Ten Things I Love About You (23 page)

He pushed the door open wider to let more light in.

“Annabel?”

She was standing not far from the fireplace, a poker raised clutched in her hands. On the floor was Lord Newbury, utterly still.

“Annabel?” he said again. She looked to be in shock. She did not turn to him, did not acknowledge his arrival in any way.

He rushed to her side, carefully taking the poker from her fingers.

“I didn’t hit him,” she said, never once taking her eyes from the body from the floor. “I didn’t even hit him.”

“What happened?” He looked at the poker despite her statements. There was no blood on it, nothing to indicate a blow.

“I think he’s dead,” she said, still in that strange monotone whisper. “He was holding my ankle. I was going to hit him if he didn’t let go, but then he let go, and—”

“His heart,” Sebastian said, cutting her off so she did not have to say more. “It was probably his heart.” He set the poker down, carefully placing it in its spot in the tool stand. The metal clinked together, but the sound was muted,
and he did not think it would attract attention.

Moving back to Annabel, he took her hand, then touched her face. “Are you all right?” he asked carefully. “Did he hurt you?” He was terrified for the answer, but he had to ask. He had to know what had happened if he was going to help her.

“He was—he came in and—” But she could barely choke out the words, and when he wrapped his arms around her, she collapsed instantly, all the strength pouring from her before he could blink.

“Shh …” he crooned, cradling her lovingly. “It’s all right. I’m here. I’m here now.”

She nodded against his chest, but she didn’t cry. She trembled, and she gasped for air, but she didn’t cry. “He didn’t—he didn’t get to—I got away before—”

Thank God,
Sebastian silently prayed. If his uncle had raped her … by God he would have brought him back from the dead just so that he could kill him again. Sebastian had seen rape in the war, not directly, but he’d seen the eyes of the women who had been brutalized. They had looked dead inside, and Sebastian had realized that in a way, they, too, had been killed, just like the men who’d gone off to battle. It was worse for the women. Their bodies lived on, with dead souls inside.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll think of something.” But what? He knew how to handle himself in almost any situation, but this … the dead body of his uncle in the room of his fiancée …

Good God. This was beyond even him.

Think. He had to think. If he were writing this …

“First we shut the door,” he said firmly, trying to sound as if he knew what he was doing. He gently removed his arms from around Annabel, making sure that she could stand on her own, and then moved swiftly to the door. He closed it firmly, then strode across the room to light a candle.

Annabel was standing where he’d left her, hugging her arms to her body. She looked freezing.

“Do you need a blanket?” he asked, and it seemed the most ludicrous question, under the circumstances. But she was cold, and he was a gentleman, and some things were just too deeply ingrained to be ignored.

She shook her head.

Seb planted his hands on his hips and stared down at his uncle, lying motionless, facedown on the carpet. He wasn’t sure how he’d thought it would end between the two of them, but definitely not like
this.
Damn. What was he supposed to do now? “If I were writing this …” he muttered, trying to summon whatever creative corner of his imagination he usually reserved for his characters. “If I were writing this …”

“What did you say?”

He turned back to Annabel. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he’d almost forgot she was there. “Nothing,” he said, giving his head a shake. She probably thought he was babbling utter nonsense.

“I’m better now,” she announced.

“What?”

She made a motion with her hand, a little bit of a twist, a little bit of a wave. “I have my head. Whatever we need to do, I can do it.”

He blinked, surprised by her quick recovery. “Are you certain? I can—”

“I’ll cry when we’re done,” she said sharply.

“I love you,” he said, thinking this had to be the least appropriate time imaginable to tell her. But there was something about her standing there in her plain cotton nightgown, matter-of-fact and capable as a goddess. How could he not love her?

“Have I told you that?” he added.

She shook her head, her lips trembling into a smile. “I love you, too.”

“Good,” he said simply, because this wasn’t the time for hearts and flowers. But he could not resist adding, “It would be bloody inconvenient for me if you didn’t.”

“I think we need to get him back to his own room,” she said, looking down at Newbury with a queasy expression.

Sebastian nodded, grimly estimating his uncle’s weight. It would not be easy, even with both of them. “Do you know where his room is?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Do you?”

“No.” Damn.

“We can put him in the saloon,” she suggested. “Or anywhere else there might be drink. If he was drunk, then maybe he would have fallen over.” She swallowed. “Hit his head?”

Sebastian let out a long breath, planting his hands on his hips as he looked down at his uncle. He looked even more hideous in death than he had in life. Big, bloated … At least no one would doubt that his heart might have given out, especially after the excitement of the day. “His head,
his heart,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter. I feel unhealthy just looking at him.”

He stood still for another moment, putting off the inevitable, and then finally he squared his shoulders and said, “I’ll grab him under the arms. You take the legs. We’ll have to roll him over first.”

They got him onto his back, then moved to their spots and tried to lift. “Dear God in heaven,” Sebastian grunted, the words flying from his mouth.

“This isn’t going to work,” Annabel said.

“It has to work.”

They lifted and dragged, heaving with exertion, but they couldn’t get the body to clear the floor for more than a few seconds at a time. There was no way they would be able to move him all the way to the saloon without making enough noise to wake someone.

“We’re going to have to get Edward,” Sebastian finally said.

Annabel’s eyes flew to his in question.

“I would trust him with my life.”

She nodded. “Maybe Louisa …”

“Couldn’t lift a feather.”

“I think she’s stronger than she looks.” But Annabel realized she sounded more hopeful than anything else. She bit her lip and looked back down at Newbury. “I think we need all the help we can get.”

Sebastian started to nod, because they
did
need all the help they could get. But as it turned out, the help that did arrive came in the most surprising form …

W
hat the devil is going on in here?”

Annabel froze. Not in horror. It was something far, far worse than horror.

“Annabel?” her grandmother snapped, marching in through the connecting door between their rooms. “It sounds like a herd of elephants. How do you expect a woman to get any sleep when—Oh.” She stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight of Sebastian. Then she looked down and saw the earl. “Bloody hell.”

She made a sound that Annabel could not quite interpret. Not a sigh, really; more of a grunt. Of supreme irritation.

“Which one of you killed him?” she demanded.

“Neither,” Annabel said quickly. “He just … died.”

“In your room?”

“I didn’t invite him in,” she ground out.

“No, you wouldn’t.” And damn if her grandmother didn’t sound almost regretful. Annabel could only stare at her in shock. Or maybe wonder.

“What are you doing here?” Lady Vickers asked, turning her frosty glare to Sebastian.

“Exactly what you think, my lady,” he said. “Unfortunately, my timing was not what it could have been.” He looked down at his uncle. “He was like this when I arrived.”

“Better this way,” Lady Vickers muttered. “If he’d come in with you on top of her … Good Lord, I can’t even imagine the commotion.”

She ought to blush, Annabel thought. She really ought. But she couldn’t summon the will. She wasn’t sure anything could embarrass her now.

“Well, we’ll have to get rid of him,” her grandmother said, using the same voice Annabel imagined she would have used about an old sofa. She cocked her head toward Annabel. “I must say, this all worked out nicely for
you.”

“What are you saying?” Annabel asked, horrified.

“He’s the earl now,” Lady Vickers responded, flicking her fingers in Sebastian’s direction. “And he’ll be a damn sight more palatable than Robert here.”

Robert, Annabel thought, looking down at Lord Newbury. She hadn’t even known his given name. It seemed strange, somehow. The man had wanted to marry her, he’d attacked her, and then he’d died at her feet. And she hadn’t even known his name.

For a moment they all just stared down at him. Finally, Lady Vickers said, “Damn, he’s fat.”

Annabel slammed a hand against her mouth,
trying not to laugh. Because it wasn’t funny. It was
not
funny.

But she
really
wanted to laugh.

“I don’t think we will be able to get him down to the saloon without waking half the house,” Sebastian said. He looked over at Lady Vickers. “I don’t suppose you know where his room is.”

“At least as far as the saloon. And right next to the Challises. You’ll never get him in without waking them up.”

“I was going to wake my cousin,” Seb told her. “With one more person we might be able to do it.”

“We won’t be able to move him with five more people,” Lady Vickers retorted. “Not quietly, anyway.”

Annabel stepped forward. “Maybe if we …”

But her grandmother cut her off with a sigh worthy of the Covent Garden stage. “Go ahead,” she said, waving an arm to the connecting door. “Put him in my bed.”

“What?” Annabel gasped.

“We’ll just have to let everyone think he died having his way with me.”

“But—but—” Annabel gaped at her grandmother, then looked at Lord Newbury, and then at Sebastian, who appeared to be speechless.

Sebastian. Speechless. Apparently, this was what it took.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lady Vickers said, clearly irritated with their lack of action. “It’s not as if we haven’t done it before.”

Annabel sucked in her breath so hard she choked. “You …
what?”

“It was years ago,” her grandmother replied, snapping her hand in the air as if batting away a fly. “But everybody knew about it.”

“And you wanted me to
marry
him?”

Lady Vickers planted her hands on her hips and stared Annabel down. “Do you really think now is the time to make complaints? Besides, he wasn’t that bad, if you know what I mean. And your uncle Percival turned out quite nicely.”

“Oh my God,” Annabel moaned. “Uncle Percy.”

“Is apparently
my
uncle Percy,” Sebastian said, shaking his head.

“Cousin, I should think,” Lady Vickers said briskly. “Now then, are we going to move him or not? And I still haven’t heard either one of you thanking me for throwing myself on the bayonet here, so to speak.”

It was true. As much as her grandmother had got her into this mess, insisting that Annabel marry Lord Newbury in the first place, she was certainly doing her best to get her out of it. There would be a terrific scandal, and Annabel didn’t even want to begin to imagine the cartoons and caricatures that would appear in the gossip papers. Although somehow she suspected her grandmother wouldn’t mind a little notoriety in her old age.

“Thank you,” Sebastian said, apparently finding his voice first. “It is much appreciated, I am sure.”

“Come along, come along.” Lady Vickers made little
get to it
motions with her hands. “He’s not going to move himself into my bed.”

Sebastian grabbed his uncle under the arms again, and Annabel moved to his feet, but as
she wrapped her hands around his ankles and began to lift, she heard a very peculiar sound. And when she looked up, her eyes wide with horror at what this had to mean …

Newbury’s eyes opened.

Annabel shrieked, and she dropped him.

“Almighty God,” her grandmother cried out. “Did neither of you check to see if he was even dead?”

“I just assumed,” Annabel protested. Her heart was racing, and she couldn’t seem to slow her breathing down. She sagged against the edge of the bed. It was like the time her brothers had thrown sheets over their heads and jumped out in front of her on All Hallows’ Eve, only a thousand times worse. A thousand thousand.

Lady Vickers turned her glare on Sebastian.

“I believed her,” he said, setting Lord Newbury’s head gently back down on the carpet. They all peered over him. His eyes had closed again.

“Is he dead again?” Annabel asked.

“If you’re lucky,” her grandmother said acerbically.

Annabel shot a frantic look at Sebastian. He was already staring at her, with an expression that clearly said,
You didn’t check?

She tried to answer with her own widened eyes and hand signals, but she had a feeling she wasn’t making herself clear, and finally Sebastian just said, “What are you
saying?”

“I don’t know,” she moaned.

“You two are worthless,” Lady Vickers grumbled.
She marched forward and then crouched down. “Newbury!” she barked. “Wake up.”

Annabel chewed on her lip and glanced nervously at the door. They had long since stopped trying to be quiet.

“Wake up!”

Lord Newbury started to make a moaning, mumbling sort of sound.

“Robert,” Lady Vickers snapped, “wake up.” She slapped him across the face. Hard.

Annabel looked up at Sebastian. He seemed as stunned as she was, and just as happy to let her grandmother take the lead.

Lord Newbury’s eyes opened again, fluttering like a sick cross between butterflies and jellyfish. He choked and gasped, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. He looked at Lady Vickers, his eyes making a few last incredulous blinks before he said, “Margaret?”

She slapped him again. “Idiot!”

He fell back down. “What the hell?”

“She is my granddaughter, Robert,” Lady Vickers hissed. “My granddaughter! How dare you!”

Every now and then, Annabel thought, her grandmother’s love for her shone through. Usually in the most peculiar ways.

“She was supposed to marry me,” Lord Newbury sputtered.

“And now she’s not. That doesn’t give you license to
attack
her.”

Annabel felt Sebastian’s hand slip into hers, warm and comforting. She gave it a squeeze.

“She tried to kill me,” Newbury said.

“I did not!” Annabel lurched forward, but Sebastian tightened his grip on her hand, holding her back.

“Let your grandmother take care of this,” he murmured.

But Annabel could not let the insult pass. “I was defending myself,” she said hotly.

“With a poker?” Newbury countered.

Annabel turned to her grandmother in disbelief. “How else would you have me defend myself?”

“Really, Robert,” Lady Vickers said, dripping with sarcasm.

He finally managed to heave himself into a sitting position, grunting and groaning all the while. “For God’s sake,” he snapped. “Will someone come and help me?”

No one did.

“I’m not strong enough,” Lady Vickers said with a shrug.

“What’s
he
doing here?” Lord Newbury said, jerking his head toward Sebastian.

Sebastian crossed his arms and glowered. “I don’t think you are in any position to be asking questions.”

“Clearly I must take charge,” Lady Vickers announced, as if she had been doing anything but. “Newbury,” she barked, “you are to go back to your room and depart first thing in the morning.”

“I will not,” he said in a huff.

“Worried everyone will think you slunk away with your tail between your legs, eh?” she said shrewdly. “Well, consider the alternative. If
you’re still here when I wake up, I’ll tell everyone you spent the night with me.”

Lord Newbury blanched.

“She generally sleeps late,” Annabel said helpfully. Her spirits were starting to return, and after all that Lord Newbury had done to her, she could not resist a little poke. Beside her she heard Sebastian smother a laugh, so she added, “But I don’t.”

“Furthermore,” Lady Vickers continued, giving Annabel a glare for having dared to interrupt, “you will put a halt to this ridiculous quest for a bride. My granddaughter is marrying your nephew and you’re going to let him inherit.”

“Oh no—” Lord Newbury started to rage.

“Silence,” Lady Vickers snapped. “Robert, you’re older than I am. It’s unseemly.”

“You were going to let me marry her,” he pointed out.

“That’s because I thought you would
die.”

He looked a bit taken aback at that.

“Let it go gracefully,” she said. “For the love of God, look at you. If you take a wife, you’ll probably injure the poor thing in the process. Or die on top of her. And you two—” She whipped around to face Sebastian and Annabel, who were both trying not to laugh. “This isn’t funny.”

“Well, actually,” Sebastian murmured, “it is a bit.”

Lady Vickers shook her head, looking as if she’d dearly like to be rid of all of them. “Get out of here,” she said to Lord Newbury.

He did, making all sorts of angry sounds as he went. But they all knew that he would be gone by morning. He would probably resume his search
for a bride; he wasn’t so cowed by Lady Vickers as
that.
But any threat he might pose to Sebastian and Annabel’s marriage was gone.

“And
you,”
Lady Vickers said dramatically. She was facing both Annabel and Sebastian, and it was difficult to tell who she meant. “You.”

“Me?” Annabel asked.

“Both of you.” She let out another of those dramatic sighs, then turned to Sebastian. “You are going to marry her, aren’t you?”

“I will,” he said solemnly.

“Good,” she grunted. “I don’t know that I could manage another disaster.” She patted her chest. “My heart, you know.”

Annabel rather suspected that her grandmother’s heart would outbeat her own.

“I’m going to bed,” Lady Vickers announced, “and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Of course not,” Sebastian murmured, and Annabel, sensing that some sort of filial comment was required, added, “May I get you anything?”

“Silence. You may get me silence.” Lady Vickers looked over at Sebastian again, this time with narrowed eyes. “You do understand my meaning, don’t you?”

He nodded, smiling.

“I’m going to my room,” Lady Vickers announced. “The two of you may do whatever you wish. But
don’t
wake me up.”

And with that, she left, shutting the connecting door behind her.

Annabel stared at the door, then turned to Sebastian, feeling quite dazed. “I think my grandmother
may have just given me permission to ruin myself.”

“I’ll do all the ruining tonight,” he said with a grin. “If you don’t mind.”

Annabel looked back at the door, then back at him, her mouth hanging open. “I think she might be mad,” she finally concluded.

“Au contraire,”
he said, coming up behind her. “She has clearly proven herself the sanest among us.” He leaned down and kissed her on the back of her neck. “I do believe we are alone.”

Annabel turned around, twisting in his arms. “I don’t feel alone,” she said, motioning with her head over at the door to her grandmother’s room.

He wrapped his arms around her and moved his lips to the hollow above her collarbone. For a moment Annabel thought he was dismissing her concerns and trying to be intimate, but then she realized he was laughing. Or at the very least, trying not to. “What?” she demanded.

“I keep picturing her listening at the door,” he answered, his words muffled.

“That’s funny?”

“It is.” He sounded like he wasn’t sure why, though.

“She had an affair with your uncle,” Annabel said.

Sebastian went utterly still. “If you’re trying to completely kill my ardor, there is no image more guaranteed to do it.”

“I knew my uncles Thomas and Arthur were not my grandfather’s, but Percy …” Annabel shook her head, still not quite able to believe the
events of the evening. “I had no idea.” She started to sigh into him, letting her back mold against his front, but then she straightened like a bolt. “What is it?”

“My mother. I have no idea …” “She was a Vickers,” Seb said with quiet firmness. “You have your grandfather’s eyes.”

“I do?”

“Not the color, but the shape.” He turned her around, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently rotating her until they were facing. “Right here,” he said softly, touching his finger against the outer corner of her eye. “The same curve.”

He tilted his head to the side, regarding her face with tender concentration. “The cheekbones, too,” he murmured.