a necessary part of his plan.
“You will write the note.”
The miscreant shrugged. “I’m thinking I might need a little more loot to go on. This is a risky business.”
William leaned across the table and curled his fingers around Thorn’s throat. The other man’s eyes began to bulge.
“You will send the message and you will accept the risk. You have given your word and a gentleman keeps his word.”
The dirty man bobbed his head. William let go of the other man’s throat, satisfied when his associate choked and wheezed an apology before making a hasty exit from the stew.
Soon, very soon, William would have the money he needed to court his prey properly.
It would not be necessary if that stupid Scotsman had stuck with the Caruthers. The beauty had not been subtle at all in her preference for him. None of Lady Annabelle’s other suitors worried William. She did not look at them like they mattered, even if they were proper Englishmen.
Not like she looked at Graenfrae.
William had seen her with the Scotsman in her aunt’s box the night before. So had everyone else in the theater. The way the barbarian had drug her from the theater had been on everyone’s tongue. The oaf did not have a clue how to court a lady properly.
William would show the boorish Scot, as he engaged Lady Annabelle’s affections for himself.
He laughed and the tavern wench who had come to serve his ale stepped back quickly.
“It’s daft, you are.”
Her words could not touch him. She would see. Everyone would see.
William’s luck had changed.
Chapter Nine
The classic Greek columns of the British Museum struck a discordant note with the bustle of London. Carriages and pedestrians vied for space on the busy thoroughfare in front of the museum’s entrance.
Ian longed for the quiet solitude of Graenfrae.
Annabelle must make up her mind to marry him soon. He would not last the Season breathing the brown air of London and listening to the cacophony of sounds that greeted him at every turn. Annabelle certainly didn’t mind the bustle. She sat next to him, her eyes darting alertly from one scene to the next.
After their initial greeting she had looked at everyone but him and tried to evade speaking to him at all. The lass was going to drive him daft. One minute she was soft and willing in his arms and the next denying she wanted to marry him. Her eyes had devoured him in her aunt’s garden and now she wouldn’t look at him if his pantaloons caught fire.
“It won’t work, you ken.” He spoke near her ear so that Hamilton and his wife would not hear.
She jolted, but she continued to keep her gaze fixed on the approaching museum.
“What do you mean?”
He waited patiently for her to meet his eyes.
Finally, she turned her head and repeated her question. “What won’t work?”
“Ignoring me, Belle. I’ll have my way in the end and pretending I’m not here isn’t going to change that.” He wanted to smile when her eyes narrowed. He could feel her body tensing next to him.
“I thought we were going to discuss this later,” she hissed.
“’Tis later, lass.”
He had her full attention now. “I do not wish to discuss things of an intimate nature with an audience.” She indicated Hamilton and Lady Hamilton with an inclination of her head.
The couple wouldn’t notice if he took Belle in his arms and kissed her. They were too busy looking raptly into one another’s eyes and whispering ridiculous nonsense. If Belle wanted this from marriage, she would be disappointed. Ian had no intention of making a fool of himself over his wife.
He would not mind kissing her, though. The thought conjured up the scene in the carriage the night before and he felt himself reacting physically. He could still hear her moans of innocent abandon. Willing his body to be still, he shifted on the seat.
“Very well, when would you like to discuss our future?”
“Not now.”
He had already gathered that. “When?” he pressed.
“I don’t know. Must we have this discussion yet again? Hasn’t everything of import already been said on the subject?”
Her voice had a desperate edge. She must realize that her continuing refusal was futile. The woman came apart in his arms. If she thought he was going to leave her to experience passion with someone else now that he had introduced her to it, she was in for a shock. The very idea filled him with fury.
“You needn’t glare at me like that. If you are that set on going over our circumstances again, I will do so.” She managed to convey an attitude of longsuffering with her sigh.
He nodded. “I will call on you tomorrow to take you driving.” The time had come to settle matters.
“Very well.” She sighed again. As the carriage drew near the front door of the museum, she perked up. “I cannot wait to see the antiquity room. It is my favorite place in the museum.”
Later in the antiquity room, Belle’s rapturous expression did not dim. Ian could not understand what she saw in the jumble of poorly maintained Greek and Roman statuary.
The pieces were covered with a gray film, undoubtedly due to the smog-filled air of London. The room was much too small and poorly lit to display them with any effect and yet Belle moved among the figures as if she were in God’s own antechamber.
Hamilton and his wife had cried off coming in with them. Lady Hamilton had declared that Belle would take more time in the antiquities room than they would take in the entire museum. Hamilton had suggested they meet in an hour’s time. It appeared they would be spending the entire hour in this dusty, close room.
Careful not to touch it, Belle bent close to a bust and intently studied it. “Do you see the nobility of expression on this woman’s face? She’s really quite lovely.”
’Twas not the statue that looked lovely to him. Belle’s expression of enchantment lit her face with a beauty all its own. She had looked the same while listening to the Burnaby woman speak.
“Aye ’tis lovely to be sure.”
She turned and gave him a smile laced with approval. It faltered when her eyes met his. The temptation to kiss her was overpowering. Her eyes widened as he leaned forward. The sound of voices entering the room brought him to his senses. What was the matter with him? He was not some callow youth who could not keep his libido in check.
Yet, he had been near publicly humiliating an unmarried lady. He shook his head with disgust.
Belle beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the room. He smiled at her swiftly moving figure. She could run for now, but eventually he would catch her. She belonged to him, even if she did no
t realize it. Surprised, Ian realized that marriage to Belle had become every bit as important as inheriting the money left by his stepfather. She was no longer a means to an end, but an end herself. The knowledge did not please him.
When had she become so important?
“I understand your disappointment. It’s hardly a top notch display, is it?” The gentleman speaking looked around the room, his lip curled in disgust.
“I dinna ken your meaning.”
The other man smiled conspiratorially. “I couldn’t help noticing your scowl. Don’t worry, I’m not about to tell the ladies. My wife is just as enthralled with the room as your companion.”
Ian nodded.
“It’s hard to comprehend, but there it is. I’ve learned with my wife not to question her passions. She takes them rather personally.” Ian thought of Belle’s passion. He took it personally too. He smiled. “I ken.”
The other man winked and nodded. “We have an entire room filled with vases. She collects them you know. Some are truly hideous, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Ian laughed. He liked the man. Extending his hand, he introduced himself. The other man turned out to be Sir Percy Stanton.
Lord Stanton asked, “You’re Scottish, aren’t you?” He nodded answering his own question. “You should see about getting cards to see Wedgewood’s Rooms. Truly fantastic. He hails originally from Scotland himself.” Ian thought the name sounded familiar and said so.
“It should, the man’s made a name for himself with a home that’s no more than a bloody museum. My wife is enamored with his vases of course.” Lord Stanton stiffened and Ian turned to see what had caused the frown to crease his new acquaintance’s features. A man stood conversing with Belle and Lady Stanton.
Belle’s eyes were illuminated with interest as she listened to whatever it was the man was saying. Ian and Lord Stanton moved toward the ladies in one accord.
When he reached Belle, Ian pulled her into his side and held her there with a hand planted firmly around her waist. Lord Stanton took a position between his wife and the newcomer.
The newcomer’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Annabelle, won’t you introduce me to your escort?” His voice came out in a nasally whine that grated on Ian’s temper.
Belle, who had been trying to extricate herself from Ian’s grasp, gave up and made the introductions.
The squire bowed formally. “Graenfrae.”
Ian frowned at the familiar address and would have ignored the squire, but Belle jabbed him in the ribs. He grunted.
He inclined his head. “Squire.”
The squire turned toward Lord Stanton and greeted him. “I was just telling your lovely lady about some vases I saw at an auction on Marle Street.” Lord Stanton gave the squire a less than friendly look. “Thank you.”
“We’ll have to go directly there,” his wife breathed, “I don’t want someone else to get to them first.”
“Yes, dear, of course.”
Ian felt sorry for the harried husband. He doubted very much that Lord Stanton shared his wife’s sentiments. Squire Renton was aware of that fact as well if his look of satisfied malice was any indication.
Belle squirmed so she could face him when she spoke. “The squire was giving us a most interesting lecture on this set of carvings. He is truly a man of varied interests and knowledge.”
The squire smirked at Ian before bowing toward Belle. “You are too kind, dear lady, too kind.”
The approval in Belle’s voice for the other man twisted Ian’s insides. “’Tis time to meet your brother and Lady Hamilton. Come, Belle.” Her eyes opened wide. “I’m sure you are mistaken. It could not possibly have been an hour.”
He didn’t bother to answer, but continued to guide her toward the door. She twisted against him. “We should at least invite the squire to join us for tea.” Quickening her steps to keep up with him, she panted, “Ian, you are being rude.”
“The squire came to look at the display, Belle, not have tea with us.”
“Well, yes, I suppose you are right, but we should have asked.” They were in the outer corridor now.
Ian stopped and glared down at her. “Why? Do ye wish to sit and discuss the man’s varied interests?”
She moved a step away from him. Belle stared up at him. Ian grew uncomfortable under her gaze.
“You’re jealous,” she accused.
“Dinna be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. You are jealous. Surely you cannot believe that I find Squire Renton more interesting than I do you.” The disbelief in her voice went a long way toward soothing his raging emotions.
“If you find me so interesting than why are ye refusing to marry me?” The woman was so full of contradictions, he doubted he would ever understand her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “We agreed to discuss this tomorrow. Besides, one has nothing to do with the other.” She turned and headed toward another hallway.
“Let’s find my brother and Diana.”
* * *
Annabelle paced her bedroom, waiting for Ian to arrive. He had reminded her in no uncertain terms to be ready for their drive today. He wanted to discuss their future and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Wringing her hands, she sat down on the white coverlet of her bed.
Reminding herself that she was an independent woman of the nineteenth century did nothing to settle the mass of butterflies that had taken up residence inside. Drat the man.
Could he not just accept that she would not marry without love?
No, of course, he could not. Did she truly want him to?
No. She wanted him to fall in love with her, just as she had with him.
The truth would not be denied. She loved Ian and doubted she would ever love another. He understood her even when she didn’t understand herself. He had proven that in the carriage when he had brought her body such pleasure. She could have felt like a complete wanton. He had made her feel lovely, not cheap.
She twisted her fan, nearly breaking it. What was she going to do? If she refused Ian again, he might give up and pursue someone else. Her heart rebelled at the idea while her mind accepted that it was a possibility. If she accepted his offer and he never came to love her, she feared that her life ahead would be filled with misery. Her heart cried that it would be worse misery to live without him.
She was not altogether certain that her heart was wrong.
The door to her room burst open and she looked up, startled to see her sister-in-law.
Diana’s face was devoid of color and her eyes flew wildly around the room. Her normally perfect coiffure showed signs of agitated tugging. Wisps of hair floated around her face and her gown was crushed at the sides as if she had been gripping it in her fists.
Annabelle rushed to Diana’s side. “What is the matter?” Tears welled in the other woman’s eyes and slid unrestrained down her pale cheeks.
“I c-can’t bear it, Annabelle. You must help me.” Putting her arms around Diana, Annabelle tugged her toward the window seat.
“Certainly. You have only to tell me.”
Diana sank onto the window seat. “I-I… This man came and… Your brother…” Unable to finish a complete thought, Diana thrust a crumpled up piece of paper at Annabelle. “Read this.”
Annabelle scanned the note.
Lady Hamilton,
Meet me today at Gunther’s with one-hundred pounds or I’ll be forced to share my grandmother’s letters with your “friends” in the ton. Meet me at 3 p.m. with the money, or your husband will learn all.
Most Sincerely,
Your Cousin, Chester P. Thorn.
She would have laughed at its ludicrously overdramatic tone if Diana had not been so upset. “This is obviously the work of a lunatic. There is nothing here to concern you.” Diana shook her head wildly from side to side. “Oh, but there is.” Pulling another folded sheet from her reticule, she handed it to Annabelle.
Annabelle unfolded the paper and saw that it was a love letter from Diana�
�s grandfather to a woman clearly of the demi-rep set.
Diana’s tears were falling in earnest now. “Isn’t it awful? Oh, what shall I do?” She wailed the last question.
Annabelle stood up and rang her maid for some wine. When Purdy brought it, Annabelle dismissed her without letting her into the room to see Diana’s overwrought condition. She went back to her friend and forced a glass of wine into Diana’s hands.
“Drink this.”
Diana nodded her head like a child and took a sip of the wine.
“Start at the beginning and tell me all,” Annabelle said.
Annabelle’s insides churned with anger as her friend told her about meeting a man at the theater who threatened her with exposing the old scandal.
“And he wants me to meet him this afternoon. I don’t have a hundred pounds. I’ve spent most of my allowance on shopping.” She let out a long breath. “He even told me to sell my wedding pearls if I couldn’t come up with the money on my own.”
“The first thing we’ll have to do is tell Robert.” Diana grabbed Annabelle’s shoulders in a painful grip. “No, we mustn’t. It would devastate him. I could not stand it. Please, Annabelle, you must promise me that you won’t tell him.”
Annabelle gave up on telling Robert for the moment in lieu of getting more information. “Tell me more about the letters.”
“My grandfather had a peccadillo with this creature’s grandmother and evidently, Mr. Thorn’s mother was the result. He claims to have several love letters from my grandfather written to his grandmother,” Diana said.
Annabelle patted Diana’s arm. “I still think the best course of action would be to tell Robert and he will take care of this odious person. It is not the end of the world. Many gentlemen of the ton have had similar peccadilloes. Your grandfather was certainly not alone in his sin.”
“You don’t understand, Annabelle. Your brother must never find out about this. He is so proper and reputation is so very important to him. He would lose all respect for me.” Diana’s wooden tone worried Annabelle far more than her tears had done.