Chapter Twenty-Five

"What do you mean you ended your engagement with the Marquess of Sunderland?" her mother demanded, hands on hips, feet planted in the middle of the drawing room. All four of them had arrived at Havercroft, Nathanial's ancestral seat, the previous day, and Theo still looked faintly green from the travelling.

"We were not well suited," Annabelle said with a calmness she didn't feel. At least Henry wasn't here; she didn't think she would be able to bear his vindication.

Her mother's jaw dropped. "But you were engaged. And may I remind you of the circumstances behind your engagement?"

"There is no need," Annabelle said, gritting her teeth.

Theo pushed Nathanial's restraining arm away and sat up straighter. "Anna, look at me," she said. "Was he cruel to you?"

"Cruel?" Annabelle didn't have to feign her astonishment. "No, he was—" Helping me to find my poise and confidence. Occasionally unspeakably kind. The only man I have ever wanted. "He was nice," she finished lamely.

"Never mind nice—he was a marquess." Her mother narrowed her eyes, and the familiar feeling of being too small swept over Annabelle. "You had no right."

"I had every right," Annabelle said.

Theo's eyes narrowed, and Annabelle had the uncomfortable impression she was seeing too much. She had lost her virtue and she feared it was written across her face.

"Do you dislike him?" Theo asked.

Annabelle tried to keep her expression blank. "No."

"Then why have you ended an engagement that had a good chance of saving you from ruin?"

"Because he never wished to marry me in the first place." And he still refuses to marry me. Her head ached.

"Did he talk you into ending it?" Nathanial asked, his voice tight with anger.

"No." Annabelle clasped her hands behind her back and clenched until her fingernails bit into her palm. "He didn't know I was going to do it until I sent him a note the day of our departure." She forced a smile. "The Season is almost at an end, and by late autumn people will have found new things to gossip about."

"It's true," Theo said. "It won't be so bad, Nate. It won't, Mama."

Annabelle kept her decision not to marry to herself. There was no point agitating her mother even more. Of everyone in the room, only Theo would have a chance of understanding, and she was somewhat distracted.

"Is there any way of reversing this?" her mother asked, apparently not listening to anything anyone else said.

"Unfortunately not," Theo said before Annabelle could. "There has been enough scandal around the engagement already. Like Anna said, we should let the rumours die of their own accord while we're in the country."

Their mother's eyes narrowed. "Very well. But come next Season, Annabelle, I will find you a husband."

Unfamiliar stubbornness bloomed in Annabelle's stomach. Her experience with Jacob had taught her two things: what it was like to want without reserve, and that it would never happen to her again. She sucked in a long, deep breath and escaped through the side doors onto the lawn.

The garden at Havercroft was an ambitious affair. The kitchen gardens were growing enough vegetables to feed an army, the grand lawn was interrupted by hedges cut into intricate patterns, and there was a walled lavender garden where bees congregated with a low hum.

Annabelle's favourite part of the garden, however, was the wilderness that adjoined the lawn. There, wildflowers were allowed to spring up with abandon, and benches were placed along small, enclosed walkways, and—her favourite—there was a swing attached to the bough of a great tree.

When she and Theo had been younger, they had come out here with Nathanial to play on this swing, laughing when he pushed them too hard. Annabelle had fallen off, once, and Theo had yelled in his face.

Now, Annabelle perched on the swing and let the toe of one slipper graze the grass underneath as she looked out across the rolling English countryside. Already, it promised to be a hot summer.

A year had changed so much. Theo was married and with child, and Annabelle finally knew what she wanted. She had finally discovered what it was to breathlessly want someone, and that had merely solidified her desire not to marry. A year ago, her decision to remain unwed was because she didn't want a man.

Now she wanted the wrong one.

She had not known love could hurt that much.

She did not even know when she had begun to love him; she had landed before she had ever known she was falling. But if he would not marry her, she could not marry another. There was no other man who could take his place.

Better she leave and make her own way in the world. Henry was right: she could not remain living off the charity of others, but that was a bridge she would cross when she came to it. For now, Theo needed her and she would for the foreseeable future. Later, she would decide on her course of action. A governess, perhaps. She could play the pianoforte, she could sing, she could paint, and she was the younger daughter of an earl; if she needed to find work as a governess, she was certain she could. Yes, it was not the done thing, and it wouldn't be easy, but she could do it.

She would do it.

And somehow she would contrive to forget Jacob.

With nothing better to do with her time, Annabelle read through Nathanial's library. Her days passed within the pages of one book or another, and by the time a month had gone by, she had finished all the novels she could find—which were sadly few. She was reading an uninspiring tome about duck husbandry on the swing when she heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Henry approaching, his hat in his hands.

"Henry," she said in surprise, shutting the book with some small relief. Theo was sleeping and the duck book was better than nothing, but any distraction was welcome. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I arrived a few minutes ago. I found I had some business on the estate and so I thought I would drop by." He nodded at the swing. "Do you remember we used to play here as children?"

"You mean you and Nathanial used to run off and play, and left us at home to trail after you?"

He rubbed his chin, which had a slight graze of stubble. "I suppose I do."

"You pushed me off when I was six," she mused. He had been sixteen and lanky then, not having grown into the man he'd become.

"I was a brat back then. But I picked you up and brushed you down and apologised."

"That's only because you were worried I would run to Mama."

"Well, was I right?"

She conceded the point with a slight smile, and tilted her head. "The fault is yours for pushing me off in the first place."

"I'll accept that." He leant against the tree and looked at her with those weary eyes. "I heard you ended your engagement with Jacob Barrington. My congratulations."

And the peace of the moment was dashed. Annabelle glanced at her book, wondering if it would be rude to openly ignore him. Unfortunately, she concluded, it would be.

"It's hardly something to congratulate," she said. "And if you have come here to gloat, you may leave. I have no interest in discussing my former engagement with you."

"Anna, I wouldn't gloat." He sounded a little hurt. "You know I just want the best for you."

If Jacob had wanted her, he would have been the best for her. Or at least, the only thing she wanted, and she could not find a difference between the two.

"The Season is not yet over, and Theo's child is not yet born," Henry continued. "I came here to request you come back to London with me. We still have a month or two left, and I have a few friends I would like to introduce you to. If you marry before the Season ends—"

Annabelle held up a hand, slipping off the swing, her feet landing on dusty ground, the grass having been scraped away. It was June; the sun was hot and the days long. "You want me to marry one of your friends? That is your grand plan?"

A muscle in his jaw worked. "I have mentioned them before. They are scholarly and kind and would treat you well, and if you were married, your future would be assured."

"I have already mentioned I have no wish to marry."

He made an impatient gesture. "And what, Anna? Have you truly thought this through? Theo and Nathanial are forming a family of their own. Perhaps you can look after the children, but they will employ a nanny for that. And think of the scandal if you remain unmarried. Yes, I am prepared to support you, but you need to help me. I'm trying to save us all. Do you realise how close to ruin we are?"

"And marrying me off is going to solve that?"

"It will certainly help. I will take other measures."

"Such as marrying someone yourself?"

He held her gaze. "That is certainly a consideration."

Shivering despite the warm air, she crossed her arms. "And what if I don't love him? This man you've selected."

A dark expression crossed Henry's face, too fast for her to read. "Marriage is not always about love. Sometimes it is about security."

"I don't want security if it comes with misery."

"Perhaps you don't understand the reality of our situation, Anna." He blew out a frustrated breath and began to pace. "Thus far we have stayed afloat because of Nathanial's generosity, but that cannot continue. We must find ways of standing on our own two feet and making our own way in the world."

"I see, and I am the sacrifice to your ambitions?"

His eyes glinted with anger. "You will thank me when you are old enough to understand just what a precarious position you are in, and how our reputation must suffer as a result."

Guilt pressed into her, but she kept her head high, the sting of tears in her nose. "I don't want to go back to London, Henry. And I don't want to be passed around your friends until one of them decides Nathanial's dowry is worth his time."

"Passed around my friends?" He snorted. "If you hate him, there is no obligation to marry, but as it happens I think you will like him. He is bookish like you, and he has a kind heart. Do you think I would commit your future to any less of a man?"

"Well how should I know?" She threw up her hands, furious at both him and herself. "You come back from the war a stranger and demand I marry a man of your choosing merely because he is bookish."

"I had not thought you would be so choosy," Henry said coldly. "After all, you consented to marry Jacob Barrington."

"Yes, and he treated me well." I loved him.

"If that is what you consider goodness, then you will have no problem with marrying a man far superior in character."

Annabelle stared at her brother, who was now a stranger, a man she barely recognised. "Who are you?"

"I am your brother and the head of this household, and I am trying to save us all." He slammed his hand against the trunk of the tree. "You will accompany me to London tomorrow and you will do my friends the honour of meeting them."

London, to where Jacob was. To meet a man she had no intention of marrying. But if her brother was this determined to see her married—an aim shared by her mother and the Dowager Duchess, she was sure—then her refusal would hardly be taken seriously.

"And if I refuse?" she asked quietly.

His mouth pressed into a hard line. "I will request for your things to be packed tonight."

Annabelle sucked in a breath, but Henry's expression did not ease as he turned and strode back to the house. Her thoughts churned and her fists clenched. If this was how he was going to be, then he left her with no choice.

She would make her own way in the world. And she would leave that night.