The Scoundrel's Lover (22 page)

“I have, my lord,” she said, meeting his gaze because he deserved it. “I am afraid I will have to respectfully decline your offer.”

Claybrook froze in his crossing of the room, and his face finally reflected more powerful emotion—he looked utterly confused. “I beg your pardon?”

She shifted. This was not enjoyable, by far. “I’m so sorry, Lord Claybrook. I do very much appreciate your offer and I recognize how fortunate I am to have received it. But I must decline. I cannot marry you.”

Claybrook flexed his hands at his sides. “Miss Flynn, you cannot be serious, especially if you recognize how fortunate you are indeed to receive this offer. Perhaps we should set it aside and wait until you have your mother or brother here to guide you.”

Annabelle almost laughed at the idea that anyone in her family would force her to accept. Her brother didn’t give a damn about Society and her mother had never seemed to fully approve of her plans.

“I do not need a chaperone to advise me,” she insisted. “I fear my answer would remain the same, my lord, if we had an audience of ten or none and if we waited a few hours or a few years to discuss it again. I do not think we are a suitable match after all, and I could not in good conscience accept a proposal that I fear would ultimately bring us both pain.”

His face twisted with anger. “Do you think you shall have a better offer, Miss Flynn? Has your experience since you entered Society not shown you that no man will have you? I was
lowering
myself to you. It is only your dowry that could ever tempt a man to link himself to your scandalous family name.”

Annabelle stiffened. “You have apparently been separated from your manners by the shock of this answer, and I think you should leave, Lord Claybrook.”

His posture became rigid and his expression returned to one of serene control. “I do apologize, Miss Flynn. You are correct that my response has been less than gentlemanly. Do forgive me.”

He bowed formally and exited the parlor. She followed him into the foyer and watched as Sanders handed over his hat. As Claybrook placed it on his head, he nodded to Annabelle.

“Good afternoon, Miss Flynn,” he said with another of those bows.

She nodded, but as he exited the home, she sighed. “No, I believe it is goodbye.”

She watched as he mounted his horse and rose away as if the hounds of hell themselves were on his heels.

“I shall need the carriage,” she said to Sanders, smoothing her gown as if to wipe away the unpleasantness of what had just transpired. “I want to go visit Serafina right away.”

“Yes, Miss. I will arrange it at once.”

She smiled at him and then walked to the stairs. She had made a decision thanks to Claybrook’s unexpected proposal. A momentous decision, indeed. But she would not be able to enact it alone. She could only hope that Serafina would help her.

Serafina smiled as Bridget and Deirdre left the parlor together, their arms interlocked and their heads close together.

“It is nice to see their bond,” she said.

Annabelle smiled as well. “I tend to agree, though that bond did rather put me out, didn’t it?”

Serafina’s expression fell. “You are not angry at Deirdre, are you?”

She sighed. “No, I suppose not. She told her sister a secret. They are so close that it should have been expected. And since I am here to do the same, I cannot judge her.”

“A secret?” Serafina tilted her head.

“Yes.” Annabelle swallowed past the lump in her throat. “To a person I very much consider my sister and not just because she married my brother.”

“Oh Annabelle, I think of you as the same in every way. Does that mean you don’t hate me for telling Rafe and your mother about where you were?”

Annabelle moved to sit beside Serafina on the settee. “Hate you? How could I ever hate you? You were put in an untenable position. And in the end…well, perhaps it was best that the truth came out. It highlighted some facts I was hesitant to face.”

Serafina was watching her closely now, her blue eyes reading everything. Annabelle allowed it,
wanting
her to see.

“Lord Claybrook paid a call on me today,” she whispered. “He asked for my hand in marriage.”

Serafina’s lips parted and for a moment there was a flash of hesitation, disappointment on her face. Then she smiled and it was gone.

“Congratulations!” She moved to hug Annabelle, but Annabelle shook her head.

“I refused him,” she said softly.

Serafina gasped. “But—but isn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that the purpose of coming into Society? Claybrook is titled, he has some fortune and he has no blemish on his character.”

“And I thought all that would be enough. But it turned out that it wasn’t.” Annabelle sighed. “I tried to care about him. I tried to just like him, but there was nothing warm or affectionate to our courtship. I don’t even know if he desired me. It seemed to be only a match of good circumstance to him. And he…” She trailed off with a wince as she recalled his words.

“What?” Serafina said, leaning forward.

“He would require me never to see Crispin again if we were to wed,” she whispered.

Serafina collapsed back on the settee and her hands came to cover the swell of her belly. “I see.”

“Yes. I could not picture denying my family for a ‘good match,’ Serafina.”

Serafina’s lips had thinned with upset. “Of course you couldn’t.”

Annabelle shook her head. “I also realized he wanted something more without him saying it. He wanted me to deny
myself
. And the worst part is that I led him by example. I told him with my actions that I was willing to do just that.”

“What do you mean?” Serafina asked.

Annabelle smiled, and for the first time in a long time her smile felt right. It felt like her own.

“I am a Flynn, like my father, like my brothers. I have a wild heart that I have tried to ignore or deny for years, but most especially since I began to look for a staid and respectable husband. But I was never happy doing it.”

Serafina nodded. “Your brother said as much.”

“Rafe did?” Her lips parted. “Why didn’t he say anything to dissuade me from the path I was on?”

“Because he knew his actions,
their
actions, had caused you to lose so much already. He refused to stop you from pursuing whatever your heart desired. But he worried to me, more than once, that you would lose yourself in the quest to be respectable.”

Annabelle shook her head. “He will crow when he finds out I have determined he is correct.”

“I think not.” Serafina covered her hand. “I think he will be pleased, but not triumphant.”

Annabelle cleared her throat. “And what will he think if I pursue love, instead? Even if it is not appropriate?”

Serafina drew back. “Love is always appropriate.”

“What will he think if I say I am in love with Marcus Rivers? What will he think if I say I want to marry him?”

“You are not asking what Rafe thinks, you are asking what
I
think,” Serafina said softly. “And I will tell you exactly that.”

Annabelle held her breath. Serafina had been raised as a lady of the highest order. Marcus’s world had to seem terrible to her.

But to her surprise, her sister-in-law grinned. “I am not shocked to hear you are in love with him. I saw it on your face that awful night a few days ago. Who can blame you? He
is
devilishly handsome.”

Annabelle nearly choked on her laughter. “He is that, though I’m surprised you would say as much.”

Serafina waved her hand. “I am married, not dead. Any woman would say as much if she were honest. He’s no Rafe, of course, but when I said well done in Rivers’ office, I meant it.”

“I’m beginning to realize I vastly underestimated you,” Annabelle mused.

Her sister-in-law smiled, but it faded a fraction as she said, “If you love this man, I hope you will marry him. Because I know how desperate that feeling of love can be if you feel it cannot turn out well.”

“I know you do.” Annabelle leaned in. “Which is why I am asking you for help now.”

Serafina hesitated, but then she nodded. “I don’t know what help I can offer, but I will try any way I can.”

“Even if my brother won’t approve?”

“If you end up happy, I swear to you, he will approve.” Serafina tilted her head. “You know rank means nothing to him and despite his present anger with Rivers, Rafe likes him a great deal. He’ll accept any decision you make. And if he doesn’t right away, then I will persuade him.”

“Excellent, I hoped you would say so. But I’m afraid I’ll need more than your help with Rafe. I need your help with my plan for Marcus.”

“Isn’t your plan for Marcus simply to tell you love him?” Serafina asked. “After all, as clear as it was that you care for him, it was equally clear he cares for you.”

“Was it?” Annabelle shook her head. “All I felt from him that night was his disdain even if he did confess, rather reluctantly, that he cared for me. Or once cared.” She sighed. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Great God, I probably sounded just like you last year, didn’t I?”

Annabelle smiled. “My brother was worse, I assure you.”

“And look how well it turned out.”

“Yes, I have hopes I might be just as happy in a year as you are now. But only if I can convince Marcus to see that I care for him. You see, that night you all came barging in, I-I denied him something he wanted. And I made him feel as though he wasn’t worthy of me. I hurt him. I knew it that night and I know it now.” She shook her head. “If I go to him, I fear he’ll refuse to see me. And even if I somehow obtain an audience, he’ll likely reject any overtures I make. He won’t believe me. His pride and his heart won’t let him.”

“You have a lot to make up.” Serafina nodded slowly.

“I do,” Annabelle admitted.

Serafina sighed. “Very well, tell me your plan. You have a partner in me!”

Annabelle clapped her hands together with relief and joy. “I’m so glad. Now for my plan. It is quite shocking, so prepare yourself. And it may require the help of Mr. Abbot.”

Marcus paced the halls of the club, making his usual once-a-month notes about upkeep and changes to be made to the look and feel of the place. Normally, he enjoyed the exercise, but this afternoon it was nothing more than another wretched chore that didn’t take his mind off of persistent thoughts of Annabelle.

He had not seen her in four awful days. And he had hoped that time would prove to be a friend in their parting, but instead it was becoming his worst enemy. He wanted her all the time, he missed her all the time, he dreamed of her both day and night.

“You are an idiot of massive proportions,” he admonished himself as he checked off another room on his list.

“Rivers?”

He turned to find Abbot behind him. Obviously the man had heard Marcus talking to himself, but he said nothing about it.

“What is it?” Marcus asked, straightening up.

Abbot shifted, almost uncomfortably. “Have you made your way to the east wing yet?”

Marcus glared at him. “Since you are fully aware of my usual route of inspection, you know I have not.”

“I would suggest perhaps you’d like to change your habit and go there now,” Abbot said. “There is a problem in room three.”

Marcus looked at his sheet. He had several other rooms to inspect before he changed wings, and the east wing wasn’t even the next on his schedule.

“Great God, man, you are meant to manage things here, can’t it be managed?”

Abbot shook his head. “I’m afraid this must be dealt with entirely by you.”

Marcus closed his eyes and counted to a slow ten in his head. He had snapped at poor Abbot at least five times in the last few days. Taking out his frustration on his friend wasn’t the best route, and he knew it. But damn if the man didn’t make it difficult.

“Fine,” he ground out when he had calmed himself enough to do so. “I will go to room three in the east wing. Right now. Instead of completing my list.”

Abbot held out a hand. “If you give me the list, I’ll start the staff on any changes you’ve already noted and I will return this to you when you have dealt with the situation.”

Marcus shook his head, but handed over the list before he exited the parlor and headed down the hall. “Now it is a situation? What in the world could be so dashed important?”

“I could not even begin to explain it, Rivers,” Abbot said, that put-upon tone to his voice that Marcus knew so well. “It must be seen to be believed.”

Marcus ground his teeth together once more and said nothing else as he cross the empty main room and entered the east wing hall. He paused at the door to room three, which was for some reason closed, and stared at Abbot.

“I swear to you, if this is some foolishness…”

Abbot shook his head. “It is not. Please.” He motioned for Marcus to enter, and he did so.

The shades were always drawn in the private rooms, but normally lamps and a fire had been lit on days when Marcus did his inspections. Today, neither had yet been done and he entered into pitch blackness.

“What the hell—” he began.

“Now,” Abbot interrupted him mildly.

Marcus was hit on three sides by heavy bodies, his hands and legs caught by unseen, yet entirely strong arms.

“Bloody fuck!” he bellowed, fighting against the concealed as they hauled him across the room. He was pressed into the bed there, and his arms and legs pulled wide. He felt ties go round his ankles and wrists, no matter how he struggled, no matter how he tugged.

And then the attackers were gone. He could see them leave the room, only shadows outlined in the light from the hall.

“What the hell, Abbot?” he shouted, still tugging against the ties.

His friend said nothing, but entered the room. Marcus tensed as he sensed the other man moving around the room. When he heard the sound of flint, he was met with a lit lamp. Abbot moved to the next and the next, slowing bringing the chamber up to full light. He moved to the fireplace and lit it as well before he stepped to the foot of the bed.