Chapter Thirty

After spending the remainder of the night at a coach house, posing as man and wife, they made the final leg of the journey to Kent. The closer they got, the more nervous Annabelle became. She fidgeted so much, he captured her hand with his own.

"If you're scared of what Henry will say, don't be." He gave a brief smile. "Louisa will have taken him well in hand. If anything, he will be the one grovelling for your forgiveness."

She gave a delicate snort. "Henry doesn't grovel."

"For Louisa, he might." Jacob had no doubt that part of Henry's dislike of him stemmed from the rumours that he and Louisa were lovers, and that, if nothing else, proved there were still lingering feelings between them. Add that to Louisa's disquiet when she had discovered Henry was returning to London—well, the conclusion was plain.

Not that Jacob had any intention of involving himself in their business. They could conduct themselves as they pleased so long as it did not hurt Annabelle.

The Shrewsbury house came into view, and Annabelle's grip on his hand tightened. "Did you write ahead to say we were coming?"

"No, but he knows I had every intention of coming back here once I found you."

As they pulled around the fountain to the front door, the door opened and Henry stepped through. Even Jacob could appreciate the man was not at his best: his stance was all military bearing, but his eyes were bloodshot and his cravat was creased.

"Oh, he's angry," Annabelle whispered. "I knew he would be angry."

"Peace, little bird. I shan't let anything happen to you."

"What about you?" She eyed the bruise on his cheek with more of that protective spirit he found so captivating. In all his life, no one had tried to take care of him. For all Louisa's friendship, even her idea of care was submerging him in cold water. Necessary, he granted, but it was not nearly as appealing as Annabelle's hot defence.

"If it devolves into fisticuffs, this time I will return the favour." The carriage came to a halt and he squeezed her hand before letting her go. "I doubt that will happen, however. Your brother will almost certainly be eager to make amends."

A footman opened the door, and Jacob descended first, nodding at Henry before turning to assist Annabelle. Thankfully, she looked perfectly presentable, and nothing about her appearance suggested he had taken her slowly in the dawn air that morning, his mouth on hers, her legs wrapped around him.

Henry released a shuddering breath at the sight of his sister. "Annabelle," he said, with such heartfelt relief, her eyes filled with tears. "I thought for certain something terrible had happened to you."

"Have some faith, brother," she said, dashing one gloved finger under her eye. "I can take care of myself."

Jacob resisted the urge to snort. Annabelle was many things, but she was not worldly wise, and he would not have wanted to know what might have happened to her if she had remained in that grimy inn.

Henry turned to him and gave a stiff bow. "Thank you for bringing her back. You have my gratitude."

The temptation to make a quip almost overcame Jacob, but he merely managed to nod once, curtly. "With respect, I did not do it for you."

Henry's answering nod was equally short. "I know."

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if you were friends?" Annabelle piped up, looking between them both. Jacob did his best not to rear back, and Henry concealed the horror that crossed his face with a cough.

The first thing they had been united in.

Jacob took Annabelle's hand and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. "You should really learn how to not push your luck," he murmured, giving her a look through his lashes that made her blush. "We will learn to tolerate each other, but don't ask for more."

"Even for me?" she asked hopefully.

Jacob groaned and broke away. "I'll make my way inside. Join me once you've had a chance to talk. You may tell him our news." As he passed Henry, he said too low for Annabelle to hear, "She needs an apology, Eyresham. Don't let her down."

As Jacob disappeared up the steps and into her childhood home, Annabelle switched her gaze back to Henry. He looked just as tired as Jacob had.

Because of her. With everything that had happened, she could not feel sorry that her absence had prompted Jacob into declaring feelings she had only ever guessed at, but she did regret making Henry worry. Whatever his methods, she knew it had come from a place of care.

"I'm sorry—" she started, but he held up a hand.

"This apology is mine to make," he said, and scrubbed that hand across his jaw. "I made a series of mistakes, and I made you feel as though you couldn't talk to me about how you felt, and although I do not condone your actions—running away is not the answer, believe me—I'm sorry you did not feel as though I would listen to you."

Any desire Annabelle had felt to rake her brother over hot coals vanished in a rush of sympathy. "I'm sorry you were worried. As soon as I was in my position, I intended to write to you and let you know of my safety. But there is something else I must inform you of."

Henry cleared his throat, his shoulders sinking with resignation. "I have a suspicion, little sister. You are engaged?"

Annabelle did her best not to beam too widely. "I am."

He heaved a breath and nodded to the gardens. "Would you do me the honour of walking with me?"

She accepted his arm and they walked slowly across the large lawn to the wild rose garden. Some had yet to bloom, but the soft perfume still hung in the air, and she took a deep breath. "Is Theo well?"

"Except for the fact the Dowager Duchess came to visit two days ago," Henry said wryly. "She heard about the end of your engagement with Barrington."

Oh no. That could only mean—

"Hardinge said you were convalescing with me," he said before the panic could settle too firmly on her. "He said you have pneumonia. It does mean you can't visit your sister until the Dowager leaves, but I'll let her know you're back and well."

This meant she would have to wait to be married again, but that was hardly too much of a hardship. Annabelle chewed her lip and nodded. "Does she know we are still engaged?"

"No, but I'll make sure she discovers it." Henry ran a hand through his hair. "Do you truly love him?"

"I do," she said simply. "I know you don't like him, but he has been nothing but kind to me."

"And that is why you did not want to marry anyone else?"

She spared him a sharp glance. "I never wanted to marry. And in particular not a man anyone else had chosen for me. You might think that marrying someone you don't love is part of your duty to this family, but it is not mine."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I would not ever have asked you to do something I would not do."

"And if you decide to marry a young lady for the sake of her money and your reputation, then that is your decision, but it was never mine."

He gave a short nod. "I only ever wanted the best for you, Annabelle."

"I know," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "But your best is not my best."

"Then," he said, heaving a sigh, "I hope you will be happy."

Annabelle could not stop the smile from spreading across her face. "Do you know, Henry, I believe I will."