Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

T hey were just finishing breakfast with Beecham and Lady Henney when the butler announced Lord Page and his guests had arrived. Andrew was surprised to see Lady Annette bolt from her chair—which wobbled and would have hit the floor if Andrew hadn't caught it—and throw herself into the arms of her brother.

"Lucius, I've missed you so!"

Lucius had just made it from the entryway into the breakfast room when he caught Lady Annette and spun her around. "My sweet sister, I've missed you as well. And I've brought along some admirers."

Two more men joined them as Page set his sister back on her feet. One was tall and lean with reddish hair and blue eyes. The other was of medium height but more muscular with blond hair and brown eyes. "May I introduce Mr. Hawkesbury," Lucius said, indicating the taller man, "and Mr. Fitzjames. You've both met my father, Lord Beecham. This is my father's fiancé, Lady Henney, and his good friend Viscount Weston."

Lady Annette's eyes widened. "You know Lord Weston?"

"Of course, we've met at the club with Father when the Lords are in session," he answered, turning back to his friends. "And this is my lovely and inquisitive sister, Lady Annette."

She held out her hand. "It is a pleasure, sirs."

Andrew recognized the names. Hawkesbury's father was an earl, and Fitzjames's was a viscount. Both good families as Beecham had said they would be. So why did his jaw tighten as the men approached the table and bowed over Lady Annette's hand? Bollocks! He had no reason to be jealous. The men were here for the purpose of courting her. Get hold of yourself, nodcock.

Beecham had quit the table to give his son a slapping hug and shake hands with his new guests. "Welcome! Am I a day off or are you a day early? Doesn't matter, we've plenty of room."

"I wanted to send word but figured I'd get here on the tail of the messenger, so we thought to surprise you," Lucius explained, bending over Lady Henney's hand. "Ma'am, it's always a pleasure."

She blushed. "You get your charm from your father."

"That's why you love me so," he teased.

Andrew had seen the vicar and his sister leave early that morning. Observing the next parade participants , he had to admit they were an improvement. Both were fine-looking men and miles above the last would-be suitor. They would also know how close Lucius was to his sister and endeavor not to hurt her.

A tiny voice echoed in his ear. Mine. He shook his head and pushed the thought from his mind.

Fitzjames and Hawkesbury were shown to their rooms and would meet them later. The plan was to go skating in the afternoon. It had snowed overnight, providing a thin layer of white to cover the ground, the temperature just cold enough to freeze the water on the low-lying fields.

"I'm afraid I didn't bring any skates. Is it safe to assume there are extra sets?" asked Andrew. He had hoped to avoid this particular adventure; it had been years since he'd tried it. But he'd be demmed if he would stay behind with Beecham and his fiancée and look too old to participate.

"Of course," said the earl. "We probably have at least a dozen pairs. We've always kept spares for visitors. I believe Alice and I will join you and watch from the carriage. Nothing like an afternoon with a hot toddy, warm bricks at my feet, and a spicy lady at my side."

"Yes, someone needs to chaperone," said Lady Henney. "We can't leave her alone with three young gentlemen, even if one is her brother."

"So, what am I? A left-over pocket pie?" Andrew realized how petulant he sounded as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He scratched at his neck, a half grin on his face, hoping they would take his words as a jest.

"Oh no," said the viscountess. "You're fresh from the oven. Piping hot and ready to be served."

The woman winked at him. Winked at him. What was she implying with that vague comparison? Andrew cleared his throat and mumbled something about changing. He could hear his host and the lady's chuckles as he made his way down the hall.

As Andrew left his room, he saw Lord Page and his friends ahead of him in the hall. He followed them to the billiard room, where Lady Annette was choosing a cue stick. She smiled shyly at the newcomers, then sat in a chair in a corner. She wore a light-green day dress of muslin that made her eyes appear the color of a forest, and her hair was caught up in a loose twist, dark curls spilling down her neck.

He stood against the door, watching the new suitors glance over at Lady Annette. Hawkesbury chose a billiard mace and Fitzjames decided on a cue, like Lady Annette. Lord Page came to stand by Andrew, mischief in his green eyes.

"You look like a cat who just cornered a mouse," Andrew said, wondering if the men would play each other or if one would ask Lady Annette to play.

"I have a bet going with both of them," he answered, nodding toward his friends. "A guinea for every game they lose to Nettie."

Andrew grinned. "She's that good?"

Page nodded. "Beats me all the time. Not something I'd ever admit in public, but I'll announce their losses with glee next time we're in Town."

Nice to know , Andrew thought. Men tended to be condescending whenever a woman entered the male game world. This should prove entertaining and show him who was a graceful loser and tolerant of a lady getting the better of them. One nice thing about his age—he knew not to assume the female always had the disadvantage. The question was, had these young men learned yet or would Lady Annette teach them that lesson?

Page cleared his throat, signaling the beginning of the game. Hawkesbury stepped forward with his mace and bowed to Lady Annette. "Would you care to try your luck at the table, my lady?" he asked gallantly.

She gave him a small smile and nodded. Her shyness was like a slap in the face. Where had the warm and social woman gone? Who was this docile wallflower?

"She's gone so quiet," Andrew murmured to her brother.

"Happens every time she's with men she doesn't know. Suitable men who might judge her by her past," Page answered back in a half whisper. "It's the reason I arranged the billiards game. She's confident here and won't be a bundle of nerves once she gets started."

His heart twisted a little at the change in demeanor. He hated to see her light dimmed by the present company. By anything.

"How many points for the win?" asked Fitzjames.

"How about 21?" suggested Page. Everyone nodded or spoke their agreement.

"A nice number for a beginner." Fitzjames leaned against the paneling, awaiting his turn with an arrogant smirk. One of the many men who knew without a doubt that they could dominate a female.

The opponents hit their cue balls. Hawkesbury's bounced off the far rail and rolled to a stop near the center of the table. Lady Annette's barely tapped the rail and lay a finger's width from the end of the table. Hawk shook his head good-naturedly, and with a bow, nodded to the lady. "Well done, my lady. It's your choice."

She gave him a thin smile.

"Would you like to go first, then?" Andrew smiled at the hope in the man's voice. He watched the man wipe a palm against his trousers. Nervous all of a sudden too.

She shook her head, so Hawk placed the red ball on its spot and retreated to the end of the table, where he placed his cue ball within the D. He used a mace and smacked the solid white ball with the small, curved end. It hit the red ball, bounced off, and stopped at the left rail near the center pocket.

"Cannon. Two points for Hawk," announced Page, the self-appointed scorekeeper.

Hawkesbury repeated the same stroke, claiming another two points, and then sank the red ball in a corner pocket. "Potting" was worth three points. He pulled the red ball from the pocket and placed it on its spot again. "Seven," he murmured as he walked to the other side of the table where his ball sat at the far rail. This time he smacked his ball hard, just missing the red ball. His cue ball hit the far rail and bounced back, coming to a stop near but never touching the red ball.

"Foul of one point, total points, six," tallied Page.

Hawkesbury bowed to Lady Annette and backed away, leaning against the wall beside Fitzjames. Annette peeked at her brother as she tossed her white cue ball—with one black spot to differentiate between the two players—up and down. After placing it within the D, she studied the other white cue ball and the red one. She walked around the table to judge each ball by its side and end view, rubbing the leather tip of her stick while she concentrated.

With a nod, she seemed to make a decision and returned to the top of the table. She lined up her stick with her cue ball, moved to one side, and smacked it hard at a slight angle. It hit both her opponent's ball and the red one; the red ball shot into the side pocket, Hawk's ball bounced against the side rail, over to the other rail, and came to a stop.

Fitzjames jerked his gaze from the lady's backside to see the end of her play. His eyes grew wide.

"The devil," murmured Hawkesbury, running a hand through his thick auburn waves.

"One cannon, one potted. Five," Page said with glee.

Lady Annette fished out the red ball and replaced it. Fitz's eyes returned to her backside, a faint smile on his face. This time, she aimed for the red ball and shot it in the side pocket again with her cue.

"Eight points," counted Page.

Lady Annette set her cue ball within the D, then aimed it for the side rail near her opponent's ball. It bounced off and tapped the other white ball, which hit the end of the table, bounced off, and tapped the red ball. "Ten," she murmured.

Fitz's eyes were no longer studying her backside, but closely watching his future opponent.

The next play was another split. Her ball hit the red ball, then her opponent's ball. The red went into a side pocket, the opponent's ball stopped at the far end of the table. Andrew worried that she hadn't smiled since they'd entered the room. Was she concentrating or out of sorts?

"What's the score?" asked Hawk, shaking his head, his admiration evident.

"Fifteen." Page adopted a pitying tone. "You look a little worried, Fitz."

"Luck." But there was concern in Fitz's blue eyes.

On her next shot, Lady Annette bypassed the red ball, tipped her opponent's ball against the rail, and back out into the center of the table for two more points. "Seventeen," she murmured to herself. Walking back and forth, she rubbed the leather tip of her stick again as she studied the table. With concentrated aim, she hit the red ball into her opponent's ball. The white ball rolled into the side pocket, and the red ball plunked into the far corner pocket. She straightened, and a tiny smile tipped her lips. "Game."

Andrew restrained the hearty laugh that threatened to burst. He was proud of Lady Annette when she took pity on the second man. "I'm quite tired, gentlemen. Would you mind terribly if we postponed this until after dinner?"

Fitzjames let out a loud sigh and agreed, "Of course. The skating will be quite strenuous. Please, take a rest if it's needed."

She nodded, gave them another small smile, and left the room. Andrew followed her out into the hall. "You were magnificent. Did you know your brother had a wager on you?"

She laughed, which made Andrew's heart lighten, and nodded. "He always does. But he's better than I am. I was his student."

"Are you really tired or only being kind to your guests?" he asked.

"I knew if I won, it would offend Mr. Fitzjames. I have a feeling he would be mortified to be beaten by a woman." She shrugged. "On the other hand, Mr. Hawkesbury seems much more confident in his maleness. I also assumed that was why Lucius had him play against me first."

Andrew shook his head. "The two of you are quite close."

"Yes, these days we look out for each other." She checked her sleeve, then looked reluctantly down the hall. "Oh, no. I left my handkerchief in there."

"I'll fetch it for you. Wait a moment." Andrew returned to the billiards room to find Page had left, leaving his friends to continue playing.

"She's an odd chit," said Fitzjames. "But I'll charm her, regardless."

"She doesn't talk much. I was hoping for more conversation." Hawkesbury was bending over the table. "I thought he said she wasn't shy."

"I can't imagine why Page set this up. Doesn't help the chit's image at all. She'll have to learn to act the proper lady, learn her place with men." Fitzjames chuckled. "I couldn't care less if she's mute or talks incessantly. I'll teach her what she needs to know once we're married, and words won't be necessary."

"Lady Annette is a beauty, but she seemed rather awkward, don't you think?"

"As I just said, who cares? A hefty dowry, an earl for a father-in-law, and a soft body in my bed." Fitzjames snorted. "What are you looking for? Love?"

"No, companionship. If anything comes of it, that would be a boon."

Fitzjames laughed. "I have plenty of women for companionship . I need a wife to have my children and run my household."

"What if she turns you down?" Hawkesbury glanced over his shoulder and froze when he saw Andrew.

"Won't happen once she experiences the Fitz magic."

"And how, exactly, will she experience that?" asked Andrew quietly from behind.

"I'll take the innocent in my arms and kiss her senseless. She'll be begging for more before I'm done."

"And Page knows of your plan?" Andrew stepped farther into the room.

Fitzjames had just pulled his arm back to strike the ball when he stopped. He had the grace to look sheepish as he turned around. "My apologies, my lord. We're just two fellows talking. No harm meant."

"What I heard said under your host's roof was bad form. If I catch you trying any magic with Lady Annette, my fist will make some magic on your face." Andrew walked to the corner of the room and retrieved the lady's handkerchief. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," they both said at once.