“So you have not seen her?” Lord Helmsley asked plaintively.
The Marquess raised his head enough to say, “I have not. If you find her, by all means have your way with her, and in the cold if that pleases you. But stop making a racket. Chances are, she’s returned to the house.”
“The cold does not pose an obstacle to you.”
A muscle in the Marquess’s jaw leaped. “Iam not deflowering a maiden, Helmsley. The difference is subtle, but it is there.”
Lord Helmsley made a sound like a curse and thankfully walked away. Annabelle held herself still, trembling, until he had finally strode away. Then she released a breath, relief mixing potently with the concoction of other emotions in her body.
The Marquess stepped away from her and frigid air rushed between them. He brushed a hand down his crumpled lapels. “I suppose this will add to the veracity of my story, although my valet will not be pleased.”
Annabelle’s mouth opened, then closed. She shivered.
He cut a cool glance at her. “You can thank me, you know. Before you return to the house.”
She fully intended to thank him, but what came out of her mouth was, “Could you not have headed him off sooner?”
“I might have if he hadn’t come so close. He would have seen you if I had so much as turned.” The next look he slanted at her was flat. “You might be surprised to hear this, little bird, but I have no intention of being caught with an unmarried lady.”
“Why, because you might be expected to marry her?” she demanded.
“Something like that.”
“Well, it’s lucky I have no intention of marrying, then.” She folded her arms. She still ought to thank him, but there was something about him that made her wary, the way she imagined she might feel when confronted with a panther. Unpredictable.
Hungry.
“How singular,” he murmured. “Your pursuer will be disappointed to learn that.”
“It’s a difficult thing to learn when the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk introduces me to scores of eligible gentlemen and implies I am an object to be bartered away,” she snapped, then flushed. She hadn’t intended to give so much of herself away, and she took a breath, trying to think about how to retract her statement. But, to her surprise, the Marquess laughed.
“My brother truly was barking up the wrong tree,” he said, a note of curling, ironic amusement threaded through his voice. “Alas.”
“Your brother?”
“I believe he danced with you once.”
“I remember.” How could she have forgotten? He was the first gentleman she had met that had shared her interests, and whom she had been marginally less vehemently against marrying.
Then he had died and she had been thrust back into the marriage mart with renewed force, as though the burden of the Marquess’s death fell on her shoulders.
She shivered as another chilly gust of wind snaked its way down the garden, and the Marquess looked down at her. “You should return to the house. Helmsley will probably be inside by now.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll wait out here a few more minutes. The last thing either of us needs is for anyone to see us entering the house together.” His gaze found hers in the darkness. “And remember, tell no one of this. Not even your sister.”
Annabelle had conveniently forgotten to tell Theo about that kiss they had shared three months prior; she would certainly not be telling her about this. “Believe me, I have no intention of telling anyone.”
“Good.” He stepped back, away from her. “Now go. And let us both hope I don’t find you alone again, little bird.”
The threat in his voice had her picking up her skirts. “For both our sakes,” she said over her shoulder. Then he was gone, lost to the shadows of the garden. And Annabelle, no less overwhelmed than she had been when she had fled from Lord Helmsley, spent altogether too long in the powder room before venturing out to find her sister.
Chapter Seven
A shriek rent the air. Annabelle, in the midst of buttering her bread, looked up in alarm. Theo was holding the newspaper to her face, eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared.
Annabelle took a moment to collect herself before responding. A week had passed since Lady Cavendish’s recital, and Annabelle had done her best to put it fully from her mind. Just as she had the way Lord Helmsley had touched her, and the way he had assumed she would accept his unwelcome caresses.
