Nicola Cornick (11 page)

‘We had better go back now.’ Sir William’s tone was uncompromising, but Annabella could feel the
tension in him, taut as a spring. And she had to know…

‘You flatter me with your protestations that you have sought my company for pleasure, sir,’ she said lightly. ‘Do you not, then, wish to know my opinion of you, in return? Or are you so confident of your own attractions that you need no reassurance?’

Sir William smiled then, but it was not a comfortable smile. Annabella had the distinct impression that she had bitten off more than she could chew, but she was filled with a wilful determination to see if she was right. She looked across the lake, where the lights of the ballroom glittered amongst the dark trees, and she spoke very deliberately.

‘I thought when I met you that you were an interesting man, a man who held some…small…appeal to me. And I wondered whether I would find you more or less interesting were you to kiss me?’

It was, after all, exactly what she had asked for, and it proved conclusively to Annabella that she was well out of her depth in provoking a man like Sir William Weston. The kiss was shocking and frightening in its explicit demand. His hands were mercilessly hard as they held her against the tense lines of his own body, his mouth hungry as it plundered the softness of hers. Annabella pushed hard against his chest to free herself. In some things she was indeed the innocent he had suggested. Francis had never shown her any tenderness in their brief marriage, being concerned only for his own selfish satisfaction, but here she sensed emotions and needs far more complex, in both herself and in Sir William, and she was suddenly afraid of them. And when he let her go
straight away, she was also disappointed and confused.

‘Is your curiosity satisfied now, Mrs St Auby?’ Sir William asked with scrupulous politeness, ‘or are there some points on which I can offer further clarification? You need only say the word!’

She could not see his expression in the darkness, but there was something so cold in his tone that Annabella shrank, transformed from the provocative sophisticate she had pretended to be into the inexperienced girl who realised the extent of her wilful mistake. How could she have behaved so? To have encouraged him, flirted with him so outrageously, so immodestly, then withdrawn in maidenly haste and disarray like a startled virgin when he had taken her in his arms. Impossible to explain to him that she had never felt any affection for her husband and never received any in return, that he had never held her with love and that her feelings were as unawakened as any new debutante…And now, no doubt, Sir William would think her just a cheap flirt, the sort who would encourage George Jeffries, or indeed any man, because she was bored, but was not prepared to deliver on those promises…a shallow tease…

‘Forgive me, sir,’ she said, in a voice so stifled with mortification that it was scarcely hers. ‘I have behaved very foolishly…I am not always so flighty and superficial…’ She swallowed a sob. So much for her pretty dreams of romance in the moonlight! Could it have been any more embarrassing?

She had to take his hand to allow him to help her back into the boat, and she held out her own so gingerly that she heard him catch his breath with irrita
tion. Every moment that prolonged this interlude was impossibly humiliating. Then he took her hand in his, and, extraordinarily, everything changed. There was a moment when they both stood quite still, then she found she was in his arms again, held wordlessly against him. Once again, as on that first evening at the assembly, her head was resting against his chest and she could feel the strong beat of his heart against her cheek, the warmth of his body close to hers. But this time he did not let her go. It was the first time Annabella had ever been held with love and the same sense of recognition and peace flowed through her as on that first evening. How long they stood there she did not know. An eternity could have passed, but she would not have cared, for she was truly happy. Then she felt him brush the hair back from her face and kiss her gently.

‘There is no need to be afraid,’ he said a little huskily. ‘It need not be like you knew before.’

Annabella raised her head to look up at him. The moonlight cast deep shadows. ‘How did you know?’ she said, a little uncertainly.

‘It seemed the logical explanation.’ Sir William loosened his grip a little so that he could look at her properly. ‘You were married to a man you did not love or respect, a man I have heard described—in no doubt more complimentary terms than he deserves—as a boorish cad. I do not imagine he showed you any consideration, not least in the physical demands he made upon you. But it is not always that way…’ he touched her cheek lightly, sliding his hand into her hair ‘…let me show you.’

This time he was extraordinarily patient and gentle.
His lips touched first one corner of her mouth then the other, before returning to it fully with the lightest of tantalising kisses. Annabella felt some of the tension within her begin to uncoil. His lips drifted along her jawbone to her throat, causing delicious shivers to touch her spine. Suddenly her skin felt incredibly sensitive, just waiting for his touch. Involuntarily, her lips parted, and his mouth returned to hers with the same teasing, frustrating lightness. Annabella’s senses were beginning to burn. She forgot all about Francis and his selfish demands, forgot her fears and nervousness, her foolish provocation. She slid her arms around Will’s neck and brought his head down to hers.

‘Kiss me properly,’ she whispered, and heard the amusement behind his soft words.

‘Whatever you wish, Annabella…’

Then it was like her imaginings. Warm and tender, yet somehow indescribably exciting as he led her step by step towards some mysterious conclusion. Her blood was racing through her veins, the smell and taste of him filling her senses. The world receded as she became lost in the pleasure of his embrace. Dizzy, melting with longing, she pressed against him with total abandonment.

Then Will raised his mouth from hers and said, in a voice that was a mixture of amusement, regret and something else she could not identify, ‘I still think I should take you back now, Annabella. In fact, I should say the need to do so has become even more pressing…’ But she knew that he was smiling, and only smiled in return as she snuggled closer to him, turning her face against his chest, for she knew that somehow everything was all right.

‘Whatever have you been doing, Will?’ Marcus Kilgaren’s voice was full of resigned humour. ‘You have been away the best part of an hour, and Annabella St Auby looks almost incandescent with happiness. You may tell me to go to the devil if you wish,’ he added pleasantly, ‘but I thought to point out that if I had noticed, so had others.’ He nodded significantly in the direction of Miss Hurst, who was whispering urgently to Miss Mundell. The two of them were standing, somewhat inappropriately, in front of a statue of the Three Graces. ‘But perhaps I am to wish you happy?’

Will grinned. ‘Not yet, but soon, perhaps…’

‘Then you have not told her about Larkswood?’ Marcus persisted. ‘I only ask, because, again, there are those kind friends who may do the telling for you.’

Will’s grin faded. ‘Surely you do not think—?’

‘Miss Hurst has not taken her implied rejection well,’ Marcus said obliquely. ‘She may feel it necessary to impart the truth to Annabella as one good friend to another…Evidently Annabella knows nothing of her inheritance?’ he added quizzically.

Will shook his head slowly. He took a glass from a passing flunkey and drank deep. ‘She told me a little while ago that the lawyers were still trying to sort out Bertram Broseley’s business affairs. I had hoped to be able to negotiate an agreement with them, without involving Annabella.’

Marcus was shaking his head. ‘But she will find out, Will. Someone will tell her—’

‘Very well.’ Will put his glass down with a decisive click. ‘I had wanted to get to know Annabella properly, to make sure she understood my reasons for
wanting Larkswood, but I know you are right. I must go away in a couple of days,’ he added, ‘but after that I will tell her…’ And he strolled back to Annabella’s side as though drawn by a magnet.

Marcus watched him go, watched Annabella’s face upturned to his, her eyes bright with happiness, and sighed. ‘Let us hope,’ he said under his breath, ‘that you are not too late, my friend.’

A
nnabella woke the next day to bright sunshine and warm happiness that made her smile even before she was fully awake. Mundell Hall was very quiet, for most of the Viscount’s guests would not be rising so unfashionably early, but Annabella felt full of energy despite the lateness of the ball the previous night. She slipped out of bed, dressed swiftly in another of the gowns which Caroline Kilgaren had pressed on her, and sped downstairs for some fresh air. An impassive footman informed her that Lord Mundell was out walking his dogs, but that the rest of the party was still abed. Annabella thanked him prettily and ran down the steps into the garden.

Her steps took her, by accident or unconscious design, towards the ornamental lake which was glittering in the early morning light. A number of waterfowl preened and swam on its glassy waters; on the island in the centre, the windows of the pretty little summerhouse reflected the rays of the rising sun. It was very quiet. Impossible to believe, Annabella thought dreamily, that the scene between herself and Sir Wil
liam Weston had really happened. Perhaps she had imagined it all, a dream conjured by the romance of the night and her own wishful thinking…She was still staring at the view, remembering the night before, when a voice called her name from near at hand. Turning quickly, she saw with a rush of disappointment that it was Viscount Mundell and not Sir William Weston who had accosted her. Mundell, his pack of King Charles Spaniels pressing at his heels, came up to her with a broad smile.

‘Good morning, Mrs St Auby! A beautiful day, is it not? You must have plenty of stamina to be up so early after the ball! I imagine most of my guests will not appear until mid-afternoon!’

Annabella smiled at him. ‘The sunshine beckoned me out, my lord, and it is too fine to be abed! I was just admiring your lake. You have a fine selection of waterfowl!’

Mundell, who was in his way quite an ornithologist, started to point out to her the different breeds, including the rare Cinnamon Teal which he had had specially imported from South America. ‘Of course, it is difficult to prevent the ornamentals interbreeding with the native ducks who are attracted to the water here,’ Mundell was saying, then realised from Annabella’s glassy expression that birds were perhaps not really a point of interest to her. He smiled slightly. ‘But I am boring on about the estate as I often do! I spend comparatively little time here, you see, and each time I return I discover afresh what draws me to the country…’ They started walking along the edge of the lake, discussing the rival merits of town and country life, until they reached the point where the ha-ha di
vided the formal garden from the deer park, and Mundell bade her farewell, saying that he would give the dogs a run in the park.

As Annabella turned back towards the house, an amused voice from near at hand said, ‘At last! I was afraid that he would never go!’ And Sir William Weston stepped out of the shelter of the beech hedge directly on to the path in front of her.

‘Sir William!’ Annabella was annoyed to discover that her voice came out rather squeakily, with a combination of shock at seeing him so suddenly, and residual embarrassment over remembering their encounter in the clear light of day. Last night had been an enchanted evening, but now the sun was bright and showing all too clearly the vexatious blush in her cheeks. She looked at him a little accusingly.

‘Have you been skulking in the bushes for long, sir?’

‘I have. I thought that Hugo would never leave you alone!’ Will looked completely unrepentant. The early morning breeze had ruffled his brown hair, and he put up a hand to smooth its disorder. He was dressed very casually in an old hunting jacket and breeches, a cravat tied carelessly about his neck, but the ensemble still had a distinction which was hard to define but immediately obvious. Annabella, running a mental eye over her own toilette, was glad that she had made the effort to wear the pretty straw-coloured dress and matching cloak, but she had little idea how appealing she looked with the breeze tugging at the tendrils of honey-fair hair and accentuating the pink of her cheeks and brightness of those green eyes.

‘Come into the rose arbour,’ Will said abruptly. ‘There is something I wish to say to you.’

A little apprehensively, Annabella followed him through the archway, out of the sight of prying eyes, and into the heady-scented shadows of the walled garden. The sun had not yet warmed the old walls, and she shivered a little within the cloak from a combination of anticipation and cold. What was it that he wished to say to her? She looked up into his face, and discovered that it appeared Will Weston did not wish to talk after all. His arm went around her waist and he drew her deeper into the shadows. Mindful of her reaction the previous night, he kissed her very gently, waiting until he felt some of the tension leave her and her body become pliant against his own. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss a little, leading her by skilful stages to the point where he could tell her innocent but heartfelt response to him was sliding over the edge into genuine desire. So far he had given little thought to his own pleasure, but suddenly his awareness changed. The seductive softness of her in his arms awoke a need in him that almost pushed him beyond all restraint. He teetered on the edge, within a hair’s-breadth of abandoning caution and crushing her to him. Then there was the sound of steps on the gravel beyond the archway, and Miss Hurst’s tones could be heard addressing a nameless companion.

‘Of course, whatever they say, the family is bad
ton
. How could it be otherwise when the father was that disgusting nabob Broseley, the elder sister married some degenerate septuagenarian for his money, and the younger one set her cap at Francis St Auby in that shameless way? Why, do you know, I heard
the most
delicious
piece of gossip from Lady Oakston last night. Apparently Annabella Broseley was in the habit of making illicit trysts with Francis in the woods. This was well before the wedding, and they say he was not the first…’ Her voice faded away.

Will straightened and let Annabella go gently, watching with regret as the intrusion of reality caused the colour to leave her stricken face and the bright light fade from her eyes. He captured both her hands and held on to them.

‘You have nothing to reproach yourself with, Annabella,’ he said gently, ‘neither now nor in the past. Miss Hurst has a vicious tongue, and at the moment her disappointment leads her to exercise it on you. I beg you not to regard it.’

‘Who was she with?’ Annabella whispered.

‘I do not know. Miss Mundell, perhaps, for no one else would bear her ill-bred prating!’ There was real violence in Will’s tone. He saw how upset she was and added gently, ‘As I say, do not regard her, Annabella. She is bitter with disappointment.’

Annabella nodded slowly. To have returned to reality with such an unpleasant shock had somehow spoilt the sweetness of what had happened before. Spoilt it, but not put it from her mind altogether. She had never felt like that before. It had been a little frightening, but at the same time entirely pleasurable and it had left her wanting more…

‘Don’t look at me like that, Annabella, or I will forget my good resolutions,’ Will said a little roughly. ‘There really was something that I wished to say to you. I have to go away for a few days.’ He saw her face fall and added, ‘I have business with my lawyer
in London, or I would never go away at such a time. Will you stay at Mundell until I return, so that I know that you are safe here?’

Annabella shook her head again. The memory of Miss Hurst’s spite was still in her mind and she would have been quite happy never to have to see her again. To spend several days in her company, without the protective presence of Will Weston, was not to be considered. Even Lady St Auby was a preferable option.

‘No,’ she said slowly, ‘I will go back to Taunton, I think. I was intending to return today, and I find I do not wish to stay here in such company.’

Will tightened his grip on her hands. ‘Very well, I shall not seek to dissuade you. But there is something most particular I wish to say to you, Annabella. I doubt we shall have the opportunity to speak privately again until I return from London, but when I do, do I have your permission to call in Fore Street to see you?’

Annabella caught her breath. She could not misunderstand him. He intended to make a proposal in form. Even as she smiled her acquiescence, and felt his lips brush her cheek in the tenderest of kisses, her heart cried out for him to speak here and now. But he was silent, and in a moment he pressed another kiss on her hand, tucking it through his arm.

‘We must go back to the house now.’ He scanned her face and his expression softened. ‘Can you try to look as though our attention has been concentrated on nothing more exciting than the roses? At the moment there is a certain air of distraction about you which, whilst completely charming, will certainly put ideas
into the heads of the more observant of Mundell’s guests!’

Inevitably Annabella blushed all the more at this, and equally inevitably Will found himself obliged to kiss her again as a result. It was a long, delicious, passionate time later that they finally managed to disentangle themselves. Annabella’s hair had completely escaped its pins and her cloak had become snagged on the thorns when Will had precipitately pushed it from her shoulders so that his mouth could trace the delicate line of her jaw and throat. Her lips felt swollen and beestung with kissing and her eyes were bright with unsatisfied desire. Nor did Will look any less shaken than she. He took several deliberate steps away from her.

‘Enough of this! I’m not made of stone, sweetheart! We really must seek the safety of the house!’

He took her arm again, and this time they wended their way slowly through the maze of garden paths to the house. It was unfortunate that Miss Hurst was just crossing the marble hall as they came up the steps, for she paused and her sharp gaze took in every aspect of their appearance.

‘Lud, Mrs St Auby, you look as though you have been pulled through the hedge backwards! Why, there are twigs in your hair!’ Her gaze moved to Sir William’s inscrutable face, and whatever she saw there made the words wither on her lips. ‘Well,’ she said, with playful lightness, turning back to the easier prey, ‘you must be sharp set after such a morning’s activity, Mrs St Auby, though from all I hear, it is not new to you! Breakfast is being served in the dining-room, I believe! You must have worked up quite an appetite!’
And with a trill of laughter at Annabella’s furious, mortified face, she set off up the stairs.

‘So, has the navy stolen your affections away from the militia, my dear?’ Mrs Eddington-Buck asked, her bright brown shrew’s eyes darting maliciously. Lady St Auby drew a sharp breath before Annabella even had time to think of an answer.

‘It’s a scandal, Millicent! First she has young Jeffries paying court and then she goes jaunting about the country with that ramshackle Sir William Weston! But—’ she gave a thin smile ‘—it’s all of a piece! Her mother was another such, by all accounts, forever throwing out lures to any man who would take her! Why, how do you suppose she ended up with that Cit, Broseley? Do you know, I heard—’

Annabella rose and quietly left the room. She had become reasonably inured to criticisms of her own conduct, but unjustified attacks on the mother she had never known had the power to hurt her more deeply. Lady Julia Broseley had been a gentle girl, shy and unsure of her own worth, momentarily dazzled by Bertram Broseley’s golden good looks and supreme self-confidence. He had married her for her family connections, and when her parents had disowned her for the runaway match, had treated her with the crushing contempt he had for all commodities that no longer held any use for him. Poor, sad Julia had provided him with two daughters, and died as quietly as she had lived, when Annabella was only a few days old.

Annabella went up to her tiny bedroom, the only place where she could escape Lady St Auby’s sharp
tongue, and sat by the small window, trying to read. After the airy simplicity of the rooms at Mundell, the St Aubys’ poky old house felt particularly claustrophobic, especially as her mother-in-law had picked up immediately on her happiness with the curious awareness that unhappy people have for the joy of others. She had chipped away at Annabella with the same bitter comments as before, and though she could not touch her daughter-in-law’s inner contentment, she soon had Annabella wondering whether the veiled malice of Miss Hurst might have been easier to bear.

It was only two days since she had left Mundell Hall, and yet it seemed much longer. Annabella sighed. She found she could not concentrate, for her mother-in-law’s mention of George Jeffries had brought back the extraordinary conversation she had had with him the previous day.

She had hardly been expecting to see Jeffries at all, for their quarrel several weeks previously had seemed final, and her head was full of Sir William Weston. They had been riding on the afternoon of the previous day, up on the Quantock Hills in the bright summer’s day, and it was the last in a series of happy memories which remained with Annabella from the time they had spent together. She had been vaguely surprised when Jeffries was announced, but too secure and wrapped up in her new-found love to spare much thought for why he was there.

He had strolled into the drawing-room as though their disagreement had scarcely occurred. He had brought with him a bunch of gaudy red roses, well past their best bloom and with the petals about to
drop, and had laid them carelessly on the table as he had come in.

‘Annabella, my love!’ He took her hand and pressed a damp kiss on it, looking at her languishingly. ‘You are in excellent looks today! All this fraternisation with Mundell and his set must be good for you! It is the talk of the town!’