by Dawn Brower
“He’s a nice young man. I’ve met him walking in town.”
Cinderbury was indeed—nice, as her grandmother put it. “He didn’t want to dump me on your doorstep and run. I had to convince him of the wisdom of my plan.”
“No,” she agreed. “He doesn’t seem the type to run away from a problem. He’d make a good husband.”
Annalise rolled her eyes. Her grandmother was determined to find her a suitable husband and tear her from the duke’s grasp. She didn’t realize that would make things worse. “He’s not for me.”
“That’s your answer to every eligible gentleman I suggest,” her grandmother replied irritably. “Surely there is one that you like.”
She liked Cinderbury far more than she wanted to admit. If she gave her grandmother any indication she wouldn’t be averse to marrying the marquess, she’d never let up. The man in question deserved better than her. “I don’t wish to marry.” That was preferable than saying her father would never allow it.
Her grandmother sighed. “Darling granddaughter, you’ll never find happiness if you hide away from it.”
Sometimes hiding was far better than the misery defying her father gave her. She’d explained that to her grandmother several times, but the older woman kept hoping for a different answer. It wasn’t as if she never wanted to be happy. She wanted it desperately. Lord Cinderbury would be her first choice if she had one to make. “Are we going to have this discussion again?” Annalise lifted a brow, then picked up her tea to sip it. She stared at her grandmother over the rim, and then put the cup back on the saucer. “It won’t work, you know.”
“What?” her grandmother asked innocently. “Praying my granddaughter sees sense?”
No amount of praying would help her. Her fate had been sealed a long time ago, and she’d accepted it. Instead of feeding into her grandmother’s inquiries, she chose to ignore them and move onto another topic. “He’ll be sending someone here to check on me soon.”
“He’s a controlling bastard,” her grandmother said with hatred in her tone. “I tried to talk Sarah out of marrying him, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She had grand ideas about being a duchess.”
Her mother had served her purpose and given the duke his heir and a daughter he didn’t really want or need. To this day, Annalise still didn’t understand why her father had later married Estella’s mother. Maybe he had cared about her, but somehow, she doubted that. She didn’t believe her father was capable of caring. The reason he allowed Annalise to attend balls or leave the manor at all was for appearances sake. As long as the ton got a glimpse of her from time to time, they didn’t question when she disappeared.
“I barely knew my mother,” she said more to herself than anything.
“She was a lovely girl. You resemble her quite a bit.” Her grandmother sighed. “Though you’re stronger than she was. One day, you’ll realize that too and fight your father. He won’t see it coming either.”
Annalise wished she had the faith her grandmother did. “Everything is all right as it is.”
“Tell me you don’t believe that lie,” her grandmother said.
She didn’t, but she didn’t affirm it for her either. Instead, she sipped her tea and remained silent. Some things were better left unsaid. If she voiced how much she longed for more in her life, she’d welcome more despair into her heart. It was easier this way.
The sound of footsteps filled the house. Soon, a couple of footman came into the room. “My lady,” they said to the viscountess. “We’re here to escort Lady Annalise home. Her father is missing her.”
“How kind of them to send you two strapping young men to make sure she arrives safe. Do give my regards to his grace.” Her grandmother didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm from her voice. “Visit again soon, darling. It’s nice having you here for the night even if I had the storm to thank for the unexpectedness of it.”
“It’s been lovely, grandmother.” Annalise stood and then leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll visit another time as soon as I’m able.”
With those words, she turned on her heels and followed the footmen out of the room. They were two of her father’s favorite henchmen and would have no problem using force if they felt a need for it. She stopped long enough to grab her red cloak from the hook by the door and then exited the house. Dealing with her father would take every ounce of strength she had. The footman would find no trouble escorting her home. Some fights were best left for those with more stamina to deal with them, and some were more important to prepare for.
Ryan stared at the fire burning in the hearth. He hadn’t been able to sleep and couldn’t stop thinking about Lady Annalise. She’d been on his mind ever since he met her, but after last night… He shook his head and tried to dislodge the thoughts, but they were a permanent fixture. The lady had settled deep inside of his soul and planned on staying. Oh, he realized she had no control over him that way. At least she wasn’t doing it intentionally. That didn’t erase the fact that she’d burrowed her way into his psyche when he didn’t want her there.
He’d been surprised that she went out of her way to ensure they weren’t forced to marry. Ryan realized that many ladies were not scheming, and he’d often used his bad experiences to judge women he met. That was an impulse for him, and it took some time to shake free of it. Truthfully, he hadn’t believed Lady Annalise was a conniving woman. His issues were his own; however, he had trouble setting those aside where she was concerned.
Bloody hell…
What was he going to do? He stood and walked over to the bar, then poured two fingers of brandy into a glass. Ryan stared at it for several seconds before he raised it to his mouth and drained the contents. He set it down and stared at the empty glass. Drinking alcohol shouldn’t help clear his mind, but for some reason it had. In some strange way, everything suddenly made complete sense. He’d been draining his life of any possibility of love or joy by avoiding all that was good in the world. Estella had been his sole focus for many years. He’d used her as a way of avoiding what he really needed.
Lady Annalise hadn’t wanted to marry him. She believed it would be a disaster. She couldn’t be more wrong. They needed each other, and he’d prove it to her. Ryan had recognized the same despair in her eyes that he carried around in him. Maybe if they could find a way past that, they could find something more profound.
“Beasley,” he shouted.
The sound of a foot scraping across the floor was the only indication the butler had heard him. The door to his study opened slowly and an elderly gentleman entered. His gray hair had thinned, and the top of his head was nearly bald. He stood in the doorway as tall as he could, but his lanky frame was bent from the pain in his back he tried to hide. The man should have retired a long time ago, and Ryan had suggested it several times over the years. Sometimes pride got in the way of sense. The cottage didn’t need much upkeep, and day workers could be hired to do most of the chores.
When Ryan had told Annalise all the servants were gone, that hadn’t been a complete lie. Beasley hadn’t been a real servant to him in a long time. He kept him on because he refused to retire. Ryan considered him more family than servant. He’d been asleep in his quarters when Lady Annalise had arrived. Ryan would never have woken him to help though. He was an old man, and it would have pained him to help. There was something Beasley could assist Ryan with though—information.
“Yes, my lord,” Beasley asked.
“What do you know about the lady that lives in the manor west of here?”
“Lady Shelburne?” Ryan had met her a few times in town. He hadn’t realized she was such a close neighbor; however, he didn’t encourage her to talk much either. That was Lady Annalise’s grandmother’s name? So she wasn’t the duke’s mother. That meant she would be her maternal grandmother. That was interesting—though not entirely surprising. Saltford wasn’t the home of the ducal seat. Why would the duke have chosen to live most of the year in the area his wife had grown up though? That
was odd in itself and worth investigating.
“Yes, Lady Shelburne.” He nodded. “What can you tell me about her?”
“Not much, my lord.” Beasley tilted his head to the side. “She’s a widow. Her son inherited the title some years back. The former Shelburne estate is owned by the Duke of Wolfton. Some scandal around that—the young viscount lost it in a game of cards or something. I’m not certain of the details. She resides in the dowager house.”
“It wasn’t entailed?” Most lords made sure that their property remained entailed with the title to keep the estates intact. It was odd that Shelburne hadn’t.
“The house or the manor?” Beasley inquired.
“Either,” he prompted.
“It wasn’t renewed before the old viscount died, so nothing was entailed. The young viscount, at the time, had tried to offer the dowager house instead, but alas the person who won the wager refused.”
The duke had played the shiny new viscount. Ryan didn’t doubt that for a second. Perhaps it’s time he became more familiar with the dowager viscountess. Through her, he might learn more about Lady Annalise. He still wasn’t certain he wished to court her. He did know he wanted to become more acquainted with her, and he’d made a promise to Estella. Either way, he’d be seeing more of Lady Annalise whether she liked it or not.
Chapter Eight
Annalise sat in front of her vanity as Bess, her maid, brushed her hair. She dreaded the evening ahead of her. Her father had nearly bitten her head off as he yelled at her earlier and his teeth had stood out as he growled numerous times—an oddity, even for the duke. His nostrils had flared with regularity and Annalise winced every time she had looked at him. She’d decided it was best to avoid him as much as possible after that. Unfortunately, dinner had to be attended. He’d informed her that they would have guests for dinner and also for the next fortnight. She’d have to be on her best behavior whether she liked it or not. All she wanted to do was go stay with her grandmother and forget the misery of her father’s household.
“How would you like it styled, my lady?”
She’d rather it be something simple, but her father would disapprove. “Can you do something elaborate and beautiful?”
“You don’t have anything specific in mind?” Bess dragged the brush through her hair once more.
“No,” Annalise replied. “I trust you to use your own judgment.” She didn’t want to have to make that decision. Not that she’d ever let the maid take the blame if her father berated her later, but she had other things on her mind. The hairstyle she donned for the evening wasn’t even a consideration.
Her maid twisted Annalise’s hair until it was in an intricate chignon. It seemed all right, and she couldn’t see any cause for alarm. Hopefully her father wouldn’t pay her much mind with guests to entertain. She wished she knew who he’d invited. Where her father was concerned, a surprise should be avoided if at all possible—they were never good. Annalise had a horrid feeling in the pit of her stomach that the night would leave her in complete despair.
“There,” Bess said. “I’ll assist you into your dress now. We shouldn’t keep your father waiting.”
Annalise stood so she could step into her gown. It was a simple dinner dress of green silk and gold thread embroidered through the bodice. Her father chose everything she wore. He wanted to make sure she wasn’t dressed as a common whore. She didn’t understand why he believed she’d pick inappropriate gowns, but she stopped arguing with him years ago. Bess tied the laces on the back with efficiency.
“All done, my lady,” her maid told her. “I’ll be waiting for you after dinner. Is there anything you will need?”
She shook her head. “I’ll probably be tired and wish to rest as soon as possible. No bath tonight.”
“Very well.” Bess curtsied. “I’ll attend you then.”
She exited the room, giving Annalise a few precious moments of privacy. She stared at herself in the glass on her vanity. The green dress almost matched the color of her eyes. She’d give her father credit—he did have good taste in ladies’ clothing. It was time to face her father and the individuals he invited.
She left her room and walked slowly down to the sitting room. They would all gather there before going into dinner. Her father would offer the ladies sherry and the gentlemen brandy. He hadn’t even mentioned how many people he’d invited. Would they have even numbers?
Laughter floated out of the sitting room. At least one lady was in there. Maybe her father had decided to marry again. His first two marriages had left him a widower, so maybe he was lonely. If he had a wife to occupy his time, he’d notice Annalise less. It was horrible of her to wish her father on another woman, but she desperately wanted to escape his household. She entered the room and stopped short. There were three ladies and one gentleman, besides her father, in the room.
“Something in there frighten you?” a male said from behind her.
She spun on her heels and nearly squealed with excitement. “Marrok,” Annalise said happily as she hugged him. “I didn’t know you were coming in from London.”
“Easy, sprite,” he said. “You’re squeezing me to death.” He complained in a good-natured manner and then hugged her back. “Father summoned me. You know I can’t ignore him as I’d like to.”
Unfortunately, she did. “I’m sorry. It would be nice if he’d leave you be.”
“Who are the ladies in there?” He peeked over her shoulder. “I’m not sure I recognize them.” Marrok frowned as he scanned the room. “I don’t know the gentleman either. He must be one of father’s cronies; he looks around his age.”
Annalise didn’t care. Marrok being there made things better. Father must have a reason for it though, and she didn’t like it one bit. That dreaded feeling increased with the knowledge her brother was in for the surprise too. “We might as well go in and find out.”
They stepped into the room together. Everyone turned as they strolled in at a leisurely pace. They’d walked this path many times and had learned a long time ago to take their time. There was no reason to face their executioner sooner than needed. That may be a morbid way of viewing a meeting with their father, but it seemed apt considering how horrible he could be.
“Good, you are both here.” Her father stood and then approached them. “Before we go to dinner, I have some news for you.”
“Oh?” Marrok lifted a brow. “It must be huge for you to require me to come in from London.”
“It is,” the duke said, then joined the two of them. He slapped Marrok on the back. “I’d like you to meet Lady Penelope Everly and her daughters, Mirabella and Delilah.”
Something about the three ladies seemed familiar. Lady Penelope was lovely and near her father’s age, much like the other gentleman—perhaps they were married. It would explain their presence a little. Though nothing her father did every made sense. Lady Penelope had black hair and blue eyes. Delilah was a younger version of her mother, but Mirabella didn’t resemble them much. She had auburn hair and brown eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Annalise curtsied. She couldn’t help noticing the numbers were off. With her brother there, that made it three gentleman and four ladies.
“This is the Earl of Kildare,” her father said meeting Annalise’s gaze. “I’ve signed a betrothal contract and you’re to marry him.”
Her mouth fell open, and she wasn’t sure what to say. He wouldn’t? She closed her eyes for a brief moment and counted to ten. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d marry a man twice her age. Her father had gone too far this time. She’d find a way out of this mess, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. It would be far better to play her father’s game for now. She pasted a smile on her face. “Forgive me. I’ve been terribly rude. What a lovely surprise.” That she didn’t gag on her words was a testament to her strength of will.
Marrok stared at her as if she’d grown two heads then turned to face their father. “Thought you’d find a better match for her.”
>
“Be grateful I’m giving you a choice,” the duke said as he glared at Marrok. “You have the privilege of picking between Lady Penelope’s daughters. Inform me of your choice before they leave in a fortnight.”
Marrok’s gaze turned murderous, but he held his tongue. Though she wasn’t sure if he would have if they weren’t interrupted by Lord Cinderbury...
“Please accept my apologies for my tardiness,” the marquess said congenially. Once he entered the room, he was all Annalise noticed. “I was unfortunately delayed.” The marquess stopped to take in the room and froze. His eyes seemed to turn colder and harder than she’d ever seen in her life—it was quite similar to how Marrok’s appeared. He’d seemed jovial enough until he noticed the other three ladies in the room. They, in turn, appeared to gloat in his presence—as if they’d known how he’d react to finding them there.
He hadn’t paid any attention to Lord Kildare or her father. Both of the older gentleman had been sequestered in a corner as they nursed a glass of brandy. They’d been too deep in whatever they’d been discussing to pay the marquess any mind. But Lady Penelope and her daughters had. She’d be willing to bet they had something nefarious planned. Sadly, Annalise doubted she could stop whatever it was, but maybe she should try. She hated any form of injustice. It was why she’d helped Estella and Warwick find their way back to each other.
Her father had invited Lord Cinderbury to dinner for a nefarious reason. She didn’t know what it was, but she’d figure it out before the night concluded. One thing she did believe—he hadn’t included the marquess to even their numbers or out of the kindness of his heart. The duke didn’t work that way…
Dinner the night before had been hell. The last three people he expected to find there were his stepmother and stepsisters. He’d actively avoided the three of them at all costs. As far as he could tell, Delilah and Mirabella had turned out to be as wicked as their mother had been. Whoever they ended up marrying would regret it, and if he understood correctly, Lady Annalise’s brother, the Marquess of Sheffield, had to choose between the two of them. He didn’t envy Sheffield. He was exactly the type Lady Penelope would target—fortune, a title, and a future duke at that. If she could have pulled it off, she’d have tried to marry one of them to Ryan. She probably regretted that his father died before inheriting the title. She would never be a marchioness or a duchess, but she could try to snare those titles for her daughters.