Tempting a Proper Lady (13 page)

Annabelle chewed on her lower lip. “I'm going to tell you something, but please don't tell Mama that you know.”

“All right.” She braced herself for a story of some sort of scandal, but Annabelle surprised her.

“When Pa first got rich, we went to New York. Mama had heard all about the rich people who lived there, how they all wore beautiful clothes and traveled to wonderful places and led exciting lives, and she wanted that, Mrs. Burke. I mean, she wanted it bad.”

“Wanted to go to New York?”

“No, wanted to be part of New York society. So we went there. Pa got us a house and Mama tried to be friends with everyone, but no one would talk to her. They thought we weren't good enough. Too countrified to fit in.” Her pretty face hardened. “I bet a countess would fit in, though.”

“I bet a countess would.”

Annabelle looked down and twisted her fingers together. “When Richard asked me to marry him, I knew he was having money troubles. But I thought, Pa is rich, and I could be a countess. My son would be an earl. And Samuel was gone, so…” She shrugged. “I figured I'd marry Richard and then maybe Mama could get her New York society.”

“Annabelle…” Cilla paused, considering her
words carefully. “You should marry for your own reasons, not for someone else's.”

“I love my mama, Mrs. Burke. When we were poor as church mice, she would sneak some of her food onto my plate. She thought I didn't see. And when we got a little money, it was always me who got the new dress, not her.” Annabelle's mouth curved in a small, satisfied smile. “Samuel was gone, and Richard had been kind to me. So when he asked me to marry him, I said yes.”

“But now Captain Breedlove is back.”

“Yes.” Annabelle sighed and picked up her book. “It seems so easy in the novels, Mrs. Burke. If a lady is torn between two gentlemen, one of them is always a villain. But is that true in this case?”

“The captain says Lord Raventhorpe is the villain.”

“And Richard says Samuel is so jealous that he is making up this whole story to make me fall in love with him again. As if that would happen after what he did!”

“Were you in love with him before?”

“I thought so. He's handsome, isn't he? And commanding, and rich now, too. If only he hadn't done what he did—and had a title—he would be perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“The perfect husband.” Annabelle picked up her book and flipped through the pages, her mind clearly on other things. “I just wish he had had the decency to write to me if he wanted to break the engagement. He didn't have to lie.”

Cilla looked down at the list of wedding guests on her lap, knowing as she hesitated that Annabelle's next words would settle her decision on the matter. “What if he did not lie?” she asked softly.

“Of course he did,” Annabelle said with a laugh.

“Has he ever lied to you before?”

The girl's brow creased in confusion. “Not until all this happened.”

“Then why would he start now? Why would he leave you for two long years and let you think he had abandoned you, then show up out of nowhere with fantastical stories?” Cilla shook her head. “Annabelle, what do you really know about Lord Raventhorpe?”

“He's an
earl
, Mrs. Burke. He has no secrets.”

Cilla gave a sharp laugh. “Annabelle, everyone has secrets, especially the peerage.”

“I don't have any secrets.”

“You just told me one about your mother. Have you forgotten?”

“Well, that…that's more in the way of being a confidence rather than a secret. And you swore you would not tell Mama that you know.”

“And so I shall not. But you must admit you do have a secret.”

“Fine. Yes, that is a secret.”

“So do not believe you know everything about the earl. He may have hidden depths that you do not suspect.”

“So could Samuel.”

Cilla nodded. “You are right. However, I believe
you know more about Samuel Breedlove than you do about Lord Raventhorpe. Perhaps you could get the earl to talk more about himself. Or I could make discreet inquiries through the servants. The earl used to own Nevarton Chase, and the staff did not change when your father bought the estate.”

“What could the servants know about a lord?” Annabelle scoffed.

Cilla raised her brows. “You can tell a lot about a man from his servants. They see everything and hear everything and yet are often not seen or heard themselves. You can also learn much about a man from how he treats his employees.”

“I don't know. It seems rather rude, don't you think?”

Cilla touched the girl's arm. “Annabelle, it is no secret that my own marriage was not the best. I married the wrong man. Do not make the same mistake. Be certain.”

Annabelle bit her lower lip. “I don't know…”

“If the earl has nothing to hide, then you can marry him without the shadow of uncertainty marring your wedding day. If, however, it turns out that he is not the man you think him, better to know now than to find out when you are bound in the eyes of God.”

“Perhaps you are right. I suppose it would not hurt to ask Richard to tell me more about himself.”

“Do not forget about the servants.”

Annabelle shook her head. “I couldn't go behind his back like that. It doesn't seem right.”

Cilla knew when not to push the issue. “As you wish. I just want you to be certain, because marriage
is forever.” When Annabelle remained quiet, Cilla patted her hand and rose from the bench. “We can talk about the guest list later.”

Annabelle nodded, paging aimlessly through her book. Cilla turned and left her in the garden, certain she had planted the seeds that might make her look more closely at Raventhorpe.

She was doing the right thing, she assured herself. If Raventhorpe turned out to be less than a gentleman, she could not let Annabelle wed him—even though it meant she might lose her position as a result of it. As much as she longed for financial independence for herself, she had to follow her instincts. Had all worked out as planned, she could have held her head high and perhaps won back some of the acceptance of her family—especially her father—with the accomplishment of launching a successful business.

But by doing this she probably ruined her chances of success. She could probably find work in one of the factories, but she knew the hours to be long and the pay very little. How could she face her family with such prospects? In such dire straits, her only alternative would be to return home to live with her parents, who would do their best to marry her off—which meant she needed to be equipped to choose a good husband.

One thing her interlude with Samuel had clearly illustrated was that she was way more passionate than she dreamed, and that she did have needs even she hadn't realized. And that there was much for her to learn about the world of sexuality in order to choose correctly this time.

Her hours of thought had concluded in a single truth that might resolve her struggle between survival and her attraction to Samuel. If she was going to put her entire future on the line to save Annabelle from marrying a monster, then she would have to learn how to tell the good men from the bad ones.

And Samuel was going to help her.

H
e had sent her three notes over the past three days, and still no response. It seemed as if he had indeed frightened off the only person who was willing to help him save Annabelle.

Samuel climbed the stairs of the inn and made his way to John's room. He opened the door and found his friend out of bed with his trousers on. “Where the devil do you think you're going?”

“Is there a law against knocking?” John replied, shrugging into his shirt. “I am sick of being abed and thought to go down to the stables.”

“You were shot, or don't you recall?” Samuel shut the door and went over to grab the edges of John's shirt as his friend tried to fasten the buttons.

“Samuel, you had best let go of my shirt or we are going to have something of a problem.”

“Damn it, John, you were at death's door only days ago.” Samuel eyed the bandage on John's shoulder. No signs of blood. “It looks well enough. I suppose you can get up today.”

“Thank you, Mother.” John jerked his shirt out
of Samuel's hands and walked across the room to the looking glass.

“Someone has to look out for you. You would have died if Cilla and I hadn't rushed you back here and nursed your wounds.”

John met his gaze in the reflection of the looking glass. “Cilla, is it?”

“Mrs. Burke.”

“Aye, I know who she is.” John arched his brow. “A lot must have happened while I was abed.”

“Not so much.” Beneath John's steady stare, Samuel relented. “Well, maybe. We had an…encounter…the day you were injured.”

John grinned. “An encounter?”

“Never you mind,” Samuel grumbled. “It's not quite what you're thinking, though I might well have ruined everything.”

“Why is that?” John tucked his shirt into his waistband and went to fetch his coat.

“I drove her home that evening and she wouldn't even look at me. I've sent her three notes. No response.”

John sighed and shook his head. “You are lost without me, Samuel, I can tell.”

“I'm sorry, John. Of course I'm glad you're feeling better.”

John chuckled. “I know you are. This widow of yours—she has got you tied up right and tight, hasn't she?”

“I need her, John. She's the only person who is willing to convince Annabelle to jilt Raventhorpe.”

“Is that all?”

“What else would there be?”

John smothered a grin. “What else indeed?” He shrugged into his coat, wincing as he maneuvered his arm into the sleeve. “I am starved. What say you we go downstairs and get some food, and we can figure out a way to get you back into the widow Burke's good graces, eh?”

“I would be glad of your advice.” Samuel headed to the door. “Especially since you were the one who encouraged me to pursue her.”

John followed him out of the room and down the hall. “Me? As I recall I was courting death in the bed there while you were making advances to the lady.”

“Have you forgotten our conversation just last week? The one where you suggested I should begin an affair with her?”

“Samuel, when a man has snatched his soul away from the greedy hand of death, not much else lingers in his mind. I am afraid I do not recall much before I was shot.”

Samuel stopped at the top of the stairs and slanted him a look. “That nonsense won't work for long, you know.”

“I know, but I was hoping it would last until at least after breakfast.”

Samuel ignored the levity. “I'm truly concerned, John. What if I have botched things and she won't help us?”

“Then, my friend, I suggest you formulate some
sort of alternative plan. But not on an empty stomach.” With a reassuring grin, John preceded him down the stairs.

 

Cilla arrived at the Tuesday night local assembly ball with the Baileys. It was the first assembly ball of the year, and the Baileys had decided they had best get to know their neighbors. With Annabelle marrying Lord Raventhorpe, they expected to be visiting their home in the area quite frequently, even after they had returned to America.

“So many people!” Annabelle said.

“Anyone can attend a public ball,” Cilla told her, “as long as they can afford the price.”

“Lord Raventhorpe doesn't know what he's missing,” Dolly said.

“Richard believes affairs of this sort are for the lower classes,” Annabelle said, with a sniff.

“Lord Raventhorpe can be a little too full of himself,” Virgil said. “This just looks like a bunch of regular folks having a good time.”

“That is what it is, for the most part,” Cilla said.

“Mrs. Burke, isn't that your mama?” Annabelle asked, pointing.

Cilla gently pushed the girl's hand down. “I believe it is, Annabelle. My goodness, what are they doing here?”

“Let's go see.” Dolly charged ahead, leaving the rest of them to follow her. “Hello there! Mrs. Wallington-Willis!”

Cilla hurried after her with Annabelle and Virgil
right behind her, well aware of the whispers Dolly's behavior generated.

Helen glanced up, then disengaged from the group she was talking to and turned a gracious smile upon them. “Mrs. Bailey! How are you?”

“I am wonderful as always.” Dolly paused, catching her breath.

“Hello, Mama.” Cilla came up beside Dolly. “What are you doing here?”

“We are staying nearby with the Fitzwarrens.” Helen smiled, a twinkling of mischief in her dark eyes so like her daughter's. “Your father just went to fetch us some lemonade.”

“Mama, may I introduce Mr. Bailey? And you remember his daughter, Annabelle.”

“Pleasure,” Virgil said with a little bow.

“How lovely to meet you, Mr. Bailey. And of course I do remember the lovely Annabelle. My own daughter Genny is taking a turn with Mercy Fitzwarren and should be back directly.” She looked at Cilla. “Perhaps now we can have that family dinner.”

“I am sorry I had to cancel—” Cilla began.

“Entirely my fault,” Virgil interrupted. “I whisked my ladies back to the country so fast they had no time to change their plans.”

“Oh, Pa, it wasn't your fault,” Annabelle said. “Richard was the one who insisted we come back so early.”

“Annabelle, hush!” Dolly said. She turned a commiserating look upon Cilla's mother. “These young girls just burst out with the darnedest things.”

“I understand completely, having two daughters of my own.” Helen smiled suddenly, looking beyond them. “Ah, here comes the lemonade.”

As they all turned to follow her gaze, Cilla's attention was captured not by her bearded, distinguished father, but by his tall, familiar companion.

“Heavens, that's Samuel!” Annabelle gasped.

“Ah yes, as I recall you are acquainted with Captain Breedlove,” Helen said. “He and my husband have struck up quite the friendship this evening. Men of the sea and all that.”

“I had heard he was still in England,” Virgil said grimly, “but I have not spoken to him myself.”

The two men reached them, and Cilla's father handed his wife a cup of lemonade. “Here you are, my dear.” He looked at his daughter and immediately away again. “Priscilla.”

Priscilla.

Even as her father's dismissal stung, Cilla couldn't help but glance at Samuel. His mouth curved in a secret smile. An answering heat sprang to life inside her. For a moment, it was just the two of them again alone in the dining room at the Caruthers Inn.

She made herself look back at her father. “Hello, Papa. I hope you are well.”

“And who is this charming lady?” her father asked, looking at Dolly.

Dolly flushed and extended her hand. “Mrs. Dolly Bailey.”

“Mrs. Bailey, I am Admiral Wallington-Willis.” He bent over her hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Admiral.” Dolly withdrew her hand and indicated Virgil. “This is my husband, Virgil, and our daughter, Annabelle.”

“Mr. Bailey.” The admiral gave a respectful nod before turning to Annabelle and giving her a brief bow. “Miss Bailey, you are nearly as lovely as your mother.”

Annabelle dimpled at him. “Thank you, Admiral.”

The admiral indicated Samuel. “And this is—”

“The Baileys are acquainted with Captain Breedlove,” Cilla said.

For the first time, her father looked directly at her. “They are?”

“Yes, we are.” Virgil did not extend his hand to Samuel. His gaze remained steady on the younger man.

Samuel gave him a brief nod. “Sir.”

The admiral looked from one man to the other, his expression curious. But he did not ask.

“We thought you were still in London,” Dolly said.

“The delights of the city pale without your company,” Samuel said. “Perhaps you will allow me to call on you while I am in the country.”

An awkward silence fell.

“I don't know—” Dolly began.

“Perhaps—” Annabelle started.

“I would like to talk to you, Samuel,” Virgil said. “Now, if you don't mind.”

Samuel's expression grew guarded. “Very well.”

“This way.” Virgil stalked off. With a murmured apology and a quick bow, Samuel went after him.

Helen and the admiral looked at Cilla. She gave a slight shake of her head.

“Let's all get some lemonade,” Dolly said.

 

Virgil stormed out the doors of the assembly hall and walked around the corner of the building. Samuel followed and found Virgil waiting for him in the shadows, arms crossed and legs braced.

“What in God's name are you up to, boy?” he demanded. “You better not still be sniffing after Annabelle. She's marrying Raventhorpe and that's that.”

“You can't let her marry him,” Samuel said. “He's not the man you think he is.”

“Bollocks. You just want her for yourself. Well, you should have thought of that about two years ago.”

“I didn't leave her on purpose. Why don't you believe me?”

“Raventhorpe told me all of it, Samuel.
All
of it.”

“All of what, Virgil? If I told you what I have learned—”

Virgil threw up his hands. “I don't want to hear it unless you've got proof to show.”

“I don't. But I know what kind of man he is.”

“I used to know what kind of man
you
are, but you've disappointed me.”

“I'm sor—”

“How could you do it?” Virgil burst out. “How could you take up with other gals when you knew Annabelle was home waiting for you?”

“What?” Samuel gaped at the man he considered his surrogate father. “You think I chased other
women while I was engaged to Annabelle?”

“The earl told us what went on whenever you were in port.”

“The same way he told you that I lost my temper and abandoned my post?” Rage coiled inside him like a striking snake. “I have never before given you any reason to question my honor.”

“Until—”

“Never,” Samuel repeated, ice in his tone. “I don't know why you are taking the word of a complete stranger over someone you've known for over ten years.”

“He's an earl…”

“He's a man first, and a poor example of one to boot. His social status does not guarantee good character.”

Virgil blinked, startled. “But…”

“I have done nothing to shame you,” Samuel said. “But when I needed you to believe in me—when I
counted
on you to believe in me, you let me down.”

“
I
let
you
down…?”

“You listened to the lies of another instead of the word of the man who—” He stopped, took a deep breath. “I wish there was some way to prove all this to you, but I can't. Did you ever think to ask Raventhorpe for proof of his accusations? Because right now, it's my word against his—his and the crew who work for him. Not exactly an unbiased group. And it's a shame that all our years together aren't enough for you to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Virgil said nothing, but Samuel could tell by the
look in his eyes that he appeared to be considering Samuel's words.

“Annabelle is what matters now,” Samuel said. “And if I can leave you with any impression at all, it's to reconsider the kind of man you're giving your daughter to.”

He turned and walked back inside, leaving Virgil alone in the dark.

 

Cilla was watching for Samuel. He came back into the hall alone, his jaw tense and his eyes hot. He looked around, saw her where she stood with her parents and the Bailey women, and started toward her with a resolve that sent a thrill through her.

“There's Samuel,” Dolly said. “I wonder where Virgil is?”

Samuel reached them. “Mrs. Burke? Would you like to dance?”

“Well, I…” She glanced at Dolly.

“Oh, go on, girl,” Dolly urged.

Cilla inhaled a deep breath. “Yes, Captain, I would love to dance.”

Annabelle frowned, looking from one to the other.

Samuel held out his hand and Cilla took it. “I believe the next dance is a polka. Let's go get our places.”

Cilla slid a look at her parents and was surprised to see approval there, even from her father. “Lead on, Captain.”

Cilla allowed Samuel to lead her away from the group, more than conscious of Annabelle's puzzled
expression. Once they were out of earshot, she murmured, “I do not think Annabelle likes this.”

“She made her choice.” Samuel led her to a place on the dance floor. “We're no longer engaged, so it shouldn't matter to her who I choose to partner.”

“Does that bother you?” she asked as the music started.

“The broken engagement? Not anymore.” He slid one hand around her waist and took her other hand in his, pulling her against his warm, lean body. “My real motivation was to hold you in my arms.”