Duke of Lust (Sinful Dukes #3)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

“ Y ou do look well, Annabelle,” said Duchess Sarah, kissing the younger woman’s cheek and holding her back critically. “I heard you were quite the belle of the ball at Yardley House and I can quite believe it.”

“Thank you,” Annabelle answered with a blush. “I did enjoy the Duke and Duchess of Yardley’s ball this year. I feared I would not without Penelope but all was well.”

They sat down together at the table of the café in Hyde Park, among the other denizens of the ton taking refreshment during their summer morning walks among the greenery.

Annabelle had been happy, if surprised, to receive Duchess Sarah’s note inviting her to meet, London being a convenient middle point for both Heartwick Hall and Walden Towers. Frederick had been less enthusiastic but good manners and family responsibility dictated that he must cooperate in escorting Annabelle to meet his stepmother. Presently, he had gone to order lemonade, there being no sign of the waiters.

“How does Penelope fare?” Annabelle asked and Duchess Sarah smiled, even if a little concern lingered around her eyes.

“She is well, but must rest now until the birth. I do suspect it will be twins. They do run on both sides of the family. It does at least explain how the pregnancy has advanced so fast and become so large. Twins might be easier than one very large baby, at least.”

“Penelope wrote to me that her midwife was a very good woman and highly respected by other ladies in the county,” Annabelle said with over-confidence. “I am sure all will be well.”

She spoke to soothe her own concerns as well as those of Penelope’s mother. The dowager duchess nodded.

“Yes, I am sure too. Now, I did not invite you here to talk of Penelope today, although she is naturally much in both of our thoughts. We will have good news to share soon enough. I think you know why I wanted to see you.”

Did Annabelle detect a gentle reproof in these words and the gentle blue eyes under the faded gold and silver hair? She flushed a little guiltily and swallowed, thinking of the letter that Duchess Sarah had recently sent to Frederick regarding her changed plans, including the specific comments proposing rearrangement of Annabelle’s stay.

“It was too late when we saw your letter,” Annabelle said and then the full explanation came tumbling out under Duchess Sarah's expectant gaze. “I was already at Heartwick Hall. There was a mix-up by my maid, you see, and I arrived a week early. Then we thought that you would be back soon and there was no need to trouble everyone. Then it was all too late.”

“Stephen doesn’t know that you are at Heartwick Hall alone with Frederick, I take it?” the older woman asked and Annabelle shook her head.

“I have not mentioned it in my letters,” she mumbled, and then raised her eyes. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

Duchess Sarah sighed and Annabelle quaked a little inside. If the dowager duchess did tell and Stephen interrogated Annabelle she knew it would all come out. Not only had she been living alone with Frederick, but she had allowed him liberties with her body while choosing clothes and succumbed to his passionate embrace at least once. Worst of all, she regretted none of it.

More than wishing to keep her improper behavior from Stephen and avoid his anger, she wished to keep these undeniably indecent but wonderful secrets close to herself. They seemed to belong to her and to Frederick but no one else. She would not even reveal them to whichever man she should finally marry if her plans for the season worked out.

“If Stephen asks me, I must tell him, Annabelle,” the older woman warned. “If he does not ask, then I am presently entirely occupied with the imminent birth of my first grandchild and had not intended to write to him. You must hope that he does not inquire, and that no servants’ gossip reaches his ears. I counsel you to remove yourself from Heartwick Hall while you can…”

“But I have a plan, Duchess Sarah,” Annabelle interrupted. "If it all works out then no one will need to be upset at anything. I intend to find a husband this season and Frederick is helping me. By the time Stephen comes back, I hope to be betrothed to someone. Then it won’t matter even if it does come out.”

“You aim to marry and Frederic is helping you? Frederick?!” asked the older woman, astonished.

At this moment, the man himself reappeared bearing three glasses of lemonade and took his own seat at the table.

“Did I hear my name?” he asked mildly, although with a determined set to his features.

“You did,” Duchess Sarah confirmed, her usually placid face puzzled and not entirely happy. “I have been hearing about Annabelle’s present stay at Heartwick Hall and her plans for the season. While her ambition is a normal one for a young lady, I cannot deny having some concerns about how the two of you are proceeding.”

Frederick gave a long drawn-out sigh as he arranged the glasses.

“There is nothing to be concerned about, Stepmother. Annabelle is perfectly safe where she is and I am helping her to navigate the season to her best advantage.”

“And if it becomes known that she is living at Heartwick Hall alone with you?” Duchess Sarah pressed quietly, with a surreptitious glance around them in case of listeners. “What then, Frederick?”

“There is no need for it to become known,” he answered somewhat irritably. “In fact, I believed that was the principal reason you wished to see us both in person today. It was not really to see me, or even Annabel. You intended to show the ton the three of us together, to reduce the chance of questions being asked.”

“For both of your sakes, yes. That is precisely why I asked you here,” Duchess Sarah admitted freely. “I am glad that so many have seen us here this morning. It gives a veneer of normality to the situation and the only protection I can offer. You may be the Duke of Heartwick and the head of this family, Frederick, but you must have more care for Annabelle’s reputation.”

“Of course I care for Annabelle’s reputation,” he snapped at his stepmother. “Do not deliberately misconstrue my motives or actions, Duchess. It is unworthy of you.”

“Oh, Frederick,” the older woman sighed, her eyes now seeming very tired. “I only want the best for you, both of you. You as well as Annabelle.”

The friction between them was distressing Annabelle and she turned her eyes pleadingly to Frederick, silently begging him to be kinder to Duchess Sarah. She did not know whether her plea registered but he sighed and smiled.

“Then tell me of Penelope and Maxwell, Stepmother. I would like to hear of my sister and you would like to talk of her, I have no doubt. That is a subject upon which we can all agree.”

To Annabelle’s relief, the rest of their conversation was taken up entirely with news from Walden Towers and the plans and events that would hopefully follow a healthy birth.

As the clocks struck noon, Duchess Sarah rose, and Frederick with her, Annabelle jumping up a few seconds later as she realized that the visit was over. They walked the dowager duchess back to her waiting carriage and then watched it drive away from the park.

“Did you have to be so terse with Duchess Sarah? She really was very worried,” Annabelle said once they were alone again. “Ladies of her age do so often worry about these things more than the young, especially mothers.”

“Duchess Sarah is my stepmother, not my mother, remember,” Frederick said shortly, closing Annabelle down and making her doubt herself for a few moments.

Then Annabelle recovered herself. What Frederick said was true, but Duchess Sarah did care about him and had come here today out of concern for both of them.

“That doesn’t matter, Frederick. She only wanted to help you, and me. Even if she’s wrong, Duchess Sarah was well intended. You could have been kinder.”

“Is that so? I’ll tell you what, Annabelle, you can lecture me about how I should behave with my family, and I shall lecture you about how you should behave with yours. Shall we start with not believing everything Stephen tells you as though you were still five years old?”

“You are the one who sounds like a five-year-old,” Annabelle retorted. “Not me. Why are you making a simple observation from me into a personal criticism of you rather than reflecting on it calmly? Can you really not hear yourself today?”

Frederick glared at her but then straightened his face and folded his arms.

“Very well, Annabelle. If you are so grown-up and worldly now, you shall accompany me to Lord Blackwell’s dinner this evening. I was going to leave you at Heartwick Hall but as I promised to spend my nights with you, perhaps it is right to have you on my arm.”

Annabelle regarded him crossly with hands on her hips, not knowing how to react to his words or the news that she was now to be a guest of the notoriously louche Edwin Murden. The idea both intrigued and repelled her, rather like the man himself.

“I am sure you know best,” she said, for want of anything wittier or more original. “But returning to the subject of Duchess Sarah…”

“None of that matters right now,” Frederick said, cutting her off again. “We must go home and get ready. There is a particular mode of dress and behavior for Edwin’s parties and you must be suitably attired and prepared.”

Arriving back at Heartwick Hall, they found that a box had arrived that morning from Madame Deveaux, containing the green silk evening dress and matching shoes.

“Perfect timing,” commented Frederick, as Penelope peeked into the box and then lifted its lid with a delighted exclamation on discovering its contents. “You shall wear it tonight. Am I forgiven now that you have this reminder of my better qualities as well as my worse?”

Annabelle nodded and then shook her head, laughing as she did both.

“I cannot follow what you are thinking sometimes, Frederick.”

“Thank God for that,” he said in a cheerful voice but with a half-smile that made Annabelle pause as she closed the dress box, recalling the moment in the carriage after the Yardley House ball when she had asked him whether the moon made him think of her. “Now, go upstairs and try it on. There are some accessories you will need too. I shall bring them to you later.”

Before Annabelle could ask any further questions, Frederick walked away with a thoughtful expression on his face.

At six o’clock, Annabelle sat at her dressing table, freshly bathed and dressed in her new green silk which Myrtle had complimented even while expressing doubts about its neckline and the striking effect of the new French stays.

Once her mass of red-gold ringlets had been bound up with copper-colored pins, she had dismissed her maid for the night, not wanting the old woman to be witness to whatever transpired with Frederick when he brought whatever further item of dress or ornament he believed she would need this evening. Nor did she wish to face Myrtle’s disapproval if they returned home at an unduly late hour.

Annabelle knew that she should not really be receiving Frederick in her bedroom alone, but it all seemed far too late to worry about that now. It was such a small thing compared to everything else. When he knocked and entered a few minutes later, she only smiled at him, turning in her seat before the looking glass.

“You look beautiful, Annabelle,” he said directly as he approached her and laid down several boxes on the dressing table. “Then, how could it be otherwise?”

His handsome eyes scanned her body from top to toe approvingly, lingering on her face and bosom.

“Thank you,” she responded, always inclined to disbelieve compliments on her appearance but unable to argue with the apparent sincerity in Frederick’s rather hungry blue eyes.

“Turn back to the looking glass,” he instructed as he opened the first box and took out a necklace of blue sapphires set in delicate silver.

She shivered as his warm hands touched her throat and shoulders in fastening the necklace.

“Keep still or I fear I shall drop it down the front of your dress,” he warned, making her eyes open very wide.

In the looking glass she met Frederick’s eyes again and saw that he was teasing her but also, somehow, serious at the same time. Once the clasp was fastened, he did not step back but remained there, very close to her back, apparently admiring the reflection of either Annabelle or the necklace. Maybe both.

“That necklace belonged to my mother,” he mentioned lightly. “Duchess Sarah chose never to wear my mother’s jewelry. It has all been waiting a long time to be worn once more.”

“Then it is surely of too great a value for me to wear tonight,” Annabelle objected, thinking also that it was likely too striking and expensive for an unmarried young woman, especially in combination with her simple but exquisitely cut dress.

A simple pendant or cross would be more usual for an upper-class maiden of good reputation, or perhaps a string of pearls. People who saw her tonight might think she was a fast and immodest young woman, a thought that appalled and appealed in equal measure.

“I insist that you not only wear it, but keep it. Can you think of a woman and a dress that this necklace would better suit?” Frederick said, reaching around to caress the stones but also flickering over Annabelle’s skin in the process. “I cannot.”

“Frederick,” Annabelle spoke his name aloud, unsure whether she intended to object further or to thank him for his consideration and unreasonable generosity.

In the event, she did neither, caught up in his gaze in the mirror and the sensation of his warm hands now resting on her bare shoulders as he regarded her in the glass. It was not the monetary value of this latest gift that disturbed her but its intimacy that also made it impossible to refuse.

“One more thing,” he said at last, removing his hands and opening the box to reveal a second item, a black silk half-face mask, sewn with dark blue and green sequins. “We will be masked tonight.”

Again, she could not hold her body’s automatic quiver as Frederick placed the mask to her face and tied it carefully behind her head, knotting the silken bow firmly.

“Masked…” she whispered to herself in the looking glass. “But why?”

Frederick gave her no answer to this question, instead producing his own mask, matching hers but cut to more masculine proportions and without the sparkling decoration.

As she watched him don his mask, it was odd to reflect how handsome he was both before and after the fabric was placed. Despite hiding so much of his well-proportioned face, the mask acted only as an enhancement, not a concealment. This outfit would do nothing to deter women from throwing themselves at him as usual, Annabel suspected.

Then, Frederick smiled at her in the glass, in a manner she could only describe as rakish, but which made her heart race nonetheless. He handed her the cloak that Myrtle had left on the bed earlier.

“Time to put this on and face the big, bad world, Annabelle.”