Tempting a Proper Lady (21 page)

“Postpone it! I wish I could.”

“Of course you can. No one would find fault with you taking the time to consider such an important step in your life.”

Annabelle chewed the inside of her lip. “Do you think so? I don't know what Richard might do if I tell him I want to wait.”

“All the more reason to go to your mother. She wants you to be happy, so I imagine she would support your decision. And she could convince your papa to put off the wedding until you are more certain of your choice of husband.”

“That's a wonderful idea!” Annabelle slid off the bed. “Will you come with me, Mrs. Burke? I don't want Mama to think I am just being fickle.”

“Of course I will.”

“If we go right now, we can talk to her before dinner. Then she can talk to Papa afterwards. He's always more cheerful after he's eaten.”

“Just give me a moment to change my clothing.”

“Mama's in her sewing room, so let's meet there.”

“I will be along momentarily.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Burke!” Annabelle gave her a quick hug, then jumped off the bed and raced from the room, closing the door behind her.

Cilla stared after her, wondering if she had done the right thing. Certainly Raventhorpe was a villain,
and it was in Annabelle's best interest to postpone the wedding and reconsider marrying the earl. Why, then, did Cilla feel as if she had done something underhanded in keeping her knowledge of Raventhorpe's more nefarious deeds from Annabelle?

Confirming the girl's worst fears would have driven Annabelle away from Raventhorpe in a trice. Annabelle would have been safe, the only cost being her naïve outlook on the world. But Cilla had wanted to protect that virtue awhile longer. She knew how it felt to have one's innocence ripped away like a blindfold in bright sunlight.

A postponement of the wedding was a far cry from calling off an engagement, but it was a step in the right direction to save Annabelle. But would it be enough?

S
aturday morning found Samuel on the doorstep of Nevarton Chase. When the door opened, Samuel found himself face to face with Thomas the footman. The servant's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing. Samuel did not bother to stop the grin that curved his mouth. “Good morning, Thomas. I'm expected.”

For a moment he thought the footman was not going to allow him entrance, but then the servant stepped backward, jerking the door open. Samuel stepped inside as the servant closed the door behind him.

“Come to see Miss Annabelle, have you?” the servant asked, bristling with nearly visible hostility.

“Actually it was Mr. Bailey who summoned me.”

Surprise flashed across the footman's face before he masked it. “Wait here,” he muttered, then stalked toward the hallway.

“Thomas.”

The footman stopped and turned, his hands fisting at his sides. He waited.

“Glad to see the lip healed well,” Samuel said.

The footman glared, then spun on his heel and marched down the hallway.

Long minutes passed as Samuel was left to cool his heels in the foyer. Two other footmen passed by, each at different times. Both stiffened and scowled as they caught sight of him, but neither of them spoke, nor did they stop in their duties. Samuel was just beginning to think the summons from Bailey was some sort of trick when he heard his name.

“Samuel.” Cilla looked over the rail at him from the floor above. “Good heavens, what are you doing here?”

“I've been invited.”

“Wait, I will come down.” She disappeared from sight but then reappeared moments later, holding her skirts out of the way as she hurried down the stairs. Her breasts bobbed in time with her rapid descent, reminding him of how they had looked, rosy and bare, while he had made love to her in the cottage just yesterday. She reached the ground floor, her cheeks pink. Was that from exertion or from seeing him again?

Her hair was back in its familiar coil, and she brushed at the wisps that danced along her temples as she reached him. But though she was once again dressed in her conservative dark colors, he could imagine beneath the layers of buttons and petticoats the sensual creature who had eagerly embraced all the sexual arts he had taught her that afternoon in the cottage. And as she met his gaze, he could tell that she was remembering, too.

“Samuel,” she murmured.

That quickly they were back in the cottage, bodies naked and straining against each other as they raced toward the pinnacle of pleasure.

“Priscilla.” A spark lit her eyes as he murmured her name, and a primal urge to claim this female rose within him. What was it about this woman that made him want to carry her off and have her, consequences be damned?

“Why are you here?” she whispered. A maid passed through the foyer, reminding them they were not alone.

“Bailey sent for me.”

She nodded. “Of course. I should have expected as much.”

“Why is that?” He glanced around, more than aware that another servant could walk by at any moment. “Where can we talk alone?”

Her eyes widened. “That is not wise.”

“The hell it's not. I need to know what's going on. Five minutes alone with me will hardly destroy your reputation.” He grinned at her. “Though I take it as a compliment that you think I could do enough in five minutes to cause such scandal.”

Her face flamed, but her eyes lit with a carnal interest that had never failed to arouse him in all the hours they had spent together. She turned and strode to a nearby doorway. “The dining room is through here. Mr. Bailey will be summoning you at any moment, so we must be quick about it.”

“Perhaps that should be our next lesson,” he murmured as he passed by her to go through the
doorway. Her sharp intake of breath told him she had heard him, and he found his mind wandering down the road of dangerous possibilities as she shut the door behind them.

“Are you mad to say such things here?” She stormed past him, hugging her midriff. “Our arrangement was to remain a secret.”

“And so it is. But I can't help how I respond to you…or how you respond to me.” He moved closer to her, then trailed his fingertip along the shell of her ear. As expected, the caress made her visibly quiver. “Perhaps we should indeed use our five minutes for another lesson.”

“Have you no shame?” Her voice lacked the rebuke it should have had, and he could swear he could see her nipples straining against the dark gray dress she wore. “Anyone could come in here at any moment.”

“Then I suppose you had better tell me what's going on. Why did Bailey summon me here?”

“I have convinced Annabelle to postpone the wedding.”

“Postpone? Not call off?”

“No.” Cilla shook her head. “For now, she is uncertain enough about Raventhorpe that she spoke with Dolly last evening about her concerns. Dolly talked to Annabelle's father this morning. Now you are here, so I can only assume that Mr. Bailey has made a decision about the matter.”

“Perhaps he intends to have me keelhauled.”

“Do not be ridiculous. Virgil Bailey is a fair,
levelheaded man. More likely Annabelle may have convinced him that they misjudged you.”

“That would be a miracle indeed.”

“At least postponing the wedding buys you more time to find evidence against the earl.” She bit her lower lip, her lovely brown eyes reflecting her apprehension. “I decided not to tell Annabelle the whole truth about Raventhorpe. Let her have her illusions about life for a little while longer.”

He tipped her chin up with one finger so her gaze met his. “You're a softhearted little thing, aren't you?”

“Nonsense.” She pulled away from him, but not before he noticed the pulse pounding in her throat. “I simply do not see any purpose in telling Annabelle such sordid tales unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“You know that by telling her the whole truth, she might very well drop Raventhorpe like a hot rock.”

“The thought did occur to me, but I truly believe she should be spared if possible. Besides, if I did carry such accounts to her and she did not believe me, she might tell her mother and then I would be dismissed. I am not willing to take that chance.”

“Is that the real reason?” He trailed his finger down the side of her neck, smiling as his suspicions were confirmed. Her pulse was racing like a rabbit's.

“Of course. You know Annabelle's safety is of the utmost importance to me.”

“Or were you worried that I would end our bargain as soon as we attained our goal?”

She glanced away. “I thought of it.”

He bent down until his mouth hovered near her ear. “Whatever happens with the wedding, our bargain stands.”

“Until when?” she murmured. “You do not intend to stay in England indefinitely.”

“No, but neither do I have pressing business in America. There is no shame in wanting more, Priscilla.”

She didn't answer.

“Is that why you've convinced Annabelle to postpone the wedding instead of jilting Raventhorpe outright?”

“No, that is not why I made the suggestion.” She turned her head and locked eyes with him, her mouth only inches from his. “My own naïveté was destroyed by my husband, and I do not have the life I wanted. I do not want that for Annabelle. She still has a chance at happiness.”

Damn, but he wanted to taste that mouth again. But this was not the place or the time. There was business to attend to. “I'm not objecting. We can try it your way for a while, but if it does not work, we'll have no choice but to tell her the whole of it.”

“I know. I just think we should lead her to jilt Raventhorpe and believe it is her own idea. She will be better off in the end.”

“In the meantime, you have delayed the wedding, which is in our favor.” He looked down at her lips, so full and soft. The temptation was killing him. “Your mouth is a man's fantasy, do you know that?”

Her lips parted and a sound came out—some kind
of squeaky, half-shocked gasp. Even that stirred his desire.

“I have some ideas involving that mouth.” He raised his brows. “You still have a free afternoon on Sundays, don't you?”

“Yes, but…” She glanced around as if expecting the vicar to jump out from behind one of the curtains. “It still feels scandalous to indulge such appetites on a Sunday.”

“If you intended to make love in the church, I would agree with you. Otherwise, Sunday is just another day.”

“I attend services with the family on Sunday mornings.”

“What time are you released from your duties?”

“I begin my half day at two o'clock.”

“I will send John around at two o'clock then.” Distracted again by the lure of her lips, he took her chin in his hand and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth. “You have no idea how much you tempt me to forget this meeting with Bailey,” he muttered. “But he summoned me, and I have to admit I am very curious as to what he has to say.”

She slanted him a look that told him she shared his regret. “Be sure to tell me what happens.”

“I will.” He started for the door, then paused. “Are you coming?”

“I will be along in a moment.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “It is better if we are not seen together.”

“Until tomorrow then.” He gave her a nod, then left the room.

 

Samuel entered Virgil's study at the behest of the surly Thomas. Virgil sat behind his desk, spectacles perched on his nose. He glanced over as Samuel closed the door behind him.

“Come and sit down, Samuel. Thank you for coming.”

“Your summons took me by surprise.” Samuel seated himself in a chair before the desk. “I had not expected to hear from you after our conversation the last time I was in this room.”

“I know, I know.” Virgil took off his spectacles and laid them on the open book in front of him. “You've got every right to be angry.”

“Why did you call me here?”

“Not going to give an old man a shot, eh? That's all right. I'd be steamed if I were you, too. Anyhow, I wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said.”

Samuel simply nodded.

“And you're right, I should have believed in you.” Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose. “The thing is, Annabelle was devastated when you didn't come home. After a while, I was so burned up at seeing her cry all the time that I was ripe for the picking when Raventhorpe came around with his story about how you were no good.”

“Do you believe that he lied?”

“I don't know what to think except this: Something extraordinary must have happened to you because nothing short of that would have prevented you from keeping your word to my baby.”

“That's right.”

“So I'm not choosing between the two of you, saying who's right and who's not. I can't do that. Your word against his, you understand?”

“I would hope you would give weight to my word since you have known me longer.”

“Like I said, without evidence, I can't make a true decision. But what I can do is follow my gut. And my gut says you belong back home.”

Emotion welled up, tightening in his chest. “What made you change your mind?”

“You did, son. You and those principles of yours. Once the dust settled, Dolly told me that she didn't believe you'd run off like a coward. She thought something else must have happened, something that prevented you from coming back to Annabelle.”

“Raventhorpe happened,” Samuel said. “When he came to you to tell you his tale—probably to cover his own tracks—and he saw how pretty Annabelle was, and how rich, he must have seen a golden opportunity. The man gambles too much and always needs money.”

“Well, Dolly believed in you, and then Annabelle told us about how Lord Raventhorpe started treating her after you came back. Looking down on her because she was American and trying to push up the wedding. Sort of made me think.”

“You place too much importance on having a title.”

“I'm starting to see that. After Annabelle told us what sort of things went on and why she was thinking maybe she'd misjudged you, it occurred
to me that earls and those types are born into their positions. They don't earn them. You, son, you earned your way to the captain's spot. That says something about a man.”

Samuel gave a short nod, struggling to remain collected in spite of the emotion welling up inside him.

“Tell me, were you taking up with other gals while you were away?”

Samuel stiffened. “No.”

Virgil nodded. “And did you stay away of your own free will?”

“No.”

“All right then. That's all I'm going to ask you. The rest is water under the bridge. Forgotten.”

Surprise made him blink. Could
he
forget the pain of his surrogate family not believing in him? Could he forgive that easily?

He looked into Virgil's eyes and saw reflected back the same man who had been like a father to him. Stubborn, resourceful, proud, and honest as the day was long. If Virgil wanted to move forward on the understanding that Samuel had not acted like a cad, it might be the best he was going to get. He would take it.

“If you're willing to forgive an old fool, I'd like to shake your hand on it.”

Samuel nodded and extended his hand. The older man took it and shook firmly.

“What now?” Samuel asked. “Are you willing to hear what I've learned about Raventhorpe?”

“You got evidence?”

“No.”

“Then no, I don't want to hear any rumors or gossip or what have you. Let's just leave it at the fact that you two fellows don't like each other very much. And that Lord Raventhorpe can act like a jackass sometimes.”

“You'd be right.”

“Then let's not talk about that. Let's talk about Annabelle.”

“What about Annabelle?”