Authors: Something Like a Lady
Kay Springsteen (33 page)
He wasn
’
t there.
—worse.
He
’
d rejected her. Utterly. The fires of arousal became icy darts of humiliation. She lowered herself to the bed blinking back hot tears.
****
A soft knocking on her door dragged Annabella from blessed sleep. As she rubbed her eyes, the knocking continued. Why was the room so dim? The fire had burned low
, allowing some chill to steal in
.
The knock sounded again. Then the door open
ed
a crack.
“
M
’
lady?
”
inquired a soft voice.
“
Marie?
”
Annabella sat, drawing the covers up to her neck. She needn
’
t have bothered, as she still wore her dressing gown. The bedclothes had wrapped themselves around her feet, neatly tying her in place.
The door was pushed inward.
“
Good morning, m
’
lady,
”
murmured the maid as she crept into the room.
“
Her grace requests that you dress in fresh, sturdy clothing and meet her at the shooting range.
”
Frowning, Annabella rubbed her
gritty
eyes.
“
I
’
m sorry, her grace requests what?
”
She leaned forward and began working at the covers that held her legs prisoner.
“
She wants you to meet her on the archery range.
”
Marie drew the heavy draperies back.
Beyond the window, tones of mauve and melon pushed against the turquoise and black of the star-dotted night sky.
“
Saints!
”
snapped Annabella, finally freeing her feet.
“
What time is it?
”
Marie curled her lower lip into her mouth and stopped walking toward the wardrobe.
“‘
Tis almost six o
’
clock, m
’
lady. Her grace likes to practice early when the weather
i
s clear.
”
“
Of course she does,
”
mumbled Annabella, rolling to sit on the edge of the bed. The old harpy probably never closed her eyes in case the ruddy French marched on Blackmoor.
“
What has that to do with me?
”
Marie stared, wide-eyed.
“
Her grace says you shall be practicing with her while you and Lord Seabrook are staying here.
”
“
At six in the morning?
”
Annabella blew an errant strand of hair from her face and stood.
“
Not likely. I
’
ve never heard of such barbaric—
”
A splash of blue on the bedstand captured Annabella
’
s attention. Stunned, she stared at her fan, apparently no longer misplaced. Where had it come from? It hadn
’
t been there the night before when she
’
d blown out the candle.
“
Seabrook,
”
she whispered, her blood already heating at the thought of him. He must have crept in while she slept. Had he stared at her, too, that wicked miscreant? She curled her hands into fists and sent a glare toward his bedchamber. Her breath left her lungs in a rush as she recognized the wooden door back in its place. Slowly, she sank back onto her bed.
“
Seabrook,
”
she whispered again.
“
How about this simple blue gown, my lady?
”
asked Marie, holding up a morning dress.
Annabella
’
s gaze slid back to the closed door.
Quite suddenly, her fingers itched to shoot some arrows.
“
Yes, the blue.
”
Jon eyed the platter of pastries
.
Should he grab another?
If he hurried, he might have time to enjoy
it
before he was joined by Gran or Annabella. He
’
d managed to avoid them both at the morning meal for the better part of a week by alternating between arriving early and arriving late, and one time passing on breakfast altogether.
He had the beginning of a headache and found himself in no mood for the verbal sparring that continued between the pair of them from sunrise to sunset.
“
Now
,
Dorothea, if you
’
re going to behave that way, I won
’
t have Lord Seabrook pick up the fresh fish when he goes into Coventry.
”
Too late! Jon frowned at the berry tart as though it had somehow summoned his grandmother.
Coventry! Was it Thursday already? How in blazes could he have forgotten he
’
d promised Gran
he
’
d stop at the clinic? And what was that business about picking up fresh fish? Blackmoor had no shortage of servants who could run such errands. The Earl of Seabrook wasn
’
t going to lower himself to retrieving
fish
for his grandmother
’
s felines.
Jon sighed. At least an excursion into Coventry would provide a welcome excuse to get away from Blackmoor — and the uncomfortable proximity to Annabella —at least
for
a time. Staying awake until long into the night to ensure she would be asleep by the time he retired had taken its toll, as had awakening earlier than the ruddy sun just to avoid the sounds of her moaning her way out of bed and the rustle of her clothing as she dressed for her archery lessons. Even replacing the door between them hadn
’
t sufficiently dulled the noises that emanated from her bedchamber.
He
’
d not hold out much longer before the nearness of his untouchable wife drove him into madness. But the alternative of seeking her out before she was truly ready to make their marriage real was unthinkable.
It might well frighten her off
.
He pushed away from the dining room table and stood just as the door from the hallway pushed inward.
“
Good morning, Jonathan.
”
Gran
’
s hearty voice boomed across the dining hall.
“
Up and at the day before the sun again, I see.
”
He forced a smile.
“
I was about to make the same observation regarding you, Gran.
”
He peered over her shoulder but other than two of her blasted cats, Gran was quite alone.
And that wasn
’
t a faint stab of disappointment that pinched in the vicinity of his heart. It was simply the pastry he
’
d eaten
not agreeing
with him. Good thing he hadn
’
t nabbed the second one after all.
Jon rose to his feet, stepped to the side, and pushed his chair toward the table.
“
I see your apt pupil is missing her early meal this morning.
”
Gran smiled.
“
Oh, she
’
ll be along. It takes a lady a bit longer to dress for travel these days.
”
Jon
’
s heart lurched upward to crowd his throat. He gripped the back of his recently vacated chair until his knuckles turned white.
“
Dress for
t
raveling?
”
By the saints, if she thinks she
’
s leaving—
“
Yes, Jonathan, traveling.
”
Gran shooed the two felines in the direction of the cat table and lowered herself into her seat.
“
You know very well it would be inappropriate for Annabella to accompany you to
town
wearing one of those day dresses she wears around here.
”
Blood thundered in Jon
’
s ears, blocking out Gran
’
s words. In truth, he could
not
care less what his wife chose to wear. As long as she wore it at Blackmoor Hall.
“
Accompany me to
town
?
”
he finally exploded.
“
Whatever for? You didn
’
t tell me I
’
d be—
”
A sharp gasp resonated through the dining hall and he glanced up
.
Annabella star
ed
at him from the doorway. Clad in her blue traveling gown, hair neatly arranged on top of her head, she clutched a blue velvet bonnet in one hand. The restless fingers of her other hand plucked at the dried flowers adorning one side.
Every muscle weakened,
and
Jon
lost
his grip on the chair back. How long had she been standing there? Long enough to hear his outburst, obviously. Her face had gone pale at first, but presently deep crimson was seeping its way into both cheeks.
“
I beg your pardon,
”
she snapped, sending him a glower that matched his own sour mood.
“
Am I to understand I
’
m now considered a prisoner in your home, Lord Seabrook? Am I not allowed to leave? Or is it merely my company you find objectionable?
”
She whirled as though to leave the room.
That should have been the end of it. He should have been relieved that she was obviously opting out of the excursion.
Then, quite without his permission, his mouth
opened
and words poured out.
“
Wait. Please. I should like you to
visit the town
with me.
”
Jon
’
s stomach tied itself into a knot. Was he
mad
? She might bolt in Coventry. He had no way of knowing who she might be able to convince to assist her in getting back to Wyndham Green. Or on to London… and Grey.
…considered a prisoner… considered a prisoner… considered a prisoner…
Her charge echoed like a mad parrot
’
s ramblings through his mind until he wanted to clap his hands over his ears. She
’
d hit on more truth than fabrication, and he couldn
’
t deny it — rather, the only way to deny it would be to prove her accusation wrong. That was the reason he invited her.
That
’
s not the only reason,
sang
the insane parrot. He s
quashed the thought. It was the only reason he was willing to entertain at the moment. He inched in her direction, expecting his movement to send her edging away from him. When she merely cocked her head but didn
’
t move, Jon felt as though the floor tilted
beneath him.
She stood as though frozen, one hand on the door. Her mouth was drawn in a grim line, but her green eyes flashed with all the fire of first water emeralds. The fight hadn
’
t left her at all. She was merely calculating how to take it to a higher level.
“
I beg your pardon, Lady Seabrook. My grandmother
’
s plans…
”
He swept a hand in Gran
’
s direction, and his voice faltered over his next words when he realized the old woman was watching the two of them with ardent intensity, almost as though she dre
w energy from the charge in the air. He narrowed his eyes at Gran.
“
My grandmother
’
s
plans
took me by surprise.
”
He concentrated on relaxing his stance as he turned back to Annabella.
“
I can think of nothing I would like better than for you to join me.
”
He held his breath as he offered his arm. Annabella raked him with haughty scrutiny. Jon shivered. He
’
d left her too long in Gran
’
s company; she had that look down perfectly.
“
Very well,
”
she
answered
in the modulated, slightly condescending tone often used by the peerage to indicate polite displeasure. She
’
d managed to pick that up from Gran as well. Of that, Jon had no doubt. As Annabella slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, Jon became certain of two things: his wife and his grandmother had formed a closer bond than he
’
d expected, and he likely was
well along the
road to the fiery pits as a result.