Henry scowled, sitting a little too upright, his fists clenched. “I was doing what I thought best for my family and for her own happiness.”
“Then you should have been promoting the one marriage that would havemadeher happy.”
Henry looked faintly nauseated at the thought. “Barrington?”
“Who else has she been engaged to for all this time?” Louisa threw her hands into the air. “I’m dealing with a pair of idiots.”
“That’s all very well,” Jacob said, “but you can berate us another time. I need to go after her.”
Henry looked at him now, the anger drained from his face. The silence was uncomfortable, filled with a thousand things Jacob could say and none he wanted to give voice to.
“Good God,” Henry said after a long pause, his voice faint as he looked at Jacob. “Are you in love with her?”
“Of course he is,” Louisa said impatiently. “And she’s in love with him, only he’s too much of a damned idiot to ask her to marry him even though it’s the only thing that would make him happy, and from what I can tell, it’s the only thing that would make Annabelle happy, too.”
Henry looked between them with an expression of vague horror. Jacob glowered at them both. “Do something useful and tell me whether she took a maid. And I will need a horse.”
Louisa’s glare could have set fire to the upholstery. Henry looked as though he wanted to argue, but eventually said, “She did not take her maid. I only waited to ascertain the barest of essentials before setting off, but it seems she rode a horse into the village. We found it at the local inn.”
The foolish, foolish girl. Jacob nodded curtly. “I will find her.”
“I will come—”
“No,” Louisa said sharply. “You will remain here. The last I heard, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk is preparing to leave London, and you may be sure she will visit the Duke at Havercroft. She cannot know that Annabelle has fled. Spread the story that she has taken ill and is recuperating here.” Louisa raised her eyebrows. “You see how your presence is required. Jacob will find her.”
“But the impropriety,” Henry protested.
“I can be discreet,” Jacob said. “And I will ask her to marry me.”
“An enlightened conclusion,” Louisa said, her tone biting. “Did you come up with it all by yourself?”
“I might be a damned idiot, but you’re a damned harpy, Louisa. I pity the man who loves you.” He strode to the door and turned back to face them. “And Beaumont—you have probably guessed this by now, but Louisa and I aren’t lovers. Not even close. God help me if we were.”
With that, he left the room.
* * *
Curled up before the fire in a small inn parlour, Annabelle read and reread her application letter. She had little experience with these things, but Mrs Hampshire sounded nice, if a little busy, and she wished to give her daughters a lady’s education. That was one thing Annabelle was certain she could provide.
She had to find a position soon. Although she had a fair amount of pin money left, she could not remain here indefinitely, and she had no intention of returning to Havercroft only for Henry to drag her away again. And if the thought of entering a strange household as a governess made her stomach twist uncomfortably, that was just something she would have to get used to. A governess would not be expected to attend parties and make polite conversation with people she didn’t know. A governess would have a job to do, and no one would bother her so long as she did as she was asked.
Annabelle could do that.
A shudder ran through her and she pushed away her doubt. Leaving had been easier than she’d anticipated. After Henry had ordered her to return to London with him, she had left the house early the next morning. But instead of catching the stagecoach south, she had gone north towards York. She had been in this small inn for several days now; there was no chance that no one had discovered her missing, but hopefully Lady Bolton would be covering for her. At least until she reached her new employer and could send them all a letter explaining what she had done.
Five days away from home and she felt as though her future was finally unfolding. Not the future she had hoped for, admittedly, but better than marriage to a man she could not love.
She put her letter aside and picked up the book of sonnets. Really, she should have known better than to bring it, but when she had gone to leave it behind, her heart had given another pang, and she had been unable to let it sit there.
This book had been loved once. And she would love it now.
She had just begun rereading her favourites when the sound of a disruption reached her. The inn was a large, bustling one, and she was accustomed to the sound of coming and going after two nights in this place, but this was different. A scurrying subservience that made her skin prickle with anticipation. Closing her book, she rose and moved to the door, pressing her ear against it.
“A private parlour,” a familiar, drawling voice said. “And a meal, if you would.”
She shrank back from the door, eyes wide, her hands shaking.
Jacob.
