Tempting a Proper Lady (2 page)

“I do not care who you are or why you are here,” Cilla hissed. “I demand you leave the premises immediately—or I will have you removed.”

The banked rage in the look he gave her nearly made her draw back. “I don't mind fighting for what's mine. And Annabelle
is
mine. I'm her fiancé.” And before she could stop him, he stepped from behind the column into sight of the entire assembly.

 

Samuel expected the footmen to come after him. But it came down to what mattered more to the little firebrand who had tried to eject him from the party—the scandal of an uninvited guest causing a scene or a brawl in the middle of the party. He was banking on scandal being the lesser of two evils.

At first the group on the steps didn't notice him. He took in the scene like a thirsty man sighting water, more moved at seeing them than he liked to admit. Virgil and Dolly, who had welcomed him into their home like a son, allowing him to escape the misery of his own childhood for their warm hearth many a time. Virgil had taught him how to be a man, and Dolly had held him when his mother died. Annabelle, pretty and sweet, his constant companion in youth, who had become his
fiancée in adulthood. She stood proudly beside her parents now. And on her other side…

Raventhorpe.

Rage roared through him as he watched the wily snake smile with smug possessiveness at Annabelle. First the bastard had left him to die on that deserted rock in the middle of the Caribbean, and now he thought to steal Samuel's bride. Samuel clenched his jaw, his body vibrating with the force of anger almost too volatile to control.

But control it he did. There was no way he could bring Raventhorpe to justice on the marooning. He had no evidence, no clout in the British justice system—not when pitted against an earl's influence. But he could spoil Raventhorpe's little engagement. He could get Annabelle back and prevent an innocent girl from marrying the man who had tried to murder him.

This time Raventhorpe would
not
win.

Murmurs of congratulations accompanied the raised glasses as the guests joined in the toast. Annabelle pinkened, her blue eyes sparkling as she shyly smiled at Raventhorpe, touching her glass to his.

And Raventhorpe smiled back.

Triumphantly.

Samuel took another step forward, but someone grabbed his arm. He looked down into the earnest face of the redoubtable Mrs. Burke.

“Do not do this,” she hissed. “Have some respect for Annabelle. Spare her this scandal.”

“She accepted me first. Any damage I do to her
reputation, I will repair.” He shook her hand off his arm and came to the base of the steps, raising his glass high. “A toast! To the engagement of Annabelle Bailey—
to Captain Samuel Breedlove
.” He drank deeply as gasps echoed around him.

Annabelle paled when she saw him. The glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the steps. “Samuel!”

Astonishment flickered across Raventhorpe's face, but then he quickly recovered and narrowed his eyes.

“Samuel!” Dolly gasped. “What—”

“Samuel Breedlove.” Virgil's fingers tightened around his glass as his expression darkened. “What in God's name do you think you are doing?”

“I told Annabelle I would return for her.” Samuel met Annabelle's gaze, her blue eyes so familiar after so long apart. “And so I have.”

“So you have,” Annabelle whispered, her expression shocked. She took a step forward, crushing the broken glass with her delicate slippers. The earl caught her arm, bringing her to a halt.

“Have a care, my dear, lest you injure yourself.” Raventhorpe pulled her back to his side and met Samuel's gaze with the cool deliberation of a coiled rattler. “Have you no shame, Breedlove? How dare you show yourself here!”

Samuel indicated Annabelle as a servant scurried forward to collect the pieces of broken glass on the floor. “I must thank you for watching over my fiancée for me, Raventhorpe. As you well know, I have been indisposed these past two years.”

“You sound as if you are making an accusation, Captain.”

“Maybe I am.”

Fervent whispers rippled through the crowd, though their audience did not appear to bother Raventhorpe a whit. “Be on your way,” the earl demanded. “You are disturbing a private party.”

“I came for Annabelle.”

“You abandoned her,” Raventhorpe said.

“I did not abandon her.”

“You were betrothed to a poor farmer's daughter, but you came back when you heard about her change in fortunes.”

Gasps. More whispers.

“That's a lie.” The servant finished clearing the glass and hurried away, allowing Samuel to put his foot on the first stair toward Annabelle. “Shall I tell the lady what really happened?”

Raventhorpe shifted Annabelle behind him and came down a step to block Samuel's way. The crowd shuffled, murmured. “Save your falsehoods for some other maid, Breedlove. You have lost her. Accept it.”

Samuel leaned closer to the earl's face. “Never.”

Raventhorpe shoved at his shoulder, pushing him back a pace. “Leave. Or shall we have the footmen escort you?”

Samuel shoved back. “You first.”

Ladies cried out, and gentlemen moved protectively in front of them.

Mrs. Burke rushed forward but then stopped as Virgil cut bodily between the two men, putting
an end to the scuffle. “Enough of this foolishness. Haven't the two of you given these folks enough to chew on?”

“I must speak to you, sir,” Samuel said. “I suspect you have been told lies about me.”

“Lies, is it?” Virgil looked him long and hard in the eye. “I reckon we've all got something to say about this. Best get it done since you already wrecked the party.”

“Throw him out,” Raventhorpe hissed. “Has he not done enough damage to your family, Bailey?”

“My family, my decision,” Virgil said. “Mrs. Burke, you take Samuel and wait for us in the library. Lord Raventhorpe and I will be along once we've said good night to the guests.”

“Me?” Mrs. Burke protested.

“Please, Mrs. Burke.” The tension lines around Virgil's mouth indicated the strain he battled. “You're so good at handling these sorts of things.”

“Very well,” she conceded.

“And Annabelle?” Samuel asked.

“She's none of your concern,” Raventhorpe said.

“She is my fiancée. That makes her my concern.”

“My ring on her finger says otherwise.”

Behind them, Annabelle stood pale and silent, lips quivering.

“Enough!” Virgil scowled as the crowd's low murmur of speculation became a dull roar. “Samuel, to the library. Raventhorpe, with me.”

Samuel glared at the earl. “I would prefer that Lord Raventhorpe adjourn to the library as well.”

“Some of the guests are friends of Lord Raventhorpe's,” Virgil replied. “He has to say his fancy good-byes. It's what they do here in England.”

“Then I will wait here.”

“No.” Virgil leaned closer to Samuel and lowered his voice. “You're on thin ice, my boy. Lucky for you I'm curious enough to hear your side of the story before I toss you out of my house.”

Samuel had expected more sympathy from his surrogate father. He opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil continued, “This is England, not America, and these folks use gossip like a weapon. I reckon you've given them enough to jabber about tonight, don't you? If you still care for Annabelle like you claim, you'll do what I ask.”

Samuel glanced at Annabelle, her face bleak and stark with shock. Then he looked at the crowd around them. The bright eyes, the snickers, the derisive grins hurriedly hidden behind hands and fans. Like a pack of wild dogs, they scented blood in the air.

Virgil was right. Best they handle the rest of this behind closed doors.

Ignoring Raventhorpe's glittering gaze, he gave a respectful nod to Virgil and then turned to look at the woman appointed his keeper. “Mrs. Burke, kindly lead the way to the library.”

Her mouth a thin line of disapproval, she gave a curt nod. “This way, Captain Breedlove.” The crowd parted before her as she led him back toward the double doors, her spine rigid, her skirts swaying with simmering temper.

Virgil raised his voice to the crowd. “As you can
see, an urgent family matter has arisen, so I regret that we will have to cut the evening short. Thank you all for coming.”

The clank of glasses being collected by the servants and the rising volume of excited voices filled the great hall as the guests began to organize their exit. Samuel paused in the doorway to look back at Annabelle. Dolly held her distraught daughter in a protective embrace and tried to urge her toward the terrace doors, away from curious eyes.

He'd hated to hurt her, but there had been no other way.

“Captain?” Mrs. Burke waited several paces down the hall, her expression one of impatience.

The Baileys had not ejected him from the house. If he had any hope of breaking Annabelle's engagement to Raventhorpe, better he continue to play according to their rules. Slowly he moved to join her as the rest of the crowd wedged themselves through the great hall doors and then flowed toward the cloakroom.

She waited until he had reached her before she turned to continue with her duty. He glanced back to see Raventhorpe and Virgil standing just outside the great hall, bidding their guests good-bye. Raventhorpe took the hand of an ancient dowager and bent over it, then looked up and met Samuel's gaze. The fury and hatred there reaffirmed that Raventhorpe was the same merciless snake who had tried to kill him on that tiny island in the Caribbean.

All the more reason to wrest Annabelle from his clutches.

C
illa opened the door to Virgil Bailey's study and waited for Samuel to precede her. After a momentary hesitation that made her believe he had at some point in his life been taught proper manners, he walked into the room. Cilla followed behind him and shut the door to block any curiosity seekers from seeing inside.

Only after she turned back to face him did she consider that leaving the door open might have been a wiser choice. The brief twinge about propriety was easily dismissed; she was not only a widow but a paid employee. There would be no gossip.

But she would be a fool if she did not admit her misgivings about being shut away in a room with him. After his scandalous behavior this evening, who knew what he might do or say next? She took comfort in the fact that Virgil Bailey knew this man, and he would not have left Cilla alone with Captain Breedlove if there was any chance of danger to her person. However, there was more to her apprehension than that.

The other half of it was much more perilous, much
more personal, and shook her even under these extraordinary circumstances. She had sensed it the moment she had set eyes on the brash American.

She noticed him as a man, reacted to him as a woman in a physical manner that seemed beyond her control. She did not like it, had not sought it. But there it was, like an elephant in the middle of the drawing room, daring her to ignore it.

She tried, certainly she did. But the richness of the clearly masculine study with its floor-to-ceiling carved bookshelves, massive mahogany desk, and huge marble fireplace only emphasized the sheer size of the man she wanted to dismiss. She knew she was not a tall woman, but closeted away with him, she became more aware of how much space he claimed, even outside of the physical.

He was tall, certainly, and broad in the shoulders. His hands looked strong and tanned, so different from the pale, pampered hands of the gentlemen she knew. These were hands that had performed the manual labor necessary for sailing a ship, hands that looked rough with calluses and nicked with scars. Could hands like that be gentle? Hold a butterfly or a flower or a woman? Even as the thought crossed her mind, he reached out to the unusual clock sitting on the desk, that of a standing Greek Muse balancing the clock face beneath one arm and holding up a clear crystal globe with her other hand. He stroked his finger over the curve of the Muse's hip.

The lazy motion made her breath catch. Why him? What was wrong with her that she was so irrationally
attracted to such an unsuitable man? She suddenly realized she was staring and jerked her gaze up to find him watching her.

Those dark eyes held secrets that called to the depths of everything female within her. As if he had seen everything there was to see in the world, knew everything there was to know.

Could do…anything.

Her pulse skittered, and she sucked in a slow breath, willing her body to calm. She had seen his like before. He reminded her of her late husband with his untamed good looks and dangerous allure. But where Edward had been a charismatic man who used his gift for words to entice people into doing what he wanted, Captain Breedlove was a man who wore danger as easily as he wore his well-fitted evening clothes. Edward had charmed, but Samuel Breedlove demanded.

And somehow, to her horror, some part of her responded to that subtle summons and longed to meet the challenge.

“Shall we sit down?” he asked.

His voice made her aware that she continued to gape at him like a ninny. Putting forth her most dignified bearing, she perched on the edge of one of the chairs in front of the massive desk. Then he seated himself quite properly in the chair beside her.

Too close. She could practically feel the heat from his body across the few inches that separated them. What was the matter with her? How was it this rough American with his indifferent boldness could so com
pletely take her outside herself, make her forget the disaster that loomed before her?

“You don't like me much, do you?”

His question surprised her. “It hardly matters how I feel.”

“Maybe.” He leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out as much as he could with the desk so close. “So who are you, some kind of cousin?”

“No.” He continued to regard her expectantly, and she let out a huff of impatience. “I am Mrs. Bailey's assistant.”

His brows shot up. “Assistant? I thought for sure you were some married relative of Raventhorpe's come to help with the wedding.”

Her spine stiffened the slightest bit more. “I am simply an employee, nothing more.”

He shrugged. “I'm just saying, you strike me as a woman born and raised in an English drawing room.”

“Who and what I am is no concern of yours.”

“See? That's what makes me think I'm right. You tell me to mind my own business with the prim and proper words, but that go-to-hell look in your eye tells me how you're really feeling.”

“I will thank you to not use profanity in my presence.”

“Sorry, ma'am.” Silence stretched between them. “What do you suppose is taking so long?”

“There were seventy guests. It takes time to summon that many carriages, though I imagine Mr. Bailey will make short work of it.”

“All that for an engagement party? Seems a waste.”

His careless tone rankled. “Thanks to you, sir, it
was
wasted. All that planning, all that expense. Poor Annabelle must be devastated.”

“It's just a party. When we get married, I'll throw her a jamboree fit for a queen.”

She clenched her teeth with an audible click. “Why do you persist with this ridiculous charade? She has accepted Lord Raventhorpe. It is unreasonable for you to continue to press your suit.”

“
Unreasonable?
” His low snarl set her nerves humming in warning. “I'll tell you what's unreasonable, Mrs. Burke. Annabelle is engaged to
me
. That scurvy bilge rat is trying to steal her away.”

“If you cared at all for her, you would not put her through such an ordeal as you have enacted tonight,” she snapped. “I do not know what misunderstanding has brought on such dramatics—”

“Misunderstanding? Dramatics?” He leaned toward her. “The drama has not yet begun, I assure you.”

“Annabelle is happy, or she was until tonight. She will be marrying a man with an old and respected title. Do you really expect her to jilt His Lordship to be the wife of a…what is it? Sea captain?”

“Yes, I expect exactly that.”

“And what would compel her to do such a foolish thing?”

Before he could respond, the door to the office opened. The three Baileys and Raventhorpe entered.

Samuel stood and offered his seat to Dolly. Cilla
rose as well and started to leave the room, attempting to give them privacy.

“Stay, Mrs. Burke,” Virgil said as he took his chair behind his desk.

Cilla paused, then took up a post near the door. Raventhorpe escorted Annabelle to Cilla's vacated chair, then stood behind it. Samuel lingered beside Dolly's chair, though he noticed she would not look at him.

“We have a problem,” Virgil said, glancing from Samuel to Raventhorpe. “Both of you claim the right to marry my girl.”

“Surely you will not entertain this madness,” the earl said.

Samuel ignored Raventhorpe. Instead he kept his gaze on the man he had thought would be his father-in-law. The steady gray eyes that had always looked at him with such understanding, now reflected the hard steel of displeasure.

“Madness or not, she did accept me first,” Samuel said.

“That she did,” Virgil agreed. “But then you left on that sea voyage and never came back to her. You ran off to live a new life, free of responsibility.”

“That's a lie!” Samuel took a step forward. “You know me. You know that once I make a promise, I keep it.”

Virgil's expression did not soften. “Then where the hell were you, boy?”

“Marooned on an island in the Caribbean.”

“Marooned!” Dolly exclaimed, glancing at him with astonishment.

“You expect us to believe that?” Virgil said.

“It's the truth.” Samuel jerked his head at Raventhorpe. “Ask him. He's the one who left me there.”

“Lord Raventhorpe already told us what happened,” Virgil said. “You left the ship in the middle of the voyage because the two of you argued. And we all know what your temper's like.”

Samuel looked from one face to the other, his gut knotting at the lack of forgiveness in their eyes. “In all the years you've known me, you honestly believe I would abandon ship over a quarrel?”

“The rest of the crew backs up his story. Like I said, we do know you, and you can be a real hothead sometimes.”

“If only you'd written or come home to us to tell us what had happened,” Dolly said. “We would have understood. We knew you took the job on Lord Raventhorpe's ship to earn some money to start your life together. Annabelle would have waited for you if you'd just told us the truth. But disappearing like that…” She shook her head. “Shameful.”

“And cowardly.”

Samuel shot his gaze to Virgil's. “I am no coward, sir.”

“You never used to be.” The older man narrowed his eyes. “We loved you like you were one of ours, boy, but what you did to our baby is not the act of any man I want for a son.”

“Why did you wait so long to come home to us?” Dolly asked. “We waited for you. Especially Annabelle.”

“The timing is obvious to me,” Raventhorpe said.
“Clearly it was your change in financial circumstances that brought him back.”

“Is that it, son?” Virgil asked. “Is it about the money?”

“Of course it is,” Raventhorpe insisted. “Annabelle was a poor farmer's daughter when he left, but now she is an heiress. It all makes perfect sense.”

Samuel fought to speak past the pain burning in his chest. “It's not about the money. I don't care if she's rich now. None of you are hearing what I'm saying.”

“We hear you,” Virgil said. “But you're telling us that Lord Raventhorpe, an English lord with blood bluer than the sky, left you stranded on some deserted island just so he could marry Annabelle. Aside from the fact that that's just crazy since he didn't even know Annabelle at the time, you've got to agree that it's a far-fetched story.”

“As soon as I was able, I came back to Annabelle. And that's the truth.”

“The truth? I sure would have liked to hear the truth. To hear you admit your mistake like a man. Like I taught you.” Virgil's voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, I sure would have liked that. But now…well, Annabelle's already announced her engagement to Lord Raventhorpe.”

“The banns were read this week,” Raventhorpe said, “and a notice was sent to the
Times
. You are too late, Breedlove.”

Samuel whirled on the earl. “I'd like to remind you, Raventhorpe, that you tried to get rid of me once and it didn't work.”

The earl raised his brows. “Are you making these wild accusations as an excuse for abandoning your lady? Good God, Breedlove. You will say anything to save face.”

“Get rid of you?” Annabelle broke her silence and looked at Raventhorpe. “What does he mean, Richard?”

“He has made a muck of things,” the earl replied, laying a possessive hand on her shoulder. “Captain Breedlove underestimated the consequences of his abandonment of you and now he is trying to make
me
look the villain.”

“Don't listen to him, Annabelle. This man is not the saint he pretends to be.”

“Saint? Goodness, no.” Raventhorpe chuckled, casting a glance at the others to encourage them to share in his amusement. “No man is a saint. But you have some gall coming here uninvited and abusing us with your unfounded accusations. You say I marooned you on a deserted island…?”

“You know the truth.” Samuel's hands fisted. “And now you figure to steal my bride.”

“And yet you stand here before us. Clearly you escaped this mythical captivity.” Raventhorpe shook his head, his expression tinged with pity. “Poor man. You must have loved Annabelle very much for your mind to have become so unhinged.”

“You know what you did.”

“I know what you are claiming I did. Where is your proof?”

“Good question,” Virgil said. “It's your word against his. You got any proof or witnesses? Because
Lord Raventhorpe has a boat full of people who back what he says.”

Samuel remained silent. He could see the gleam of triumph in Raventhorpe's eyes behind the mien of benevolence. It took every fiber of control not to reach out and choke the man with his bare hands.

“So, you have no proof.” Raventhorpe cast a meaningful look at the Baileys.

There was no way to win, not without evidence. Samuel turned his attention to his fiancée. “Annabelle, you are still my betrothed. Surely you believe me.” He held out a hand to her, then dropped it when she didn't take it. “We had plans. Dreams.”

“We did.” She fixed him with a deadened stare, spearing him with disappointment from that too-somber gaze. “But you disappeared with no word that you ever intended to come back. Not so much as a letter.” Annabelle glanced up and laid her hand over Raventhorpe's on her shoulder, eyeing the earl with devotion. “Richard was there. He comforted me in my heartbreak and my humiliation. That is why I chose him for my husband.”

“I see.” Samuel looked at Virgil.

The older man nodded. “That's how it is. I want my gal to be happy.”

“I could make her happy.”

“Oh, leave off, Breedlove!” Raventhorpe snapped. “You have lost. Accept it like a man.”

Samuel glanced back at Annabelle.

“You should leave now, Samuel,” she said.

“Why him?” Samuel asked, the words jerking from him like a tightly leashed beast fighting to escape.
“His title? Social prestige? I never knew you to be a social climber, Annabelle.”