“You do, Annabelle. Of course you do. I would never force you into a marriage you don’t want, no matter the circumstances.”
Another humorless laugh. She stepped toward him, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. “Spoken just like a man.Youhave a choice. You could leave me and my reputation in tatters. I’ve seen what scandals like this do to women. I’d be an outcast. Mama and Beau would be treated like vermin. I have no choice.”
David hung his head. “I’m sorry it has to be like this.”
Annabelle’s voice was filled with anger. “I suppose next you’ll tell me if this had happened in Brighton, it would be different. Brighton doesn’t have the strict rules of theton. Go on. Tell me.”
David shook his head. “I’ve nothing to say. The truth is, if I’d been discovered in your bedchamber in Brighton, we’d be planning a wedding right now also. Only the archbishop wouldn’t be involved and there’d be longer to wait.”
Annabelle turned away from him and moved toward the window. Her voice was low and came through clenched teeth. “I want to make something quite clear. We shall be married in name only. You willnotown my body and you willnotown me!”
* * *
The door shut behind David,and Annabelle turned to the empty room with tears welling in her eyes. Her entire body was shaking. She wrapped her arms around her middle. He hadn’t said a word. She had just told him they’d be married in name only, and he hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t argued with her, hadn’t asked her why. Was that because he had no intention of living that way, or was he so filled with guilt he didn’t want to argue with her at the moment? She had no way of knowing, but she did know one thing…he would not harm her. She would not allow it. And if he didn’t touch her, if they weren’t intimate, she would not give him children whom he could ever hurt, either.
Annabelle walked to her bed on legs that felt like water and nearly collapsed atop it. The situation they were in was not entirely David’s fault. She knew that. She shouldn’t have played such a dangerous game with her body and her emotions, let alone his. But ever since she’d heard Lady Elspeth’s shriek in the corridor, Annabelle had been racked with soul-numbing fear. It had invaded her entire body, leaving her numb and shaky. First, she’d been fearful that a scandal would ensue. Then, when everyone had come running, that fear had been replaced by the prospect of being an outcast from the only Society she’d known. Later, when she’d been huddled in bed with Mama stroking her head and telling her everything would be all right, Annabelle had been afraid there was no way out of getting married. And late this morning, after she’d nearly turned into a puddle going through almost every possible emotion, she’d been afraid that she might actuallywantto marry David. And that was the most frightening thought of them all.
But when David had come to the door this afternoon and demanded to see her, the overwhelming fear that had been coursing through her for hours and hours had turned immediately into white-hot anger. He didn’t even necessarily deserve her anger, but she hadn’t been able to control it. All the fears she’d pushed aside since childhood had turned to rage and come roiling through her body and out her mouth, demanding that David agree to a marriage in name only so she wouldn’t have to be petrified of the future.
Sobs racked her body, and she buried her face in the mattress. She was weak. As all cowards were. Instead of telling him she felt something for him—instead of telling him she just might love him, even—she’d lashed out at him and blamed him for their predicament. Oh, she was the worst sort of coward. She wasn’t even brave enough to tell the truth.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Iwouldn’t blame you if you call me out, Bell,” David said later that afternoon as he sat in a large leather chair in the study. David was nursing a brandy and spinning the glass around on the desktop in front of him. He’d asked the other men to give them their privacy. This conversation between himself and Bell was overdue. “Though I must say in Brighton, a solid beating is much more expedient,” David continued. “We don’t do this ‘calling out’ nonsense. Far too formal. If you want to meet me out on the lawn for fisticuffs, however, I’ll gladly—”
“Call you out? For what?” Bell was drinking a cup of tea as if they were at afternoon garden party, for Christ’s sake, instead of in the middle of a bloody catastrophe.
David widened his eyes and stared at the marquess as if he’d lost his mind. “Ruining your sister? Remember?”
Bell threw back his head and laughed. “You didn’t ruin her. You’re marrying her. Mother is thrilled, by the by.”
David tossed back the remainder of the contents in his glass and stood to walk over to the sideboard and pour himself another. “Well, that makes one person in your family who’s thrilled. Annabelle certainly isn’t.”
Bell frowned. “What gives you that idea? I assumed she was partial to you, or she wouldn’t have been,ahem, doing whatever you two were doing that necessitates the wedding.”
David shook his head. “Partial, perhaps. But wanting to marry, never.”
Bell shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Frankly, neither do I. Have you ever wondered why your sister has refused all offers of marriage?” David replied.
“I’ve wondered, but according to Annabelle, she simply hadn’t met the chap she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.”
“I’m not certain that chap exists,” David replied.
Bell frowned again. “What do you mean?”
“Your sister has told me time and again that she’s singularly uninterested in marriage. She wasn’t planning to marry Murdock, and she isn’t at all happy about having to marry me. She’s opposed to the institution itself.”
Bell plucked at his lower lip. “Did she tell you that?”
“In nearly as many words.” David left his glass on the desktop and turned to face his friend. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment, but Bell might be able to answer the question Annabelle wouldn’t. “The other night, when I was alone with Annabelle, I raised my hand sharply while standing next to her. I meant her no harm, of course, but she fell to the floor and curled into a ball.” David took a deep breath and met his friend’s eyes. “Why would she do that, Bell? Has a man ever struck her?”
David had never seen the Marquess of Bellingham at a loss for words. Nor had he ever seen the confident spy turn pale, and he’d certainly never heard all the breath rush from his lungs. But when all three things happened simultaneously, it caused the hair on the back of David’s neck to prickle.
Panic clutched at David’s middle. “Please tell me ‘no,’” he breathed, still carefully watching Bell’s face.
“No,” Bell finally uttered, but his face remained colorless, and he turned his head to stare straight ahead at the wall, shaken, as if he’d seen a ghost. “At least, not that I ever witnessed, but…”
