A Sister's Secret

by Mary Jane Staples

‘Oh, it is read in books, or comes from hearsay, that is all.’

  ‘Books?’ Cumberland laughed. ‘Food for butterflies. Hearsay? Meat and drink for old women. Come, let’s discard the trivial and take up kissing.’

  ‘No, Your Highness.’ Annabelle fought weakness as he moved closer. ‘If that is all I mean to you, a kiss or two, then I have no future with you.’

  ‘Your future with me, sweet one, is under consideration.’

  ‘Sir?’ she said, her breath catching.

  ‘Serious consideration.’

  ‘Am I to believe – Your Highness, no—’ But there she was, in his arms, swept close by his truly pantherlike action, and her intention to avoid all embraces was defeated. His mouth smothered hers, and the kiss took her breath and bemused her mind. Prolonged, it made a trembling thing of her resolution. However, the moment he released her lips she placed her hands on his chest and pushed. She broke free. ‘Sir,’ she gasped, face flushed, ‘I beg you to be in nobler understanding of my true self than this.’

  Cumberland studied her. She was, in essence, merely one more pretty face. Did she own anything of note other than pretty looks and a plump bosom? She was easily aroused, and he might have bedded her months ago had it not been for his designs on her sister.

  ‘Well, what is your true self?’ he asked, as if her true self found him suspect.

  ‘Virtuous, Your Highness, and accordingly I must ask if I may expect more from you than ardour.’

  Cumberland laughed. ‘What more is there than ardour sincere and profound?’ he said.

  ‘Serious consideration of my future, as you said, sir. Surely a son of the King must be concerned with honour.’

  Cumberland laughed again. ‘The King himself ain’t above compromising with honour for the sake of the outcome,’ he said.

  ‘I cannot compromise, sir,’ said Annabelle, and blushed as he eyed her bosom. ‘I cannot,’ she breathed, and put herself at a distance from him by moving to a window. Her eyes took in nothing at first of the scene below. Then she made out her sister’s carriage waiting a little way down the street. Captain Burnside was there too, seated, the reins relaxed, likewise his posture.

  Cumberland, watching her, saw her fixed, thoughtful gaze. He came up beside her. He saw the waiting carriage and the man in a cavalry uniform. His brows drew together.

  But he said quite lightly, ‘Ye’ll not be asked to forgo honour, only to be sweet, for sweet I know you could be.’

  ‘Your Highness!’ Annabelle gasped as he swept her into his arms again and even lifted her off her feet. He placed her on a couch and seated himself beside her. He cupped her chin. She stared at him, her body quivering, her heart beating riotously. He kissed her, quite gently, but lingeringly, and she experienced an alarming sense of vulnerability.

  ‘God’s heaven,’ he murmured, when he had reduced her to her weakest, ‘ye’re a warm and shapely piece, and I’ll not deny it. Ye’ll allow me to remove my coat and so come cooler to the tender business of loving ye?’

  He stood up to unbutton his coat. Annabelle, crimson and trembling, adjusted her bodice with shaking fingers. The sense of alarm rushed at her, clearing her head. It was terrible to be in love with a man who dissimulated so much, a man who would not marry her, either because, as a royal duke, he could not, or simply because he would not.

  She was close to yielding, her weakness alarming. However, Captain Burnside’s words of warning entered her mind, and there was present too a sense of uneasiness that would not go away. As Cumberland began to peel off his coat, she rose swiftly, snatched up her bonnet and sped to the door. Cumberland turned. She feared for a moment that the door might be locked, that he would have her trapped. But the door opened as she turned the handle. She heard Cumberland laugh as she fled, nor did he make the slightest effort to detain her.

  Cumberland, indeed, only moved to the window.

  Captain Burnside saw her come out of the house and hurry towards him, crossing the wide street in floating haste. Cumberland, at the window, missed nothing.

  ‘Upon my soul,’ said Captain Burnside, out of the carriage and giving her a hand, ‘is it love that brings you in such flushed haste, Annabelle?’

  Annabelle, emotions confused, yet in some relief to be with him, said, ‘Sir, I declare! You are laughing.’

  ‘That I ain’t,’ said the captain, ‘I’m shocked. Young lady, you ain’t even dressed.’

  Annabelle realized her bonnet was still in her hand. She put it on and tied the ribbons. But even beneath the shade of the bonnet, she could not hide her high colour. Captain Burnside took his seat, thinking that Miss Annabelle Howard of South Carolina had a dangerously appealing sweetness, and a dangerous weakness for Cumberland. Only the unpalatable would shock her into plain, sober thought. It had been necessary to assist her to come face to face with the unpalatable. He had a feeling that this had just happened. He did not think Cumberland would forcibly seduce her in his own residence, but he was always more than likely to show his dark, frightening side. The pretty young American girl was patently shaken.

  ‘You may proceed, Charles,’ she said, ‘instead of looking me up and down.’

  Captain Burnside took up the reins and gentled the pair into life. The carriage began to move. ‘May I hazard a guess, dear girl, that you did not take formal leave of Cumberland, but escaped him at a rush?’

  Annabelle, looking about her, said ruefully, ‘I do confess, he was alarmingly pressing. His affection is very ardent. Mercy me, it surely is upsetting to be loved but not to be properly courted.’

  ‘Are you sure he loves you?’ asked the captain, entering traffic.

  ‘Oh, his declarations, his manifestations—’

  ‘Manifestations?’

  ‘So ardent,’ said Annabelle.

  ‘Ah, his kisses, his caresses?’

  ‘Must I confess them?’

  ‘Not to me, dear girl, but certainly to your sister, your caring guardian while you’re in her charge.’

  Annabelle, alarm and fright receding to leave only the sweet, tingling confusions that had come from being extravagantly kissed and caressed, made a little gesture of protest. ‘Truly, I vow no one could love a sister more than I love mine,’ she said, ‘but I could not confess to her anything concerning the duke and myself. She would fly at me and allow me to go nowhere except in her own company. Not that the duke was ungentle; he was merely demonstrative in assuring me of his love.’

  ‘Demonstrative, h’m,’ said the captain.

  ‘And I was firm with him, of course, as you advised.’

  ‘He was demonstrative and you were firm.’

  ‘Yes. It was a question, you see, of his ardour and my honour.’

  ‘Well, I should tell you, young lady, you come from his house looking as if you had either been kissed to distraction or shocked into flight, and there ain’t too much difference between one and the other.’

  ‘Oh, mercy me,’ gasped Annabelle, ‘how disconcerting you are.’ She needed her parasol to hide her blushes. There was no parasol. There were only more confusions, all to do with the duke’s masculine strength and her feminine weakness. ‘No, no, Charles, you must not think he was shocking.’

  ‘But your flight from his ardour was desperate?’

  ‘I simply insisted on leaving,’ said Annabelle.

  ‘Without your parasol?’

  ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed, ‘you are quizzing me unmercifully.’

  ‘Well, I repeat, I ain’t having you trifled with,’ said the captain. ‘It’s certain that in your sweetness you’re bound to be kissed, but I ain’t being party to anything that will encourage him to bed you.’

  ‘Oh, land sakes, I beg you to spare my blushes,’ breathed Annabelle. ‘See, you are catching the eye of promenading ladies, and I am sure they are wondering what you are saying to turn me crimson.’

  ‘Oh, a blush or two sits sweetly on young ladies. What came out of your talk with Cumberland, apart from your distracted escape?’

/>   ‘I confess he has a way of dissembling that is very frustrating. But I did point out that if they were too dis-honourable, even sons of the King might walk in fear of assassination.’

  ‘Ah, you did make that point, did you?’ said Captain Burnside, allowing the pair to amble lazily.

  ‘I don’t think he liked it. He looked shocked for a moment.’

  ‘Did he question you?’

  ‘No.’ Annabelle wondered then if she should tell Captain Burnside about the strange conversation she had overheard. No, she could not. One should not talk about something one was not supposed to listen to. Also, it would be disloyal to the duke. ‘He laughed it off, Charles.’

  ‘So he would. And although you were firm, he made no marriage proposal?’

  ‘He said I was under his serious consideration.’

  ‘Well, I don’t doubt he’s seriously considering bedding you …’

  ‘Charles, oh, you dreadful man, must you say such things?’ Annabelle gasped.

  ‘To you, dear girl, yes, for you’ve a sweet nature and a delicious sense of humour, and enjoy laughing far more than sulks.’

  ‘But I am not laughing.’

  ‘Somewhere I fancy you are,’ said the captain. ‘Do you want to go back for your parasol?’

  ‘I surely do not,’ she said, and added unthinkingly, ‘I vow that would return me to the lion’s den.’

  ‘So he sprang, did he? Has it made you doubt him?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Annabelle, liking her sister’s friend very much, ‘I confess he fascinates me, but I know I must think more sensibly about my weaknesses and his intentions, and not be alone with him so much. I am very happy to have you as my caring friend, and beg you will not tell Caroline I visited the duke, but spent the afternoon driving with you, which is almost true.’

  ‘Almost,’ said the captain.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Annabelle?’ Caroline intercepted her sister as Annabelle glided through the hall towards the staircase. The hall, its floor laid with black and white tiles, its walls painted white and hung with landscape paintings, offered a bright introduction to the handsome house. ‘You’re back from your drive? But where is Captain Burnside?’

  ‘Already in his room, I dare say,’ said Annabelle. ‘He was in a hurry to change and to go out again.’

  ‘He has another appointment? Another?’ Caroline repressed indignation. She could not be angry, not after his achievement in securing the letter.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ said Annabelle. In the bright hall, she was a summery prettiness in her blue finery, Caroline spectacular in her silken primrose. ‘He could perhaps be thinking of cutting a dash with strolling ladies. He wore his uniform for our outing as a compliment to me, and I swear he caught the eye of every lady we passed. I vow he looked so exciting that I could not count the many who glanced at him, and I should not be surprised to find he has arranged to meet those whose eyes were boldest.’

  ‘Tush and nonsense,’ said Caroline, suspecting the captain had worn his uniform further to impress Annabelle. She tried to be convincing as she added, ‘He is a gentleman. He would not take you out for a drive if his intention were to attract the eyes of other young ladies. I shall send word up to him to join us for tea. Do you wish tea?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but not for twenty minutes,’ said Annabelle. ‘I must freshen up and change first.’

  ‘Twenty minutes, then,’ said Caroline.

  Captain Burnside appeared in the drawing room five minutes later, clad in quiet grey, with a neat white cravat. ‘Marm? You sent word for me to join you. Do excuse me, for—’

  ‘No, I am not going to excuse you,’ said Caroline, seated on the chaise longue. ‘I have not seen you all day. We shall take tea together in fifteen minutes, when Annabelle will join us.’

  ‘Frankly, marm, I’m pressed for time,’ said the captain, conscious of the soft ripple of primrose as she gestured for him to seat himself. ‘I assure you, I’ll be back for supper.’

  ‘No, it won’t do, sir.’ Caroline braced herself for a new battle of words. The challenge was there, in his presence and his assumption that he could go against her. ‘It was agreed at the outset that you would do as I directed. I direct you now to seat yourself and answer some questions.’

  ‘I’ll answer a hundred later, marm.’

  ‘No, now, sir.’

  ‘Oh, egad,’ muttered the captain.

  ‘I am afraid I did not catch that,’ said Caroline.

  ‘A frog in my throat, marm.’

  ‘Please sit down, Captain Burnside. I really do not think the business that seems to be calling you can take priority over your agreed commitment to me.’

  Resignedly, he seated himself in a gilt and blue tub chair. ‘Your servant, marm.’

  Excessively poised and grand, and also uncommonly ravishing, Caroline bestowed a kind smile on him. ‘Well, that is not incorrect, is it?’ she said. ‘But come, I am determined to be gracious, not quarrelsome, for I cannot forget the wonder of your accomplishment last night. I am greatly in your debt, as is my friend, Lady Russell, although you are an unknown figure to her.’

  ‘Oh, a remittance for half the agreed fee will make us quits, marm, and no more need be said about it. However, should Lady Russell, or her husband, ever require my services directly, I trust you’d recommend me. Ah, you are sure I must stay for tea?’

  ‘I am sure you must continue striving to bring about the required change in the feelings of my sister,’ she said, although she was coming to favour this less and less each day. ‘You dazzled her by wearing your uniform this afternoon, and she has stopped sighing over her infatuation with Cumberland. She is no longer mooning and languishing. However, please tell me how you managed to obtain the letter from Cumberland.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, and fully resigned himself to his patron’s refusal to allow him to depart.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘You’ll recall my suggestion that it would be useful to have a friend in the camp of the enemy? I’m happy to inform you the sweet puss proved an invaluable help.’

  ‘Spare me, please, the endearments you bestow on the wench,’ said Caroline, disliking intensely the thought of what went on between him and Cumberland’s trollop of a maidservant.

  ‘In short, marm, with Betsy’s assistance, the letter came to my hand.’

  ‘How, sir, how?’

  ‘I opened Cumberland’s private writing desk, marm, and filched it.’

  Caroline winced. ‘Captain Burnside, you entered his suite, broke open his writing desk and stole the letter?’

  ‘Tricky, marm, I agree, and there was also the risk of being nabbed and topped.’

  ‘Nabbed and topped?’

  ‘Well, it was Cumberland’s house, d’you see, and his private correspondence, and he’s fifth in line to the throne. He’d have had me dangling from Tyburn Tree if—’

  ‘Oh, dear God,’ gasped Caroline, shocked, ‘I did not ask you to commit yourself to the crime of burglary in the house of a royal duke, nor would I.’

  ‘Well, I’m a professional, marm, and as such I’m as nimble-fingered as the best. All in a day’s work for a patron, I assure you.’

  Caroline rose in agitation and swept about, silken gown and underskirt rushing and rustling. ‘Captain Burnside, I don’t wish to be assured that such actions are all in your day’s work for me. I don’t wish to hear you are a common thief as well as an adventurer.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t count myself a common thief, marm. I can simply claim to being versatile.’

  ‘Have you no shame, sir, none at all? Are you also a footpad and a highwayman?’

  ‘A footpad?’ Captain Burnside looked askance at her. ‘A dark alley, an unsuspecting victim, and a blow from a cudgel? That’s a wounding question, marm. But I won’t say I couldn’t turn highwayman if a patron’s fee were encouraging enough. It’s a risky business, d’you see, with some coach drivers quick to try blowing your head off with a blunderbuss. Regarding Cumberland
’s writing desk, marm: rest assured there was no damage. I merely picked the lock.’

  Caroline stopped sweeping about and drew needed breath. ‘I shall pray for you, Captain Burnside. I shall pray for you to come to an honest turn in life, to use your many talents for the good of society and your own self. I beg you to change your ways, for the sake of your gentle mother and out of respect for the memory of your late, devout father.’

  ‘A kind thought, marm, and a shipping clerk’s work could well be for the good of society, but I ain’t too set on boring myself to death.’

  Caroline confronted him. He sat at his ease, the scoundrel, his expression that of a man in deferential respect, but she thought she caught a glimmer of amusement in his grey eyes.

  ‘Sir,’ she said, the warmth of South Carolina in her voice, ‘I vow you a monster of prevarication. I do not believe you filched the letter, that you broke into Cumberland’s private rooms and opened his writing desk. You are amusing yourself at my expense. I won’t have it. The truth, I declare, is that you prevailed on Cumberland to exchange the letter for the IOU. Come, confess it.’

  ‘The truth, marm, is exactly as I presented it to you,’ said the captain affably.

  Caroline vibrated. ‘Then I must pray for you,’ she breathed, ‘for, conscienceless reprobate though you are, I cannot forget you brought blissful relief to Lady Russell, and I am unable to bear the thought that one day you will end up being hanged.’

  ‘It don’t make me feel too comfortable myself, marm.’

  ‘Oh, you are a clown, sir, an idiot, senselessly wasting your talents,’ she cried, out of all patience with him. Captain Burnside silently remarked the splendour of her renowned beauty, her figure a tribute to the fertile nature of the American South, which bestowed lush ripeness on its lovelier female blooms. Caroline, fiery, was seized with a desire to slap his face again, not because of his impudent eyes, but because she wished to shock him into an awareness of his idiocy. But she controlled herself. A little shakily she said, ‘Captain Burnside, see, I will lend you sufficient money to set yourself up in a business of your own choice, a business that will not be boring to you. No, do not dismiss the offer out of hand, but give it sensible consideration, I beg.’