Picture Perfect (17 page)

When they reached the open countryside Henry suggested they canter. ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ Justine said, her eyes dancing, ‘let’s have a race!’

‘Are you sure?’ Henry said, but Annabel could see he was quite taken with the idea.

Justine tossed her head in a way in which Annabel was quite sure she did whenever she was planning to show off. ‘Of course,’ she pointed with her whip, ‘we’ll race to that oak over there.’

‘Miss Black,’ Jack said, rather diffidently she thought, ‘do you care to race or would you rather proceed at a more leisurely pace?’

Was he implying that she wasn’t as bold as Justine? Annabel felt her annoyance with Jack resurface. ‘I enjoy racing,’ she said truthfully, but could not restrain herself from tossing her head just as Justine had moments before.

‘It seems we are agreed,’ Jack drawled. ‘Miss Beresford, as it was your idea, will you start us?’

‘Ready, steady, go!’ Justine said at once and was off before Annabel could draw breath but she didn’t let that daunt her, she kicked Hatton into a canter and after a couple of strides pushed her into a gallop. She was aware of Jack starting a split second after her and then forgot everything in the joy of the ride, she was ahead of the others, the dewy grass was strung with untouched cobwebs which glinted in the sunlight as Hatton pounded over them, the wind blew back her hair from her face and the sheer speed was exhilarating. She could hear several sets of hoof beats close behind her, but none of them could match her, she flew into the lee of the oak and allowed Hatton to fall back into a canter.

‘I won!’ she shouted triumphantly and just then Justine and her horse thundered past her heading straight for a stand of trees. ‘Slow down!’ Annabel shouted, alarmed, if Justine entered the woods at that speed she would be bound to be knocked off her horse by low hanging branches. Justine appeared to ignore her, then Annabel heard her scream as her horse narrowly veered around a silver birch and she realized that her sister’s horse was bolting. Without hesitation she urged Hatton after them and then Jack passed her riding furiously.

‘Go right,’ he shouted without looking at her, ‘head her off.’ Annabel obeyed and galloped in an arc in an attempt to come out in front of Justine before she reached the trees, aware of Jack doing the same, but at far greater speed, on the other side. He was quite right, she knew, the sound of two more horses chasing her would only make Justine’s mare go faster, but she was sure she would never reach her sister in time. Then as she reached the apex of her curve and turned back in towards the bolting horse she saw that Jack was ahead of Justine, cantering across her path, and causing Justine’s mare to instinctively redirect her headlong flight away from the trees. Annabel allowed Hatton to slow as Justine’s horse reduced her speed to a canter and then a trot, then stopped abruptly and put her head down to graze. Jack drew alongside her, said something which Annabel was too far away to hear and then she saw Justine throw herself into his arms. She felt as if she had been hit across the face as all her adrenaline deserted her and she watched Jack wrap his arms comfortingly around Justine and hold her as if her were prepared to stay like that for as long as she wanted. She felt the bitter tang of jealousy and this time there was nothing she could do to repress it.

‘I say, are you all right, old thing?’ Henry rode up beside her. ‘You look a bit green. Here, I’ll give you a leg down; we don’t want you fainting on horseback.’ As Henry helped her to the ground Annabel found she was shaking, no matter how unwelcome the scene being played out before her might be she had been desperately afraid for Justine’s life and now she was safe her reaction was setting in. ‘Sit down under that pine tree,’ Henry directed her as he hobbled Hatton, ‘the needles will be quite dry. I’ll just go and see how Justine is.’ He swung his leg over his horse and was off before Annabel could make any acerbic comment about how many men Justine needed to commiserate her on her lack of horsemanship.

After a few minutes in which Annabel brooded about the unfairness of it all and wondered if she could have convincingly made it seem as if the well-trained Hatton were running off with her, Henry returned. ‘Justine doesn’t feel up to much more today,’ he said, ‘so we’ll picnic here, it’s as good a spot as any, and head back quietly afterwards.’ They hadn’t bothered to consult with her, Annabel thought mutinously, but at that moment Justine returned and dismounted and one look at her white, tear-stained face filled Annabel with remorse. Justine truly had been bolted with and it had terrified her, it would be nothing but cruelty to expect her to continue with the day as planned, she should simply be grateful her sister was still alive and offer what comfort she could.

Annabel leapt to her feet, dragged the picnic rug out of Henry’s saddlebag and spread it over the pine needles. ‘Here,’ she said, taking Justine’s trembling arm. ‘Sit down. Henry, can you pour her some wine?’ But their picnic was a subdued affair, Henry seemed quite as concerned as Jack about Justine’s wellbeing and although from time to time Annabel was aware of Jack’s eyes upon herself he didn’t attempt to engage her in conversation and it wasn’t until they were riding home that Annabel unexpectedly found him by her side.

‘That was very brave of you,’ Jack observed.

‘What?’ Annabel was startled; this wasn’t what she had expected him to say.

‘Riding up to head Justine’s horse off like that, your own horse might easily have decided to bolt too.’

‘So might yours,’ Annabel pointed out tartly and Jack laughed.

‘You’re right of course, but I didn’t think about that at the time.’

‘Neither did I,’ said Annabel and for a moment she felt their old camaraderie return but then Jack spoiled it.

‘Miss Black,’ he said, ‘I know my investigation into your past vexes you and so I am trying to conclude it as quickly as possible at which point I shall be free to tell you everything I have learned, so if there is anything you can remember, even the smallest detail, I sincerely hope you will confide it to me.’

At his words Annabel felt her ire return, here he was pressing her for information and giving her nothing back except a vague promise about the future, he had made no attempt to assure her that the Black family’s reputation would be undisputed and she felt even more sure that his true agenda was to find them unfit guardians. That couldn’t possibly happen, she told herself, but what if it did? Would she be obliged to move in with the Beresfords, perhaps not see her adoptive family all, and would she need Lord Beresford’s approval for her eventual marriage? She looked at Jack coldly. ‘I can tell you nothing, I told you that before and I don’t wish to discuss it again.’

‘Annabel, please,’ Jack said, and it occurred to her that he sounded unusually plaintive for a cold and calculating investigator, but she clucked Hatton into a trot and caught up with Justine, taking care to remain by her side for the remainder of the ride.

Chapter 9

‘
This will be one of the most stunning events of the season,’ Madeline proclaimed as she leapt out of her carriage, too excited, Annabel thought, to wait for her father to hand her down. She was excited herself, Lord Cavendish was well known to be one of the wealthiest men in London and his wife had a reputation for loving to entertain, moreover Lord Cavendish’s eldest son was rumoured to be both very handsome and looking for a wife this season.

‘Will your Mr Denham be here?’ Madeline whispered as the Blacks made their way through the crowd into the ballroom.

‘He’s not my Mr Denham,’ Annabel whispered back crossly, ‘and I hope he won’t be here.’

‘You didn’t mend your quarrel, then?’ Madeline asked. Refusing to be drawn Annabel pressed her lips firmly together and said nothing but Madeline was oblivious to the snub. ‘Fill only the first three spaces on your dance card,’ she advised, ‘but fill them with the most eligible of men, you’re looking very pretty tonight, you should have no trouble doing that, and then, when Mr Denham sees you dancing without a care in the world, dance after dance, he will make his move.’

‘He won’t ask me to dance with him,’ Annabel stated categorically as they wove their way in Aunt Delilah’s wake, but she was intrigued in spite of herself.

‘No,’ Madeline said, smiling at the vast sea of society faces around them and then continued in an undertone, ‘but he will seek you out in a quiet moment, during that fourth dance which you will sit out, and he will make every effort to return to your good graces.’

‘He won’t,’ Annabel said, she suspected that Jack might be setting up another trap for the art thief, the Cavendish’s ball seemed to present just the sort of opportunity the thief relished, ‘he’ll be far too busy.’

‘Not for you he won’t,’ Madeline smiled coquettishly behind her fan at someone across the room. ‘Trust me.’

At least one of Annabel’s assumptions was right, other than taking time out for their excursion Jack had spent the better part of the last few days securing Lord Cavendish’s most valuable paintings and laying an elaborate trap for the thief, but his preparations were complete and he had positioned himself unobtrusively near the main door to the ballroom so he could watch the arrivals. He was not, he told himself, watching for Annabel, she had been quite disagreeable about the investigation and he would do better to put her out of his mind, imagine if they married and she dug her toes in like this over every little disagreement. Married? Where had that thought come from? Jack was quite happy with his life as it was and had no intention of making any such radical changes. He sought no more from Annabel than he did from Justine, he told himself firmly, amiable friendship was to be cherished where it was found and not meddled with. Then Annabel and her cousin walked in.

She was perfect. Her eyes were bright and alive, although she seemed to be arguing with her cousin, and her very walk suggested she couldn’t wait to start dancing, as if the whole evening were a joyous occasion put on especially for her. She was pretty of course, with her warm brown hair piled simply on top of her head and her creamy skin offset by a demure yet suggestive dress. What was it that made her so different from Justine, Jack wondered. Did she carry herself differently or was it her way of looking at the world as if it were about to offer her something wonderful? Then Lord Kent entered the room a few paces behind the Blacks and Jack suddenly remembered he had a job to do. Lord Kent had been present during the last two art thefts and although he had been acquainted with him for many years Jack had never trusted him, Kent definitely numbered among his list of suspects.

Annabel decided to take Madeline’s advice, the music was already getting into her blood, making her want to dance even as she waited decorously by her mother’s side.

‘D’you want a dance, old thing?’ Henry asked.

‘Ye - ouch!’ Annabel had been about to accept when Madeline stood on her foot.

‘I would be delighted, Henry,’ Madeline cut over her.

‘Oh, I…’

‘Eligible, glamorous!’ Madeline hissed in Annabel’s ear.

‘Miss Black,’ Annabel was saved from having to make any kind of explanation by Lord Kent who took her hand and kissed it, then looked up at her smiling. ‘May I have this dance?’

Annabel couldn’t help glancing quickly at Madeline who gave her a quick, triumphant nod as she took Henry’s arm and heaved him onto the dance floor. ‘It would be my pleasure,’ Annabel said, and it would, Lord Kent was quite an expert dancer.

‘May I request the dance after that?’ a polished voice as her shoulder made Annabel jump, spinning round she found she was face to face with Lord Cavendish’s son Patrick who appeared even more handsome from close up than he had when Justine had pointed him out at Almack’s the week before.

‘I would be delighted,’ Annabel said a little breathlessly, really Mr Cavendish was very attractive and for a moment all thoughts of Jack flew out of her mind.

The musicians struck up and with a cool nod to Mr Cavendish, Lord Kent led her onto the dance floor to whirl her with ease through the crush of other dancers until the tune ended and he handed her over, reluctantly, Annabel thought, to Mr Cavendish. Mr Cavendish proved to be a precise but unexciting partner and Annabel was not sorry to be claimed by Charles Padgett whom she had met at one of the Beresford’s dinner parties for her third dance. Charles was not as accomplished as Mr Cavendish but at least he seemed to enjoy dancing with her and Annabel’s hesitation when he asked her if she would dance the following dance with him was sincere.

‘I think I shall keep my mother company for a little while,’ she said, although Mrs Black, chatting earnestly to one of her many friends, did not appear at all lonely. Charles nodded and departed, seeming not at all put out by the rebuff and Annabel thought he really was much nicer than he had first appeared. She wondered briefly what she would have thought of him if she had not met Jack first but just as she reached her mother’s side Jack seemed to materialize from behind a pillar and as his blue eyes met hers with a look that felt almost like a touch all thoughts of other men were driven from her head.