Briefly. As in, before she was reminded that he was a stranger and she wasn’t supposed to be kissing anddefinitelywas not meant to be kissing him.
“He has not even sent flowers,” her mother said, and Annabelle recalled with a guilty jump that they were talking about her stranger’s brother. Hisbrother. A distinctly more gentlemanlike, polite, eligible man.
Who had not, notably, come to visit her. Or sent her flowers.
She did her level best not to prick herself with her needle as she applied herself to her embroidery again. “He has not,” she said calmly.
“But he seemedsovery determined to court you,” her mother said sadly.
“He danced with me once, Mama.” Annabelle was in a losing fight with her needle. “And you have at no point asked me ifIwished for him to court me. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“Of course you do, dear. He’s very eligible.”
Annabelle ground her teeth together and, battle lost, jabbed herself in the fleshy part of her thumb. She would have preferred to read, but her mother insisted that spending all day with her nose in her book was detrimental to a lady’s health.
Sometimes, spending time with her mother was almost enough to make her consider a husband.
Almost.
“I don’t want to be married,” she said.
Her mother sniffed. “Nonsense. All ladies wish to be married.”
“Not me.”
“That is only because you have given no gentleman thechanceto get to know you.” There was a distinct note of impatience in her mother’s voice. “If you did, you would understand the appeal. And the Marquess is very charming, I’ve heard.”
His charm, no doubt, was his fortune and title. Both of which, in her mother’s eyes, made up for any other deficiencies.
“I would rather be useful, Mama,” Annabelle said, “than married.”
“You would be useful as a wife.”
Annabelle glanced pleadingly at Theo, who was chewing her lip over a letter in the corner. “Do you think you are useful?” she asked Theo.
“Not at all,” Theo said brightly. “I leave all matters of managing a household to my housekeeper, and the only thing I ever do is plan parties and social events. But I’m happy, and I think that counts for something.”
“There you go,” her mother said. Annabelle cast Theo a dirty look, and Theo shrugged as though to sayit’s the truth. “You would be happy if you were married.”
“That’s not the lesson at all!” Annabelle said in exasperation. “Theo is happy because she has a man she loves.”
“Who is also a duke,” her mother said. “And a marquess is only one step down from a duke.” She frowned at her embroidery, and Annabelle stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking away the blood.
“Sorry,” Theo mouthed across the room.
“I hate you,” Annabelle mouthed back, and Theo grinned.
* * *
The constable that Rogers, Jacob’s valet, showed into the breakfast room was a man verging on middle age, with a shiny bald head and an officiously sympathetic expression. Jacob disliked him instantly.
His head ached. It was noon, but after his brother had left yesterday, he’d continued drinking until the early morning, at which point he’d passed out in the vicinity of his bedroom, and had crawled to bed at some later time. Now, he was barely functioning.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” the constable said.
Jacob winced and waved him to a chair. “No need to talk so loud.”
He frowned. “No, sir.”
