Therefore, I am prepared to bed him. To get him out of my thoughts. To purge him from my desires. After all, I am not going to stay in Trescott forever. Soonenough, I will return to London where I belong and leave Mr. Perry to keep an eye on the estate and send me reports.
I never wanted to return to Trescott and only did so out of spite. To show my father and Mr. Perry and the village itself that I could run the estate better than my father ever had. That I was not broken by what happened to me here.
Thus, I am done with pretenses. I am not going to play anymore games. This time, I want no distractions.
Chapter 14
Annabelle
On Sunday evening, long after he would be done with his Church duties, I send for him.
Of course, my servants can hardly be trusted to be discreet, which makes the matter of getting him into my bedchamber one of delicacy. After he defended me, it would not be fair to ruin him.
Indeed, I have begun to think that his public ruin is not necessary. I can enjoy the man and then dismiss him—but leave him to find a post elsewhere. He needn’t be publicly disgraced.
So I give all of my house the evening off. Half are now in the tavern and the other half in the cottages with their families.
Therefore, I am practically alone in the house when Alfred is shown into the drawing room by the only servant that I kept back, the footman-in-training, a boy of twelve who won’t suspect nor care about my relationship with the vicar.
“Good evening, Miss de Lacey,” Alfred says once the boy leaves.
“I told you to call me Annabelle. And I expect you to obey me.”
He is wearing his usual long coat and trousers. His curling hair and green eyes stand out vividly against his dark clothes and the background of the somber drawing room.
He gives a small smile.
“Good evening, Annabelle.”
He should not be smiling. I am about to ravage him and he looks at me like I am his sweetheart.
I cannot bear it.
I stand. “Good evening, Alfred. Come with me.”
He raises his eyebrows, but he does not question me.
I lead him out of the drawing room and towards the stairs. It is dark and the empty hallways are dim and shadowy. I draw him up two flights and then into my bedchamber.
An oil lamp and candles illuminate the space space. It is grand, of course, like everything else at the Abbey, but it carries almost no personal significance to me. It has a few books, my robe, and my clothes in the bureau. It is not the chamber I used as a girl. There, I never go.
He turns towards me.
“I know that you have no choice but to be here, Mr. Saintsbury?—”
“Alfred,” he says softly. “You know I like when you use my name.”
Warmth runs through me. I hate myself for it.
“I also know you have never done this before,” I continue, ignoring his entreaty. “I will be gentle with you. You must tell me if it becomes too much.”
He frowns in response.
“It is not my flesh I worry for.”
“Still. I do not want to hurt you.”
“I do have one request.”
