“You had no idea of my intentions, seeing as you at no point stopped to ask.”
Annabelle rose too, putting her hand on Jacob’s arm, and Theo stepped between them before it could turn into a confrontation. She’d never seen Jacob so angry; even when he had been furious at her, it was different.
“You should have told someone, ma’am,” Theo said as Annabelle pleaded silently with Jacob not to cause a fuss. He glanced down at her like he had forgotten she was there, rage a roiling storm on his face. For one dreadful moment, she thought he would lose himself to his anger, but his expression softened a shade as he looked at her, and she was able to guide him down.
“Perhaps I would have done,” the Dowager said, “if it weren’t for that dreadful illness. It was all I could do to write toThe Timesand ask for an announcement to be placed.”
“And you could not, in that moment, have written to us too?” Jacob enquired coldly. “Instead of forcing us to wonder.”
“I had intended to call and deliver the news and my intention personally,” she said, eyes narrowed at him. “I had not thought you would find yourself quite so put out at the prospect of marrying the richest heiress in London.”
Annabelle wanted to close her eyes. Once again, her value was attached to her money. The only thing she had to offer a prospective husband, even according to a member of her extended family, was her dowry.
“It is not the lady I object to,” Jacob said, his voice flat. “It was the manner by which I discovered I was engaged to her without so much as approaching her father.”
“Thenthatfault lies in you.”
“I was not aware such a rumour existed.”
“Would anyone like some tea?” Theo asked desperately. “I believe the cook has made some fruitcake.”
Jacob’s narrowed gaze never left the Dowager’s face. “If you had concerns about my honour, you should have expressed them to my face.”
She tutted. “I am aware of your reputation, boy. I needed to ensure you would not ruin my granddaughter by any means necessary. Shemusthave a husband, and asyouwere the one to ruin her, it must be you.”
“Your Grace!” Theo said forcefully, looking at Annabelle, who knew she was flushing. Her face burned and she had every desire to sink between the sofa cushions and never emerge. “There’s no need to use such language around my sister.”
“Then she should know better than to consort with rakes in darkened gardens,” the Dowager said dismissively. “It seems nothing we tried to teach her about decorum has stuck. And thus even Lord Sunderland is better than no husband at all, which is what would happen if they were not engaged.”
Jacob’s thigh shifted closer to Annabelle’s. “If you had taken the time to enquire what had happened, you might have discovered that the situation was not as you thought.”
“It does not matter what the situation was.” The Dowager waved a dismissive hand. “All that matters is what peoplethinkit is.” She directed her beady gaze at Annabelle, who shrank back. “I hope you have an engagement ball planned. If not, I will be happy to organise one.” She made an impatient noise. “Don’t look so terrified, Annabelle. An engagement ball will be good practise for when you’re a marchioness. You will need to learn how to conduct yourself in Society without looking as though you’re about to faint.”
“I beg you will not speak to my future wife in that manner,” Jacob said, still with that awful ice in his voice.
Theo motioned with her hands behind her back, clearly indicating that they should leave.
Annabelle had never wanted to leave a place so badly in her life.
“Excuse me,” Jacob said, and stood. “I have just recalled an urgent engagement that requires my immediate attention.” He bowed and strode from the room. Annabelle mumbled something about escorting him out and followed. As soon as the door closed behind them, he caught her hand and tugged her into the first room they came across: a small closet used for storing cleaning supplies. A mop tumbled across his shoulder as he closed the door on them, casting them into darkness.
Annabelle’s heartbeat shook her entire body. She looked up at where she knew his face to be, so far above her own that he would have to lean down to kiss her.
No, she should not be thinking about kissing. Except his body was dangerously close to hers, sending her alight and forcing her to remember what had happened the last time they had been like this, lined up, his heat soaking into her like a warm bath, and his breath fanning over her face.
“Jacob?” she whispered, and he jolted. His hand found her waist, spanning it almost entirely, fingers tightening until they dug in. He didn’t draw her closer, but he didn’t push her away, either.
“Did you know?” he asked in a low, angry voice.
“Of course not! She has been trying to marry me off for months, but I never suspected . . .” Her voice trailed away. “I know you’re angry, but—”
“Angry? I’m furious.” He leant closer, and although she couldn’t see him, she could sense his proximity. Every muscle in her body tightened in wild, helpless anticipation.
“Jacob,” she whispered again.
“I take it back. I don’t want you saying my name.”
“Why?”
