The way he hadassumedshe had gone into the garden to be clandestinely with him.
Her blood boiled every time she thought about that.
But he had not called on her since then, and she had every hope that his inability to find her had resulted in him losing interest. She had slipped back inside the house and spent an inordinate amount of time in the washroom, staring at her flushed reflection in the mirror and trying to remember what had happened to the person she had been before the Marquess of Sunderland had put his hands on her.
In the time that had passed, she had thought she had got away with her indiscretion.
Theo looked at her in shock, however, that made Annabelle wonder if news had finally come out. Her hands shook and she closed them around her knife. “What is it?”
“Have you seen this?” Theo thrust the paper at Annabelle, who scanned the announcements. Once, then again.
Lord Shrewsbury,the fourth Earl of Shrewsbury, and his wife, Lady Shrewsbury, announce the engagement of their daughter, Lady Annabelle Beaumont, to Lord Sunderland, the sixth Marquess of Sunderland.
There was no marriage date mentioned.
For five long seconds, she was speechless.
Surely this had to be a mistake of some kind. Someone had printed her name beside his in error. She could not beengaged. The Marquess had not so much as asked her—and although she was no expert on the matter, she did think a proposal was a requirement for an engagement.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. I am not engaged.” With the words came all her memories ofthat night, and she cleared her throat to block them out. “I barely even know him. This has to be a mistake.”
“InThe Times?” Theo clucked her tongue. “Unlikely, I think.”
“But how can this be real? I amnotengaged, Theo!”
“Perhaps he thinks you are?” Theo suggested. “Or perhaps Mama does.” Theo paused as though gathering her thoughts, and Annabelle tried to force her shock into a smaller, more manageable ball. “Or, perhaps, Mama hoped to hurry things along and took matters into her own hands?”
Annabelle felt as though she could not take any more blows. Her head pounded. “You mean she may have sent an announcement to the newspaper to encourage the Marquess to propose to me?”
“Well, itreadsas though it is from the parents of the bride, and that is tradition, you know. And sheiskeen to get you married.” Theo made a noise akin to a scream and threw her napkin to the table. “WhereisNate? Of all days to be late to breakfast.”
Annabelle cast a glance at the clock. It was not yet ten, and Nathanial did not like an early breakfast, especially when they’d been at a function the night before. “What do I do?” she asked faintly. “I won’t marry him.”
“Barrington?” Theo shuddered. “I should think not.Iheard he killed a highwayman in cold blood andleft his body on the road.”
Annabelle thought back to the prowling, roiling energy about the Marquess. Yes, she could believe it, and the thought made her blood ice in her veins. “I won’t do it,” she repeated.
Velvet darkness, his hand on her waist, his lips grazing her ear. Hot breath and burning skin and that heady, endless sensation of being wanted.
No. She most certainly could not marry him.
Nathanial pushed open the door of the morning room and yawned. “What has happened so early in the morning to cause such a ruckus?” he asked as he took his place at the head of the table. “I could hear you at the other end of the hall.”
“Someonehas put an announcement inThe Timesof the engagement of Annabelle’s forthcoming marriage to Lord Sunderland!” Theo said, snatching the paper from Annabelle and shaking it.
Nathanial blinked. “An announcement of their engagement?”
“Were you not listening? Yes. And it’s written as though Mama and Papa are announcing it, though I hardly know why they would. Well,” Theo amended. “I doubt Papa had anything to do with it.”
But why the Marquess of all people? That was the point Annabelle could not move past. Coming a week after their clandestine meeting in the garden, no matter how innocent, it felt as though it must be connected, but she could not seehow.
“Intriguing,” Nathanial murmured, reading the paper. “It is a good thing my mother is indisposed.” He looked back up at Theo. “You think your mother did this?”
“Well who else? Think, Nathanial. If Anna married Lord Sunderland, Mama would have one daughter married to a duke and the other to a marquess. That has always been her dream.”
“While I’m flattered to have played a role in her machinations,” Nathanial said, half distractedly, “I feel I must remind you that I proposed to you unprompted.”
“And a terrible proposal it was too, but that’s not thepoint, Nate.” Theo turned to face Annabelle again. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”
