A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  The old devil-may-care Jack Warwick could scarcely believe those words were coming out of his mouth. But that was not the kind of man he wanted to be any more. Even before Baby Sarah landed on his doorstep, he’d been restless and dissatisfied with his former life of empty, selfish pleasure. In hindsight, he realized he’d been craving a greater purpose. He had found it in that tiny, helpless infant. She needed him in a way no one ever had—with the possible exception of young Annabelle.

  But Annabelle had grown up and become Frederick’s responsibility to care for. Once Frederick was gone, she’d made it abundantly clear she no longer wanted anything he could give her.

  Now her lush lips compressed into a tight, disapproving line. “I believe we have been out long enough. You may not have noticed, but people are staring at us. I would rather not present any more of a spectacle for gossip.”

  She was right. He had not noticed. A qualm of shame seethed through Jack’s belly. Since taking a seat in the carriage opposite Annabelle, he’d had eyes for no one else. Now he marked the people turning to follow their passage then looking away to engage in furious chatter. He had long since grown accustomed to being an object of gossip. Indeed he had taken perverse pride in it. But the notion of people speculating about Annabelle and condemning her, made him itch to knock some heads together.

  “Take us home at once,” he called to his driver.

  “Don’t pay the gossips any mind,” he advised Annabelle. “They will seize on some new subject before you know it and forget whatever occupied their malicious tongues the day before.”

  “It is easy for you to be philosophical.” Two bright red spots burned high in Annabelle’s cheeks. “You have had years to become accustomed to it.”

  What exactly were the gossips saying? Jack wondered. Were they recounting Baby Sarah’s arrival on his doorstep, trying to guess the identity of her father and mother? Or were they questioning Annabelle’s presence in his household and the nature of his connection with her? He wanted to be indignant at the workings of such sordid minds. But how could he when he was bedeviled by his dishonorable desires?

  “Forgive me.” He begged her pardon for more than he could begin to confess. “I did not mean to subject you to gossip when I invited you on this drive.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “You were trying to be considerate and I do appreciate the thought. But as you can see, sometimes the kindest intentions may have unpleasant consequences. I fear that could be the case with your marriage idea. For Sarah’s sake, I beg you not to rush into anything.”

  Her warning gave Jack pause. Until he’d unexpectedly come into the inheritance from his mother’s uncle, he’d had nothing to offer a wife. And nothing could have induced him to better his prospects by pursuing an heiress. Besides, memories of his parents’ marriage had discouraged him from wanting to think about matrimony at all.

  Sarah’s arrival had changed all that. The last thing he wanted was for her to grow up as he had—under a cloud of old scandal, deprived of parents due to their faulty, selfish decisions. His thoughtless behavior might have begotten her out of wedlock and led her mother to abandon her at his door. If he had to spend the rest of his life making that up to her, he would. He only wished he could rely on Annabelle’s support in such a serious undertaking. It was not too much to ask, surely.

  “I am sorry you do not approve of my decision. I hoped you would. But whether you do or not, it is what I feel I must do. I hope once you get used to the idea, you will see it is for the best.”

  “Perhaps,” Annabelle murmured, though her dark eyes held deep shadows of doubt. “Much as I care for Sarah, I do not want to see you give up your chance of happiness in exchange for hers.”

  Jack shook his head. “I never knew real contentment or happiness until she came into my life. From now on, as long as she is happy, I will be.”

  “How goes the hunt?” asked Annabelle the following week after Jack returned from meeting with another of his former paramours, who had recently arrived in London from the country.

  Lately she found herself gripped with dread whenever he came home from such an interview. She looked hopefully for signs of frustration or failure—a tense frown or slumped shoulders. Those would mean she was in no immediate danger of losing Sarah and the place in Jack’s household that had become far too important to her.

  “Another dead end.” Jack heaved a deep sigh and cast himself onto the nearest armchair. “I am beginning to wonder if there has been some wretched mistake and Sarah does not belong to any of us.”

  He looked so dejected, Annabelle could not help but repent her earlier selfishness. Jack had let little Sarah into his heart in a way he had never permitted any other female. What if he was right that she did not belong to any of them? What if Sarah’s mother realized her mistake and returned to reclaim the child? Annabelle could not bear to think how that might affect Jack and her.

  The baby lay on a blanket on the carpet and chewed on a ring of smooth coral that was reckoned to help infants cut teeth. When Jack entered, Sarah looked toward him, waving her small arms. For the moment, he seemed too discouraged to notice. Or was he deliberately ignoring her for fear of getting too attached, only to lose her? If so, it was a fear Annabelle could understand.

  But little Sarah could not. She could only sense in whatever way babies did, that the man who’d paid her so much attention had suddenly turned indifferent. How might that affect her view of herself and her feelings toward the rest of the world?

  “Does it matter so much whether she has your blood?” Annabelle asked as she watched the baby wave harder and squirm in Jack’s direction. It reminded her of the lengths to which she’d once gone to attract his attention. “You care for her and she is vastly attached to you. She likes Gabriel and is amused by Rory, but you are the gentleman she truly dotes on.”

  Her assurance seemed to lift the weight of gloom that bowed Jack down. He sat up straighter and looked toward the wriggling little creature with a fond smile. “She is not indifferent to me, but you are undoubtedly the one she loves best, Annabelle. No wonder, considering the devoted care you have given her. It is beyond anything I would have dared ask when I first turned to you for help.”

  The warmth of gratitude and admiration in his tone touched Annabelle’s heart like a caress. It was almost enough to satisfy her.

  “Sarah relies on me for everything,” she tried to explain. “For feeding, cleaning, comforting. That creates a bond, of course.”

  She was about to say more when the baby’s energetic, squirming made her flip over onto her belly. She gave a little gasp, which Annabelle feared might mean she’d frightened herself. Both of the adults started up from their seats to comfort the child.

  But before they could reach her, Sarah let out a squeal of delight, followed by a sweet, bubbling chuckle.

  “Are you proud of yourself?” Annabelle dropped to her knees beside the baby, who held her head up and looked around with a triumphant grin. “Moving about under your own power. Before we know it, you will be creeping, then toddling on leading strings. There will be no peace for us then, will there?”

  Though she continued to present a cheerful, animated appearance to the baby, a bleak chill swept through Annabelle like the damp winter drafts in her old rooms. It was unlikely she would be the one to chase around after Sarah, clinging to the long ties sewn onto the clothes of children that age. More than ever, she could sympathize with Jack’s earlier sadness.

  His mood seemed to lift as he knelt beside the baby

  “What a clever girl you are!” he cried, as if rolling over were a feat no infant in the world had ever mastered before. “Well done indeed!”

  His enthusiasm was so endearing, Annabelle could not begrudge it.

  He whisked Sarah into his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world, rather than the terrifying ordeal he had once considered it. Then he walked her around the room with a bouncing, swaying gait the baby seemed to enjoy. As Annabelle rose f
rom the floor, she watched them. She approved of the way Jack held the baby, firmly enough to keep her secure but not too tight.

  She could scarcely believe the change that had come over him in the past few weeks. He kept early hours, seldom went out except to seek Sarah’s mother or to make purchases for the baby. His consumption of spirits was more than usually temperate and he seemed to have given up gambling altogether. Annabelle was quite certain Jack had not been keeping company with any women... unless one of the meetings with his former lovers had taken an amorous turn. The possibility troubled her, though she told herself his conquests were none of her business.

  This new responsible, grown-up Jack attracted her even more than the charming, boyish rake. That attraction made it hard for her to remember she wanted only his friendship. She must stop mooning over him like a lovesick girl and concentrate on giving Sarah the best possible care.

  “Oh my!” Jack stopped and gave a loud sniff. “I believe someone needs a change of linen.”

  Just then, Annabelle caught a pungent whiff. She made a face and fanned her nose. “That would make Uncle Rory fly in the other direction. Give her here. I will clean her up.”

  Jack shook his head and started for the stairs. “I cannot pretend to have mastered the arcane mysteries of diapering as you have. But I will do whatever I can to assist you.”

  A few moments later, Annabelle investigated the extent of the mess. She shook her head. “This young lady needs more than a change. She will require a full bath. Can that be arranged?”

  “Of course.” Jack gave the baby a final tickle under the chin then headed for the door. “In this house we subscribe to Beau Brummel’s edicts about proper grooming. I will have the tub, water and towels fetched at once.”

  “I will need your help to bathe her, if you don’t mind,” Annabelle called after him. “Like hand-feedings, bathing a baby properly requires at least three hands—two to hold her and one to do the actual washing.”

  “Of course,” Jack returned to take away the soiled napkin. “Do you suppose laundering will be sufficient to get this clean or should we just burn it?”

  Annabelle could not help but chuckle, which made Sarah laugh as if she understood the jest.

  While Jack’s servants set up the tub and fetched hot water, Annabelle let the baby roll about on the bed, naked as a plump little cherub. Sarah seemed to enjoy the opportunity for unhampered movement and the sensation of the air upon her bare skin. She cooed and babbled as if speaking her own infant language. Now and then she let out a chortle of private amusement. The valets and footmen all performed their tasks eagerly, with indulgent smiles. Annabelle sensed they were almost as besotted with the baby as their masters.

  “There,” Jack announced a short while later. “The water seems to be of the proper depth and temperature. Shall we begin?”

  To Annabelle’s surprise, he removed his coat, waistcoat and cravat, then rolled up his shirtsleeves. The sight of his firm-muscled forearms and the wedge of chest visible at the open neck of his shirt kindled a flicker of heat deep in her belly. How was she supposed to be satisfied with Jack’s chaste friendship when such sights stoked her unwelcome attraction?

  “Well?” His brows creased in a puzzled expression when he caught her gaping at him. “Shall we get on with it before the bath water grows cold?”

  “Yes, of course.” Annabelle seized the baby, chiding herself for her preoccupation. She was here to care for the baby, not to ogle Jack.

  She thrust Sarah into his waiting arms then quickly retreated. She did not trust herself too close to him in her present state. Not long ago he might have gotten flustered by such an abrupt transfer. But today he grasped the baby with newfound assurance.

  He lowered her into the tub, then dropped to his knees on the floor behind it. As the baby slid into the warm water she gave a squeal of delight and brought her arms down in a vigorous splash. She gasped and sputtered when the water flew up to wet her face and her downy tuft of fair hair. Clearly she had not foreseen the result of striking the water. Once she caught her breath, she gave a gurgle of laughter and splashed again. This time Annabelle sensed it was deliberate.

  “I am pleased to see she likes the water.” Annabelle knelt beside the tub and began to ply a washcloth over her small charge. “Some of my younger cousins could not abide it. Bathing them was such an ordeal.”

  “Do you ever hear from any of them?” Jack asked. “To this day Ralph and Reggie give me a wide berth whenever we meet at the Club. I don’t remember any of the younger ones.”

  By now Sarah had discovered that kicking her legs could also produce amusing splashes. The water flew up, giving Annabelle a proper drenching.

  “I can see I am going to end up almost as wet as you, little imp.” She scolded fondly, giving Sarah’s small face a thorough scrub. Then she returned to Jack’s question. “My aunt and some of the girls tried to make up to me after I married Frederick. But when they learned his father opposed the match they fairly tripped over each other to distance themselves from me again. I have had no contact with any of them since, which is how I prefer to keep it. They never wanted me as part of the family, only as an unpaid servant masquerading as charity.”

  She had not meant to allow her long-simmering grievances to boil up like that. But at least it distracted her from her intense awareness of Jack and his state of partial undress.

  “I hope you do not think that is what I am doing,” he cried. For an instant, he lost his grip on the slippery baby who almost slid under the water.

  Both Jack and Annabelle grabbed for the child at the same time. Their hands brushed against one another as he caught little Sarah just in time.

  The instant Annabelle knew Jack had a secure hold on the baby once again she pulled away abruptly, as if his touch scalded her.

  “No indeed!” she gasped in reply to his question. “Though I would not be surprised if you were doing quite the opposite—using the excuse of my helping you with the baby to provide me with charity.”

  “Nonsense,” Jack focused on the wriggling baby, avoiding Annabelle’s gaze. “The last thing I want is for you to feel like a servant in my house. The truth is, I could never afford to pay what your assistance has been worth to me. You have done far more than look after Sarah. For the first time since I acquired the leasehold on this place, it feels like a home.”

  “This little one deserves the credit.” A strange, sweet satisfaction bubbled up within Annabelle, defying any effort to subdue it. “Now that I have washed the front of her, I must tackle her back and her bottom. Will you hold her out for a moment so I can reach those places?”

  “Anything to be of service.” Jack leaned forward and held the baby away from the back of the tub.

  Annabelle tried several different approaches to wash Sarah’s back without coming into contact with Jack, but it proved impossible. Her arm grazed one of his, making it break out in a prickle of goose bumps. For a fleeting instant, her bosom pressed against his other arm. Her nipples puckered and the flicker of warmth in her loins erupted into a full blaze.

  She pulled back abruptly, though part of her wanted to linger close to him for as long as he would let her.

  “There now...” The words came out in a high-pitched squeak. “... I think she is clean enough to be going on with.”

  As she reached for a towel, her gaze fell on Jack’s shirt. The baby’s cheerful splashing had soaked the garment quite thoroughly, plastering it to his chest. The white cloth had turned all but transparent, giving Annabelle a breathtaking glimpse of his well-toned body.

  Her mouth watered as if in response to a delectable banquet. Her imagination conjured up vivid images of his naked body. Her hand tingled with the urge to caress that tempting flesh. Every wicked thought set her cheeks ablaze. Was Jack aware how the sight of his body affected her?

  She forced her gaze upward to his face only to find he was not looking at hers. Instead, his eyes were focused lower and his mouth hung slack.
r />   Chapter Eight

  SEVERAL DAYS AFTER they had bathed the baby, Jack still could not get the image of Annabelle’s exquisite breasts out of his mind. When she caught him gaping, she had quickly turned away, blushing and sputtering with acute embarrassment. Jack wanted to assure her such physical perfection should be no cause for shame. Quite the contrary, in fact. It should be celebrated like the priceless classical statues of which she reminded him.

  But he knew that was not the sort of remark one ought to make to a longtime friend, the widow of his dear cousin. The last thing he wanted to do was make her ill-at-ease in his home when little Sarah needed her devoted care. So he’d behaved like a gentleman, averting his eyes when every masculine instinct urged him to look. Instead, he’d concentrated on getting the baby dried and dressed, making tiresome chatter to ease the awkwardness of the moment. Then he whisked little Sarah away so Annabelle could change into dry garments.

  She’d emerged later, wearing a dowdy, dark-colored dress topped with a voluminous apron. But it made no difference. Whenever Jack looked at her, he could still picture her firm, ripe breasts, their dusky peaks as hard and yearning as that forbidden glimpse of them had made him. He’d hoped the carnal nature of his fancies did not show on his face, but he feared it must, for Annabelle’s manner toward him had grown noticeably cooler.

  Why had his feelings toward her taken this sudden lustful turn after all these years? Was it her continual nearness after he had been without female companionship? Or had this attraction existed all along, suppressed and ignored because of his loyalty to Frederick and his affection for them both?

  One thing Jack knew for certain. If Annabelle thought he regarded her like one of his fleeting conquests, she would flee his house and his protection, never to return. What was more—his oldest friend in the world might despise him forever. He could not bear that, any more than he could stand to deprive Sarah of the woman who’d become like a mother to her.