Once Upon a Wager (15 page)

• • •

As she watched Alec help Aunt Sophia into his waiting barouche, her heart would not stop racing. Annabelle could still see the expression on his face when she'd pushed him. His eyes had gone wide with shock, and then with something more visceral.

She hadn't planned such behavior. Waiting for him this morning, she'd been ready to lay her bitterness aside. She would not get the answers she sought if she did not placate him. For a brief time, they had even managed to be cordial, but then he'd turned into a terrible snob, dismissive and eager to criticize. Just like his father. It was as if the man who'd laughed with her and teased her so long ago had never existed. So she'd goaded him, eager to see some spark of passion, something to indicate that he could still feel anything besides self-righteousness.

When he'd grasped her by the arms, his eyes glittering darkly, she'd gotten her answer. Strong emotions raged within him. Anger, frustration, and something else. There was so much unsaid between them.

After she settled into the carriage, Alec climbed in behind her, taking the backward-facing seat across from her and Aunt Sophia. Then he rapped his knuckles against the side of the exquisitely appointed vehicle, indicating to his driver that they were ready to be off. Quite suddenly they were, riding smoothly down the street toward Dorset House, where the ladies would meet with Lady Elaine Carstairs.

• • •

After an hour spent poring over accounts at his bachelor's lodgings, Alec returned to Dorset House to collect Annabelle and her aunt. Both were chatting so happily in the carriage that they hardly took notice of his presence, and though that offered him a perfect opportunity to look out the window, he found it difficult to turn his attention from Annabelle. She seemed determined to ignore both him and their earlier confrontation, as she laughed at something Lady Marchmain said. Such a lovely, musical sound. He'd always loved her laugh.

How had he been talked into this farce? Her sudden reappearance in his life was untenable. He was a man like any other, and Annabelle Layton was a distraction, with her flashing eyes and her ridiculous beauty. Surely her sole purpose was to torture him. He owed Jane Fitzsimmons his attention now. Indeed, it was past time for him to make an appointment to see her father, to offer his proposal, and get the whole thing over and done with. He needed to focus on getting his soldiers' bill before the House of Lords.

After they pulled up to the front of Lady Marchmain's home, Alex saw both ladies safely to their door. Eager to learn what had been planned and how quickly it could be set into motion, he sped back to Dorset House and raced up his mother's marble steps. She had obviously expected him, because he'd hardly knocked before Edmunds pulled open the black lacquered door. “She's waiting for you in the library, my lord.” And indeed she was, looking lovely and quite pleased with herself in a wing chair by the fireplace. Mother had more color in her cheeks then he'd seen in a long while. He might have something to thank Annabelle and her meddlesome aunt for after all.

“How long will it take?” he asked.

“I am not sure much will be required beyond introducing her to society. I will secure a voucher at Almack's. We'll plan a ball in her honor. The usual first steps for any debutante.”

“Is she eager to start?”

“She is excited about the prospect of friends. And what girl does not look forward to all of the parties and those beautiful gowns? She does, though, appear to be self-conscious about your involvement. She is perhaps nervous about the whole of it.”

Nervous. There was that word again. It was never one that he'd have associated with Annabelle growing up. “She has no reason to feel that way, Mother. Her beauty makes things absurdly easy for her.”

She tilted her head, as if surprised by his comment. “Beauty like that makes you a target, my dear. And you must remember that Annabelle has had little interaction with others these past several years. The attention will be relentless, and anyone would lack confidence in those circumstances.”

He didn't like to think of her as vulnerable. Not when it was easier to think of her as a conniving Jezebel.

“Have you spoken with Miss Fitzsimmons about befriending Annabelle during the Season?”

“I have. She is always willing to devote herself to a cause.”

“That is very kind,” his mother replied, with just a touch less enthusiasm than Alec would have preferred. He still couldn't tell if she approved of his intended fiancée.

“Miss Layton's beauty, of course, has generated a tremendous amount of interest,” he admitted. “There are an appalling number of floral tributes at Marchmain House.”

“You must help us vet every suitor. She has a very generous annuity from her mother's side of the family, and that always attracts the wrong sort. I think a trip to the opera next week would be appropriate. I'd also like to plan an outing with several young people, perhaps at Hampstead Heath. I feel certain that Lady Hertford will invite Annabelle to her annual Summer Ball. It is always a fantastic crush. And then, of course, I will help plan her come-out party at Marchmain House. In the meantime, the two of you must spend some time reacquainting yourselves. It will do no good if people sense there is tension between you.”

He would be almost constantly in Annabelle's company, which meant that the next few weeks would be excruciating. They'd have to find a way to get along, but what would happen if he couldn't keep her at arm's length? He could still feel the press of her hands against his chest, where they had laid heavy and close to his heart.

• • •

“I thought I'd find you here, Dorset,” Marworth drawled later that same afternoon, as he dropped himself into a chair beside Alec in the dining room at White's. He motioned to one of the house stewards, clad soberly in a gray morning suit. “I'll have whatever my good friend here is having, and you may charge my meal to his account.” He returned his attention to Alec. “It's no more than you deserve. You've been keeping secrets from me.”

“I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about, as is so often the case between us. What have I done now?”

“The Carstairs family is helping to launch the divine Miss Layton this Season. Yet you've given me every impression that you wanted nothing to do with her.”

“The Countess of Marchmain reminded me that I have a responsibility to see Gareth's sister well settled,” he said. “But she is a distraction I don't need.”

“I can hardly think of a more pleasant distraction. She's stunning.”

Alec eyed Benjamin warily. “Granted, but that doesn't change the history between us.”

“The vast majority of that history was positive. You were great friends once. In fact, as you grew older, you visited Astley Castle to see Annabelle, rather than Gareth.”

Alec shifted under the weight of that uncomfortable observation. “That was before I moved to London to study with my father. And well before she insulted my honor.”

“Ah, yes, your honor.” Benjamin flicked an imaginary fluff of dust from his immaculate blue jacket. “You've been pouting over that slight ever since you returned from Nuneaton last month.”

“I have not been pouting!” Where had Marworth gotten that idea?

“Have you asked yourself why she felt that you could no longer be trusted?”

Alec shook his head. “I can only assume that she holds me responsible for the accident that day. After all, the failure of my carriage directly contributed to Gareth's death, not to mention her own injuries.” He could never forget that.

“I've never understood how all of that came to pass. Surely the grooms at Arbury Hall cleaned and checked your carriage before you set out for the castle that evening? After all, you'd just journeyed in from London.”

“I'm certain they did, but it's an unassailable truth that I did not do so.” He would always bear the ultimate responsibility. “The broken wheel had a linchpin that failed. They were still trying to find its pieces among the wreckage when I departed for the city.”

“Do you still employ the same manager?” Benjamin asked, drumming his fingers on the table top, as if absorbed in the thought of something.

“He's been with our family for more than a generation, as was his father before him.”

“You should ask if those pieces were ever found.”

“I will do that, but it won't change Miss Layton's opinion of me. Do you know she tried to push me down today?”

“Really? Beauty and high spirits are such a seductive combination. What happened?”

As the waiter returned with their lunch—beefsteaks, boiled fowl with oysters, and apple tarts—Alec admitted to himself that he was not proud of the way that he'd acted this morning. Upon reflection, it was easy to see that he'd insulted Annabelle. He'd jumped to conclusions, and that was not fair. There was so little trust between them.

“I said several ill-advised things, and may have insinuated that she was not all that she should be.”

Benjamin paused between bites of beefsteak, his fork suspended midway between his plate and his mouth. “That is so unlike you, I'm nearly speechless.”

“I know. And it's no excuse that she goaded me with all sorts of insinuations. Annabelle has always had a rare ability to manipulate me.”

“How will you make it through the Season if you cannot ease your estrangement?”

“I've just realized that apologies might be required.”

“Without a doubt. I've never known you to be so ungentlemanly.”

Alec stared down at his fast-cooling luncheon. “Something about Annabelle Layton makes me behave irrationally.”

“I wonder what that could be,” Benjamin said, before returning to his lunch with a great show of enthusiasm.

As she waited for Alec to arrive the following morning, Annabelle glanced at one of the large gold-leaf mirrors that hung on either side of Aunt Sophia's hallway, each of them centered above a matching set of Louis XIV credenzas. She looked well enough, if a trifle unsettled. After all, she had no idea what he was about.

Alec had sent a note yesterday evening, requesting her company this morning on a ride in Hyde Park. Indeed, he was due at any moment, though it was barely past the breakfast hour. The park would be empty, save for ostlers exercising their horses, which meant that this was hardly a social call. She'd dressed with care in a cream-colored riding habit with black braided cording, gold buttons, and cuffs embroidered à la militaire. With matching half boots and a small tasseled riding hat, she was the picture of stylish propriety; but she almost wished that she'd worn something outrageous, cut low across the chest, and in a color that couldn't be missed. After all, he had already made all sorts of assumptions about her. She didn't wish to disappoint.

At nine o'clock precisely, a quick rap sounded at the door, and Canby opened it to welcome Alec, who looked every inch a peer of the realm. He was dressed in a flawless brown buckskin coat and matching vest over a white linen shirt, with riding breeches and glossy black Hessians. His eyes flared briefly when he saw her, taking in her attire with a swift glance before he came forward and offered his bow.

That glance surprised her. It made no sense coming from Alec. Other men looked at her that way, but he did not desire her. He didn't even like her.

“Miss Layton, thank you for agreeing to ride with me this morning. Will your aunt be joining us?”

“I'm afraid not, my lord. She appreciated the invitation, but not the hour.” According to Aunt Sophia, the only reason to be up this early was so that you could slip from a lover's bed without the risk of detection. But she could hardly repeat that.

“I see. Let's be off then.” He indicated that she should precede him through the open doorway, and a moment later, they were standing in the bright morning sunshine. Thompson was waiting with a sweet-tempered mare that she'd ridden on several occasions, but her breath caught when she saw the glorious black stallion Alec brought with him.

“What a handsome animal. Wherever did you find him?”

“He's the grandson of my father's favorite horse, Lucifer. Perhaps you remember him from Arbury Hall?”

“How could I forget? I was desperate to ride him when I was a child.”

“You barely reached his flanks at the time,” he said, seemingly amused by the memory. “We'd have needed a set of stairs to get you into the saddle.”

“He was the biggest horse I'd ever seen.”

Alec reached up and affectionately stroked the stallion's mane. “Mars here may not have his size, but he has his heart.”

“Mars? After the god of war?”

“He was born when I was away on the Peninsula. Father trained him personally, and planned him as a gift upon my return.”

“He must have been very proud of your decision to fight.” The earl hadn't been given to displays of generosity or affection.

“On the contrary. He said it was one of the worst decisions I ever made.” As Annabelle tried to hide her surprise, he walked over to inspect her mount, his face unreadable. “A sidesaddle, Miss Layton? At long last? That is decidedly proper of you.”

“It's far more uncomfortable than riding astride, I can tell you that,” she said. “But I've been warned not to wear breeches in London, so the sidesaddle it must be.”

Had his mouth quirked in a smile? She'd swear that it had, but he was already leaning down, joining his hands to offer a foothold. Bracing one arm on his broad shoulders, she placed her right foot into his upturned palms as he boosted her gently into the saddle. She wasn't heavy but she was tall, and his strength seemed effortless. It was most annoying, not to mention distracting.

A heartbeat later, Alec swung up on Mars, and they set out for the park. “Miss Layton, your ensemble is far more beautiful than breeches would be,” he said. “If I'm not mistaken, it's in the new military style.”