Chapter Seven

November 12, 1817

Harding House

Manchester Square, Mayfair

London

Annabelle huffed in frustration, for her plans for the afternoon were scattered now that her brother had returned home.

Though he’d been inundated with business since he’d arrived back in London a few days ago and she was happy to have him with her again, now that he wanted to sit down and talk seriously with her, she had misgivings, but it was teatime and Cornelius had just come into the room. There was no avoiding him now.

“I’m glad you are home,” she said as she poured out a cup of tea for him and handed it over. “However, I’m also glad Mama isn’t here.”

They exchanged a laugh, for their parent was acerbic on a good day and highly critical on the bad ones.

“I can certainly understand that, but here’s hoping the waters will help her arthritis and ease the aches in her muscles.” For they both knew those things made her even more grouchy than usual. “She has indicated a wish to remain in Bath through the end of the month.”

“What else?” As Annabelle poured out her own cup of tea and then put a small lump of sugar into the amber depths, she frowned. “I can see it in your eyes there is more.”

Cornelius snorted. “Mama said she was two days away from washing her hands of the care and responsibility of you because you were hopeless when it came to matchmaking and courtship.” He took a sip of tea, but amusement danced in his eyes. “As if we all didn’t know how headstrong you’ve been since birth.”

“I cannot help what I am.” She settled more comfortably in her chair as she looked at her brother. His dark brown hair—almost black—had been arranged in a popular style. Always a well-organized person, he wore his clothing instead of the other way around, and he enjoyed garments tailored to his form. “Before you went away to fight Napoleon, you were just like me.”

Ever since he’d come back from the war, though, he was a different man. More quiet and introspective. More worried about the people in his life. More plagued by memories and nightmares. She couldn’t begin to assume she could understand what it was he wrestled with, for he rarely talked about it to his family.

“That seems a lifetime ago, Belle.” Shadows darkened his eyes, almost as if he were haunted by things he couldn’t escape. “Though it has been years, I am still struggling to find myself in civilian life, yet I feel I’m failing far too much.”

“Oh, don’t say that.” Her heart went out to him, for it must be horrid to never be able to leave the war behind. “You are doing a marvelous job of things, and if you could manage to stay out of my life, you would be nearly perfect.”

For the space of a few heartbeats, he rested his gaze on her, then he sighed. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible at least through Twelfth Night, for there are a few of my contemporaries I would like you to meet, and they all are looking to marry.”

“What?” She’d known he wished to encourage potential suitors her way, but she didn’t realize it would be so quick upon his return to Town. “You are serious that I need to find myself engaged?”

“I am. It’s far past time for you to settle down, and more than that, I would like you to have someone in your life who will look after you, who will be more than a friend for you because I believe you need that.” He met her gaze. “Even though you have never told me what happened to you a few summers ago, I can suspect, which is why I’d like for you to have someone in your life you can go to and tell them of your troubles and fears, someone who can soothe your nerves and calm your anxiety.”

“It sounds like a fairy story, but I wasn’t aware you believed in such things.” When she narrowed her eyes, a flush of color raced up his neck. “Why don’t you chase that for yourself?”

“I won’t until you are settled and happy. It’s the least I can do.”

She frowned. “What makes you think I’m not happy now?”

“Are you?” When she didn’t answer, he shrugged. “I believe you act out and cause scandals as a way to hide, as a shield of sorts to mask the fact you are lonely and aching to belong to someone.”

Was that true? As confusion poured over her, Annabelle blinked away the tears stinging her eyes. She dropped her gaze to the contents of the teacup. “As if marriage is the solution to any of that.”

“It is not, obviously, but it can be a start.” Leaning forward, Cornelius picked up the teapot and refreshed his cup before setting the pot down once more. “However, I’d like to see you married and away from Mama’s clutches.”

“That would mean you’d be stuck.” What was his end game?

“True, but I have learned to handle her with more patience than you.”

“And without banishing her to the country.”

The flush returned to his neck. “I’ll admit, that was a mistake, but I was out of sorts with you—still am—but the longer I’m alive and see how the rogues let their sisters grasp at their own lives and helm them, I’m more inclined to have you do the same.”

She snorted. “Except you’ve already picked out men for me to meet.”

“I have, and I won’t apologize for that.” His grin bordered on cheeky. “Fate, I think, needs to be helped along at times. You deserve to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother, to live a full life that has purpose.”

“That is the problem with you men in the ton . You all see women as possessions, as people who need to be rescued, or that marrying us will make you heroes.” She shook her head. “You assume that marriage and love will completely turn our lives around, as if those things are the pinnacle of existence.” Not that she would turn up her nose at love if the right man came along, but it wasn’t the key to unlock a life.

“Ha.” He shook his head. “I’m not certain I believe in love.” There was a certain tinge of bitterness in his voice that gave her pause. Had he been thwarted in that emotion at some point and hadn’t revealed it all to her?

How interesting. “Regardless, I do, and it’s not something that can be forced merely because you wish to see me settled all right and proper so your conscience can be soothed.” Though Annabelle wanted to be cross with her brother, she couldn’t quite summon the energy to do so. “I’m flattered you are worried about me. It means you care beyond how my scandalous activities have reflected upon the family name.”

“But?”

A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “But I’m not certain I should let someone else pick out a man I’m to marry, if that is even what I wish for my life. It is quite the personal choice, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps. Do you have a man in mind?”

“For marriage or to become mistress to? One role is very much more exciting than the other, wouldn’t you say?” Oh, she did so love to tease her brother!

“Perhaps in the short term, you might enjoy the role of mistress, but I rather doubt that is who you are as a woman.” An eyebrow rose in challenge. “Regardless, the last we spoke, I didn’t think you were interested in domesticity or being tamed.”

“Which is why I suggested being a mistress.” She snorted as ruddy color appeared beneath his cheekbones. “I never said anything about wishing to be tamed.” Quickly, Annabelle finished her tea and then laid the cup into the saucer and set them both on the low table in front of her. “However…”

“Yes?” Interest and concern etched through his expression.

“While you’ve been gone, certain things have happened.” Had he read the papers and seen the short blurbs about Hazelton’s rescue? Had he gone to the Rogue’s Arcade and been told how much time she’d spent with the earl already?

“Are you, perhaps, hinting at when you rescued Hazelton from Hyde Park?” The concern in his expression deepened. “I popped into the club last night and was given an update.”

In a way, it was good he knew, for it took some of the pressure from her. “A bit, yes, but there is more to that story.” As knots pulled in her belly, she clasped her fingers together in her lap. “Was, ah, Andrew there?” God, did it make her seem desperate?

“He had already departed by the time I arrived.”

“I see.” Then there would be no news of the man. With a sigh, she shrugged. “Since his memories are lost, he truly doesn’t remember the man he was before. I didn’t know him then so am no help, but he seems all too lost and alone now. I have felt responsible for him, which has led to me checking on him daily. That was until you came home and have kept me busy.” How had the earl been passing the time? Had his memories returned? Did he give her a thought?

“You always did have a caring nature, Belle.” He leaned over and patted her shoulder. “It is one of the things I admire about you.”

“That is good to know. I feel it will help propel me into the life I need to live, where I can help others in some capacity.” Should she tell him that she and the earl had kissed a couple of times? Perhaps not. It might scandalize the poor dear. “In any event, I probably should pay a call on him this afternoon, so he doesn’t think I’ve abandoned him.”

“I would really rather you didn’t. Unmarried women—as well as unaccompanied ladies as is your wont—shouldn’t pay calls on bachelors. It isn’t proper.”

“As if I’ve ever cared a fig for that.” Annabelle briefly pointed her gaze to the heavens. She blew out a breath of frustration. “You and your rules. I might as well be back in the country.” If she had, then she would never have met Andrew, and that would have been a travesty. With a surge of confidence, she met her brother’s gaze and held it. “I am well past the age when I need to worry about rules or reputations or scandal.”

“Hardly. That will always be the case.”

She ignored him. “You obviously think the same if you wish to bring me here to have them look me over as if I were a piece of cattle at Tattersalls.” Annoyance filled her chest in a hot cloud. “However, why can I not pursue a man like Hazelton? I think if given a chance, we could be the best of friends.” Lovers, certainly. The thought of seeing him fully nude, of being able to explore his excellent form with her fingers and lips had tingles of need racing down her spine.

For long moments, Cornelius stared at her as if were assessing her statement. Then he frowned. “In all honesty, choosing anyone from the Rogue’s Arcade is a bad choice. Not just for you, but I would say the same to any woman. A tall order, that, for we all have our problems. And picking Hazelton as a potential husband? It’s a singularly bad choice.”

“Why? Is he not titled? Isn’t that what you and Mama both want for me?” Perhaps she could use their own dictates against them.

His sigh sounded long suffering. “I merely want you to be happy, but a man like Hazelton? Though he is one of my best friends, he has changed now. He has no idea who he is and might not ever regain those memories, that knowledge. It makes a man both dangerous and a target. And the men from the club, we were badly affected by the war. Our minds will certainly never be healed. We might not ever be whole again. What sort of life is that for you if you were to marry him?”

“It would prove a challenge to be sure, but from your own words, men of that ilk are too far gone to deserve care and attention. Should you all be shunned, locked away, then?” Honestly, she hadn’t truly given the matter thought beyond annoyance at her brother’s interference. “But surely he is a better choice than some man I don’t know.”

Cornelius snorted. “You didn’t know Hazelton until a week ago, and frankly, I’ll wager you don’t know him now since he hasn’t shown you who he truly is. Because he can’t.” He shrugged. “The man I knew was a confirmed bachelor. He enjoyed prowling about London, taking beautiful women to bed when the occasion called for it, spending large sums of money at the gaming tables, and generally spending his time at the club.”

“Yet he hasn’t shown those proclivities now! He has been nothing but lovely toward me.” In her agitation, Annabelle launched from her chair to pace the area between the windows and the fireplace. Perhaps it was time to be honest with her brother. “When I’m with Andrew, he makes me feel wanted, needed. He might be lost, but aren’t we all in some way? And we all deserve peace, understanding. With him, I feel as if I finally have a purpose beyond waiting for someone to take notice of me. With the earl, it doesn’t matter that I’m miserable at painting or embroidery or fail at being a ton lady. He merely appreciates… me. And not for what I might give him down the line—being his hostess, bearing his children.” Her voice broke, for she had that tiny dream at one point, but fate had taken it away.

“Oh, Belle.” Cornelius rose to his feet. He caught up with her at the window and slipped an arm about her shoulders. “You think I’m being unreasonably heavy-handed, but I only wish you to be safe and content. I don’t wish for you to reach your death bed and have regrets.”

“Then you and I agree on that point.”

He blew out a breath. “Hazelton is a wild card just now. His life isn’t stable. I don’t know if it will ever be. He will essentially need to re-learn how to be an earl, how to handle his estates.”

“And what is so wrong if I want to help him with that?”

“Nothing, really, but that path is fraught with unhappiness. What happens if you and he do rub along well now but sometime down the road, his memories return, and he reverts back to his former self? What happens if you don’t like that man, or he feels he’s made a terrible mistake, and you don’t suit at all? Should you and he marry, you will be trapped.”

“All valid points, I suppose,” she managed to whisper, for she’d been caught up in the romance and the excitement of everything. As she laid her head on his shoulder, tears crowded her eyes. “I don’t know how else to explain to you what I feel for the earl. There is something about him that calls to me, as if being with him is where I’ve been meant to be all along.”

“Effects of rescuing him. Nothing more.” For a long time, they stood at the window, peering out onto the Mayfair streets, watching the afternoon traffic. Finally, he spoke again. “Promise me you will give the men I’ve selected a chance. There is no harm in having dinner with them; the first one is scheduled for next week. If you find that you abhor my choices, we can revisit the idea of you making a potential match with Hazelton… only after I’ve spoken with him, interviewed him, essentially. I refuse, in good conscience, to give you over into hardship or a life that might shatter about your feet.”

Well, it was more than she’d had five minutes ago, and suddenly a glimmering future appeared just out of reach. Though she didn’t want to meet any of Cornelius’s choices, if it would gain her the earl in the end, she’d endure it. “I promise,” she said in a low voice.

But then, when had she ever been docile or done what was expected of her before?

“What are your plans for the afternoon?” he asked as he pulled away in order to peer into her face. “Nothing troublesome, I hope?”

“Hardly. I have two books to return to the lending library, then I’ll take out two more. How much trouble can one possibly find in a library?” Though how delicious would that be, kissing amidst the stacks? “Afterward, I shall return here to resume my dull existence that apparently won’t be worthwhile until a man takes notice of me and turns me into the image of a proper ton lady. Hardly a fairy story one dreams about.”

“There are worse things in life, Belle. You could become bitter like Mama.”

“That is true.” She lifted an eyebrow, daring him to deny her claim. “Truly, Cornelius, there comes a time in every woman’s life when she desires someone to partner with her, to give her the freedom to chase after her unorthodox dreams, no matter how frivolous they sound to you.” Almost, she felt sorry for her brother, always the devoted British citizen, keeping his nose clean within the beau monde . “I’m not like you, not like Mama. Papa understood my need to be different, to forge my own path. And I like to think there are other men out there, progressive enough to understand some of us need to break the mold, to show others they can aspire to… more.”

A hint of admiration reflected in Cornelius’s eyes. “I truly think London needs more women of your strength and conviction.” His smile held a tinge of sadness. “Let me think upon all that you’ve told me. Perhaps you might be what Hazelton needs after all. Only time will tell.”

As a matter of course, Annabelle did indeed visit the lending library. She borrowed two new books, one a Gothic novel that promised thrilling chills as well as a sentimental romance where there was always the promise of a happy ending, but it was on the street where fate once more intervened in her life, for as she flipped through the pages of one of the books, she ran bodily into a man on his way to the library. When she glanced upward into his face with a murmured apology on her lips, she gasped.

“Andrew!” If there was perhaps more feeling and welcome in the exclamation, she couldn’t help it, for she was heartily glad to see him. “How are you?”

“Well, but worried about you.” His gaze roved over her face and there was no mistaking the concern at the backs of his eyes.

Oh, dear. He’s thought about me? Warmth filled her chest, but even hotter awareness rippled along her skin. “Why?”

He lowered his voice. “A few days ago, I came home to an intruder in my house, who did harm to a few of my servants. During our altercation, he told me he wanted the necklace. Which means it’s only a matter of time before he realizes that you have it.”

Shock plowed through her chest. “Were you hurt?” Now that she looked closer, he had a fresh bruise on his face. Her fingers itched to trace it, to make certain he was well.

“Marginally, but perhaps you should give me the necklace, so you are out of harm’s way.”

“Which means an end to our relationship,” she said softly as cold disappointment circled through her belly. “I knew it was too good to be true.” To her horror, tears welled in her eyes. “Of course I’ll give it back to you, if you’ll be so good as to drive me home? I took a hack here.” How she would manage to keep herself composed during the trip through Mayfair, she didn’t know.

“Damn it all to hell,” he uttered in a low voice, but he put a gloved hand to the small of her back and guided her toward the street where his carriage waited not far done. “I refuse to believe this is the last I’ll see of you, and please don’t mistake my need for the necklace as a sign I don’t wish for anything else from you.”

When she once more stared upward into his face beyond the brim of her bonnet, caught the desire in his eyes which matched the molten need flowing through her veins, she gasped again. “Oh? What else do you need from me?” Dare she even ask?

For the space of a heartbeat, he stared as his steps slowed. Then he grinned, and it was this side of wicked. “What else do I need from you?” he asked in a barely audible voice as he ignored the pedestrian traffic around them. “Everything, but I’ll start with a kiss then go from there.”

She gripped the books so tightly in her hand the spines bit into the backs of her gloved fingers. “And if that kiss should ignite something scandalous?” There must not be any misunderstandings.

“Then it does.” His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before he met her gaze once more. “We shall discuss the ramifications of that later, but after the incident in Hyde Park, I have found life to be fragile and fleeting. I don’t want to know I could have made choices but didn’t out of fear or wanting to wait to see if my memories returned.”

“I rather think that way myself.” And she lost a tiny piece of her heart to him in that moment. “Lead on, my lord.” As her heartbeat tripped through her chest, she allowed him to guide her to his carriage.

There was no turning back, and she couldn’t help but feel she was one step closer to that glimmering future.