Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

21 December 1820

S he was in a tree, sitting on the highest branch. Her father was calling her to come down, but she was too frightened to try. So, Papa sent three of her suitors up after her. Each one settled on a branch below her, then they all called for her to jump.

"The one who catches you will be your husband," called Papa.

"And what if no one catches me?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Then I will, dearest," he replied.

Obeying her father, she counted to three and jumped. The first suitor reached out but never touched her. She brushed against a limb, then fell toward the second suitor. He snatched at her spencer, but it ripped from his hands. Her hair caught on some twigs as she continued her free fall. The third suitor grabbed her arm but couldn't maintain his grip. She screamed as she plummeted to the ground, only to be caught in strong arms. She clutched her father's chest, but when she opened her eyes, it was Lord Weston, not Papa .

"I've got you, Nettie," he said and leaned down to kiss her.

A knock on the door snapped her from the twilight of the dream. Her maid opened the door.

"Did you sleep well, milady?" Jenny carried the fresh pitcher of water to the washstand. "Do you have an idea of which day dress you'd like to wear?"

Annette pulled the counterpane over her head. "Do I have to face the day?"

"Yes, miss. Your first suitor arrives today. At least you know this one, been to one of his sermons." Jenny pulled the cover back, grinning at her mistress. "He'll be fine practice for the next two."

She blew a loud breath between her lips. "Jenny, do you think it would be terrible to be a spinster?"

Jenny laughed. "Depends on what the other options are. It's better than being with a man who beats you, or one so old he needs his food mashed up before he can eat it." The maid pulled her lips back over her teeth and made a chewing motion.

"Very funny." Annette swung her legs over the bed, thankful for the soft wool rug beneath her feet. "I suppose the indigo."

"Very good, miss. You look tired. You didn't sleep well, did you?" Jenny went to the wardrobe and pulled out the dress. "Not answering won't erase the dark circles beneath your eyes."

"I suppose I was restless." She sat down and breathed in deeply while Jenny brushed her hair in long strokes to her waist. Lady Annette Page is not afraid of anything. Except ridicule. She tilted her chin up and stared into the mirror.

Jenny was right; she did look a fright. How dare these men test her confidence! She was no debutante. She was going on her twenty-fourth year. If none of these men were right for her, she would find another purpose in her life. Perhaps she'd open an orphanage and have the biggest family of all her siblings.

Well, now she felt better. "I've changed my mind. I'll wear the mazarine blue."

* * *

When she entered the breakfast room, Lord Weston was enjoying coffee with Papa. Both men stood, and Lord Weston pulled out a chair for her next to her father.

"You look lovely in that color, my lady," said the viscount.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Papa grin. "Thank you, my lord." Jenny had done a fine job covering up her puffy eyes. She poured herself a cup of tea and added a lump of sugar.

"What time will Mr. and Miss Langston arrive?" Stirring her tea, she tried to hold back a yawn.

"Early this afternoon, according to his note." Papa tossed back the last of his coffee and rose. "I have to meet with the estate manager this morning. I shall return in time to greet the vicar." As he passed Annette, he dropped a kiss on top of her head.

"Tell him I have a basket for his wife and not to hesitate to call on me if she has the babe early," she called after him.

"I will," he called back from the hall.

"You are a midwife?" asked Lord Weston, surprise in his expression.

Annette chuckled and shook her head. "Heavens, no. I have assisted, though. I've been declared second-best when the midwife is not available. Mrs. Jackson isn't due until after the new year, but babies rarely listen. The midwife in the village is gone until after Christmastide to be with her own daughter."

"There is no physician?"

She saw the alarm darkening his eyes. His wife died giving birth. Annette shook her head, her heart hurting for him. "Not close. The journey would take at least two hours, and most of the tenants cannot afford one. Our steward could, of course, but most women prefer the midwife. A physician isn't called unless the situation is dire."

"I see." He took a sip of his coffee. "The villagers must trust you, then."

She hadn't really thought about it, but he was right. "I suppose I'm a familiar enough face. When it comes to female ailments, a woman would always prefer to deal with another woman."

"Ah, sympathy versus empathy."

"Exactly!" She watched him as he strode to the side table and filled a plate with eggs, ham, and toast. And two heaping spoonfuls of orange marmalade on each slice. Her eyes widened. "A little toast with your marmalade?"

He glanced over his shoulder, saw her grin, and laughed. "I like my sweets in the morning and found I don't care for chocolate."

"Oh, I don't know if I could trust someone who doesn't care for chocolate." She arched a brow, issuing the challenge. Something about him brought out the imp in her.

"Hm, I don't know if I could trust someone who wouldn't trust a man for not liking chocolate."

"Touché!" She stood and moved to his side, taking a plate for herself. A spoonful of eggs and two slices of toast.

"Dry?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, when no one is looking I dunk it in my chocolate."

He looked at the table. "What chocolate?"

At that moment, the butler entered with a tray. She beamed at him. "Thank you, Mr. Gibbs."

"You're quite welcome, Lady Annette." The corner of the butler's mouth turned up a tiny bit, as close to a smile as he usually came.

"Only a woman with an adventurous soul would dunk her toast in her chocolate," said the viscount admiringly. "I like you even better."

"You like me?" Annette gave him a coquettish glance. At least, she hoped it was, for she suddenly felt like her lashes were batting away something in her eye rather than tempting this man. She giggled.

"You find it amusing that I like you?" His thick dark brows arched. "Or is there marmalade on my nose?"

Later, she'd swear the devil sat on her shoulder, for she had no other explanation. Annette dipped her spoon in the marmalade, reached up and smeared some on the viscount's nose, then licked the spoon with a wicked grin.

His eyes widened, then danced with humor. "Lesson one. Don't start a game you're not willing to finish." He took her hand, singling out her forefinger, wiped it across his nose, then popped it in his mouth, and licked off the sweet jam.

Heat washed over her as his mouth covered her fingertip, her stomach fluttering with a hundred pairs of wings. She'd never experienced anything so… so… intimate with a man. She was sure there was a rule against this, but she didn't care. The air cooled her skin as he released her finger, and Annette found herself staring at the digit as if it were magical. Then she peeked up at Lord Weston, who was grinning down at her.

"I apologize if I offended you," he said in a low voice. "I'm not sure what came over me."

Annette found her eyes locked on his lips as he spoke. She had the strangest desire to go on tiptoe and kiss him. Her father would have an apoplexy. Lord Weston might too. Or would he kiss her back? Instead, she blurted out, "I usually go for a ride in the mornings before breakfast, but I overslept today. Would you care to join me tomorrow?"

The merriment faded from his eyes as he held her gaze for a long moment. She'd been too forward. Her social skills really had suffered these past few years.

"I'd love to if your father does not mind."

She let out a loud breath and beamed at him. He'd only been considering. "Wonderful."

"Yes, wonderful," he murmured as his eyes scanned her face. "Now, shall we eat?"

* * *

Annette hummed as she walked along the shelves of books lining the wall. The library was one of her favorite places. Masculine like her father and brothers, she loved the dark paneling, leather furniture, and giant hearth. There was a large globe in one corner behind her father's desk and a map of the world on the other. There were pins marking everywhere the family had traveled, her brothers in particular.

She'd felt as if she were floating on a cloud of happiness all day. After breakfast with Lord Weston, he had rejoined her father, and she'd written to her brother in India. Now, she wanted a book to read, preferably a romantic novel where the heroine was saved in some dramatic way by the dashing hero. Who happened to be of similar appearance to a certain viscount.

Samuel Richardson was one of her favorites, Pamela or Virtue Rewarded being one of the first romance novels she'd ever read. But today, she was looking for something with a bit more excitement. She trailed her finger along the book spines, reading the titles. The act revived the marmalade memory of this morning, and she shivered.

Her finger stopped at The Adventures of Roderick Random by Tobias Smollett. One of her brothers had read this. A man seeking his fortune on a ship… She pulled out the leather-bound tome and opened it, flipping the pages, stopping to read a portion.

Apologue

A Young painter indulging a vein of pleasantry, sketched a kind of conversation-piece, representing a bear, an owl, a monkey, and an ass; and to render it more striking, humorous and moral, distinguished every figure by some emblem of human life.

Bruin was exhibited in the garb and attitude of an old, toothless, drunken soldier; the owl perched upon the handle of a coffee-pot, with spectacle on nose, seemed to contemplate a news paper; and the ass, ornamented with a huge tye-wig, (which, however, could not conceal his long ears) sat for his picture to the monkey, who appeared with the implements of painting. The whimsical groupe afforded some mirth ?—

The sound of wheels crunching on gravel drew her attention from the book. The vicar had arrived. With a sigh, she picked up her skirts and left the library. Mr. Gibbs was already at the door, of course, waiting to greet the guests.

Annette quickly checked the drawing room and found, to her relief, Alice rising from a chair. She set her embroidery on the velvet chair seat and smoothed her auburn hair.

"Are we ready?" she asked Annette with a smile.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She followed the viscountess to the entryway just as the couple emerged from the coach. The vicar was a short man with a round, not unpleasant face, thin blond hair, and brown eyes. His body was thin except for his stomach, protruding slightly through his open greatcoat. Annette thought of a turkey, then immediately stifled her giggle.

His sister stepped down, clinging to her brother's arm, and surveyed her surroundings with a stern eye. She was a head taller with a long face but had the same hair and eye color as the vicar. When she saw the butler and the women, she gave them a curt nod.

"Mr. and Miss Langston, welcome. I trust your journey was pleasant?" asked Annette.

"If you consider being jostled until my teeth rattled, and my fingers numb from the cold, then yes, the journey was fine," Miss Langston answered as the two climbed the stairs of the portico. "But I will do what I must to improve my brother's livelihood."

"We'll need to find her a husband if you choose this man," mumbled Alice as they both stepped forward, pasting on smiles.

The vicar reddened. "Lady Henney, Lady Annette, it is a pleasure to be invited. We have looked forward to this visit."

As Mr. Gibbs oversaw the trunks, Alice nodded to Annette, who suggested they follow her to their rooms so they could freshen up from their journey. "We've placed you side by side if that's agreeable to you both?"

"Of course, where else would we be but together." It was more a statement than a question by Miss Langston as she studied the entryway with a detailed eye. Annette thought she saw the gleam of approval in the woman's small eyes.

"That's fine, just fine," murmured the vicar. "Ah, a book."

Annette had forgotten the novel in her hand. "Yes, I love to read. And you?"

"The bible, of course, and anything that improves my mind." He tilted his head to read the title. " The Adventures of Roderick Random ?"

"Yes, it is a?—"

"A very inappropriate book for a proper and moral lady to be reading," finished his sister. "Please tell me this is not your choice."

Annette's cheeks burned. She was not off to a good start.

"Lady Annette fetched it for me, truth be told."