Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
2 3 December 1820
“How goes the chase?” asked Bowman as he helped Andrew undress for the night. “The other gentlemen leave tomorrow. Any progress?”
Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “As in the suitors that Page brought with him?” Fitzjames had made himself into an extra appendage, not leaving Lady Annette’s side. Hmph . “We were originally to go into the village by coach. I think the suggestion to take the horses was designed to discourage Hawkesbury from going.”
“I see.” Bowman brushed off the coat and put it in the wardrobe. He returned and removed the cravat and then the collar. “However, I meant progress with improving your charm.”
“You don’t think I’m charming, Bowman? I don’t give you enough compliments?” Andrew chuckled at his indignant valet. “Yes, I believe I’m doing quite well with my wooing skills.”
“Are we considering you as one of the competition yet?”
Andrew considered. “I believe so. Have you heard anything? Any trips to the kitchen?”
“The servants are saying both men are out of the running. One will live too far from the lady’s family. The other is flirtatious but not clever enough.” Bowman finished his nightly ritual by pouring a glass of brandy and setting it on a table by the chair.
After his valet left, Andrew donned his banyan and sat by the fire. He sipped his brandy, thinking of the past few days and the possibilities of the days to come. Beecham and his fiancée seemed open to his courtship with Lady Annette. Hadn’t the teasing been a way for Henry to give his consent? He would ask to be certain—if the lady was willing.
He thought back to yesterday when they went for an early morning ride.
“I have wealth, so more blunt does not tempt me. A friendship—with a kind and beautiful woman—would be worth so much more. Do you think that’s possible?”
“It depends on whether the woman was the daughter of a close friend.”
“I believe she is.”
“Then yes, I do think it’s possible. In fact, I believe it’s already in progress.”
He would meet her at the stable again tomorrow morning and hope they were alone, unlike today. He was also looking forward to seeing Beecham’s youngest son, William, tomorrow. They’d met a few times in Town and seemed an honorable and ambitious lad. He was bringing the final suitor.
“Aggie, am I too old for this lady? Are you scowling down at me or smiling?” He finished his brandy and leaned against the soft, worn leather of the chair, letting the liquor warm his insides and the crackling fire warm his feet.
“Aggie, wait up!” Andrew saw her just ahead, beyond another group of pedestrians at Hyde Park. She was wearing her favorite lavender spencer and matching bonnet, her parasol flipping back and forth at her side. He was frantic to catch up with her, wondering why she was out here by herself.
“Aggie, please,” he shouted. She turned slightly, waving at him, but he could only see the side of her bonnet. Panic clutched his chest; sweat trickled down his back. He knew this was his last chance. His last opportunity for… What? What did she hold that he was searching for so desperately?
Andrew pushed his way through the group ahead of him, not bothering to apologize, focused only on the lone figure ahead of him. Fear roared through him. He had to reach her. He had to grab that last chance at happiness. If he didn’t try to catch her before she disappeared, he knew she would give her love to someone else.
“Hurry, darling,” she called to him. “You’re not too old. You’ll never be too old.”
He broke into a full run, grabbed at her spencer, then at the ribbons of her bonnet, falling down her back. “Wait!”
“You must work for love if you truly want it,” she teased over her shoulder. “Show me how sincere you are.”
He lunged forward and grasped her shoulder. As he tried to catch his breath, sucking in air and turning her around, her face wavered and became Annette’s.
“You do want me.” She beamed. “I’ve been waiting for so long. I knew you’d come.” Then she leaned on her tiptoes, placed a hand on his cheek, and softly kissed his lips.
Heat roared through him, a potent thrumming that could only be stifled by her. Nettie. His arms went around her, and he pulled her close, the scent of jasmine sending desire rushing to his core.
He was not gentle. He was not soft. His kiss was demanding, claiming. A clash of lips and tongue and teeth. Her soft curves melded against his hard muscle, and Andrew realized she filled that empty space in his heart created by the loss of Agnes.
“I’m sorry, Aggie,” he murmured against Nettie’s hair as she leaned into him after the kiss.
“She’s not,” whispered Nettie. “She’s happy for you. But you still must fight for what you want.”
He stepped back and cupped Nettie’s face. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Thud! Andrew jerked awake. He’d dropped his glass, and the flames in the hearth had died down to glowing embers. His hand shook as he leaned over to retrieve the glass. Rising, he moved to his bed and removed his banyan. But sleep would not come, and he tossed and turned, going over each part of his dream.
Was Agnes giving him permission to love again? And was he truly falling in love with Nettie? Yes, after that kiss, real or dream, he would think of her as Nettie. That kiss had been so real, so amazing. It woke his heart, his romantic heart, from a long sleep. Now, it pumped life back into him and pounded in his chest to be heard.
Sunrise was showing its rosy colors of pink and purple as Andrew finally drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Annette had stopped in the library, looking for something to read. A book always settled her thoughts, helped her drift into a peaceful sleep. After the past few days, she needed some peace. Her mind was peppered with so many different emotions, she couldn’t think straight.
As she reached for a book, a knock at the library door made her freeze. She looked over her shoulder to find Mr. Fitzjames leaning against the frame.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly.
“I always enjoy reading a bit before bed.” Annette pulled down her selection and turned to face her brother’s friend. “And you?”
He pushed away from the doorframe and walked toward her. Annette wondered what he wanted. She doubted he’d come here to read.
“I always find a kiss makes me sleep better.” He stopped in front of her, gently took the tome from her hand, and let it fall to the floor with a thump . “Would you indulge me?”
Before she could answer, his hand was at her waist, trapping her against his length, the other hand moving up and down her arm as his lips smashed against hers. Annette held her breath, smelling the brandy he’d had too much of.
When he ended the kiss, he stepped back with a smirk on his face. His pale-blue eyes were half closed, and he reached out to take her fingers in his hand. Annette resisted the urge to wipe her mouth and pull her hand away.
She’d been kissed before. Chaste brushes of lips on lips. Nothing passionate to make her knees weak or her heart pound. Yet, here was a man full of desire, and she felt no more than she had with those first kisses.
“I bet you’ve never been kissed like that before,” he slurred, moving his head to the side and leaning forward as if he would try again.
Annette pressed her lips together to keep from laughing as she ducked to the side. Fitzjames lurched forward, arms out to catch his fall, and landed on the thick Axminster rug with a thunk . He promptly began to snore. She didn’t hold back the laughter now. The poor man couldn’t hear her.
Lucius poked his head in, viewed his friend on the floor, and let out a laugh. “Don’t tell me he tried to kiss my sister, and she showed him her right hook.” He crossed the room and stood beside her.
Annette laughed at her brother’s jest. “No, but he did kiss me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t impressed. When he tried for a second, I sidestepped, and here we are.”
Her brother guffawed, and soon, they were both doubled over, wiping the tears from their eyes. This was her second hearty laugh in two days. It was good to be with her brother, good to be wanted by a man in a romantic way. Even if his kisses left her… wanting.
“What shall we do with him?” she asked as they caught their breath.
“Leave him. He shouldn’t drink so much when he’s a guest. Let him wake up and wonder what the deuce happened.” Lucius picked up the book from the floor, handed it to his sister, and put an arm around her shoulders as they left the library. “Blast, but the man has a snore that could wake the dead.”
As they walked to their rooms, he kissed Annette on top of her head. “I’m proud of you, Sister. I’ve seen my old Nettie come back to us in the past few days. Could one of my friends be the reason?”
Annette smiled up at her brother whom she adored. “I think the fact that they are your friends and know my history, yet still wanted to come, set me at ease. I’ve enjoyed myself the past two days, and I thank you. But one will live too far away, and the other really doesn’t…”
“Make your heart go pitter-patter?” he asked, his thick brows waggling.
She chuckled and shook her head. “Not a pitter or a patter.”
“Hm. What of Lord Weston?” He halted and turned to her. “I’ve seen you watching him. And I know that look. Saw it in our Ambrose’s eyes when he met Hester.”
The heat spread from her neck to her cheeks. “I… I?—”
“Does he cause a pitter or a patter?”
“Both,” she said too quickly and silently cursed. “He’s also not as old as Papa.” Why had she added that bit?
“It wouldn’t matter. The heart doesn’t have a calendar or follow age.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You know how long I have waited.”
“Lucius, will you promise me something?” She wanted him to find love almost as badly as she hoped for herself to have it.
“Depends.” His green eyes narrowed as the weak light from the wall sconces danced golden streaks through his light-brown hair.
Annette considered her brother handsome. And he seemed to grow more attractive with age. He couldn’t continue to pine for some woman from his youth. “If I find a husband, will you open your heart to finding another to love?”
Lucius took in a deep breath. “I have committed myself to looking for a wife once you are settled. But love? I don’t think another could steal my heart. Christiana is the only woman who sparks my soul.”
She’d have to settle for that and hope he was wrong. Annette couldn’t imagine the pain of unrequited love that her brother had endured for so many years. He hugged her outside her door, kissed the top of her head again, and wished her a good night.
As she wiggled under the counterpane later, Annette picked up the random book she’d taken from the library. It would take more than a chapter or two to put her to sleep tonight. Then she giggled, thinking of Mr. Fitzjames snoring peacefully on the library floor.