Susan Johnson (3 page)

T
hanks to Eddie’s foresight, the marquis arrived in Shoreham bearing gifts. A pretty posy of fragrant pinks rested in his batman’s saddlebag, along with a dainty set of pearl hair combs that Eddie had come up with from God-knows-where.

Duff found himself smiling as they entered the village, sweet anticipation filling his brain. Strange, how pleasure could suddenly take over one’s senses for no apparent reason.

Not that he was averse to the balmy feeling.

Nor was he about to take issue with the piquant excitement gripping him. How long had it been since he’d spoken to a lady—other than those in his family? How long had it been since he’d wanted to?

Three women and two babes were immediately visible as the marquis and Eddie dismounted at the gate. The small group was seated around a tea table set in the shade of the trees.

While the women were in full view across the small garden, so, too, were Darley and Eddie as they walked toward the garden gate.

Annabelle’s spine stiffened at the sight of the two men. Quickly coming to her feet, she casually said, “They must have lost their way. I’ll be right back.” With a nod to her companions, she moved briskly toward their visitors. Apparently, the marquis had not taken her refusal to heart, she reflected. But then, men of his ilk were only familiar with compliance, not rebuke.

The marquis’s wishes were irrelevant to her, however. She refused to have her mother upset by visitors. Nor did she wish to answer questions that might arise if Darley joined them for tea. While her mother knew she made her living on the stage, she had no idea about the more risqué aspects of her profession. And so Annabelle preferred it remain.

Some difficult choices had been necessary after her father’s death, and she’d willingly taken up the life of an actress so her mother and sister could survive.

She’d not regretted her decision.

But she had taken pains to withhold from her family any notion of what her modish, urbane social life entailed. And while her name was often in the gossip sheets, such papers never reached remote hamlets such as Shoreham, where life went on much as it had for a millennium.

Before Duff had advanced more than a few steps into the garden, she reached him and arrested his progress.

“The Marquis of Darley at your service, Miss Foster.” Duff offered her the posy with an exquisite bow.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” Her bow was less exquisite by design; she didn’t wish to appear in the least friendly. “My mother is ill,” she added coolly. “Otherwise, I would invite you to join us for tea.” Neither a blush nor a blink gave evidence of the real reason she wished him gone. “I trust you understand,” she murmured, playing her role with aplomb.

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Duff’s expression was solicitous. “I hope your mother’s illness isn’t serious.”

“She recently had a shock to her system.” Annabelle wasn’t inclined to divulge the details of Chloe’s death. “But I believe she’s slowly improving.”

“Would you like my doctors to stop by? Both Dr. Carr and Dr. Stewart are excellent.”

“No, but thank you. Time alone will heal her wounds, I fear.”

“Then I wish her a speedy recovery. If I might be so bold, Miss Foster,” he went on, all soft-spoken cordiality, “would it be possible your mother could spare you briefly—at some future date, if not now?” The marquis indicated the horses with a nod of his head. “I brought the mare along in hopes you’d go riding with me.” As Annabelle opened her mouth to speak, he quickly interposed, “I understand your nursing duties come first. I just thought you might enjoy a ride on such a fine day. I assure you,” he added with a smile, “my intentions are benign.”

“Allow me to refuse, my lord,” she replied with equal graciousness. “Although, in my experience,” she added with a deliberately enchanting smile, “men’s intentions are never benign.”

“What if I were to say I just want to be friends?”

Her brows rose. “Then you’d be the first man I’ve ever met who did.”

“Consider me the exception.”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “As if you don’t know you are, Duff.”

He looked surprised at being addressed so familiarly.

Her brows lifted again. “You don’t remember, do you?”

He smiled faintly. “I admit to being drunk more than sober in my youth.”

“We met in the green room after my second performance on the Drury stage. You offered me carte blanche.”

“But you eventually took Walingame’s offer, I understand,” he said, his sisters’ gossipy dinnertime conversation suddenly recalled. “How is he, by the way?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Ah.”

She could tell he hadn’t heard, but then it was common gossip that the marquis had been in seclusion. “We are estranged.”

“I should say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“What’s the point in subterfuge?”

“My goodness, Duff, you quite contradict your gender in that regard.”

He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. A woman of her background was seen only as an object of pleasure. There were rare exceptions to the rule—actresses who married into the nobility—but it was unusual.

At that moment, a piercing baby cry rent the summer air and Annabelle cast a swift glance over her shoulder. “I really have to go,” she murmured.

His gaze raked her form. “Is the babe yours?”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business,” she replied coolly.

“Of course. Forgive me.” He should have known better. His tact had been blunted by long disuse.

“Belle, Belle, darling!” Mrs. Foster cried, waving her arms in a come-hither motion. “Bring the nice man over for tea!”

No matter her experience on the stage, this time Annabelle was unable to suppress the blush coloring her cheeks.

“If I promise to behave, might I be allowed?” Darley inquired with a quirked grin, amused by her obvious embarrassment. “I shan’t say a word out of turn.”

“It looks as though I have no choice,” Annabelle muttered with a grimace. Short of shouting back at her mother—an impossible act of disrespect, considering the fact that her mother continued to beckon them with great vigor—she was obliged to capitulate.

“I will be on my best behavior—word of honor.”

That charming smile again, familiar not only to her, but to a great number of ladies in the
Ton
. The young marquis had cut a wide swath through the boudoirs of London before he’d left for the Continent. “Just don’t stay long,” she cautioned. “And I warn you, my mother’s mind wanders.”

“I am duly warned on both counts,” he replied pleasantly, crooking his arm in her direction.

There was nothing to do but place her hand on his arm and follow him down the garden path toward the table set under the shade of the trees. And there was also nothing to do when they reached her mother and Molly but to introduce their illustrious visitor. “Mama, Molly, the Marquis of Darley. Lord Darley, my mother and our wet nurse.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Foster, Molly.” His formal bow was perfection, his smile correspondingly splendid. “Your daughter and I have mutual friends in London, Mrs. Foster. She’s a most accomplished actress, as you no doubt know. And that’s not just my opinion but one with which every playgoer and critic in the land concurs.”

“Belle is perfect in every way, is she not?” Mrs. Foster cheerfully agreed, beaming at Duff’s fulsome praise. “Come, come, young man, sit down, partake of our rustic tea and tell us of the doings of the great world.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened at her mother’s sudden animation and polished air, as if she took tea with nobles every day.

Darley immediately understood from whence the lovely Belle had acquired her looks and poise. Ill or not, Mrs. Foster had the bearing of a countess, a lovely smile, and obvious command over her daughter. A point he not only noted, but intended to exploit. Not for nefarious reasons. He simply wished Belle’s company this fine summer day. And from all appearances, the mother didn’t look seriously ill. Perhaps a ride
wasn’t
out of the question.

It was a habit of long standing—wanting what he wanted. But coming from a family of great wealth and title, how could he have escaped those selfish urges? And it
was
a perfect summer day.

Applying the full extent of his charm to the fulfillment of his wishes, he soon had Mrs. Foster laughing at his jests, teasing him back, conversing with him as though they were old friends. And before long, he had both babies in his lap and was making them giggle, too. “My sister has twins,” he noted, gently bouncing the
enfants
on his knees. “I’ve learned to deal with two babes at once.”

That admission induced Mrs. Foster to ask him numerous questions about his family, all of which he answered with complete candor. And after Duff had mentioned that he and Eddie had been living rough at his father’s hunting lodge, she insisted Eddie be included in the festivities.

“I don’t suppose your valet has had a bit of cake for a long time, then,” she declared. “I’ve yet to meet a man who knows much about baking.”

“I can’t argue there,” Darley replied with a smile, calling over his batman to join them. “Eddie’s cooking is of the most rudimentary.”

For the next half hour or so, laughter and frivolity became the order of the day. One person no more than pronounced something amusing, than another responded with equal wit. Eddie entertained them with an acceptable ditty or two from his repertoire of camp songs. And whether it was Duff’s accomplished baby-minding or because of Eddie’s lilting voice, the babies soon fell asleep in the marquis’s arms. Without asking, he placed the sleeping babes in their baskets and settled back in his chair with the naturalness of a man who had often cared for children.

Annabelle found his lack of airs unutterably refreshing and far removed from the noblemen she knew who flaunted their consequence. Even his conversation was simple and ordinary, without the bombast and pretense so common in the
Ton
. How enjoyable he was. What a pleasure it was to relax and laugh once again.

As for Duff, he couldn’t remember when last he’d been so pleasantly amused. He would have to reward Eddie for having the foresight to suggest this visit.

The others, too, took pleasure in the mummery and high spirits of the afternoon. Mrs. Foster experienced rare moments of joy after having felt only unremitting sadness since the death of her daughter. Eddie understood that the marquis’s, and consequently
his
life had taken a solid turn for the better. For her part, Molly relished watching the subtle interaction between her employer and the marquis. It appeared that the nobleman, who preferred being called Duff, was in full courting mode, while Miss Foster had smiled more this afternoon than she had the entire time Molly had been with her.

“If you’re going for a ride, you’d best be off before the sun cools,” Annabelle’s mother suddenly asserted. Silencing her daughter’s impending protest with an upraised hand, Mrs. Foster added, “Don’t worry about Molly and me. We’re just fine. You know how you’ve always loved horses, darling.” She turned to Duff. “Before my dear husband died, we kept a small stable ourselves. Belle was the best rider in the family.”

“Are you sure, Mother?” Annabelle’s inquiry was replete with caution.

It was obvious who
wasn’t
sure, Annabelle’s posture ramrod-stiff. But taking advantage of the opportunity given him, Duff immediately came to his feet. “We won’t be gone long, Mrs. Foster. I’ll have your daughter back before dark.”

Belle shot him a heated glance, not sure she cared to be given this Hobson’s choice. Even less sure she should go.

Ignoring her fretful gaze, Darley offered her his hand. “My new mare is a darling. Eddie tells me she’s faster than blazes.” He grinned. “I don’t suppose you’d care to race?”

Her expression implied not. Under her mother’s smiling gaze, however, Belle’s voice was silken. “Perhaps some other time, Darley. I don’t have my riding boots with me.” She lifted her hem to display blue leather half-boots that matched her simple gown.

“Those will do perfectly well. We’ll ride at a sedate pace.” He took her hand, pulled her to her feet, and holding Annabelle’s hand firmly, Duff bowed to her mother. “Thank you for the tea and cake, Mrs. Foster. I can’t remember when I’ve had a more enjoyable afternoon.”

“You’re welcome anytime, young man. Laughter is good for the soul, is it not?” Annabelle’s mother smiled. “Now be off, you two,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Have a most pleasant ride.”

“F
or your information, Darley,” Annabelle muttered as they moved away from the tea table, “I
abhor
authoritarian men.”

“Once we’re out of sight of your mama, I shall beg your forgiveness in every imaginable fashion,” he murmured, holding her hand tightly as she tried to wrestle her fingers free.

“You took advantage!” she charged, mutinously.

“I freely admit it, but if you knew how long its been since I’ve been in the company of a lovely woman, you’d overlook my incivility. Tell her, Eddie,” Darley said, glancing back at his batman. “Tell her how long we’ve been hermits.”

“It’s been a right long time, Miss Foster.” Eddie caught up to them and met Annabelle’s gaze. “It were a blessing we saw you at the horse fair yesterday, miss. It were like the sky lifted, if’n you ken. The marquis ain’t been hisself of late, you see.”

Annabelle glanced from man to man as though trying to gauge the honesty of Eddie’s assertions.

“It’s God’s own truth,” Duff said, making a wry face. “You became a talisman of sorts yesterday. I have no idea why, but there it is.” He smiled. “Perhaps you could consider me your charity case today. Not that you’re not already involved in charitable obligations to your family. But I would be pleased if you could keep me company for a short time. I just want to go for a ride—that’s all.”

“A ride and nothing more?”

“Yes.”

His reply was so entirely without subterfuge, so bluntly curtailed, she understood that behind the easy smile was something other than ease.

Suffering of a sort.

One didn’t have to be a savant to recognize it. Or maybe she knew too much of suffering herself.
Stop!
she silently ordered herself, refusing to acknowledge any affinity with a man like Duff. It would be a ludicrous assumption when they came from such opposite worlds. Worse, it might imply she was succumbing to his charm. And that she
would not do
. She was in Shoreham to care for her family. There was no time for other things, even if she were naive enough to accept his offered friendship at face value.

Not likely that.

Since her contentious break from Walingame, she’d vowed never again to be naive about the motives of noblemen.

“I shall hold you to your word,” she said pointedly, pulling her hand free.

Or perhaps he released it. “You have my word.”

That blunt simplicity again. She wasn’t here to analyze, however. Nor would she attempt such an endeavor with a man like Darley, who, rumor had it, barely spoke to any of his old acquaintances, or sometimes at all, since his return home. “Thank you.”

His smile was boyish. “No need to thank me when you’ve brought me good fortune. Do you have a preference where we ride?”

She was about to say she didn’t, or perhaps inquire what he meant by “good fortune.” But she did neither, careful not to stray outside the perimeters of the agreed-upon amicable ride. Instead, she said, “If we cross Dunlow Chase we’ll come on the monastery ruins at Bedloe. It’s a site of great beauty.”

“Excellent choice. I used to go there as a boy.”

“As did I as a child.”

“And yet I never saw you.”

Her brows rose faintly. “A matter of no importance.”

He grinned. “Speak for yourself. I would have taken great pleasure in seeing you.”

She made a moue. “I would prefer you not flirt with me.”

“I shall try not to. Eddie will keep me in line. You hear, Eddie? You are to be our duenna.”

He’d played many roles of late in the marquis’s life, but duenna was not among them, Eddie thought. Nor did he feel he would be effective should Duff set his mind to seduction. But he answered dutifully. “Yes, sar. You be in me sights, sar.”

Duff grinned at Annabelle. “Consider yourself doubly safe from my advances.”

Annabelle found herself thinking with utter absurdity what might have happened if she’d taken Darley up on his offer of carte blanche all those years ago. Other than his stark slenderness, he’d changed little. How many years had it been? How old was he now? “How old are you?” she asked, as though her thoughts proceeded uncensored to her tongue.

He met her gaze, a sudden look of surprise in his eyes. But when he spoke, his voice was without inflection. “Twenty-seven. I shan’t ask you how old you are,” he said with a grin. When he knew very well she was exactly five years younger; the night he’d met her in the green room was clear as though it were yesterday, now that she’d recalled it to his memory. She’d just recently turned eighteen, she’d told him that night. He was twenty-three and admittedly very drunk, but he remembered her dazzling beauty. And the crowd of men demanding her attention. Suddenly bending low, he put his mouth near her ear and asked a pertinent question himself. “Tell me. Is Cricket yours?”

“No.” She had no idea why she’d answered honestly. She knew less why she didn’t want him to think Chloe’s child was hers. After all these years in the demimonde, surely it couldn’t matter what people thought.

“I didn’t think she was.”

“And yet you asked.” She spoke quietly like he, their voices low so Eddie wouldn’t hear.

He shrugged. “I don’t know why I did—actually…I do. I didn’t want you to have Walingame’s child. And I have no idea why it would matter.”

“Things like that matter to men,” she replied bluntly.

He shook his head. “Not to me. I’ve been living in a black hole these many long months since Waterloo.” He smiled tightly. “Very little matters to me anymore, my sweet.”

“I’m not your sweet, Lord Darley,” she replied crisply. “Although I’m truly sorry for your distress,” she added in a different tone of voice. She understood misery. Her entire family had been sunk into despair since Chloe’s death.

“Allow me to apologize again—for addressing you so informally. And truth be told, I’m actually exhilarated today—thanks to you. No, don’t protest…you are under no obligation for my moods or anything else concerning my life. I do promise to refrain from taking any further liberties in address, though. No improper phrases shall pass my lips.” He grinned and pantomimed a locking motion across his lips.

She laughed. She hadn’t intended to. She really wished she hadn’t when she was trying very hard to maintain her distance.

His grin widened. “There—you see? It’s not so difficult to laugh. And consider, your mama likes me. That should make me at least marginally acceptable.”

“As if anyone wouldn’t like you when you focus your charm on them.”

“Perhaps you as well?”

She laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. “Enough. Today, we’re going on a ride. And that’s all we’re doing.”