Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

A nnette's fingers soaked up the warmth that seeped through Lord Weston's coat. She noticed how the material strained across his shoulders and wondered again why he seemed so much younger than her father.

And so easy to converse with. It wasn't just his looks, although she could drown in those chocolate eyes, but the energy about him. Strong, yet calm. Intelligent with a sense of humor. Annette found herself relaxing in his company, not worrying about what she might say or do. It could simply be the fact that he wasn't on the list of suitors, but she'd had the same feeling when they'd first met.

The meal was informal since it was only the four of them tonight. The Vicar Langston would arrive tomorrow with his sister and spend two evenings. So, this would be the last night before the "selection" began. Her stomach knotted at the reminder.

"Are you well, Lady Annette? You seem anxious all at once." Lord Weston was studying her, concern in his eyes. "I believe the next couple of weeks will be a journey of discovery for you. Enjoy the ride, regardless of where the coach stops, eh?"

Oh heavens! He knew. The knot twisted. But when he patted her hand, his touch calmed her. She felt… safe, secure. Yes, it would all work out as it should. She nodded gratefully. "You are right. And it's almost Christmastide, my favorite time of year."

"Ah, a lover of the revelry, then?"

She nodded. "I enjoy winter and the snow when we get it, the smell of pine and added color in the house. Do you mind the cold, my lord?" Her father had begun complaining it made his joints ache and avoided being outdoors for long periods.

"You saw me on horseback. I believe fresh air keeps the body fit and young."

"If you are any indication, then I believe it too." She grinned, relaxing with this kind man at her side. "How long will you be here?"

"Until you throw me out!" With a chuckle, he added, "Or until after the new year, whichever comes first."

Annette took the seat next to her father, across from her soon-to-be stepmother. Lord Weston sat beside her. As the white soup was served, she listened to her father and the viscount recount an amusing story from Papa's university days. She learned how Lord Weston had met his wife over the scalloped oysters. Her father shared a tale about the viscount's brother while they dined on roasted venison and a savory pudding.

Annette enjoyed the multitude of expressions that passed over Lord Weston's face as he recounted an escapade from his youth. His entire countenance took on the mood of the story, and he had a knack for holding his audience's attention.

"I had no idea you and Papa were so close. Why have you not visited Beecham Manor before?"

"I did as a young man." Weston glanced at the earl. "He helped me through the dark time after my brother's death. Later, we used to meet at one of the gentlemen's clubs after Parliament, but he hasn't taken his seat for a few years. I'm not much for writing?—"

"Nor am I," added her father. "Men are different from women. We don't need to share every detail of our lives to keep up a friendship."

"I'll drink to that." Lord Weston grinned and raised his wine glass. "To friends."

"To friends," they all chimed together.

After dinner, they gathered in the parlor. Her parents often enjoyed whist when there were enough players, and this was no exception. She found the viscount an excellent player, skilled but not overly competitive. But they were no match for her father and Alice.

"I hate to claim victory when I'm the host but?—"

"You've never hated to claim victory," interrupted Annette with a grin. "I've inherited his competitive nature. Never admit defeat , he used to tell me when we were playing some game with my brothers."

"I meant you should never admit defeat to your brothers," corrected her father. "They would never let you forget it."

"Did your brothers tease you terribly when you were young?" asked Lord Weston as he settled himself next to her before the fire.

Annette was suddenly acutely aware of his large body, so close yet not touching. Nothing scandalous about the action itself, but her cheeks heated just the same. A tingle skittered down her arm when he crossed an ankle over his knee, and his forearm brushed against her. She picked up her glass of madeira and took a sip to hide the flush of her cheeks. At least, she could blame the alcohol.

"Annette?" asked Alice, waiting for her to answer the viscount.

"Oh, yes. I mean, no. I mean…" She was making a horrid mess of this. "Yes, they teased me. They were boys. But as the youngest, they were also very protective of me."

"And still are." Her father shook his head. "I'm sure you'd have had an offer at the beginning of your first Season if they hadn't scared off so many suitors."

"I must disagree." Lord Weston leaned back against the brocade sofa and studied her, brown eyes narrowed. She saw the tiny creases at his eyes, telling her he laughed often. "If they weren't willing to face your brothers, what kind of spine did they have? You would have soon been bored with any of them."

A slow smile curled her lips. Oh, he was a darling man. A wise man. "Thank you."

"A treasure is worth the adventure. Isn't that right, Henry?"

"I couldn't agree more," agreed her father, giving Alice a sly grin.

The viscountess giggled before turning to Lord Weston. "Tell us about your daughter. She's in London for Christmastide?"

"Yes, Phoebe is staying with her aunt and celebrating with her fiancé's family. Lord Kendall invited me, but his family is quite… active." He paused as searching for the correct wording. "I don't believe they understand the meaning of a relaxing evening at home. When they aren't out at some event, they invite a mob for a night of games and drink."

"And Miss Phoebe?" asked Annette. "Does she like to go out as much as her in-laws?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid she has all the energy of a hound at the hunt and loves being entertained. Probably my fault. After my wife died, I kept her amused. Whether to keep her from grieving or me , I'm not sure."

"Both, most likely," said Lady Henney empathetically.

"It was a difficult time. A piece of my heart had been ripped away, and I saw my daughter as a way to mend it." His umber gaze swept his audience, and he flushed. "This conversation took a morbid turn. I apologize."

"How did you and your daughter spend your time together?" Annette swore his face grew more handsome—and wistful—as he spoke of the women he loved. He was a good man. A thoughtful one.

"We were always reading, playing games, pretending. I took her everywhere with me. Couldn't stand the thought of leaving her alone. I wanted her to be independent and confident, regardless of how society thought I should raise her." He shrugged. "And then in a blink of an eye, she was a woman, and another man took my place."

Annette touched his arm without a thought. "No man ever takes the place of a girl's father. No matter how wonderful her husband is."

"That's my girl," exclaimed her father with a wink. "Listen to her, Drew. She knows her subject well."

Lord Weston glanced down at her hand on his sleeve, then caught her gaze with a gratified half smile. "Thank you for that reassurance, Lady Annette. Coming from you, it eases my mind. If I've done my job, and I'm certain my dear Agnes would have come to haunt me if I hadn't, she will have a happy life and surround me with grandchildren."

"There's the attitude." Annette's father slapped his knee. "Another drink?"

A yawn came unbidden, and Annette quickly covered her mouth with one hand. "Please, excuse me. I fear I was up too early this morning."

Lord Weston rose. "It has been a long day. Perhaps we should both retire." He held out his hand to help her up.

"Yes, and we have planned a full week," agreed Alice. "Henry, could you have my coach sent round?"

"Of course, my dear. We shall see you tomorrow, Drew."

"Goodnight, Henry, Lady Henney. And thank you again for inviting me." Lord Weston bowed over the viscountess's hand.

The older couple left the room, her father stopping to speak with the butler. She turned to the viscount. "I am also glad Papa asked you to come. You seemed to have calmed my nerves before the storm."

Now he bowed over her hand, peeking up at her with a glint in his dark gaze. "Consider me the eye of the storm. Your center of calm should you need it."

Her stomach tumbled but with excitement rather than nerves. Was it his touch? His words? "I appreciate that."

As she made her way to the next floor, Annette felt his presence behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught him watching her from the bottom of the stairs. He stood tall, broad shoulders straight, hands behind his back. He didn't smile but winked instead. Her breath caught, and she turned away, hurrying up the steps and to her room.

Once safely inside, she shut the door and leaned against it. Her heart pounded, echoing in her ears. Then her legs gave way, and she slid to the floor, eyes closed, hands in tight fists. This man affected her in a way no other had before him. And he had offered to be her champion. His type of protection would be much different from what her overprotective brothers offered.

Was it the self-assuredness of an older man? One who had learned there was little to fear in the world? Or was it just the kind of delicious attraction she had always longed for? She feared he might be placating her out of kindness, seeing her as a girl. Not a woman who longed for love, longed to taste desire.

Keep an open mind. The words of her soon-to-be-stepmother echoed among the rapid heartbeats. Yes, she would listen to that advice. Perhaps she was only latching on to a man she considered safe, one not truly interested in her, so she couldn't be hurt. Hadn't Jenny said to practice flirting? He may be doing the same to help her prepare for the upcoming calamity. Because, though she hadn't breathed a word out loud, Annette knew this whole idea would be a catastrophe. But it would show Papa and Alice that she had tried.

The image of Lord Weston winking at her came to mind again. She sighed as her heart told her what she knew to be true. The viscount was everything she looked for in a suitor. Handsome, intelligent, kind, and a wonderful sense of humor. Why couldn't he be ten years younger? Why couldn't she be ten years older?