Duke of Lust (Sinful Dukes #3)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“ Y ou must write immediately to Duchess Sarah and tell her that I have arrived earlier than you anticipated,” Annabelle said as soon as Frederick entered the dining room for luncheon, now restored to entirely respectable dress and appearance.

She had decided it was best all round to make no further reference to what she had seen upstairs, and certainly not to how it had made her feel. She needed to focus instead on the visit ahead of her.

Frederick gave an irritated snort at her words as he sat down at the head of the table and pushed a letter towards her across the white linen cloth.

“It is not that simple,” he said. “Read it.”

Confused but curious, Annabelle took up the letter and opened it as the maids served their ham and vegetables and then retired from the room. It was a recent letter from Duchess Sarah to her stepson, dated only two days earlier.

After the usual greetings and wishes for good health, the dowager duchess dived straight into family news.

“…Penelope seems well and unworried, not wanting any fuss or disruption to her days. However, Dr. Murchison remains concerned at how large the child might be and warned that it could arrive in the coming month. He wishes her to slow down. The midwife Maxwell has employed believes that it may even be twins…”

“Twins!” exclaimed Annabelle excitedly, but Frederick only raised an eyebrow.

“Continue reading,” he ordered. “That is not the immediate issue.”

“Maxwell has therefore asked me to stay here for a further week to keep Penelope company and encourage her to rest in preparation for the birth. I plan to return to Heartwick Hall on the day of Annabelle’s arrival and have written to Mrs. Kimble to ensure correct arrangements are made.”

“Duchess Sarah isn’t coming back for another week? But I am already here!” said Annabelle, dropping the letter onto the table, her eyes wide.

“So you are,” commented Frederick drily. “What is to be done about that? I could pack you off to Norfolk, I suppose.”

“But I would miss the season!” Annabelle wailed. “That is the whole reason they didn’t take me with them. Don’t send me away.”

“Could you return to Colborne House?” he mused. “I know your brother had exhausted all other homes for you to stay in.”

“Colborne House is all closed up and most of the staff sent away.”

“Damn,” he swore. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

It was a rhetorical question, asked to himself rather than put to Annabelle. Frederick clearly didn’t want her here at Heartwick Hall and she didn’t want to be here either. Tears began to well in her eyes.

“Stephen will sack Myrtle over this, I’m sure. He is going to be so angry at her, and at me, whatever I do. I cannot stay here without a chaperone but I have nowhere to go.”

After some moments’ consideration, Frederick put down his cutlery and looked at her pointedly.

“Does Stephen have to know?” he said, a thought that had not occurred to Annabelle. “Only my family and you know that the Duchess of Heartwick is remaining at Walden Towers. My stepmother has no social engagements this week and there is no reason for your brother to hear that she was absent at the start of your visit.”

“I would have to lie to him?” Annabelle thought aloud. “And to Duchess Sarah?”

“An omission rather than a lie,” Frederick shrugged. “Do you have a better alternative? Or are you personally frightened of my company?”

A day earlier, Annabelle could have laughed and scoffed at this question from her friend’s older brother. Now, she had seen something of his naked body as well as his other shadowy life. Perhaps she was a little afraid.

“I don’t have any better ideas,” she admitted quietly.

“Well then, let us make the best of things,” Frederick pronounced, putting the letter back into his pocket. “There is nothing more to be said on the subject.”

“There, as pretty as a picture and ready to start the day,” Myrtle declared proudly, as she tied the pale green sash on Annabelle’s white muslin dress the following morning.

Annabelle smiled at the elderly maid in the mirror. Myrtle had indeed done a good job in arranging her simple dress and pinning up her mass of unruly curls. The old woman doubtless believed in her own words, having known and cared for her young mistress in one way or another since babyhood.

“Thank you, Myrtle. My hair is always just right when you dress it. I can’t trust anyone else’s hand, not even myself.”

“You have such beautiful hair, My Lady,” said Myrtle with satisfaction as she began to put away the brushes, combs and other accoutrements of the morning hour. “I have never seen curls as long and thick as yours.”

“They’re a little too much,” sighed Annabelle, turning away from the mirror.

Everything about her own appearance seemed a little too much to her. Her height was too short to be taken seriously as an adult woman; her figure too plump to be elegant in the fashionable Grecian styles; her breasts too full to hide completely without a wrap; and her hair too heavy to stay put in any style without heavy-duty pinning.

Annabelle had always longed to be more like her friend Penelope, who might also be diminutive in stature but had the slender limbs and pixie-like features to match, never mind the same perfect golden hair and blue eyes of her brother Frederick.

Frederick, oh, damn Frederick! Why must he keep appearing in her mind? Yesterday’s luncheon and dinner had both been hard work for Annabelle, especially knowing that she was entering into a domestic arrangement that would enrage her older brother. Nor could she shake off an uncomfortable awareness of Frederick’s presence and all that had passed between them since her arrival.

Would this feeling last throughout her entire visit? She sincerely hoped not. It would ruin her visit to Heartwick Hall and might even detract from her determination to achieve one important goal this season. That must not be permitted.

“Are you going down to breakfast now, My Lady? The hour is a little early.”

Annabelle glanced at the clock which showed its hands a little after seven. It was far too soon in the day for a layabout like Duke Frederick, hence her early rising.

“I am hungry this morning. I shall see you after breakfast, Myrtle,” Annabelle said and made for the door.

“Good morning, Lady Annabelle,” said Frederick, folding and setting down his newspaper as she entered the breakfast room unawares.

“Oh!” Annabelle said, caught by surprise. “You are awake early today.”

“I often am nowadays,” Frederick shrugged. “When Penelope married and moved away, I promised I would try to keep my stepmother company. So, I do normally keep her regular breakfast hours. I do not remember you as an early riser either.”

“No,” Annabelle admitted with a slight blush, feeling herself caught out in her attempt to avoid him. “But I was hungry.”

She glanced surreptitiously at Frederick across the table as she took her coffee and a warm bread roll from the tray, not wanting him to notice her studying him.

This morning he looked exactly like his usual self, dressed impeccably in a summer suit with carefully combed hair and an almost boyishly handsome and seemingly carefree face. Yet this was the same man she had disturbed yesterday in clandestine activity of some kind with a woman Annabelle supposed to be only one of many such playmates.

The image of his half-naked body seemed burned into her imagination. Something she could not unsee or forget, no matter how hard she tried. Tense and awkward with the effort of controlling her memories, Annabelle quickly ate her first roll and poured a second coffee. Frederick sat in a seemingly contemplative silence which only further unnerved her. This was ridiculous.

“Have you had any new word from Penelope and Maxwell themselves? My last letter was four days ago,” she said conversationally. “Penelope did promise to keep me informed, but it sounds like they are too busy to write to anyone but family.”

Frederick smiled his familiar brilliant smile.

“No, I have no more recent letter than the one I showed you from Duchess Sarah. But I do believe you’re more excited about this baby than the actual parents, Annabelle. Are you hoping to be godmother?”

She shook her head but could not help blushing pinkly once again. This was something she had hoped for, given that Penelope was her oldest and best friend.

“That will be a decision for the Duke and Duchess of Walden,” she said primly, and then expanded her words instinctively. “I’m only looking forward to meeting the baby. I’m sure it will be the dearest little thing.”

“I shall write and tell them that you must be fairy godmother,” Frederick teased. “You are, after all, the only person small and sweet enough for such a role.”

It really felt for a moment as though yesterday had vanished for Frederick, the slate wiped clean. If she allowed herself to rise to his gentle baiting, Annabelle suspected she could easily forget his other face, and slide back into their old relationship. Unfortunately, Annabelle was a fundamentally honest person and could not permit herself to forget either his impropriety or the way it had disturbed her.

It was sad to admit, but Frederick’s good-natured and innocent approach this morning now felt like some kind of a lie. Annabelle had seen his other face and could not unsee it. It unsettled her further to realize that in a strange way, she did not even want to unsee it. Frederick had been undeniably pleasing to look upon in his half-stripped animal passion.

Oh, how she missed Penelope at this moment! Always wiser in human nature than Annabelle, and now an experienced married woman, her friend might have been able to help her understand her own feelings if not explain or excuse Frederick’s behavior.

No, Annabelle would not react to Frederick’s teasing but would instead focus on her goal for the season. If she achieved that then none of this would matter soon enough.

“I plan to attend the opera with Victoria Crawford this evening,” Annabelle announced, keeping her dignity as she deliberately changed the subject. “She and her cousins have Maxwell’s box for the season and I have never seen Don Giovanni . Before that, I shall spend today on watercolor painting. Duchess Sarah said she would help me with my technique while I am here.”

Frederick raised an eyebrow at this news.

“The opera will not be possible tonight, unfortunately,” he said, to Annabelle’s irritation.

“While Stephen does not approve of Victoria’s household, he has no objection to my keeping company with her,” she protested. “Victoria Crawford is sister to the Duke of Walden and perfectly respectable.”

Frederick held up his hands against her flurry of words.

“I make no accusations against Victoria Crawford. In fact, I personally like and respect her a great deal. Nor has your brother left any instructions that would impede your friendship. It is simply that I am otherwise engaged this evening. Without a suitable chaperone, I cannot let you visit the opera house, especially not for Don Giovanni .”

“But I must see Victoria,” Annabelle said with dismay. “I have to go. She is engaged for the rest of the week.”

In Penelope and Madeline’s absence, Victoria Crawford was the next best female counsel Annabelle had. While still unmarried, Victoria’s extensive education, wide travel with her older brother and broad acquaintance among the intellectual elite gave her a worldliness and good judgement that Annabelle knew she herself sometimes lacked. She would need all the help she could get in achieving her ambitions.

“I am sorry, Annabelle,” Frederick answered. “I have business in London tonight.”

“Business?” she repeated, unable to keep the mocking tone out of her voice. “Is that what you call it?”

“Yes, I do,” Frederick snapped crossly now, clearly smarting at her jibe. “My sister will soon give birth to a child who will be not only Maxwell’s heir but mine, in the absence of any family of my own. There are legal and logistical arrangements to be finalized and my timing is uncertain. I do not know even know if I will return here tonight.”

“I would be perfectly safe with Victoria,” Annabelle tried to insist one more time. “You do not need to escort me.”

“Yes, I do,” he answered tersely. “Especially because you don’t even understand why it’s necessary. If you had told me of your plans sooner, we might have accommodated them but you cannot expect me to rearrange everything on so little notice. Or do you think the world revolves around you, Annabelle?”

Now it was Annabelle’s turn to smart under whip-like words. She did not believe at all that the world revolved around her but the accusation still stung. The look in Frederick’s eyes told her that there was no way he would change his mind.

“I see,” she said, draining her second coffee and rising from the table. “I shall be preparing my equipment in the parlor near the conservatory.”

There was no point in further argument. Firstly, because Annabelle could see that Frederick would not change his mind and was likely telling the truth about his commitments in London that day.

Secondly, because she had no intention of letting Frederick ruin her plans. Annabelle saw no reason why she should not join Victoria and her cousins at the theatre without Frederick. He was simply being as pernickety as Stephen often was, perhaps even at Stephen’s instruction.

Neither of them could be allowed to get in her way.

“The emerald earrings, please, Myrtle,” Annabelle instructed. “The ones my grandmother left to me. They will look well with my blue silk.”

“Is this wise, My Lady?” said Myrtle doubtfully, while opening the jewelry box as she was bidden.

“Everyone dresses up at the opera,” Annabelle said, dismissing any concern with a smile. “There will be ladies with far finer jewels than mine on display tonight. Anyway, I shall either be in the coach with you or inside the opera house with Victoria Crawford. I don’t expect to meet any footpads or jewel thieves in the Duke of Walden’s box at the Lyceum.”

“I did not mean that, My Lady. Is it really wise for you to go to London tonight without any proper escort? I know Lord Emberly would not like it at all.”

“Stephen need not know anything about it, any more than he needs to know about your forgetting to send that letter,” Annabelle said pointedly. “Anyway, I am doing nothing improper. I shall be with you or Victoria for the entire night.”

“His Grace, the Duke of Heartwick will not be happy either,” Myrtle added anxiously. “He did not give his permission, did he? What will happen if he comes back to Heartwick Hall before you and finds you absent?”

“I am one-and-twenty now, Myrtle, and Frederick is Penelope’s brother, not mine. I do not need his permission for an entirely respectable evening at the opera. I even told Stephen last week that I planned to attend this performance and he raised no objections, although he doesn’t like the story himself.”

“That is because Lord Emberly assumed you would be properly accompanied in London, Lady Annabelle. It is not a respectable opera,” continued the maid, in a final attempt at dissuasion. “I have heard that it’s all about a man who has his way with many women and then is taken by the devil for his sins. You don’t want to see that, do you?”

“All the ladies of the ton seem to have seen Don Giovanni, Myrtle, except me, and it has caused no scandal. It can’t be that bad. Anyway, as I speak no Italian, I shall simply enjoy the music and the acting. Pass me my cloak. The carriage is already outside waiting for us.”

With some reluctance, Myrtle handed over the silvery-grey velvet cloak to Annabelle and fastened her own black woolen coat and hat, shaking her head sorrowfully all the while.

Darkly, Annabelle reflected that what she had witnessed in Frederick’s bedroom yesterday had been infinitely more indecent than anything she was likely to see on the stage tonight.

“You came,” said Victoria Crawford with a grin, bending to embrace Annabelle with her usual enthusiasm as the latter entered the opera house. “I hoped you would.”

“Despite the reservations of my maid who believes Don Giovanni to be the devil’s work, yes, here I am,” Annabelle laughed. “I offered Myrtle a seat in the stalls but she prefers to wait for me in the carriage.”

“Dear old Myrtle,” Victoria commented merrily. “I’m sure she has your best interests at heart, but she must be past eighty. The world has moved on.”

Tall and physically assured with golden-brown hair and steady blue eyes Victoria had a striking self-assurance despite being the same age as Annabelle.

“Exactly,” Annabelle agreed as the two women proceeded arm in arm towards the box. “The world moves on and we must move with it. I cannot sit still and let life pass me by, or I will end up an old maid.”

“Being a spinster is not so very bad, as long as you have money,” Victoria pointed out, having always rejected the idea of marriage for herself. “No man to tell you what to do and how to do it. Freedom, independence and none of the mess and danger of childbirth.”

“It is well for you perhaps,” sighed Annabelle. “You are set to be rich whether you marry or not. I would end up the kind of spinster who must live with her family forever. Stephen is likely too particular to ever marry, and if he did, his wife would probably be awful. Either way, I would be a burden and we would all drive one another mad.”

“That does sound exhausting,” Victoria commented, without further judgement.

“Yes, it does. I know that I’m already a burden to my family in some ways and it will only get worse. So, you see, I have one goal for this season and I am determined to achieve it. This year I will find a husband.”

“Oh my!” laughed Victoria. “You sound as though you’re going to war and launching a military campaign.”

“I suppose I am,” Annabelle reflected. “But does it sound silly? I know I’m not the catch of the ton, but my family and dowry must count for something.”

“My dear Annabelle,” said her friend, stopping for a moment with an amused but concerned expression. “It does not sound silly at all. Young women have so few options and I know how lucky I am. A deliberate campaign to find a good husband might be the only sensible way to go about marriage. Love is certainly too unreliable.”

“That is how I feel too,” Annabelle sighed. “When I was younger, I had dreams of falling in love of course, as all girls do…except you, Victoria. I wished so hard that I would grow up to be beautiful, like Penelope, so that my dream man would love me back. Now, I want only to find a man who is kind, good and meets Stephen’s exacting social standards.”

Victoria nodded thoughtfully and put an arm around her friend’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to be polite, Victoria,” said Annabelle with a sad smile. “I would appreciate your help though. I know some call me a gossip because I know everyone in the ton by reputation but I don’t really know them as people, especially men. You actually have friends who are men. How can I meet men who might consider me as a wife?”

“Let me give that some thought,” said Victoria, with a glint in her eye as she accepted the challenge. “Come, let us take our seats before the curtain rises.”

Annabelle could almost see the cogs of Victoria Crawford’s active mind working throughout the performance, her opera glasses in frequent use although rarely trained on the stage itself.

“Let me introduce you to some new acquaintances,” Victoria whispered as the curtain fell after the last act. “I have already spotted some prospective husbands for you here tonight and we might be able to catch one or two in the lounge before they leave the theatre.”

“Really?” asked Annabelle, excited and also slightly daunted by this news as she followed Victoria towards the theatre’s refreshment area. “Who?”

Most women in the room behind the bar were there with men aside from a party of serious-looking elderly ladies with orchestral manuscripts and pince-nez. Victoria, however, was not at all intimidated by entering this male-dominated environment.

There followed a bewildering and frustrating series of introductions to men who seemed too old, too young, too distant, too familiar and all far more interested in either Victoria’s work or Annabelle’s family than in Annabelle herself.

Annabelle yawned as they walked away. She doubted that a single one of her new acquaintances would remember her in the morning and could not say that she regretted that fact, although it did make her feel like a hopeless failure.

“I’m sorry, Victoria. I don’t seem to be very good at this, do I?”

“Tonight is just a first practice,” Victoria assured her. “Do not worry. Oh, but there’s Alexander Marston and his sister Julia. Do excuse me and wait here for one moment while I check the date of their next scientific salon. It can be of no interest to you. I shall be right back.”

As Victoria’s dynamic figure dashed away in pursuit of an elegant middle-aged couple in black proceeding away from the bar, Annabelle found herself alone in the still crowded bar room and feeling very self-conscious. Looking around for Victoria’s cousins or any familiar lady she might easily approach, she gave a gasp as she recognized one particular blond-haired, blue-eyed face regarding her steadily across the room.

What was Frederick doing here?!

Annabelle felt a surge of guilt about her deceit but also a sense of injustice at apparently being followed. As she had told Myrtle, she was one-and-twenty and deemed legally fit to make her own way in the world, if men like Stephen and Frederick would only stop obstructing her.

To make matters worse, Frederick had not even come forward to meet her, but only watched her from the bar like a teacher in a schoolroom or a prison warden with a captive.

Annabelle also saw that women around him were already casting appreciative glances in his direction, and one or two even trying to catch his eye with welcoming smiles. That sight infuriated her and raised her suspicions. Was it worse if he weren’t here on Annabelle’s account at all?

“Well, you’re a pretty little girl to be here all by yourself, aren’t you?” said an unfamiliar man with a mustache and a strong smell of whiskey, approaching from her left and breaking in on her vexed thoughts.

The man was around forty and his clothing and voice implied that he was someone of rank and means, to whom good manners might normally be owed. However, his drunken and over-interested expression made Annabelle distinctly uncomfortable and she shrank instinctively from his approach. Lord Silverbrook had been a man of rank and means too, and look at what a blackguard he had turned out to be.

“I am here with friends,” Annabelle said shortly, hoping that this would deter him from seeking further acquaintance. “They will return presently.”

“You’ve lost your friends? Well then, I shall be your new friend. As Don Giovanni showed us, young women should not be left unprotected in this wicked world.”

The man’s smile was almost a leer as he placed a hand on Annabelle’s gloved arm. She jerked away in alarm and revulsion, smelling the drink on the man’s breath even more strongly now as he loomed over her.

“Keep your distance, sir!” she ordered him as sternly as she could while keeping her voice down and attempting to step out of his reach.

The last thing Annabelle wanted was a scene in the opera house that would draw public attention and likely draw Stephen’s wrath too when he heard about it. The best thing might be to simply run away now and seek the safety of her carriage with the Heartwick Hall coachman and Myrtle. With dismay, however, she realized that the mustachioed man was standing between her and the nearest doors.

A woman as tall and athletic as Victoria Crawford or Duchess Madeline might physically push this rude, intrusive man aside but Annabelle knew that she was far too small for this. Feeling panicked and helpless, she feared that she was going to have to scream in order to save herself from being publicly manhandled by this stranger.

“Go away!” she hissed, realizing from his amused expression that her anger was only entertaining the stranger.

“I want to be friends,” he said. “You look like a friendly girl to me.”

As he reached out a hand towards her this time, another hand intervened, grasping the mustachioed man’s hand firmly by the wrist and twisting it with a force that made him cry out in alarm.

“Be careful, the floor is a little unsteady there,” said Frederick’s voice rather menacingly, although anyone further away than Annabelle might only think he was warning the man of a genuine hazard. “You would not want to fall and injure yourself.”

“I am sorry. I thought the young lady was here alone,” the man tried desperately to excuse himself as Frederick continued to twist his wrist. “I meant no harm.”

“Then go,” the handsome young duke ordered him. “Get out of my sight and never let me find you pressing unwanted attention on a woman again.”

His wrist now released, the man stumbled away and through the doors towards the exit, his face contorted with confusion and fear.

“My word! What was that about?” exclaimed Victoria, now rejoining them, her amazed eyes following the mustachioed man through the doors and then returning to Frederick.

Annabelle blushed miserably, feeling that the incident and rows that were bound to follow were all her fault. She waited for Frederick to upbraid her but it didn’t happen.

“A man with too great an appetite for alcohol and too little regard for vulnerable young ladies,” he said, the cold anger that had made his face so hard a few moments earlier fading into solicitous concern. “I hope he did not frighten you too much, Annabelle.”

“There are too many such men in London,” Victoria tutted. “I’m sorry I left you alone, Annabelle. It was remiss of me.”

“I am perfectly well,” Annabelle said, her voice unconvincing even to her as she struggled to hold back the tears forming in her eyes. “He did give me something of a shock but Frederick dealt with him.”

“He certainly did,” Victoria said with a nod. “I saw that much. Maxwell always said there was steel under your silk, Frederick. Now I know what he meant.”

Annabelle choked back a small sob, disoriented and overwhelmed by everything that had happened in so short a space of time. There was indeed some iron-strong substance beneath Frederick’s disarming silky charm and she felt she was seeing a third face to him in little over a day.

“It is time for us to return to Heartwick Hall,” he announced decidedly, observing Annabelle’s struggles for composure. “Should we escort you home on the way, Victoria?”

“No, my cousins will be waiting for me in our carriage by now.”

After quick farewells, Annabelle walked outside to the carriage on Frederick’s arm, glad for the solidity of his form beside her but anticipating the admonitions she knew must follow eventually.