Nicola Cornick (2 page)

But Annabella was not about to allow Lady St Auby to broadcast her disagreement with her sister to the assembled crowd. She had seen the faint, supercilious hint of boredom touch Mundell’s handsome features at the threatened rehearsal of a tedious family quarrel, and she hurried in, with scant courtesy, ‘I hope to see my sister and her family soon, my lord. It is a pleasure to hear of them going on so well.’

Mundell gave her a slight smile and made to move on, for plenty were clamouring for his attention. Annabella knew he had thought her both gauche and uninteresting, and it rankled. But any town bronze, or at least the semi-sophistication she had once achieved, had been knocked out of her by the constant criticism of her late husband, and the carping of her mother-in-law. She had never really been given the chance to sparkle.

Lady St Auby was made of sterner stuff, however. She was not about to let a Viscount out of her sights so easily. ‘And your companions, sir? Will you make us known to them…?’

Fortunately for the Viscount’s companions, most were in fact engaged in conversation elsewhere. The Earl and Countess of Kilgaren were still chatting with Sir Thomas Oakston, and the other ladies in the group were speaking to each other in a rather exclusive manner which suggested that they were above mingling with the
hoi polloi
. There was a pause. Annabella knew Mundell was about to snub her mother-in-law, and steeled herself.

The Viscount said with weary courtesy, ‘Lady St Auby, may I present my brother-in-law, Lord Wallace? And a great friend of mine, Sir William Weston…’

Annabella, who had been admiring the elegant
ton
nishness of Lady Kilgaren’s dress, looked up, a little startled, as a shadow fell across her. Sir William Weston was bowing to her with formality. The name had meant nothing to her and she had not really been attending. Now, belatedly bestowing her attention on him, Annabella initially considered the gentleman to be nothing out of the ordinary. He was of more than average height, it was true, with a broadness of shoulder which somehow suggested strength and durability. But that was hardly a romantic attribute. Annabella, who had had little experience of true romance in her life, had always fondly imagined that her heroes would be dark and handsome, like the characters in the Minerva Press Gothics. Sir William was not particularly dark. His face was unremarkable except for a healthy tan which suggested that he had spent a long time in far hotter climes, and his thick, brown hair was bleached fair at the ends. Apart from that…

Annabella paused in her assessment as he looked directly into her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and she caught her breath, uncertain quite what had disturbed her. Sir William’s eyes, she discovered, were a rather fascinating blue, the colour of summer seas, at once sleepy and alert as they held hers for a long moment. Almost unconsciously, she started her appraisal again. Now that she was giving due consideration, she suddenly observed that Sir William Weston moved with a fluid grace that was oddly attractive
when taken with his powerful physique. His face had integrity and character, and his smile was like his eyes, sleepy and disordering to the senses, hinting at all kinds of possibilities beneath the surface…Annabella felt herself blush to the roots of her hair as those very eyes scanned her face and appeared to read her mind.

‘Mrs St Auby…’ Sir William was smiling slightly, taking her hand in his. ‘I have heard much about you. It has long been my wish to make your acquaintance.’

Lady St Auby cleared her throat noisily, bustling forward between them before Annabella could respond to this. ‘A friend of Viscount Mundell!’ she gushed. ‘An honour, dear sir, an honour! And are you a landowner, like his lordship?’ She might as well have asked his income, Annabella thought, closing her eyes in momentary despair. Her motives could not have been more transparent.

Sir William appeared unperturbed by this ill-concealed curiosity. ‘Alas, no, ma’am! My estate is small. I am only a humble sailor.’

Lady St Auby’s nose turned up as though the idea had reminded her of the smell of rotting fish. Unlike Annabella, she did not see the look of faintly ironic amusement which crossed Viscount Mundell’s face at his friend’s words. The music was starting up, but not quickly enough to cover Mrs Eddington-Buck’s comments about
parvenus
who hung on the coat-tails of the nobility. Sir William’s amiable smile did not waver, but his blue gaze moved from one to the other with thoughtful consideration. Annabella’s blush deepened. He had said that he had heard of her, and she could easily imagine what had been said. ‘The
mercenary daughter of a jumped-up Cit’ had been one of the more complimentary descriptions she had heard applied to herself, and here was Lady St Auby confirming just such an impression with her own behaviour!

‘I am promised for this dance,’ Sir William said easily, interrupting Annabella’s thoughts, ‘but may I hope to see you again later, Mrs St Auby? Please excuse me—’

And he was gone, leaving Annabella once again feeling oddly disturbed. She shook her head slightly to dispel the fanciful illusion. She had not been in society much, but she had met some personable men, many of them a great deal more conventionally handsome than Sir William Weston. But somehow none of them had his air of authority leavened with such good humour, and she found that powerfully attractive…

‘…the lady in blue is Mundell’s elder sister, Lady Wallace,’ Mrs Eddington-Buck was saying, her feathered head-dress waggling with excitement. ‘And the lady in pink gauze is Mundell’s other sister, the unmarried one. And the other lady is a Miss Hurst, of the Hampshire Hursts, you know. There—’ she pointed across the room ‘—dancing with that odd man, Sir William Weston.’

Annabella fanned herself vigorously, for the heat in the room was growing. No one had asked her to dance and she could only be grateful, for it would inevitably rouse Lady St Auby’s ire. It was a very long time since she had attempted the country dances which were so popular, for Francis had usually been too drunk to be steady on his feet when they attended
such gatherings, and he preferred the cardroom anyway. Mrs Eddington-Buck and Lady St Auby had moved on to discuss the dresses of the ladies in Mundell’s party, and were full of extravagant praise. Annabella privately thought that Miss Mundell’s rose gauze was far too
outré
for a country assembly, and Miss Hurst looked a cold and haughty beauty. Once again, her gaze was peculiarly drawn to the tall figure of Miss Hurst’s partner.

‘Shameless hussy!’ Lady St Auby had followed her gaze with malevolent eyes. ‘Already casting out lures to another man, and my poor, dead son scarcely cold in his grave!’

It was not an auspicious moment for the first gentleman of the evening to approach Annabella for a dance, and her heart sank when she saw who he was. Glittering in his scarlet regimentals, and with a smile easy and charming, Captain George Jeffries had managed to come upon her quite unawares. He gave Lady St Auby a punctilious bow, acknowledged with a grin the thin line of disapproval in which her mouth was set, and pulled Annabella into the dance with a proprietary hand she found almost intolerable.

‘You must be in a fit of the dismals this evening, my love,’ he observed with cheerful informality, ‘for you have barely spoken a word all night. There!’ He gave her a grin he fondly imagined to be attractive. ‘You should be flattered that I have given away the fact that I have been watching you the whole time!’

‘I did not see you come in, sir,’ Annabella replied repressively. She had no heart for idle flirtation, especially not with Jeffries. Once, perhaps, she had found him attractive. But that had been at a time when
she was particularly lonely and vulnerable, and he had been quick to take advantage of the fact. Unfortunately, he was not now to be dismissed very easily.

‘No, indeed!’ Jeffries was eyeing her with objectionable familiarity. ‘You were too busy fluttering your eyelashes at a Viscount to notice a mere half-pay officer!’ He leant closer and she could feel his breath on her face. ‘But you should not be so dismissive of my worth, my love! How much longer—?’

‘Kindly stand back, sir!’ Annabella said smartly, embarrassed by the licence he was taking and aware that several of the nearer couples sought to eavesdrop on their conversation. ‘And refrain from addressing me in that intimate whisper!’

Jeffries recoiled as though he had been slapped. The figure of the dance separated them momentarily, but when he rejoined her he immediately took up the theme again.

‘Then where and when may I address you?’ The boyish charm had been replaced by a sulky, mulish expression all too reminiscent of Francis when he was in a bad mood. Annabella’s heart sank. She knew that she had encouraged Jeffries’s attentions during the long and boring months of incarceration at Hazeldean that had followed Francis’s death. His admiration had been balm to her after Francis’s black moods and Lady St Auby’s constant fault-finding. Perhaps she had even allowed him more liberty than had been wise, but she had never intended that it should lead to more…And now that was what Jeffries was wanting, and the thought filled her with revulsion. She had to make it plain to him now.

‘You may not, sir!’ She saw him frown and added coldly, ‘Your attentions are not welcome!’

At her words, Jeffries terminated his attentions in the most abrupt way possible. It was not perhaps the most desirable manner in which to draw attention at a ball, Annabella thought, to be left standing alone as one’s dance partner stormed off the floor. Other couples were circulating about her, and while she hesitated, unable to disentangle herself and in grave danger of ruining the entire set, a strong hand plucked her from out of the other dancers’ paths, and swept her to the side of the room.

‘Forgive me my precipitate action, ma’am,’ Sir William Weston said, above her head. ‘I was afraid that there might be an accident if I left you there!’

Strong arms had closed about her, steadying her, drawing her so close for a moment that she could hear the beat of his heart, feel it against her cheek as it rested briefly against the crisp shirt. She felt a sudden, astounding sense of recognition and almost closed her eyes in relief. Then she was put very gently back on to her feet and Sir William stepped back, impeccably proper.

‘My apologies, once again, madam.’ He sketched a bow. ‘I hope I have not hurt you.’

It was extraordinary, Annabella thought, completely bewildered, her feelings still in confusion. His lightest touch had caused an earthquake of sensation within her. She was not sure if she liked the feeling. She was even more uncertain of whether she could deal with it.

She took a steadying breath. ‘Your actions were most timely, sir. I must thank you!’ She looked up
into those vivid, blue eyes and felt again the impact of his character.

Sir William’s sleepy gaze dwelt on her thoughtfully, seeing she knew not what. She was aware that the faded mauve dress only served to accentuate the pallor of her face and that her hair, although a pretty honey fair, was escaping its hasty coiffure, for Lady St Auby had taken all the maid’s time and Annabella had had to secure the pins herself. Yet he seemed to find no fault, and returned her smile with warmth.

‘I imagine I witnessed you divesting yourself of an admirer there, Mrs St Auby,’ he observed coolly. ‘How very ruthless you must have been for the young man to react so! And now that I am here in his place, how may I serve you?’

Annabella had never thought of George Jeffries as a young man until that moment, but there was something in Weston’s tone which made her see him suddenly as a foolish youth, for all his posturing in his pretty uniform. And in comparison with this man…Well, there was no comparison. Whilst she struggled to understand the precise nature of the difference, she realised that Lady St Auby was gesticulating at her across the floor. Annabella’s heart sank. Her mother-in-law was watching her like a gaoler and she did not wish for another scene. ‘Perhaps you might escort me back to Lady St Auby,’ she said, a little regretfully, and saw Sir William grin down at her.

‘Must I? The old dragon bullies you, yet you are eager to return to her side?’ He gave her a whimsical smile. ‘It seems most odd!’

Annabella tried unsuccessfully to repress her own smile. She was discovering that there were worse fates
than to enjoy a mild flirtation with a man who was as attractive as the enigmatic Sir William. It had been a very long time since any man had flirted with her—except, of course, the unappealing Captain Jeffries…

‘Lady St Auby can be of uncertain temperament—’ she began guardedly, only to be stopped by his laughter.

‘Upon my word, ma’am, that is the most astounding piece of understatement I have ever heard! You must be a veritable paragon to describe her in such terms!’

Now it was Annabella’s turn to laugh. ‘Oh, no, sir, that is too unkind! Her ladyship does her best with a daughter-in-law she never sought, who is left penniless to her charity! It is not easy for her!’

Sir William grimaced. ‘You are all charity yourself, Mrs St Auby! But I see that Lady Bountiful is approaching us, so I may find out for myself if your words are true!’

‘Oh, no!’ Over his shoulder, Annabella could see the stout figure of her mother-in-law advancing on them purposefully. She wanted no interruption. Sir William’s dancing blue eyes saw her dismay and he laughed aloud.

‘Never fear, I will protect you! It will seem best if we are conversing on some innocuous topic,’ he added in a swift undertone. ‘Yes, my ship was stationed in the East Indies for two years, ma’am…’ he had raised his voice for the benefit of the approaching matron ‘…and the weather is indeed too hot for the British temperament! Ah, Lady St Auby—’ He turned swiftly. ‘Your servant, ma’am! I was just telling your charming daughter-in-law how much preferable the west of England is to hotter climes!’