“A little to the left,” Lady Bolton said, cocking her head as she examined the angles. “Higher. Higher—there. Perfect.”
“A Lady Annabelle here to see you, ma’am,” the butler said.
“Lady Annabelle?” Lady Bolton whirled so fast her skirts tangled around her legs, and Annabelle had a glimpse of wide hazel eyes before her expression settled into a smile. “Goodness, my dear,” she said, advancing with her hand outstretched. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“I need to speak with you,” Annabelle burst out.
Lady Bolton took one look at Annabelle’s face and took charge of the situation. “That positioning is excellent,” she informed her footmen. “Ralph, have some tea sent up to my dressing room. I have a few dresses I would like to show Lady Annabelle.”
The butler bowed. “Of course, my lady.”
“Come,” Lady Bolton said to Annabelle, leading the way through the house and up the stairs until they reached her large and extensive dressing room. The moment the door closed behind them, she sank onto the couch and motioned for Annabelle to do the same.
“Well?” she asked. “What is so urgent that you have come here at this time?” Her eyebrows rose. “And alone?”
“Is it true Jacob seduced his brother’s betrothed and her father disowned her?”
Lady Bolton stiffened. “Who told you that?”
“Then it’s true?” Annabelle wrung her hands together. “I hadn’t thought him capable of that.”
Lady Bolton’s eyes softened as she looked at her. “That’s not entirely the full story. But I’m not the one to tell you the particulars. Let us just say, it does not have a happy ending, and Jacob cut himself off from the world ever since. I met him shortly after, and I had never encountered a man so broken.”
“But—” Annabelle bit her lip, doing her best to hold herself together in the presence of a lady who struck her as always being together. “Hisbrother’sbetrothed?”
“That was unfortunate,” Lady Bolton agreed. “And a poor decision on his part. I believe it began precisely how you’re wondering. He and Cecil . . .” She sighed. “Has he ever spoken to you about his upbringing or family?”
Annabelle shook her head. “Only that he despises his family and everything they stand for.” Annoyingly vague—she was not sure what to make of it.
“I suppose that is the long and short of it, although even I don’t know the full story. From what I understand, his childhood was not precisely . . . happy.” Her face took on a distant look, and Annabelle wondered what could have been so terrible that Jacob hated his family name even when the rest of them were dead. “His father in particular was . . . cruel to him. Well, I believe he was a cruel man to begin with, and there were some questions surrounding Jacob’s legitimacy.”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “You mean he thought Jacob wasn’t his?”
“The black sheep in more than one sense. You perhaps recall how Cecil was fair? The rest of the family were fair, and Jacob has never been.” She shook her head, and there was sorrow at the corners of his mouth. “As for Cecil—you can imagine how he was treated in comparison. There were enough misunderstandings between them to fill a book. I believe Cecil would have been a decent man if he were not taught to be proud and cosseted. Jacob was taught to be wild and resentful. It’s hardly surprising the two never saw eye to eye.”
“But that doesn’t explain why Jacob set out to seduce his brother’s betrothed,” Annabelle whispered, even as she felt a pang of sympathy. Her upbringing had never been precisely easy as the younger, shyer,lessersister, but she’d always had Theo in her corner. When she didn’t have a voice, Theo spoke for her.
Probably because I’ve never been taught to respect my opinions.
The sound of Jacob’s voice pounded around her head. The odd way he had spoken, free from his usual smirk or lazy, wicked smile, had seemed almost surprising at the time, but now she understood it.
“I know it must seem strange to you,” Lady Bolton said. “But there was no love lost between them, especially then, and Cecil wasn’t marrying for love. He had recently inherited the title and Jacob was left with nothing, of course, and Jacob . . .” Lady Bolton lifted an elegant shoulder in a shrug, and they were interrupted by the tea. “Thank you, Maria. That will be all.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy and left the room again. Annabelle stared at the tea set blindly, trying to put the events of Jacob’s life into an order that made sense. He had intended to hurt his brother by taking something that was his, but by the sounds of it, he had been the one hurt.
“You must ask him the rest of the story,” Lady Bolton said, pouring the tea. “Believe me when I say it is not my story to tell. Nor, I suppose, do I know all the details.”
“Thetondiscovered it, presumably.”
“There were rumours, although no one knew the details, as I say. But Jacob’s reputation was set then, and he decided that was how he was content to be known.”
Annabelle shook her head, hands trembling as she took a sip of her tea. “This girl,” she said quietly, “did he love her?”
Lady Bolton gave her a long look for a moment, her brows pulling together as she considered. “What do you think?”
If he were alive now, he would be the man I would choose.
I assure you, you would not be the first.
