Duke of Lust (Sinful Dukes #3)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

“ I have a headache,” Annabelle called out in response to the soft rapping on her bedroom door.

It was locked but she had still jumped at the sound of knocking, having informed Myrtle that she would not be going down to dinner that night but would go to bed early to nurse her headache. There was no way she could face Frederick after what had passed between them that evening.

Would it be possible to keep to her room until Duchess Sarah returned? How many days might that be now?

She had kissed Frederick, if barely. Without a doubt, he had kissed Annabelle. It had been the most amazing experience of her young life and Frederick’s enthusiasm seemed obvious at the time. But then, he had spoken so tersely to her and left as though he was unhappy. Annabelle could understand none of it.

“It is Myrtle, My Lady,” said the old woman’s voice outside the door. “I’ve brought you some bread and warm milk. Do try to eat a little, for your health.”

With a sigh, Annabelle rose and went to the door to admit her maid.

“London is a bad place for young ladies,” Myrtle tutted as she came inside and laid out the plate and mug on the table. “It always seems to upset you so, but I suppose you young ladies must all go there to find husbands.”

“That’s the whole idea of the season,” Annabelle agreed, sitting down and taking a sip of the drink to reassure the white-haired attendant. “Do not be concerned, Myrtle. Everyone has headaches from time to time. I actually had a very nice time in London today, picking up all my new clothes and seeing Victoria Crawford. I am likely overtired.”

“The duke asked me to bring you this. I promised not to forget this letter. He said you would want to know, but if your head hurts, maybe you shouldn’t read it until tomorrow.”

“No, I can read,” Annabelle said, nervously accepting the letter that her maid now offered with her wrinkled hands. “My head is not so bad as that.”

She calmed herself on seeing that the writing on the front was not Frederick’s and when she unfolded the pages she found a short note from Duchess Sarah to her stepson, sent yesterday from Walden Towers and received at Heartwick Hall while they were in London.

One section jumped out at her immediately as she spotted her own name:

“…with the likely size of the baby, Penelope’s headaches and dizziness are some concern to the physician and midwife. Maxwell and I have persuaded her to take the advice of bedrest. I have decided to remain here until after the birth, which could equally be next week or not for more than a month. You will have to advise Lord Emberly to make other arrangements for Lady Annabelle…”

Annabelle took a deep breath, not wanting to give away too much of her reaction in front of Myrtle.

“Not bad news I hope? His Grace looked very grave when he gave it to me.”

“Duchess Penelope is approaching birth and has been unwell,” Annabelle summarized briefly. "Duchess Sarah has decided to stay at Walden Towers until the baby arrives.”

“Dear me! The poor woman. Well, that’s best, isn’t it?” Myrtle chattered. “Most women want their mother, at least for the first baby. I was surprised at Duchess Penelope making do with a midwife. Oh, if Duchess Sarah won’t be at Heartwick Hall, I suppose you cannot stay here. Will you join your family in Norfolk? It will be a shame to miss your parties and balls.”

“My family sent me to Heartwick Hall and I must stay until Stephen instructs me otherwise,” said Annabelle, conscious that she must also soon write to Stephen, without mentioning some of the crucial particulars of her stay at Heartwick Hall. “I must write to them tomorrow, and to Walden Towers too.”

An absence of letters from her would tell her brother that something was wrong. Was omission as bad as outright lying? She hoped it was not because she could see no other alternative. She could not find a husband in Norfolk and her plan for this year would be ruined.

The only real way out of her various predicaments was to find a husband and a new life before Stephen could come back and find out the truth.

Promising Myrtle that she would finish the bread and milk, she dismissed her maid and spent the following hours wondering how she could get through the weeks ahead with Frederick. At least the season would be getting into its swing and they would be out frequently with others.

As she slid into sleep, Annabelle’s imagination drifted back to the drawing room as her self-control loosed its usual bonds. She did not hear her own cries or remember her dreams of Frederick repeating his kiss.

“I hope Penelope fares better soon. I shall write today,” Annabelle said politely, her words well-rehearsed as she returned Duchess Sarah’s letter to Frederick the following morning at breakfast.

As long as she didn’t look directly at his face, she found she could speak calmly and sensibly. But could she keep it up for an entire meal?

“This development does present certain problems,” Frederick observed, Annabelle’s stolen glance at him revealing that he too was choosing to look out of a window. “It will require discretion with our friends and acquaintances, even those you trust.”

“I know, Frederick. I’m not a complete fool,” Annabelle flared up slightly but then stilled herself. “It seems to me that this only makes it all the more important that I find a husband this season. Once I am married, neither Stephen nor anyone else can kick up a fuss.”

“That seems a sensible way of looking at things,” he said without expanding, now seemingly concentrating on very symmetrically buttering a piece of bread.

“Are you still going to help me?” Annabelle added, finding herself as annoyed by his non-responsiveness this morning as she had been agitated by his burst of unexpected passion yesterday evening. “To find a husband, I mean.”

Frederick took a long breath and nodded, before taking a bite of his bread and chewing it slowly.

“Yes,” he said after a minute’s thought. “The Duke and Duchess of Yardley have their summer ball on Saturday and you will wear your new ballgown. We will focus on preparing for that and practice striking up conversation. The gown itself will make a strong first impression the first time anyone sees it.”

“Will it?” Annabelle mused, still unsure of herself but recalling the undeniable attention her new walking outfit had drawn in the park. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m damned sure. I’ve seen you in it, haven’t I? I ought to know,” said Frederick crossly, his eyes finally settling on hers. “I chose it to create allure and it succeeds admirably.”

“Very well, what kind of conversation should we practice?” asked Annabelle, trying both to avoid his gaze and to shift tracks a little from whatever was stirring his temper again.

Until this week, she had thought she knew Frederick Hayward inside out but now his behavior seemed impossible to predict. Would he rage at her? Tease her? Or kiss her…?

“For God’s sake, Annabelle,” Frederick muttered, pushing his plate away and standing up. “Meet me on the top lawn at ten o’clock.”

“Not the drawing room?” she queried, reflecting that the upper garden would not be very private, visible as it was from every room on that side of the house and crossed regularly by gardeners, grooms and other servants.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you?” Frederick remarked and left the room without finishing his breakfast. “I’ll see you at ten.”

Annabelle swallowed as she watched him go, her pulse rising with his words. She suspected that he wanted them to be in sight of the house and its staff so that she wouldn’t be foolish enough to kiss him again. Was he still angry about that? But the kiss he had given her in return had been far longer, deeper and more improper. She could not understand.

Maybe she could not hope to understand and trying would only prove a confusion and distraction to her plan to find a husband. Annabelle decided that whatever else was happening, she must focus on that. It was her only way out.

“A perfect entrance,” said Frederick in a low but approving voice as they took their place in the receiving line at Yardley House in Mayfair. “Now, keep that smile on your face while we wait, not too much and not too little.”

Annabelle smiled and nodded. She had heard the admiring comments of other ladies as she removed her cloak and revealed Madame Deveaux’s creation in the hallway, a marvel of golden silk and subtle blue silk paneling and fastenings. She had also seen the admiring eyes of several gentlemen ranging across her face and figure.

Frederick too was already getting his fair share of attention from ladies, as usual. As she saw the gaze of a man a few yards away resting lasciviously on her half-uncovered breasts, she hoped that Frederick would not abandon her for one of his paramours. A striking black-haired woman nearby was definitely trying to catch his eye although Frederick himself seemed unaware of this.

“After the Duke and Duchess of Yardley receive us, we will go straight into the ballroom and I will seek out some eligible men to make introductions. Are you ready for those conversations? Do you remember everything we have discussed?”

“Listening more than speaking, more questions than answers, more eyes than words,” repeated Annabelle, summarizing his lessons of the last few days at Heartwick Hall. “I remember.”

“Exactly. The important thing is to intrigue these men and leave them wanting more. Don’t let yourself get carried away. Make them want to know you. Make them seek you out.”

Annabelle nodded again, more nervously now as they reached the head of the line and were announced to the Duke and Duchess of Yardley. She performed her curtsey with more ease and elegance than she usually felt, attributing this to her gown and Frederick at her side.

“Duke Frederick, Lady Annabelle, thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. I understand that Lord Emberly is indisposed?” said the Duke of Yardley, an acquaintance of their family but not a close friend.

“My family thanks you for your kind invitation tonight. My brother has had to accompany my father to Norfolk for his health,” Annabelle clarified, using the exact formula of words she had agreed with Frederick for such inquiries. “Stephen has asked Duke Frederick to escort me here tonight and I am grateful for his friendship to my family.”

“Do give the Duke and Duchess of Colborne our best wishes, Lady Annabelle. I hope the Norfolk air will prove invigorating for Duke Magnus,” the Duchess of Yardley said, smiling kindly. “Duke Frederick, I hope you enjoy the evening.”

Introductions over and done with, they moved into the ballroom, where Frederick was instantly intercepted by the dark-haired woman who had been making eyes at him in the receiving line a few minutes earlier.

“How wonderful to find you here tonight, Duke Frederick. I was afraid that I would be bored,” she said with a playful smile and flirtatious eyes that Annabelle felt put all her own attempts to shame.

“None of us need be bored tonight, Lady Coltenay,” said Frederick with a small bow and pleasant expression. “I believe there is a wide field of ladies and gentlemen of all ages and interests. The Duke and Duchess of Yardley’s events have wide appeal.”

“The wider field does not interest me,” Lady Coltenay answered. “As you might remember, I am a decisive woman who knows what she is looking for.”

Annabelle felt Frederick stiffen beside her and wondered if she was about to lose him to his woman who communicated her interest so easily with her eyes, her body and her words.

“I have responsibilities tonight, Lady Coltenay,” Frederick said lightly. “I am not here purely for my own entertainment.”

“That is a pity,” said the woman, looking at Annabelle now with hard, curious eyes. “Are you not going to introduce me to your young friend in the most beautiful gown I have seen yet tonight?”

Even with the strength of Frederick’s arm beneath her gloved hand, Annabelle felt shy and exposed in this elegant outfit, as if it wasn’t really hers. To compound matters, Frederick wasn’t really hers either. He was neither her brother nor her cousin, and certainly not her lover.

“Lady Annabelle, this is the Dowager Viscountess of Coltenay. Lady Coltenay, this is Lady Annabelle Elkins, a family friend I am escorting here tonight at her brother’s request. Now, you must excuse us, there are some introductions I must make.”

Frederick’s words were brief, pointed and polite but disinterested. Annabelle moved with him as soon as he began to walk away from the sultry Lady Coltenay without even a backward glance. While relieved, she still felt uncertain. Surely, he would rather be with this woman than helping Annabelle with her plan. She could not hope to have him at her side for the entire night, could she?

“If you want to go to Lady Coltenay, you can. I don’t mind,” Annabelle said tentatively, even though she did mind.

Shad no idea where she would even start to meet men tonight without Frederick. Likely she would end up hiding in the retiring rooms. But she did not want to be a burden to him either.

“I have no intention of leaving you alone here,” Frederick answered firmly, dismissing the suggestion out of hand. “I made you a promise to help you, didn’t I? I also promised your brother you would be safe in my care. I intend to honor both promises.”

Annabelle nodded, her heartbeat quickening as his eyes fixed hers briefly but her nervousness also calming with the reassurance of his words. Frederick would not abandon her for Lady Coltenay, or anyone else.

“Well, let’s make a start before any other distractions appear,” he added decisively, nodding towards a young man with auburn hair who appeared to be attending the ball with his mother and two sisters, all with the same dark-red hair. “Lord Easterly will make a good first conquest. This should be easy even for a beginner.”

“Frederick! Too fast…” Annabelle gasped as the Duke of Heartwick whirled her around through the measures of a lively country dance. “I swear I shall fall over.”

“No, you won’t,” he declared, laughing and strengthening his grip at her waist and arm as they spun before releasing her to dance up the line and back with the other ladies.

In some ways, this was just like balls in previous seasons when Frederick had only been her friend’s older brother. They were dancing together, Frederick was teasing her and Annabelle was rising to the provocation. However, in other ways it was a radically different experience.

“I won’t let you fall,” Frederick said in a whisper as she returned to him “Have I ever?”

Reuniting in the dance, his touch sent waves of pleasure through her entire body. Annabelle shook her head and swallowed the faint involuntary sound that had risen unbidden in her throat. Dancing with Frederick might be enjoyable but it was also unbearable when it had this strange physical effect on her. She almost wished to dance with someone else to release her from these intense and unfamiliar sensations.

Despite her success in meeting and conversing with a number of men at Frederick’s instigation, she had so far been unable to accept any other dance engagements. Sometimes this was due to Frederick’s own interruption or ending of a conversation, ostensibly to pique the interest of the men concerned.

“I think Lord Easterly might ask me to dance,” she commented to Frederick in the last bars of the dance, glancing at the red-haired young man who had danced this measure, and previous dances, with one or another of his sisters.

He had certainly been throwing occasional interested glances towards Annabelle between the dances, although each time, his mother appeared to pair him with another sister.

“One or the other of you would certainly fall over,” Frederick commented with a grin as the younger man almost tripped over his own feet as he bowed to his partner. “That would make a most entertaining spectacle. How about the waltz? I might pay to see it.”

At first cross, Annabelle frowned and opened her mouth to retort before realizing that Frederick was only teasing as usual. A moment later, the red-haired man trod on his sister’s skirt and tore it, much to her loud chagrin.

“Oh dear,” Annabelle murmured in sympathy for the young woman while Frederick only continued to look amused.

“No, we’re not going to waste your time on young Lord Easterly,” he said, offering his arm and guiding her away from the dance floor. “There’s a much better prospect for you over there, near the conservatory door: Oswald Quince, the Earl of Darrington. Everyone likes him at the club. He’s not much of a drinker but always up for fun and games.”

Annabelle followed Frederick’s eyes to the slim man with light brown hair and lively hazel eyes. He was standing with a woman of similar aspect and another man in military uniform.

“That’s Oswald’s sister, Lady Meredith Quince, and their friend Captain Jacob Rawlings,” Frederick informed her as they approached the group.

A few moments later with his usual easy manner, Frederick had eased them into the trio’s conversation and introduced Annabelle to Oswald. He himself occupied Lady Meredith and Captain Rawlings in order to give her a chance to make an impression and she set to work again.

As she had done with other men earlier in the evening, Annabelle tried to follow Frederick’s instructions in her exchanges with Oswald, casting her eyes at him in shy flirtation and asking him simple questions about himself. Unlike with Lord Easterly and others, however, this appeared to have no effect whatsoever. While good-humored, he appeared otherwise occupied and not open to the distraction she was trying to offer.

“Do you see that man skulking in the conservatory?” Oswald said to Annabelle after politely glossing over her question about his plans for the season, his eyes dancing with glee. “The tubby middle-aged man with spectacles?”

“Why, yes, it’s Lord Copperley, isn’t it?” Annabelle replied. “My mother knows his sister. I thought he’d gone to Bath to take the waters.”

“That’s what Lady Copperley thinks too,” confided Oswald rather conspiratorially. “That’s why she has gone to visit an old schoolfriend in his absence. But he is actually here in London, at Yardley House.”

“But why?” Annabelle asked immediately, unable to resist gossip. “And why is he hiding in the conservatory?”

“ Cherchez la femme , in both cases,” Oswald explained. “The lady he came here hoping to meet tonight is the recently widowed Dowager Countess of Neston, a former flame of his from before his marriage. The lady he is hiding from is Lady Ruthingham, his wife’s sister, whom he was not expecting to be at the Yardley ball.”

“Oh my!” exclaimed Annabelle, despite herself. “How thrilling. He is going to get into trouble, isn't he? But who will find him first?”

“You love gossip too, don’t you Lady Annabelle? I can always tell just by looking at someone. I knew I was right about you.”

“Yes,” she laughed in agreement, feeling very easy in this man’s company despite their new acquaintance. “I’ve always enjoyed watching the ton from a distance. I’ve been a bit of a wallflower, I’m afraid, at least when compared with my best friend, Penelope. She’s married now and I’m even more by myself.”

“Not a wallflower, an observer of human nature,” Oswald objected with a smile. “Watchers often see and understand so much more than participants.”

“That’s a kind way of looking at things. Penelope always says there’s nothing wrong with watching and being quiet but everyone else seems to disapprove. Oh, I’m talking too much. I did promise Frederick that I wouldn’t.”

“Well, I don’t disapprove in the slightest, either of watching or talking. But how about a dance? That should be fun too and I expect they’re going to do a reel next.”

“Why, yes,” Annabelle answered delightedly, amazed at how easily this was happening. “I would love to dance.”

“Come on then,” he grinned and offered his arm. “Let’s dance and gossip to our hearts’ content.”