Then he thought of Cecil, and the idea soured. This was history repeating itself, and he was allowing himself to get caught in its allure the way he had before.
Never again. How many times had he sworn that to himself?
“Little bird,” he said, and half laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I break everything I touch. Get too close and—” He shook his head, blocking out the thought. “Come. Let me do your hair.”
“Is that a rule you have?” she asked in a quiet voice as he repinned her hair, unable to stop his fingers from lingering against the soft skin of her neck. “You only see a lady once?”
“No.” He stepped back, his work passable at first inspection. “Just you, Annabelle.”
She nodded, still staring at the wall. “I see.”
“In time, you will thank me.” Even ifhewould always look back on this day and wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t adhered to the one rule he had left.
Even if he would always, always regret not being her first.
“I’ll send for a cab,” he said, reaching for the bellpull. “And I will call in a few days, if your brother allows it.”
Her smile didn’t touch her eyes, and he wondered what else he had broken by, for the first time in his life, trying to be a better man.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hatchards was crowded as Annabelle and Henry walked through the door together. He had called earlier, suggesting he take her out, and she knew this was his idea of a peace offering. Not that he had directly apologised for the way he had responded to the news she was engaged—but he had offered to buy her a book. Under any other circumstance, she would have been delighted.
Now, she was barely able to concentrate on her brother as he made aimless conversation. Her thoughts were taken up with Jacob. What had happened the last time they had met. What he hadsaid.
You will be happier when you find another man. Better Cecil had lived and you had married him.
No doubt he hadn’t intended to hurt her, but after he had touched her so intimately—with hismouth—his words had sunk into her skin. Painful. Barbed. Visiting him had been reckless, a necessity of sorts after seeing him at the tavern boxing, and to have him use her so summarily and insist she leave before, she was sure, he had received any pleasure, had stung. If it hadn’t been for the darkness in his eyes, and the way he had kissed her after, with a touch of desperation he hadn’t given voice to, she would have felt used and discarded.
As it was, she could not help thinking he had some strange notion in his head that either she would regret going further, or that he would contrive to destroy her the way he had ruined Madeline.
Henry looked down at her in mingled exasperation and amusement. “Are you listening to me?”
She blinked, coming back into her body, aware once more of her surroundings—shelves of books, the smell of ink and paper. Young ladies clustered in giggling groups; a young boy being dragged sullenly around by his mother.
“Yes?” she hazarded.
He sighed and pinched his nose. “I understand if you’re still angry with me, but we should discuss this.”
“Discuss . . . what, exactly?”
“Your betrothed,” he said, levelling her a long look.
Well, thatwasa departure from life on the Continent, which was the last thing she’d registered him saying.
“Oh,” she said.
“Firstly, as you clearly didn’t hear me the first time, I wanted to apologise for my response to the news of your engagement.” He said the words a little unwillingly, and Annabelle wondered if Theo had prodded him into it. Or perhaps it was his sense of duty. He always had been a stickler for duty—right until he had argued with his father and taken off to war.
She glanced up, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Was he sleeping at all? He did not look like it.
“I was displeased,” he continued. An understatement. “His reputation is . . . unsavoury.” Also an understatement. “I was concerned you would be hurt.”
Annabelle paused by a particularly large copy ofThe Mysteries of Udolpho, one of Theo’s favourite books, and couldn’t resist running her finger down the spine. Without looking at her brother, she said, “Is that not my concern?”
“As your brother—”
“My engagement is none of your business.”
