Marquesses at the Masquerade(62)

I do hope our friendship survives, but I no longer hold too tightly to hope and the future. Yet, when I’m with him, I feel as though I’m coming back to life.





Chapter Seven





* * *



Like her aunt and Cousin Phoebe, Annalise was late arriving for breakfast. Her uncle had already eaten and left for an appointment with his solicitor. Without Uncle Harry presiding over the table, the dining room took on a joyous atmosphere as Phoebe regaled her sisters with her dance with Exmore, retelling every little detail.

“And his eyes were like smoldering embers. He is far and beyond more handsome than Edgar Williams, even when he was that gladiator in Love of a Legionary.” This was fine praise indeed. “And his fingers were long and elegant, and his coat molded to his strong shoulders.” Phoebe had noticed more specific details about Exmore than Annalise had. Annalise had felt him and his emotions, more than she had noticed his physical details.

“Didn’t you dance with him too, Cousin Annalise?” Shelley asked. “What did you talk about?”

Annalise had opened her mouth to answer when the slamming of the front door boomed through the house.

“Annalise!” her uncle yelled. “Get into my parlor, you reckless, foolish girl.”

Her aunt burst into tears. “Oh no! What have I done?”

“You have done nothing, Aunt Sally.” Annalise rested her linen beside her plate and rose. “I’ve managed to anger him.”

This must be about the ball last night and her notorious dance with Exmore. She knew gossip spread every morning in London like fire on dry straw. She wasn’t angry or annoyed, merely resigned.

Her uncle had reached the parlor first. He still wore his hat, which he tore off and threw onto the sofa. “Why must you make a mockery of me again?”

“Again?”

“You can’t comprehend it, can you? When Exmore sent Patrick Hume away, the marquess cut me. I wasn’t good enough.”

“I don’t—”

“You will talk when I give you leave to do so.” He paced near her. “Word is all over London about you. You seem to relish being the center of attention even if it requires making a fool of yourself.”

“I do not. I care nothing for Society.”

He laughed and gazed upward. “I’m not sure which is worse, having Mr.

Danvers, a prominent gentleman, almost turn away a member of my family, or I should say my wife’s family—you couldn’t possibly be my blood relation—or having you especially noticed by the Marquess of Exmore.”

He edged even closer. She sensed something darkly predatory about him, as though he took pleasure in demeaning her. “What game are you playing?” he asked.

“I’m not playing any game.”

“Exmore may be a deplorable rake, but you are far, far beneath him. He will not propose to you. If you aren’t good enough for his untitled cousin, you surely aren’t good enough for him. You must hold another attraction for him.” She felt her uncle’s moist, warm breath on her face. “What have you done, my girl? I will send you packing if you have behaved with any impropriety.”

Annalise straightened her spine. “You are correct. The marquess’s station is above mine. For the sake of your wife’s and your daughter’s place in Society, I danced with him. To my knowledge, I have not behaved improperly. The marquess and I are… friends.”

Her uncle thought this was wildly funny. He clutched his belly, he laughed so hard. “Friends? You are friends with a marquess? Friends with a libertine?” He seized her wrist, squeezing it. “Listen to me, there can be no friendship between an eligible marquess and a young lady of your station. You have no idea of the ways of the world. You are nothing but a plaything to such a man. No better than those actresses he seeks pleasure with.”

Annalise yanked her arm free. “Do not speak to me that way!”

“I am your guardian. I will speak to you as I please.”

“There is no legal paper stating that you are my guardian!” Annalise fired back. “It is all in your imagination. I am an independent woman of my own means. And I very much know how the world works, and I do not approve of it.”

Again, he laughed. “An independent woman? Such a mythical creature cannot exist. Women can’t take care of themselves. And the world does not seek the approval of a silly girl. Exmore can only intend to get you into his bed so that Society will further mock me.”

Annalise took several breaths to keep from hurling insults at her uncle. When she trusted her voice again, she spoke, low and controlled. “I have written to my cousins in Holland. As soon as I receive a positive response, I shall remove from your house.”

“No one will have you, Annalise. They have more sense than to let you into their homes. You should be nicer to me. I’m the only one who will take care of you. Everyone else sees you for the addle-brained girl that you are.”

Annalise had had enough of his invective. She turned and strode out of the room.

Her uncle shouted to her retreating back, “You will not speak to the marquess again. You will not encourage him, or I shall have to do something drastic. Something you don’t want to know about. Do you understand?”

*