Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
“ I ’m sorry that I was short with you after dinner last night, Annabelle,” said Frederick abruptly as soon as she entered the breakfast room. “This is not a normal situation for either of us. I believe life will be easier at Heartwick House if we both remember our manners.”
“I am sorry if I said anything to offend you,” Annabelle felt obliged to answer, having been unsure what kind of reception she would receive that morning, or even whether she ought to come to breakfast at all.
Generally, she still felt herself mystified by the currents underlying both his behavior and his unprovoked outburst last night. Still, she was a guest in this house and Duke Frederick was its master. She could be polite even if it was hard to meet his eyes.
Annabelle had not meant to be either rude or ungrateful in the face of Frederick’s kindness and generosity, but feared that she might have been. She had certainly not intended to call him a rake to his face, and he had looked genuinely hurt by the idea. Somehow they had both misunderstood one another and Annabelle had no idea how to put this right.
But Frederick was a rake wasn’t he? If he didn’t like being one, he could always stop couldn’t he? Madame Deveaux’s odd words on men came back to Annabelle again but she did not understand those either.
“You do have letters this morning,” she observed, turning away from her own puzzlement towards more concrete matters as she observed two letters at Frederick’s right hand, one already clearly opened and read.
“One is for you,” Frederick stated, pushing the unopened letter across to her.
Recognizing the writing, Annabelle broke the seal and read the note eagerly, although all too conscious of Frederick’s gaze from the other side of the table. She could not claim that he was staring at her. It was only that she seemed to have become more conscious of his attention, and more affected by it, in recent days.
“Victoria Crawford would like to meet in London on Friday afternoon,” she said cautiously, remembering how poorly her opera plans had been received earlier in the week. “I would like to see her if it doesn’t clash with anything else.”
“Perfect,” Frederick announced, offering her his own letter, on notepaper marked with the crest of an elaborate ‘D’ and an address in one of London’s fashionable shopping district. “We will already be in London on Friday to call at Madame Deveaux’s atelier. She says here that your wardrobe is ready for fitting. I will escort you.”
Annabelle gave a delighted sound that made Frederick smile.
“It suits you very well,” said Victoria Crawford approvingly, “although I am no authority on fashion. I like the simplicity of that outfit, and something in the colors is so perfectly matched to you.”
Annabelle laughed happily, extending her arm and swishing her skirt again to examine anew all the features of her new summer walking suit as she strolled in the park with Victoria.
“It was perfectly matched to Annabelle,” Frederick commented laconically, the look in his eyes making the blood rise in Annabelle’s cheeks as she recalled their shared encounter with the modiste at Heartwick Hall. “In every way.”
A delicate blue-grey tinged with faint violet, the suit’s fabric was on a spectrum with the color of Annabelle’s eyes. Lining and piping of pale green silk were the only ornaments beyond the mother-of-pearl buttons. The character of the garment lay in cut rather than embellishment, and, of course, in the way it conformed so perfectly to Annabelle’s figure.
The suit had been close to completion that morning when she had visited Madame Deveaux’s atelier with Frederick and she understood that he had paid the seamstresses extra money to work through their luncheon hour so that Annabelle might wear the new outfit to promenade in Hyde Park that afternoon.
“Madame Deveaux is a marvel,” Annabelle said quickly to cover her blushes. “I have never had such a dress.”
She did not know what else to say and there was a strange small pause before Frederick spoke again.
“Well, then, ladies. I am sure you have much to discuss. I shall leave you to talk, unless you need anything.”
As both women shook their heads, the Duke of Heartwick gave a polite nod of farewell and paused on the path to let them walk ahead, before following behind at a discreet distance.
“I wasn’t sure about the neckline at first. It seemed so low for a day-dress, especially with these new stays,” Annabelle confided to Victoria once they were alone. “But Madame Deveaux said that most women wear much lower cuts. It is only that my bust is large and I am so self-conscious of it. With the jacket, I rather like this look.”
“The English can be so prudish about breasts,” said Victoria with an indifferent shrug. “As though they were something to be ashamed of rather than a normal part of the female body. I’ve seen dresses on the Continent so low and stays so insecure that sometimes nipples pop out while ladies are walking around.”
“Really?!” gasped Annabelle. “How shocking!”
“I prefer to be warm and comfortable myself, but see no reason to judge other women for displaying their bodies if they wish There should be more freedom in dress, in my view.”
Annabelle did not know whether to agree or not, rather horrified at the thought of dresses and stays that routinely exposed their wearers. Despite making her feel as though her breasts had been lifted and put on public display, her own new stays were of secure and comfortable construction.
“That man was looking at you,” Victoria leaned over now and whispered with a grin. “The tall young man with auburn hair, over there. Your new dress is working already.”
“Really?” Annabelle queried. “Are you sure he wasn’t looking at you?”
“More fool him if he was,” Victoria guffawed. “No, he’s definitely looking at you again now, as is his companion with the green waistcoat. So is the man coming up on our right, although he’s married so no use to you.”
“Oh, Lord Haughton,” said Annabelle, hiding her pleasure at attracting even useless attention. “He looks at everyone like that. I think he is short-sighted.”
Victoria laughed and twirled her hat on her wrist, uncaring as ever how this might make her appear to the other denizens of the ton out and about in the May sunshine. Annabelle herself turned and looked happily back towards Frederick, still walking about twenty yards behind them, instinctively wanting to share her small moment of victory with him.
His eyes were on them and his face was already crinkled in a smile. Annabelle saw him raise his hat politely to two ladies who attempted to detain him, but then move on without pausing. Meanwhile, other women seemed to be eyeing him hungrily from all directions.
“They’re all after him, aren't they?” Victoria whispered conspiratorially as she followed Annabelle’s gaze and waved merrily to their escort.
“Women do like Frederick,” Annabelle replied a little ruefully, “and Frederick likes women.”
In fact, Frederick must be the most handsome man she knew, she sighed to herself. He could not help attracting attention from the opposite sex wherever he went. Likely, he could not even understand how much it meant to her to be able to do the same on a more limited scale. She must thank him for this later.
“Does that bother you?” Victoria asked, turning back to the road ahead and taking Annabelle’s arm.
“Bother me?” asked Annabelle, startled. “Why should it bother me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The two of you seemed a little odd around one another just now. I wondered if you’d had an argument, or if living at Heartwick Hall was proving difficult.”
“We did have an argument,” Annabelle admitted, feeling guilty and self-conscious. “Or at least I think it was an argument.”
“You ought to know whether or not you’ve had an argument,” laughed Victoria. “What was it all about?”
About? Annabelle wondered how she could even begin to explain the events of the past few days. Victoria was not even aware that she was living alone at Heartwick Hall with Frederick. While Victoria herself was unlikely to care about the niceties of such an arrangement, she might let slip such a fact to someone who did care. Or worse, someone who knew Stephen.
“Frederick said he would help me find a husband,” she admitted, feeling that this much was enough to explain her over-sensitivity but not enough to be controversial. “I told him everything I told you.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” said Victoria, looking pleased and still a little bemused. “He knows many eligible young men around the ton, far more than me. How did you manage to argue over that?”
“Oh, I called him a rake,” Annabelle said, wincing. “Right to his face.”
Again, Victoria only laughed. She had not been in the room with them at Heartwick Hall and could not appreciate the reality of that confrontation or how it had felt to Annabelle at the moment when Frederick had drawn so close to her.
You don’t know what you want. You don’t know what I want.
“How did he take that? With his reputation, Duke Frederick could hardly argue with you. Or did he try?”
“I don’t know really,” Annabelle dissimulated. “But he didn’t seem happy.”
She glanced back again towards Frederick and saw that he had stopped on the path to speak to another man, someone tall, dark and rather striking in aspect, even at this distance. This man wore a gold-worked waistcoat and carried a polished golden-topped cane, his outfit almost like a stage-costume if it had not also been so well-cut and clearly expensive.
“Who is that?” murmured Victoria. “I don’t believe I know him, although he’s definitely looking this way. Your new dress has made yet another conquest, I think, Annabelle.”
“It’s the Duke of Blackwell, Edwin Murden,” said Annabelle, intrigued and intimidated, even at this distance. “I’ve never spoken to him but he’s notorious. He gives legendary dinner parties although I’m not sure any respectable lady attends them, at least, no unmarried and respectable lady.”
“Yes, I think I’ve read of him. Should we go over? Duke Edwin is smiling at us, but Frederick doesn’t look too pleased, does he? I suppose he knows that Stephen wouldn’t want you to strike up an acquaintance with someone like that.”
“No, Stephen disapproves of the Duke of Blackwell thoroughly,” Annabelle agreed with a sigh. “Although he does disapprove of so many people that I would never meet anyone if I stuck strictly to his preferences.”
“Come on then. Let’s take the opportunity to broaden your horizons while we can,” said Victoria, linking Annabelle’s arm again and walking them both back on the path towards the two men.
Annabelle’s eyes were on Frederick as they approached and she could see the truth of Victoria’s observation from the narrowing of his blue eyes and straightness of his lips. For whatever reason, he had not wanted to introduce them to Duke Edwin but now he had little choice.
After the required round of formal introductions, curtseys and bows, the Duke of Blackwell’s twinkling dark eyes settled on Annabelle.
“I was just inviting Duke Frederick a little evening event I am hosting next week and he was prevaricating over his answer. He cannot have any more pressing engagements since what could be finer than my hospitality? He has been an appreciative addition to my parties before. Nor do I believe he has any domestic responsibilities that could keep him at home. What do you think, Lady Annabelle?”
The handsome man’s question terrified Annabelle on some level and she found herself tongue-tied for a few moments. Could he know that she was living alone with Frederick at Heartwick Hall? Perhaps that was why Frederick had been minded to decline the invitation.
She looked to Frederick for some steer but received no inkling from his expression as to how she was supposed to answer. Victoria was regarding their new acquaintance with slightly disdainful amusement, perhaps having dismissed the Duke of Blackwell as a frivolous pleasure-seeker.
“I couldn’t say, Your Grace,” she replied at last. “But Duke Frederick is always very much in demand around the ton.”
“In demand,” repeated Duke Edwin with a rather roguish laugh. “Yes, my good friend Frederick is certainly always very much in demand, isn’t he? Only last week, Lady Dempster was asking me whether…”
“Very well, Edwin, I shall attend your next gathering,” Frederick interrupted him before he could complete his sentence.
“Will you be accompanied? Maybe by one of these lovely young ladies?”
Victoria’s eyebrows now rose almost to her hairline and Annabelle felt herself shrinking back from this strange man, not enjoying his interest in her and wishing heartily for a higher neckline to her walking outfit.
“No, neither Lady Annabelle nor Miss Crawford will accompany me. Aside from anything else, their older brothers would never agree to it.” Frederick said pointedly, stepping in front of the two women.
There was something like a warning in his stance which Duke Edwin seemed to take in good part. Annabelle was glad to be able to hide behind Frederick, feeling protected from this strange man’s gaze by the Duke of Heartwick’s broad shoulders.
“A pity,” the Duke of Blackwell commented with a final smiling glance to Annabelle over Frederick’s shoulder. “I welcome ornament and intelligence in my home. When I can find both, I count myself doubly blessed. Another time, perhaps. I shall see you next week, Frederick.”
Espying another acquaintance across the park, Duke Edwin took his leave with a smile and departed with a wave of his gold-topped cane. Frederick watched him go with still-narrowed eyes, while Victoria Crawford shook her head with a huff of disbelief. Annabelle exhaled with relief.
“Not my ideal dinner companion, Duke Frederick, but I dare say he improves on better acquaintance,” commented Victoria.
“Shall we go to the bandstand and have some lemonade?” Frederick suggested rather forcefully instead of picking up Victoria’s remark. “There is an outdoor concert today and I can hear music beginning.”
“Yes, if Annabelle wishes,” Victoria agreed.
Annabelle nodded her assent in turn, registering that Frederick did not wish to discus the Duke of Blackwell, or at least not with her. Were the two men friends or not? It had been hard to tell.
It was after six o’clock when they returned to Heartwick Hall, the coach loaded with boxes containing the first half of Annabelle’s new wardrobe. Frederick had inspected all of the finished garments at Madame Deveaux’s establishment, satisfied both with his purchases and their effect on both the physique and mood of their new owner.
The green silk evening gown would not be finished until the following week but a second evening dress of bluebell silk with a faint embroidery of rose-gold thread had Annabelle in raptures.
“It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!” she had exclaimed as she emerged from the changing room with Madame Deveaux to spin before the mirrors where Frederick stood.
“The shade is a perfect match for your eyes,” said the dressmaker with a smile. “Do you approve, Your Grace?”
“Entirely,” said Frederick with a husky catch in his voice, forgetting for a moment that it was Annabelle, his sister’s friend, standing before him, and simply enjoying the display of female beauty as a man.
Without jewelry or other ornament, the off-the-shoulder gown displayed the rounded sweep of Annabelle’s half-bared bosom to perfection, her loose curls enhancing rather than detracting from the overall impression.
If a striking widow or artist’s model had appeared before him in such a guise on one of his evening’s jaunts around London, Frederick would have lost no time in seeking her further acquaintance and exploring her openness to other forms of companionship.
Today, however, he was not in a bar, theatre or studio after hours. He was in a respectable atelier with a young lady of good family entrusted to his care. That young woman was now regarding him with wary eyes, not fully understanding his deep interest or his silence, although a faint pink blush was already visible both on her cheeks and the upper slopes of her breasts.
“Exquisitely constructed, Madame,” Frederick said more formally. “I know that you can always be relied upon to deliver the finest gowns in London.”
“ Trop gentil, ” murmured the modiste, although clearly pleased with both the duke’s compliments and Annabelle’s delight. “You are too kind."
With other finished garments packaged up, Annabelle had worn the new walking suit to meet Victoria Crawford. Although neither as striking nor as revealing as the evening gown, Frederick had undeniably enjoyed the sight of Annabelle in the well-fitting garments, as had other men in the park. This wider appreciation had not escaped his notice and had even pleased him, indicating his own triumph.
That was until that infernal Duke Edwin had appeared, of course, feasting on Annabelle with his hungry eyes in a way Frederick understood only too well. The Duke of Blackwell possessed a hunger that mirrored Frederick’s own and he would rather not have introduced them at all.
Now, back at Heartwick Hall, as the boxes were taken inside by the servants, Annabelle turned to him. He had feigned sleeping in the coach, not in the mood to talk any more.
“Do you like the Duke of Blackwell, Frederick?” she asked guilelessly, although seeming to have read his mind in some way. “I thought you were friends because he invited you to dinner but you didn’t seem to want to go.”
“Duke Edwin’s parties are unique and entertaining,” Frederick answered cryptically as they entered the house, a response that did not satisfy her.
“But does that mean you like him or not? I should like to know what to think of him.”
“Sometimes I like him and sometimes I like his parties, but that does not mean I always wish to attend them. In the same way, I do not wish to eat Christmas pudding every day or wear my silver-buckled shoes, or go to church more than I have to.”
“Frederick!” Annabelle reproved him, likely a regular churchgoer at Stephen’s side in the Duke of Colborne’s pew of their parish church. “That’s an irreverent thing to say.”
“I’m an irreverent man, Annabelle. I leave the observance of proper behavior to friends like your brother Stephen. Had you not noticed?”
She giggled at this comment and Frederick reflected that the idea of taking Annabelle to one of Edwin’s infamous dinners was truly beyond impossible. A woman as innocent as this would have to be guarded at every instant in such an environment, neither knowing the social rules of such gatherings nor how to politely deflect unwanted attentions.
“You might be irreverent,” Annabelle said, again seeming to follow his thoughts with preternatural ease. “But you did not think it proper for me or Victoria to attend Duke Edwin’s dinner, did you?”
“Enough of Duke Edwin!” Frederick groaned. “As for what is proper for you, how could I expose you to a man as… worldly as that when you do not even know how to flirt?”
“I do know how to flirt,” Annabelle protested. “Penelope and I used to practice with our fans in front of the mirror.”
Frederick held back the dismissive laughter that had been his first reaction and beckoned her into the drawing room, closing the door behind them. His statement about flirting had been only a throwaway comment, intended to distract her from the subject of the Duke of Blackwell but now that he thought about it, and noted the time before dinner, this conversation held distinct possibilities.
“That is mere child’s play, Annabelle,” he said baldly. “If you are going to catch a husband, you must first learn how to lure men in and keep them close.”
“Close?” she echoed uncertainly, stopping where she was standing in the middle of the room.
“Close,” he repeated, beckoning her to him and enjoying the beautiful blush that bloomed so easily on her face with his teasing. “How else will an eligible man make a proposal of marriage to you? Shouting it across a crowded ballroom or chattering dinner table? Hardly the stuff of romance.”
“I suppose not,” she admitted and came to stand a few steps from Frederick.
“Now, look at me, but only for a moment, and only from the side. Then look away, and smile slightly to yourself.”
Annabelle obeyed his instructions to the letter, flashing her bluebell eyes shyly at him and then turning to the window with a slight upturn of her mouth.
“Like that?” Annabelle asked. “Or was that too quick?”
Turning her eyes back to him, that beautiful countenance looked deeply into his for a few seconds. The sparks of her first attempt blazed into a small fire in his gut. Taking a deep breath, Frederick dampened the flames and returned to the lesson.
“Yes, just like that,” he answered, keeping his voice even and teacherly. “Now, do it again, but this time bite your lip slightly before you smile, as though you feel you shouldn’t be smiling.”
Annabelle thought about this and then nodded before she swept him once more with those winsome blue eyes and looked away. As she bit her lip, he observed a brief flash of her pink tongue and felt the fire flare up inside him again before her hint of a smile blew the blaze to a disturbing level. This game had gone far enough.
“Damn it all,” he said in frustration, not having expected his own reactions to be quite this strong.
“I did exactly what you said,” Annabelle reacted, disconcerted by this seemingly discouraging response, and approaching him with an appeal in her voice. “Tell me what to do next.”
“You’re not ready for this,” Frederick began to say but Annabelle broke in.
“I can do it!” she insisted and then, standing on her toes, she unexpectedly pressed her lips against his for the briefest instant, but still long enough for the fire to overcome all Frederick’s boundaries.
Frederick looked utterly stunned. For a moment, Annabelle felt pleased with herself. He had claimed she couldn’t flirt when she could and now she had shown him! His lips had been so soft and warm too. Had she really just touched her own against them?!
Yes, she had…The understanding that she had indeed just kissed the Duke of Heartwick stunned Annabelle in turn. She had certainly been vexed but how had she ever dared to do such a thing?!
As her courage dissolved, Frederick recovered himself, the astonishment in his eyes replaced by something else entirely that only made her quail further. She knew he was bound to be angry with her now and she would have backed away if his arm had not passed firmly about her waist.
“That is not how a kiss is given, Annabelle,” he said, his voice deeper and rougher than it had been earlier in their conversation. “This is a kiss.”
Now Frederick’s mouth descended very deliberately onto hers and she found herself bent back and swooning in his strong arms as those soft, warm lips explored hers at length, his tongue delicately but insistently seeking and finding entrance before dancing with her own. Annabelle felt utterly but pleasurably lost in his embrace, overcome by his touch, his scent and the very heat of his skin.
By the time Frederick righted her on her feet and released her from his grasp, she was panting as though she had run a race, her hand seeking the steadiness of a sofa in order remain standing.
“Never, ever, do that to me again,” Frederick warned thickly, shaking his head as he went to the door.