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“It should, the man’s made a name for himself with a home that’s no more than a bloody museum. My wife is enamored with his vases of course.” Lord Stanton stiffened and Ian turned to see what had caused the frown to crease his new acquaintance’s features. A man stood conversing with Belle and Lady Stanton.
Belle’s eyes were illuminated with interest as she listened to whatever it was the man was saying. Ian and Lord Stanton moved toward the ladies in one accord.
When he reached Belle, Ian pulled her into his side and held her there with a hand planted firmly around her waist. Lord Stanton took a position between his wife and the newcomer.
The newcomer’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Annabelle, won’t you introduce me to your escort?” His voice came out in a nasally whine that grated on Ian’s temper.
Belle, who had been trying to extricate herself from Ian’s grasp, gave up and made the introductions.
The squire bowed formally. “Graenfrae.”
Ian frowned at the familiar address and would have ignored the squire, but Belle jabbed him in the ribs. He grunted.
He inclined his head. “Squire.”
The squire turned toward Lord Stanton and greeted him. “I was just telling your lovely lady about some vases I saw at an auction on Marle Street.” Lord Stanton gave the squire a less than friendly look. “Thank you.”
“We’ll have to go directly there,” his wife breathed, “I don’t want someone else to get to them first.”
“Yes, dear, of course.”
Ian felt sorry for the harried husband. He doubted very much that Lord Stanton shared his wife’s sentiments. Squire Renton was aware of that fact as well if his look of satisfied malice was any indication.
Belle squirmed so she could face him when she spoke. “The squire was giving us a most interesting lecture on this set of carvings. He is truly a man of varied interests and knowledge.”
The squire smirked at Ian before bowing toward Belle. “You are too kind, dear lady, too kind.”
The approval in Belle’s voice for the other man twisted Ian’s insides. “’Tis time to meet your brother and Lady Hamilton. Come, Belle.” Her eyes opened wide. “I’m sure you are mistaken. It could not possibly have been an hour.”
He didn’t bother to answer, but continued to guide her toward the door. She twisted against him. “We should at least invite the squire to join us for tea.” Quickening her steps to keep up with him, she panted, “Ian, you are being rude.”
“The squire came to look at the display, Belle, not have tea with us.”
“Well, yes, I suppose you are right, but we should have asked.” They were in the outer corridor now.
Ian stopped and glared down at her. “Why? Do ye wish to sit and discuss the man’s varied interests?”
She moved a step away from him. Belle stared up at him. Ian grew uncomfortable under her gaze.
“You’re jealous,” she accused.
“Dinna be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. You are jealous. Surely you cannot believe that I find Squire Renton more interesting than I do you.” The disbelief in her voice went a long way toward soothing his raging emotions.
“If you find me so interesting than why are ye refusing to marry me?” The woman was so full of contradictions, he doubted he would ever understand her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “We agreed to discuss this tomorrow. Besides, one has nothing to do with the other.” She turned and headed toward another hallway.
“Let’s find my brother and Diana.”
* * *
Annabelle paced her bedroom, waiting for Ian to arrive. He had reminded her in no uncertain terms to be ready for their drive today. He wanted to discuss their future and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Wringing her hands, she sat down on the white coverlet of her bed.
Reminding herself that she was an independent woman of the nineteenth century did nothing to settle the mass of butterflies that had taken up residence inside. Drat the man.
Could he not just accept that she would not marry without love?
No, of course, he could not. Did she truly want him to?
No. She wanted him to fall in love with her, just as she had with him.
The truth would not be denied. She loved Ian and doubted she would ever love another. He understood her even when she didn’t understand herself. He had proven that in the carriage when he had brought her body such pleasure. She could have felt like a complete wanton. He had made her feel lovely, not cheap.
She twisted her fan, nearly breaking it. What was she going to do? If she refused Ian again, he might give up and pursue someone else. Her heart rebelled at the idea while her mind accepted that it was a possibility. If she accepted his offer and he never came to love her, she feared that her life ahead would be filled with misery. Her heart cried that it would be worse misery to live without him.
She was not altogether certain that her heart was wrong.
The door to her room burst open and she looked up, startled to see her sister-in-law.
Diana’s face was devoid of color and her eyes flew wildly around the room. Her normally perfect coiffure showed signs of agitated tugging. Wisps of hair floated around her face and her gown was crushed at the sides as if she had been gripping it in her fists.
Annabelle rushed to Diana’s side. “What is the matter?” Tears welled in the other woman’s eyes and slid unrestrained down her pale cheeks.
“I c-can’t bear it, Annabelle. You must help me.” Putting her arms around Diana, Annabelle tugged her toward the window seat.
“Certainly. You have only to tell me.”
Diana sank onto the window seat. “I-I… This man came and… Your brother…” Unable to finish a complete thought, Diana thrust a crumpled up piece of paper at Annabelle. “Read this.”
Annabelle scanned the note.
Lady Hamilton,
Meet me today at Gunther’s with one-hundred pounds or I’ll be forced to share my grandmother’s letters with your “friends” in the ton. Meet me at 3 p.m. with the money, or your husband will learn all.
Most Sincerely,
Your Cousin, Chester P. Thorn.
She would have laughed at its ludicrously overdramatic tone if Diana had not been so upset. “This is obviously the work of a lunatic. There is nothing here to concern you.” Diana shook her head wildly from side to side. “Oh, but there is.” Pulling another folded sheet from her reticule, she handed it to Annabelle.
Annabelle unfolded the paper and saw that it was a love letter from Diana?
?s grandfather to a woman clearly of the demi-rep set.
Diana’s tears were falling in earnest now. “Isn’t it awful? Oh, what shall I do?” She wailed the last question.
Annabelle stood up and rang her maid for some wine. When Purdy brought it, Annabelle dismissed her without letting her into the room to see Diana’s overwrought condition. She went back to her friend and forced a glass of wine into Diana’s hands.
“Drink this.”
Diana nodded her head like a child and took a sip of the wine.
“Start at the beginning and tell me all,” Annabelle said.
Annabelle’s insides churned with anger as her friend told her about meeting a man at the theater who threatened her with exposing the old scandal.
“And he wants me to meet him this afternoon. I don’t have a hundred pounds. I’ve spent most of my allowance on shopping.” She let out a long breath. “He even told me to sell my wedding pearls if I couldn’t come up with the money on my own.”
“The first thing we’ll have to do is tell Robert.” Diana grabbed Annabelle’s shoulders in a painful grip. “No, we mustn’t. It would devastate him. I could not stand it. Please, Annabelle, you must promise me that you won’t tell him.”
Annabelle gave up on telling Robert for the moment in lieu of getting more information. “Tell me more about the letters.”
“My grandfather had a peccadillo with this creature’s grandmother and evidently, Mr. Thorn’s mother was the result. He claims to have several love letters from my grandfather written to his grandmother,” Diana said.
Annabelle patted Diana’s arm. “I still think the best course of action would be to tell Robert and he will take care of this odious person. It is not the end of the world. Many gentlemen of the ton have had similar peccadilloes. Your grandfather was certainly not alone in his sin.”
“You don’t understand, Annabelle. Your brother must never find out about this. He is so proper and reputation is so very important to him. He would lose all respect for me.” Diana’s wooden tone worried Annabelle far more than her tears had done.
