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

by Michelle Willingham

  He was following so closely behind her that Annabelle fancied she could feel the whisper of his breath on her neck. It made her break out in goose bumps. Or perhaps that was only the chill from her wet hair.

  She wished Jack had not mentioned her late husband at a time like this. It only reminded her that she had not been a good wife to Frederick. She did not deserve to be a countess or to marry Jack.

  But as he continued to speak in a deep, caressing murmur, the beguiling music of his voice drove doubt and guilt from Annabelle’s mind, leaving only a hot shimmer of desire. “Does the prospect of bearing my children and being a proper wife to me make you more or less inclined to accept my proposal?”

  By now they had reached the foot of the stairs. Annabelle stopped and spun around to face him. “I-I don’t know.”

  Those few words were all she could force from her constricted throat. How ridiculous they sounded, even to her.

  Jack did not seem to think so. His lips spread in an inviting smile that promised... or threatened to melt all her reservations. “Let me help you make up your mind, then. I may not be the man with whom you hoped to make a life and raise a family, but I can provide for you, give you a position in Society and a purpose in life.”

  Leaning closer, he whispered. “Besides, I have learned a thing or two about bringing a woman pleasure. You are too young and beautiful to shut yourself off from that side of life forever.”

  “Beautiful?” Cringing at the recollection of her bedraggled image in the vestibule mirror, Annabelle raised a hand to the sodden wreck of her hair. It was no use. There was nothing she could do to make it look any better without a comb, hairpins and at least half-an-hour’s effort. “You must be joking!”

  Jack’s eyes twinkled the way she had often seen them during her youth. “Perhaps you do not appear to best advantage at the moment, but this look is not without a certain charm.”

  He caught one damp lock of her hair between his thumb and fingers, caressing it as if to savor the texture. “This is how I have often imagined a water nymph might look... though with fewer clothes, of course.”

  His low, bewitching chuckle seemed to glide like a moist tongue over parts of her where it had no business being.

  Her sense of caution warned Annabelle to fly up the stairs and lock herself in her room before she dissolved into a puddle of wanton yearning at his feet.

  Would that be so bad? A rebellious voice inside her demanded. There was more than a little truth in what Jack said. She was too young to condemn herself to a life of celibacy. Not out of grief and longing for Frederick as his cousin believed, but out of guilt that might be misplaced. After all, she had never intended to bring her husband trouble or dissatisfaction. Quite the opposite. He had insisted he could not be happy unless she agreed to marry him. When it became clear Jack did not want her, she had let him persuade her that she would grow to love Frederick in time.

  Was that such a sin to require a lifetime of penance?

  Perhaps not. But reflecting on it reminded Annabelle that she had once gone badly wrong by giving in to Jack Warwick’s persuasion. Did she dare risk doing it again no matter how urgently her desire for him pleaded?

  Chapter Eleven

  HE ALMOST HAD her.

  As he and Annabelle lingered at the foot of the stairs, Jack had never been so certain that a woman wanted him as much as he did her. The rosy flush in her cheeks and topaz sparkle in her brown eyes both intensified when he’d whispered of the pleasure he could bring her. Now her lush lips parted, as if in anticipation of the kiss he longed to give her.

  Jack’s pulse galloped as he leaned toward her, eager to oblige. Perhaps if the experience proved as agreeable as he was capable of making it, Annabelle might be persuaded to accept his proposal.

  His lips were within inches of hers when Gabriel’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs, cascading over them like a stream of cold water. “Thank goodness you’re back! Sarah was wet so I tried to change her, but I made a dog’s breakfast of it, I’m afraid. All that folding and tucking is harder than tying a cravat properly.”

  Oblivious to the sparks of attraction arcing between Annabelle and Jack, his friend marched down the stairs and thrust the baby into Annabelle’s arms. It was all Jack could do to keep from throttling him.

  Annabelle regained her composure much more quickly, making him wonder if he’d only imagined her earlier response. “It was good of you to try, Lord Gabriel. Diapering is not an easy skill to master.”

  Having relieved himself of his responsibility for the baby, Gabriel now glanced from Annabelle to Jack. “I can see that Sarah is not the only one who needs changed into something dry. Both of you ought to get out of those wet clothes before you catch a chill.”

  Meanwhile Jack glared daggers at his friend. If not for Gabriel’s untimely interruption, he might have succeeded in talking Annabelle out of her wet clothes and into his warm bed. There he could have demonstrated just how pleasurable marriage to him might be.

  Annabelle shivered. “You are quite right, Lord Gabriel. I shall go change Sarah at once, then find dry garments for myself. I apologize for running out on you like that. I do not know what got into me.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “No need to apologize. Caring for an infant day in and day out is an exhausting task. I had no idea. It is only natural that you would want a few moments to yourself. Not to mention a breath of fresh air.”

  The way Gabriel spoke, it sounded as if he had forgotten the recent spat in the drawing room between them. Now Jack feared Annabelle would rush away with the baby and do everything in her power to avoid him. If she did, he might lose whatever ground he had gained in his campaign to win her.

  “My friend makes a very good point.” Jack planted himself in front of the stairs to bar Annabelle’s escape until he had his say. “One we discussed on the walk home. It is high time you had a proper helper in addition to the three of us. Do you reckon that friend of yours would be willing to accept the position?”

  “I believe she would.” Annabelle glanced toward him but her gaze travelled no higher than his cravat. “If her family have not already coerced her into marrying Mr. Oldcastle.”

  “Then we should go inquire at once,” said Jack. “As soon as I have changed into dry clothes, I will call for my carriage.”

  He addressed Gabriel next. “I assume you can watch the baby while we are on our errand. Or Rory. Where in blazes is he? I have scarcely caught a glimpse of him in days.”

  “Is someone taking my name in vain?” Rory appeared at the top of the stairs, looking as if he had just woken. “If you must know, I have a new liaison. For some reason all this scandal surrounding the baby has made the three of us more attractive than ever to the fair sex. Unlike you, I intend to make the most of the opportunity.”

  “Thank heaven you are not Sarah’s father!” Jack muttered under his breath. Aloud, he replied, “Do what you like as long as you take your turn helping out with Sarah’s care.”

  He expected Rory to protest that he should have no more responsibility for an infant who was not his.

  Instead his friend descended the stairs with a step that sounded almost jaunty. “I shall do my part, never fear. I have become quite attached to that young lady, in spite of her occasional deafening outbursts and vile excretions.”

  At the sound of Rory’s approaching voice, the baby looked toward him and gave a sweet gurgle of laughter that made all the adults smile.

  “That is reassuring to hear.” Jack stepped aside to let his friend pass. “In that case, you can help Gabriel look after her while Annabelle and I investigate hiring a nursemaid.”

  “It will be my pleasure.” Rory tickled the baby under the chin, which made her squeal with mirth. “Just let me fortify myself with a little coffee.”

  “By all means,” said Annabelle. “Sarah and I both need a change of clothes before I go anywhere.”

  She approached the staircase, only to stop and wait until Jack moved out o
f her way.

  “Can I help?” he murmured as she passed. Then he realized how his offer might sound. “With the baby, I mean.”

  He could not deny that he would very much like to help Annabelle out of her clothes, but this was not the time to dwell on it.

  “I can manage on my own, thank you.” She refused to meet his gaze. “Besides, you need to see to yourself if we are to venture out in public.”

  Her voice and manner seemed to exude a chill, as if she sensed his intentions and wanted to thwart them.

  Thinking back on their earlier interrupted conversation, Jack wondered if he had made the classic gambler’s mistake of overplaying his hand.

  As Annabelle peeled off her wet garments, a shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the damp chill. It was the memory of Jack’s smoldering gaze and his promise of the pleasure he could bring a wife that made her tremble.

  “He doesn’t care for me, you know,” she addressed the baby, who lay in her cradle, chewing on one tiny hand.” He only wants a mother for you and a means to assuage his conscience. In return he will give me a fortune and a title, security and children, including you. Any prudent woman should jump at that sort of opportunity, shouldn’t she? Of course Frederick promised all that too and look how that turned out.”

  She donned dry undergarments and tried to ignore the heightened awareness of her own naked body that Jack’s provocative words had kindled. But even covering herself in her most modest dress could not entirely subdue the sensation.

  “He said I looked like a water nymph,” she announced in a tone of derisive doubt as she took a seat at her dressing table and tried to comb her tangled mane into submission. “Have you ever heard anything so fanciful?”

  The baby chuckled as if she understood and agreed.

  Yet as Annabelle combed out her hair, she could not help assessing her looks and finding more to approve than she usually did. The brisk walk had given her complexion a becoming glow. Her mouth might be a bit too large, but it did have a pretty shape. The way Jack had looked at her and spoken made her feel desired and desirable by one she desired in turn. For the first time since Frederick’s death she did not feel entirely undeserving of that gift.

  “Wanting is not the same as loving,” she warned herself, twisting her wayward hair into a tight, sensible plait then pinning it up. “Jack Warwick wants any attractive woman who crosses his path... until she yields to his blandishments. Then she is cast aside without a second thought.”

  The only thing worse she could imagine than being cast off by Jack would be if she must continue to live as his wife, knowing his interest had waned. It would make the heartache she had suffered when he urged her to wed his cousin seem like a trifle.

  The severity of her tone must have made an impression on little Sarah, for the child began to fuss.

  “Oh never fear.” Annabelle sprang up and scooped the baby from her cradle. “You are one lady of whom he will never tire. His feelings for you are tender and true. Think of everything he has done to insure your comfort and happiness.”

  Could she not say the same about herself? A mischievous imp of hope seemed to whisper in Annabelle’s ear. She shared a bond of friendship with him that no other woman had. When the wounds from his mother’s abandonment had made it impossible to trust any other female, he had trusted her and depended on her. He had judged her worthy of his beloved cousin. Since bringing her into his household, he had fought to defend her honor. Did all that add up to a sum close to love?

  A brisk knock on her door made Annabelle start.

  “Are you ready?” Jack called. “Do you want me to take Sarah while you change clothes?”

  She pulled open the door just as he finished speaking. “There is no need for that. We are both ready.”

  As always, her heart picked up tempo when she caught sight of Jack. His golden brown hair looked darker when wet. He had combed it back, but the dampness made it curl here and there in a way that appeared somehow endearing.

  Was she only imagining it or did a special glow illuminate his hazel eyes at the sight of her? Or perhaps it was only little Sarah, who had won his heart so unreservedly? Annabelle wished she could be certain. Perhaps then she could find the courage to accept Jack’s proposal.

  “In that case, let us be on our way.” He lavished Annabelle with a smile that made her knees weak and her resolve to resist him weaker. “We have a nursemaid to hire.”

  Annabelle could not deny it would be most agreeable to have another woman in the house, especially Polly, with whom she’d felt a bond. She only hoped they would not be too late for Polly.

  They left the baby with Gabriel and Rory, who looked a good deal better after drinking some coffee.

  As they drove toward her old lodging house, Annabelle wondered whether Jack would use their time alone to press his suit. She could not decide whether she wanted him to or not.

  He cleared his throat. “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

  Her pulse picked up speed. “What might that be?”

  “Since we will be at your lodgings, why not collect the last of your belongings and give your landlord notice. Why pay rent on rooms you do not need?”

  Did he assume she would agree to marry after his seductive promises and no longer need another place to live? Was that why he chose to discuss mundane matters like this rather than renew his romantic overtures?

  Annabelle bridled. “If you would rather not have the expense, I shall assume it again, never fear. I still have some money I saved from your uncle’s allowance. I did not ask you to pay my rent—you insisted.”

  “Because it was the only way you would let me compensate you for all the help you have given with Sarah,” Jack shot back. “If you insist on keeping the place, I will pay, but it strikes me as a greater waste of money than buying a new gown for Lady Cheviot’s ball.”

  Annabelle shook her head. “That would be an extravagance. My rooms are a necessity.”

  Jack greeted her insistence with a look that mingled vexation and bewilderment. “When they sit empty? How is that necessary?”

  “So I have somewhere to go.” She tried to explain the urgent compulsion she scarcely understand herself. “In case someone else claims the baby and you no longer need me.”

  A glint of panic flared in Jack’s eyes. “That is not going to happen! You are going to marry me and we are going to raise Sarah together.”

  “Are we, indeed?” Was he so certain no woman could resist his blandishments? “My memory must be failing me. I do not recall accepting your proposal.”

  Jack opened his mouth to reply just as the carriage stopped in front of Annabelle’s lodging house.

  He swallowed whatever words hovered on his tongue and inhaled a deep breath. “We will talk more about this later. Now we need to hire you an assistant.”

  As they climbed the steep, narrow stairs to the flat occupied by Polly’s sister and her husband, Annabelle wondered why Jack found her need for a place of her own so puzzling. Did he of all people not understand that those cramped, squalid rooms represented a precious degree of independence after a lifetime of servitude and necessity?

  Polly’s sister answered their knock. Her voluminous apron could not disguise a heavily rounded belly. Was that why she and her husband were so intent on marrying Polly off—to make room for the new arrival and those that would follow? Perhaps with the prospect of children to raise, they also wanted to make certain the husband’s future was secured by established family ties with his employer.

  “You must have come to the wrong place.” The pregnant woman eyed them warily.

  She started to close the door but Annabelle called out. “I assure you we have not, Mrs. Jennings. I am your upstairs neighbor and I wish to speak to your sister. Does she still reside with you?”

  “Mrs. Warwick?” The woman peered at her through the half-open door. “Is that you?”

  “It is,” Annabelle replied. “May I speak to Polly?” />
  “As you like.” Mrs. Jennings shrugged. “Another few days and you’d have missed her. Final banns was read last Sunday.”

  Before Annabelle could decide how to reply, the woman turned and called, “Pol! Visitors to speak to you!”

  When her sister did not reply, Mrs. Jennings muttered, “Just a minute.” Then she waddled away, leaving Jack and Annabelle standing in the corridor.

  “Mrs. Warwick?” Jack chuckled. “It does have an agreeable ring to it, I must admit.”

  Annabelle’s face blazed. “That was Frederick’s family name too, remember. I did not want to make myself a target in this neighborhood by insisting on being known as Lady Southam.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose.” Jack sounded chastened. “I should never have let you stay in a place like this. The moment I came into my fortune, I should have —”

  His words were interrupted by the appearance of Polly, her face pale and her eyes red from weeping. But the moment she spied Annabelle, her pinched face lit up with a heartbreaking smile.

  “Mrs. Warwick, what are you doing back here? Where did you go? I have missed your company something dreadful.”

  “I have missed yours.” Annabelle took the girl’s hands, which were stone cold. “I had to leave suddenly to care for a baby, but now I need someone hardworking and trustworthy to assist me. Naturally, I thought of you.”

  Polly’s brow furrowed as if Annabelle had addressed her in a foreign language or she wondered whether she could be dreaming. “You are offering me work?”

  Annabelle nodded but before she could speak, Mrs. Jennings waddled forward and seized her sister by the arm. “You don’t need to work! You are going to be the wife of a butcher with a good business. You ought to thank my Joe for putting you in the way of such a good match instead of mooning about as if you was on your way to the gallows.”

  “I’d rather take honest work than sell myself to a man I can’t abide!” Polly shook off her sister’s arm and dashed out to stand behind Jack. “That would make me no better than a common tart.”