“I’m very sorry you had to find out such distressing news that way. Did you learn anything of who your true father might be?”
Lord Gabriel shook his head. “Not a word. The identity of my father is as much a mystery as that of Sarah’s mother. I hope we can solve that riddle at least, for her sake.” He approached Annabelle and ran his fingers over the baby’s sparse thatch of fair hair in a fond caress.
Annabelle did not reply for she was suddenly overcome by a pang of dismay at the thought of the child’s mother ever being found. If, against all odds, it turned out Sarah belonged to Gabriel or Rory, Jack would not need to wed her in order to provide the child with a family. If, somehow, he turned out to be Sarah’s father, Jack would marry the mother of his child—another woman he did not love.
Which would be worse—being wed to a man who cared for her only as a friend or watching him wed someone else? She could not decide.
Gabriel continued to stroke little Sarah’s head, unaware of Annabelle’s inner tempest. “I know I can rely on you to keep my confidence. I am not ready to share it with my friends just yet. I did not mean to tell you, but you have a way of making a fellow want to confide in you. When I was growing up I often wished I had a sister like you.”
“I take that as a great compliment.” She could not help but wonder if that was how Jack viewed her too... and always would.
Then, as if conjured by her thoughts, Jack’s voice rang out, sharp and accusing. “What is going on here?”
Gabriel gave a violent start, perhaps wondering how much of his confession Jack had overheard.
Annabelle spun about to face him, jolting the baby awake. Little Sarah began to cry. “There is no need to shout.”
The strain of living under Jack’s roof, constantly torn by the intensity of her conflicted feelings for him, was wearing on her. “Now you’ve woken the baby. And what did you mean by that question? Gabriel and I have been looking after Sarah of course. We just got her to sleep.”
Annabelle had to raise her voice to carry over the baby’s increasing fuss. The tension in her body and the sharp edge of her tone would not calm the child, but she was powerless to control them. Jack Warwick had that unsettling effect on her, which she resented.
“I thought...” Jack sputtered. “That is... it looked like... Oh dash it! Can you not quiet her?”
“Can I not quiet her?” If her arms had not been full of squalling infant, Annabelle would have hurled something at him. “It is your fault she’s crying!”
Marching toward Jack, she thrust the baby into his arms. She needed a moment away from him to marshal her composure before she burst into tears of anger and frustration. That would not help Sarah and it would be humiliating besides. “You quiet her!”
With that, she dashed away, intending to retreat to her bedroom. Instead, she fled the house altogether. As she rushed down Bruton Street, Annabelle wondered if she would be better off never returning.
Chapter Ten
“THERE, THERE SARAH. Hush, dearest.” Jack rocked the baby in his arms trying to comfort her in the wake of Annabelle’s abrupt departure.
It was not easy to soothe the child with his emotions so wrought up. When he’d walked in on Annabelle and Gabriel standing so close together, talking in hushed tones, a wild possessive rage had flared within him. The guilty way they sprang apart and Annabelle’s defensive anger had intensified his suspicion that something must be going on between them.
Now Gabriel tried to edge his way out of the drawing room.
“Oh no you don’t!” Jack barked, which only made little Sarah more upset, adding fuel to the blaze in his belly. “You are not leaving here until I get some answers. Hush now, Sarah. I am not angry with you.”
“But you are with me?” Gabriel glared at Jack.
Did he resent having his tender moment with Annabelle interrupted? That was nothing to how Jack felt about catching the two of them in such an intimate moment.
“I am.” Jack moderated his tone and tried to relax his muscles so he could properly soothe the baby. “I thought it was understood when I asked Annabelle to stay with us that she was to be treated with the utmost respect.”
“Of course.” Gabriel’s scowl took on a puzzled twist. “I have treated Lady Southam with all the respect she deserves, which is more than I can say for you.”
Jack reeled as if from a physical blow. Gabriel had a brooding nature which he usually hid behind a mask of smooth urbanity. But he seldom stooped to confrontation. Not once since taking up residence together had there been a truly hostile exchange between them.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jack demanded.
Gabriel did not back down. “It means I have seen the way you watch her when she isn’t looking. Your tongue practically lolls out. It is obvious you are desperate to bed her.”
Jack longed to fling down a fierce denial. But how could he, when his friend’s accusation rang true?
Instead he sought to deflect attention from his behavior. “You are a fine one to talk. Sidling about, whispering in her ear. Trying to seduce her while she was holding the baby. Have you no shame?”
“I was doing no such thing!” Gabriel’s fists clenched. He looked as if he wanted to do what Jack had done to Lord Hawthorne. “I was stroking Sarah’s hair and speaking softly, so I would not wake her.”
Jack felt the sting of Gabriel’s rebuke, yet he could not let the matter drop. He must know what was going on between his friend and Annabelle. “What were the two of you talking about?”
“That is no business of yours,” Gabriel insisted. “But I assure you it has nothing to do with you, whatever your low-minded jealousy has conceived.”
“I am not jealous!” Jack glared at the younger man. “Whatever gave you such a daft idea?”
“Every single thing you have said and done since you walked in on us. Now quit quizzing me and see to the baby properly or I will.”
“If you try to touch her I will lay you out flat,” Jack growled, though his conscience echoed Gabriel’s accusations. What kind of father was he? “It’s all right, Sarah. I’m sorry I woke you. Shall we go down to the kitchen and get Cook to prepare your food?”
“Don’t get too possessive of Sarah,” Gabriel warned him. “None of your past lovers has proven to be her mother. I am growing more certain that she may be my daughter.”
Black fear gripped Jack. What if Gabriel was right? Might he lose the tiny creature who had come to mean so much to him? And Annabelle with her?
Gabriel stalked away, leaving Jack alone with the baby, whose crying abruptly ceased. Had she sensed the bristling hostility in the room?
“Forgive me.” He dropped a kiss on the downy crown of her head. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
Sarah gave a sniffle and snuggled against his shoulder. Jack doubted Gabriel and Annabelle would be so quick to forgive him.
He was about to head down to the kitchen when Gabriel suddenly reappeared.
“My mother is giving a ball later this month,” he announced in a sullen tone, as if the event was to be an evening of public torture. “You are invited and you had better attend.”
He disappeared again just as suddenly, leaving Jack altogether bewildered.
“Gabriel,” he called, trying to sound apologetic but not actually pleading. “Can you take Sarah for a bit?”
At first he received no answer but after a moment Gabriel returned.
He approached Jack warily. “Why? You threatened to flatten me if I tried, remember?”
Jack nodded toward the door. “I need to fetch Annabelle back. She left without a wrap or bonnet and the sky was threatening rain when I came in. I owe her an apology... and you as well.”
“So you do.” Gabriel took the baby and held her to his shoulder with no trace of the reluctance and awkwardness he’d shown only a few short weeks ago. “I have no designs on Annabelle. If you do, I hope you will not act upon your desires, for Sarah’s sake.”
Jack knew it
was no use denying he wanted Annabelle that way. Gabriel had seen him in the throes of passionate attraction too often to mistake the signs. “It is more complicated than that. I want her to marry me. I have compromised her reputation by bringing her into this house and I need to make it right.”
“Is that the only reason?” Gabriel fixed him with a look that probed far too deeply into his motives.
“Of course not!” Jack shot back as if his friend had trodden on a sore toe. “I told you it was complicated. Now I must go find her.”
As he brushed past his friend, Jack grazed the baby’s head with a kiss. “I will be back soon, little one.”
When he emerged from his townhouse a moment later, Jack glanced east toward New Bond Street then west toward Berkeley Square. His insides tightened when he saw no sign of Annabelle in either direction. Respectable ladies did not wander the streets unaccompanied, even in Mayfair. And unrespectable women could be the target of considerable impertinence... or worse.
For a moment Jack stood frozen. His gaze darted one way then the other. Where would Annabelle go? If he took the wrong direction in pursuit, he might never find her. The thought ripped his breath away and made his heart beat a thunderous tattoo in his ears.
Then it came to him. Her old rooms! They had brought most of her scant possessions to his house, but Annabelle had allowed Jack to continuing paying her landlord on her behalf, so she would not lose the place.
With a firm objective in mind, he now turned and ran toward New Bond Street as fast as his legs would carry him. His alarm did not ease until he caught a distant glimpse of Annabelle hurrying along Conduit Street. That flicker of encouragement spurred him to pursue her at even greater speed. The ominous sky was beginning to make good on its threat of rain. By the time he caught up with Annabelle, he had no breath for speech. Instead he caught her by the arm.
She gave a violent start and spun around. Her chestnut hair had been tousled and teased into a frizz by the dampness. Her face was wet too, though whether from rain or tears, Jack could not be certain.
“Blast you, Jack Warwick!” She cuffed his hand away. “You gave me a fright.”
“No more than... you gave me,” he gasped, “running off like that. You could catch a chill... or worse.”
He peeled off his coat and wrapped it around her. “Come home now, please. I should not have spoken to you and Gabriel the way I did. But when I saw you standing together so close... so intimate, I could only think of his reputation...”
“Which is no worse than yours,” Annabelle reminded him in a stern tone. But she did not refuse his coat.
Jack was so heated from running he’d welcomed any excuse to remove it. “Considerably better, I should say. Perhaps I was worried that you might marry Gabriel instead of me and raise Sarah with him.”
He turned and took a few tentative steps back in the direction of Bruton Street. To his vast relief, Annabelle followed. “Lord Gabriel Stanford has no more notion of marrying me than of flying to the moon. I should have known you were jealous of him on Sarah’s account, not mine.”
Should he contradict her? Jack could scarcely bear to admit the truth to himself. Would it make Annabelle more or less likely to accept his proposal if she knew he cared enough about her to be jealous of his friend?
Perhaps rather than presenting her with a practical proposition, he needed to put his persuasive charm to good use and woo Annabelle into marriage. But for that, they would need more time to themselves, away from the baby they both doted on.
As she and Jack walked back toward Bruton Street in the rain, Annabelle snuggled into his coat and tried not to imagine it was his arms enfolding her with their warmth and protection. It proved difficult as his shirt sleeves grew wet and clung to his firm-muscled arms and shoulders. She was reminded of the day they’d bathed the baby, when his shirt and her muslin dress had gotten soaked to near-transparency. Resolutely, she averted her gaze from him and forced her thoughts in a safer direction.
Jack had asked her to come home just now and it had not occurred to her to correct him. Only five weeks had passed since her precipitous arrival at his Bruton Street townhouse, yet already she felt more truly at home there than anywhere she’d lived since early childhood. Jack, Gabriel, the servants and even Rory had made her feel needed and wanted there. It was a most agreeable feeling. If only she could be content with it.
Now that he had caught his breath, Jack cleared his throat to break the brittle silence between them. “Gabriel tells me his mother plans to host a ball in the near future.”
Annabelle nodded. This was a safe subject for conversation. “So I gather. The duchess seems to believe that the best way to combat gossip is to maintain a high profile and behave as if nothing is wrong.”
Was that how Lady Cheviot had behaved when she discovered herself with child and her husband had reason to know the baby was not his? Annabelle wondered how the duchess could have borne with her broken marriage all these years, keeping the secret of her youngest son’s paternity. For the sake of her children, no doubt. If she’d eloped with her lover, the way Jack’s mother had, she might never have seen her elder sons again. Young Gabriel would have grown up a social outcast.
Was she being unforgivably selfish, Annabelle wondered, resisting Jack’s marriage plan because of what it might cost her? Instead, perhaps she should bear in mind that such an arrangement might benefit the child she had come to care for so deeply.
“Lady Cheviot’s strategy is as good as any I suppose.” Jack gave a chuckle that sounded forced. “A good deal better than assaulting a fellow member of one’s club. If we hope to counter the gossip surrounding this situation, it might be a good idea for you to attend Lady Cheviot’s ball with me.”
“I couldn’t.” A host of objections rose instinctively to Annabelle’s lips. “Someone needs to look after Sarah. Before you suggest it, I am not convinced a trio of valets would make suitable nursemaids, no matter how fond they are of her. Besides, I have no gown fit to wear to a ball and I am hopeless at dancing. I was only called in now and then if my cousins’ dancing master needed another person to make up a set. Ralph and Reggie would purposely trip me up and the dancing master would point out all my mistakes to instruct the others.”
“I remember.” Jack’s voice held equal parts warm sympathy for her and fierce outrage against anyone who had mistreated her. “I was the one who loosened the cinch on the dancing master’s saddle so he tumbled off into the mud.”
A sputter of laughter burst from Annabelle. “I’d forgotten about that! How it offended his dignity. You put a great deal of effort and imagination into avenging me.”
She glanced sideways at him and they exchanged a grin.
Jack gave a droll shrug. “I tried.”
By now they had reached Bruton Street. The rain was falling harder than ever, but Annabelle scarcely noticed.
Jack did not appear to either. “Back to the subject of Lady Cheviot’s ball. All your objections are the very reasons you deserve an evening out. It is long past time we hired someone to help you look after Sarah. I know none of the women we interviewed as wet nurses were suitable to replace you, but surely we could find someone younger whom you could train properly to assist you.”
No sooner did she hear Jack’s suggestion than Annabelle knew the ideal person. “There is someone who might do very well if she is still available. A girl who lived in my building with her sister and brother-in-law. They were trying to persuade her to marry a man she did not like.”
More than once she’d found Polly crying on the landing and invited her in to talk. If the poor girl had not given in to her family’s pressure, she might be happy to come to Bruton Street and earn her own living.
“Very well then.” Jack opened the door to his house and held it for Annabelle to enter. “Let us get dried off then we can take the carriage round to speak with her.”
Dried off? As Annabelle entered the house, she caught a glimpse of herself in the vestibule mirror
. She cringed to see what a bedraggled ruin the rain had made of her hair.
Jack did not seem to notice, for which she was torn between gratitude and offense. “As for a ball gown, I could buy you a whole new wardrobe and still not have discharged one-tenth of the debt I owe you.”
Removing his coat with some reluctance, Annabelle shook her head. “Do you know anything about propriety? No gentleman is permitted to make a gift of clothing to a lady without compromising her reputation. I thought the whole reason you invited me to attend Lady Cheviot’s ball was to repair the damage you’ve already done to mine.”
Jack gave a shamefaced grimace as he took his sodden coat from her. “That is only one of the reasons. Very well, then, go out and buy a gown for yourself.”
Much as the prospect tempted her, Annabelle knew she must be practical. “I only have a little money left and I must save it to live on until I can find work. I cannot squander it all on frippery I may only ever wear for one evening.”
She meant to toss off the words lightly as she headed away to make herself presentable. But an unwelcome note of wistfulness crept into her voice when she thought of leaving this house to make her own way in the world.
As she spoke, she heard Jack’s footsteps close behind her. “If you would marry me, raising Sarah and our children could be your life’s work. You would never have to worry about money again. Would it really be so disagreeable to have me for a husband that it would outweigh all the practical advantages?”
“Our children?” The words squeaked out of Annabelle in a tight, breathless voice, as if she were being strangled with a velvet cord.
“Well, naturally.” Jack sounded as if he was the one now trying to make light of a subject without success. “I am the heir to an earldom after all. Even if Sarah were my daughter, she could not succeed me. If your life had worked out as it should, you would have borne Frederick an heir to the Knightlow title. This could be an opportunity to correct that unfortunate twist of fate.”
A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors Page 33