Nicola Cornick (4 page)

Annabella gave in. There was something about Caroline Kilgaren which suggested that resistance was pointless, for she was both decisive and direct. Caroline’s shrewd blue eyes were appraising Annabella thoroughly, and she was suddenly very nervous.

‘Forgive me for staring,’ Caroline said frankly, with another of her warm smiles. ‘In truth, you are very
like your sister! The gentlemen have already noticed it!’

Annabella blushed. ‘Oh, ma’am, if I had a quarter of Alicia’s style!’

‘It’s only clothes,’ Caroline said practically. ‘You have the basis of the rest already, and town polish can always be acquired! But you looked quite apprehensive when I came up, poor child,’ she added consolingly, making Annabella feel about seventeen. ‘I only wanted to tell you that Mundell told me he had mentioned Alicia to you, and it is quite true that she wishes to see you again above all things!’ She touched Annabella’s hand briefly. ‘I know that the two of you parted on bad terms, but Alicia has always thought that there must be more to the case than she knew.’

Lady Kilgaren watched shrewdly as the colour came into Annabella’s face and fled as swiftly. The Annabella St Auby she had met and of whom both Will Weston and Hugo Mundell had spoken that evening was a far cry from the avaricious and ill-bred girl who had so alienated Alicia Mullineaux. So Alicia had guessed correctly when she had thought that there was much more to the tale than the simple explanation that Annabella had grown up in Bertram Broseley’s own image.

‘I should tell you, ma’am—’ Annabella drew breath to explain.

‘No.’ Caroline put up a hand. ‘If you wish to confide in me I should be honoured, but you need tell me nothing you do not want! Take a little time; think about it. I only wished you to know that Alicia is quite anxious to see you—indeed, she will be writing to you
soon! There now—’ she had seen Annabella’s eyes fill with tears ‘—there is no need to be sad!’

‘You are all kindness, ma’am,’ Annabella said, brushing the tears away before anyone had time to see them. ‘If you only knew how much I have wanted to make contact with my sister—’

‘We will accomplish it!’ Caroline said, with a smile. ‘Now—’

‘Caro!’ Marcus Kilgaren was standing before them with two glasses of lemonade. ‘Will gave me these for you, though I doubt you really wanted them!’ He bowed to Annabella, a twinkle in his eye. ‘How do you do, Mrs St Auby? Sir William was about to come to rescue you, but I fear he is too much in awe of Caroline to dare!’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Caroline said, getting to her feet. ‘Will Weston has vanquished greater enemies than I!’

‘But none more determined, my love,’ Marcus said cheerfully. ‘Come and dance with me, and let the poor fellow take your place here. He is languishing across the room and quite cast down!’

It was impossible to imagine Sir William in the manner Marcus described, Annabella thought, and sure enough, when she turned to scan the ballroom she saw him dancing with Charlotte Mundell. It was enough to prompt a prickle of jealousy for which Annabella took herself severely to task. She had only met Sir William that evening, after all, and hardly had a right to feel resentful if he paid attention to another woman. She herself was hardly without admirers, anyway, for as Marcus took Caroline off to dance the cotillion, Viscount Mundell took Caroline’s seat and
chatted to Annabella about this and that in a manner as entertaining as it was inconsequential.

‘I fear I must oust you again, Hugo,’ Sir William said some ten minutes later, coming upon them as Annabella was laughing at some anecdote Mundell was telling her about Sir Frederick St Auby’s exploits on the hunting field. ‘Miss Hurst assures me that she is promised to you for this dance, and she is unlikely to forgive you if you slight her!’

Mundell gave his friend a measuring look, but Weston was completely impassive. He got to his feet with every evidence of reluctance.

‘I do not believe you for a moment, William,’ Mundell said evenly. ‘Your motives are transparent! However, I will humour you this once! Your servant, Mrs St Auby!’

He got up and Sir William took his seat with alacrity. Annabella considered him thoughtfully, wondering how she could ever have dismissed him as ordinary. Beneath that air of careless indolence was an assurance and determination which were quite formidable. He was quite out of her league and she should not tangle with him. But then, Mundell’s set were all a danger to her in their way. The glittering, privileged world of the aristocracy was not for her and though they might appear to see her as a new diversion, she should not depend on being part of their circle. The misery that would be occasioned when they dropped her and she was forced to retreat to her circumscribed life would be quite intolerable.

‘You look quite severe, Mrs St Auby,’ Sir William observed lazily. ‘Can it be that you are a secret pur
itan? Are you dismissing us all as a group of wastrels out for our own pleasure?’

Annabella smiled. ‘I am sure that I derive enjoyment from a ball as much as most,’ she allowed, ‘but look over there, sir—why, it is well nigh disgraceful!’

Sir William followed her gaze to where no less than four hopeful young ladies had cornered Viscount Mundell and were fluttering their lashes and their fans at him, pouting prettily, hanging on his every word. Further down the room, Sir Thomas Oakston was busy flattering Miss Mundell, whilst his wife complimented Miss Hurst on her toilette.

‘It is the way of the world,’ Sir William said laconically. ‘Everyone wishes to befriend the wealthy!’

‘So you are as much a cynic as I, sir!’ Annabella was still laughing as he pulled her to her feet.

‘Come and dance with me, Mrs St Auby,’ Sir William said, by way of reply. ‘I need you to protect me from these predatory women!’

Annabella could hardly deny that she took pleasure in dancing with him. It would have been strange indeed for her to have emerged from the seclusion of the St Auby’s manor to be swept up into the excitement of Mundell’s orbit without enjoying it. And Sir William’s evident pleasure in her company was heady as a draught of wine. She floated through the dance, which was the last of the evening, and thanked him somewhat incoherently at the end.

‘It has been a pleasure, Mrs St Auby.’ Sir William smiled down into her eyes. ‘May I call on you tomorrow?’ The words were conventional but there was something in his expression which made her shiver a little, in an entirely pleasurable way.

‘If you wish, sir…’

‘Thank you.’ His smile was devastating, she thought weakly. He bowed and kissed her hand, and left Annabella feeling as shaken as when they had first met.

Once in the privacy of the carriage on the homeward journey, Lady St Auby was vitriolic.

‘Scheming, conniving,
wicked
girl! You think that Mundell and his friends will take you up? You are deluding yourself, my girl! They’ll be laughing at you now for a country dowd! And telling your precious sister what a frump you are!’

Lady St Auby knew how to wound. Withdrawing once more into herself, Annabella concluded that it was indeed unlikely that Sir William Weston was doing anything other than amusing himself at her expense. She would do best to forget the evening and her brief enjoyment, forget the heady delight of waltzing in his arms, for he would most certainly not call upon her on the morrow and to rely upon him doing so would only leave her more disappointed in the end.

‘T
here’s a gentleman to see you, ma’am.’ The slovenly maid, whom Lady St Auby employed because they were too poor to have a butler, looked at Annabella with some curiosity. Mrs Francis had never had an admirer like this before—there had been Captain Jeffries, of course, but everyone knew he was no gentleman, and not averse to pinching the maids’ bottoms when the mistress’s back was turned as well! But this gentleman was Quality and no mistake.

Annabella pricked her finger on her needle and almost spilt a drop of blood on her embroidery. It would have made little difference had she spoilt it, for her skill was small and the uneven petals of the rose she had just completed were too poor to be displayed. Needlework was not one of her talents. She put the embroidery frame to one side and got to her feet.

So he had come after all! In the cold light of day, she had become even more convinced that Sir William had only been trifling with her, for what interest could he possibly have in furthering their acquaintance? The glittering excitement of the previous night
seemed like a flimsy dream that would fade if she tried to grasp it. Yet here he was. Unless—perhaps it was only Jeffries, anxious to press her further, certain she would succumb…She turned to question the maid on the gentleman’s identity, but the girl had already gone back downstairs.

Annabella ran to check her appearance in the mirror and gave a silent sigh. The dress of ruby red looked black in the dark little rooms of the St Auby townhouse, and even Annabella could see the patches where the material had faded and worn. Today she had tied her hair up in a long plait, despairing of ever being able to achieve the simple elegance of the modes she saw in the old copies of
The Fashions of London and Paris
, which were passed on by one of Lady St Auby’s friends. Still, she had kept him waiting long enough. Her heart beating faster, Annabella made her way down the narrow stair.

Sir William Weston was waiting in the drawing-room, his height making him appear to dominate the poky, low-ceilinged chamber. Today he was wearing a coat of navy blue superfine which appeared almost stark in its simplicity, but again, it had the simple refinement of a master’s cut. He wore buff pantaloons and Hessians, both of which were elegant without being dandified, and his white cravat was once again arranged in complicated folds. He looked, Annabella thought dazedly, rather too disturbingly attractive. And when he smiled at her…

He crossed the room in two strides and took her hand in his. ‘Mrs St Auby! What a pleasure to see you again, ma’am! I hope that last evening has not tired you too much?’

‘Thank you, sir, I am quite well,’ Annabella said, smiling a little at the thought that she might not be robust enough to survive a ball. No doubt the young ladies Sir William knew would be exhausted with the effort. But then, they could stay in bed until midday and would not be required to be up at first light to scour the scullery…

‘Then I wondered if you would care to join me for a drive in the country? It is a perfect day for it and my curricle is outside. We could stop for tea at Mundell Hall on the way back.’

It sounded a tempting plan, and Annabella soon found herself donning her pelisse and going out to the curricle. Even had it not been Sir William who was inviting her, the simple pleasure of escaping from the dark house would have been enough.

She paused to admire the matched bays which Sir William had in his team, for they were prime horse-flesh and suggested that he was a notable whip. The curricle, with its elegantly expensive lines, was creating quite a stir. Annabella noticed with interest that Sir William had chosen not to bring a groom and that a street urchin was eagerly holding the horses’ reins for love rather than the coin Sir William now flicked to him as they set off.

‘You are clearly knowledgeable about horses, ma’am,’ Sir William commented when they had negotiated the busy streets of the town and were tooling along in the open country. ‘Do you ride?’

‘Oh, I used to!’ As soon as she was out in the open air and feeling the warm sun and cooling breeze, Annabella remembered with a pang of nostalgia how she had enjoyed her rides about her father’s estate. ‘I rode
a great deal before my marriage,’ she said, ‘and Sir Frederick used to keep a fine stable before the expense became prohibitive. I must confess that it is a luxury I miss!’

Sir William smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘Perhaps we could go riding next time,’ he said pleasantly, and the words echoed in Annabella’s head:
Next time…

So he planned to seek her out again, did he? A delicious little smile curved her lips at the thought. Having her company sought by so attractive a man was a new experience for her and one which was entirely delightful. She watched his hands, skilful on the reins, and repressed a little shiver.

‘Did you enjoy the ball last night?’ Sir William enquired neutrally, after a slight pause.

‘Well, yes…I suppose so…’ Annabella’s reply sounded less certain than she had intended, and he gave her a quizzical look.

‘You do not sound very sure, ma’am! Are dances and assemblies not to your taste? But surely I remember you saying that you liked them…’

‘Oh, no, I enjoy them very much!’ Annabella laughed. ‘Not that I have been to so very many, sir! I only hesitated because I do not believe that Lady St Auby found the evening agreeable, which makes matters a little difficult…’ She sighed, remembering Lady St Auby’s vicious diatribe on the way home. She had managed to convince Annabella not only that Mundell and his set were laughing at her expense, but also that Alicia had never had any real intention of ending their estrangement.

‘I realised last night how difficult it must be for you in such a household,’ Sir William observed
thoughtfully. ‘Have you not considered the possibility of living elsewhere, ma’am?’

It was a rather impertinent question from a mere acquaintance, Annabella thought, but then he was a very direct man. She hesitated, conscious that almost anything she said about her current situation, her marriage, her father or her relationship with Alicia would lead her into difficult waters. She was unsure how far she could prevaricate with Sir William Weston—he seemed very determined.

‘I have considered it,’ she said carefully, ‘but there are difficulties. It is no secret that my father left me very little money and my husband none at all. And I have no wish to impose on my sister, who, I am sure you are aware, sir, has reason to dislike me!’ She gave him a defiant look. ‘I have been thinking lately that the only solution is for me to earn a living!’

‘Perhaps you have considered becoming a governess?’ Sir William murmured, his voice completely bland. Annabella gave him a quick look, but could not tell if he was laughing at her. His gaze was fixed on the road and there was not even a telltale hint of a smile about that firm mouth. She looked away hastily.

‘I have thought of it, but reluctantly discounted the idea, sir.’

‘Oh, dear, why was that?’

Now she was sure that he was making fun of her. ‘I am not bookish enough!’ she snapped. ‘I could hardly expect to be paid to teach a child those learned facts that I had not seen fit to acquire myself!’

Sir William’s lips twitched. ‘Was your education neglected then, Mrs St Auby?’

‘No, sir, by good fortune I had a number of excellent governesses.’ Annabella strove to be fair. ‘It was my own attitude that was at fault. I had no patience with my teachers and what they tried to instil in me. So…’

‘So, no governess post,’ Sir William finished for her, one dark brow raised. ‘A pity, but it would not have served. You are too young and,’ he added under his breath, ‘devilishly pretty besides!’

Annabella was startled. ‘I beg your pardon, sir!’

Sir William grinned at her. ‘I was merely pointing out that your relative youth and your appearance made it an unsuitable occupation for you! There will always be impressionable sons—or even fathers!—who would try to lead you astray!’

Annabella blushed. She hurried on to try to cover her confusion. ‘But then I hit on a plan, sir!’

‘Your resourcefulness is most impressive, ma’am,’ Sir William commented, bland once more. Annabella shot him a darkling look.

‘You are funning me, I know, sir, but I am quite in earnest! I intend to set up a circulating library!’

The horses swerved slightly as Sir William inadvertently pulled the rein, a terrible solecism for such an accomplished whip. ‘You amaze me, ma’am,’ he said politely. ‘How do you propose to do such a thing?’

‘Well, I have heard that Mr Lane, the proprietor of the Minerva Press, will set anyone up in a circulating library who wishes it,’ Annabella said artlessly. ‘And he is so very rich that I believe there must be a living in it! At the library in Castle Street they charge a subscription of a whole guinea to borrow the best
books,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘but I have never been able to afford that!’

‘As a business venture it would seem to have certain merits,’ Sir William agreed. ‘But where will you establish your library, Mrs St Auby? A seaside town or fashionable watering place might be the best. I suppose your father did not leave you any property that might be of use?’

Annabella shook her head. ‘He left plenty of property, but all is sold to pay his debts,’ she admitted. ‘Why, the lawyers are still trying to disentangle his affairs! But I have no hope that there will be anything suitable. That is the only flaw in my plan.’

‘Hmm, a pity.’ Sir William had slowed the horses as they sped through a picturesque village. ‘It seemed an excellent plan in all other particulars. But there are alternatives, of course! You might marry again, perhaps?’

‘I doubt that, sir.’ Annabella sounded subdued. They were back on dangerous ground.

Sir William allowed the curricle to slow down, and half turned towards her. ‘You seem very certain, ma’am! How is it possible to tell what the future holds?’

‘It is not, of course,’ Annabella allowed, permitting herself to meet those perceptive blue eyes for a brief moment. ‘But I do not think…’

‘Perhaps,’ Sir William said thoughtfully, ‘when one has been married happily once, it is difficult to imagine such good fortune occurring again.’

‘I imagine that might be so.’ The sun went behind a cloud. Annabella shivered. ‘And the reverse might also be true.’

‘You mean that having been married unhappily, one might not wish to risk such a situation again?’ Sir William pursued. ‘Yet your sister, having been so unfortunate in the past, has now found true happiness as a result of being prepared to take that risk.’

‘I am very glad that Alicia is happy now,’ Annabella said sincerely, swallowing a lump in her throat and looking fixedly at the horizon.

‘Yes, having been estranged from James for so long, and enduring that appalling scandal of her forced marriage, she deserves her current good fortune.’ Sir William took his eyes off the road to consider Annabella’s averted face thoughtfully.

‘And you, Mrs St Auby, were you more fortunate than your sister in your dealings with your father? Did he not have an arranged match designed for you too?’

Annabella was taken by surprise. She had a sudden, vivid flash of memory—her father, bright red with rage, storming at her when she had refused to marry the man he had chosen for her. She had had Alicia’s example to learn from, after all, and had been determined not to succumb. But though Bertram Broseley had not succeeded in marrying her off, he had managed to poison her life anyway. She pressed her hands together, suddenly distressed.

‘Must we speak of such matters, sir? The circumstances surrounding my marriage cannot be of any interest to you, I am sure—’

‘On the contrary, ma’am,’ Sir William’s tone was inflexible. ‘It interests me considerably! What happens to one sister can, after all, repeat itself with another! And I have the strangest feeling that your ap
parent love match with Francis St Auby was no such thing!’

Annabella gasped. His effrontery in speaking of such matters was beyond anything she had experienced or knew how to deal with. No mere acquaintance should speak so, and certainly no gentleman should broach such a topic, particularly when she had shown her own disinclination to discuss the matter!

‘Upon my word, sir,’ she gasped, ‘you are most persistent! And you presume too much! Your comments are impertinent in the extreme! Kindly stop this curricle and take me back now!’ She looked around and realised that she had not the first idea where they were, for she had been quite engrossed in their conversation.

The flat country of the Somerset Levels stretched around them as far as the eye could see. Verdant green fields lined with thick hedgerows and edged with water-filled dykes stretched into the distance, empty of habitation. Her half-formed idea of stepping down and marching off in high dudgeon died a death. It would be impractical. She would look foolish. Worse, she would be lost. She looked across at Sir William, who was obeying her instruction and was bringing the curricle to a halt in the middle of the road. He did not look in the least abashed.

‘My friends are always telling me that I have no decorum,’ he said regretfully. ‘It is a great trial to me!’

Annabella did not believe him. ‘A great trial to everyone else, rather!’ she snapped. ‘I wonder that your friends bear with you!’

The ghost of a smile touched Sir William’s mouth.
‘I do believe you have a temper to rival your sister’s, Mrs St Auby,’ he said admiringly. ‘She has always had a swift way of administering a set-down!’ The amusement in his sleepy gaze only served to infuriate Annabella all the more. Despite her widowed state she was very young and inexperienced, and had no idea how to handle a man like this. And she did indeed have a temper which was slow to kindle but red-hot once aroused.