Marquesses at the Masquerade(73)

At home, her uncle sent his wife and Phoebe to bed as though they were five years old. Annalise knew wily Phoebe waited on the stairwell, listening.

“Come to my parlor,” her uncle commanded.

Annalise forced herself to take a long, slow breath. She wouldn’t let him anger her. “I’m leaving for Holland tomorrow,” she said calmly.

He flung out his arms. “That’s it? You just leave? Do you have a ticket?”

“No.”

“Do you know where you are going in Holland?”

“No.”

He shook his head incredulously. “You halfwit. I don’t know whether to be amused or angry with you.” He stepped closer, until Annalise could smell the tinge of his sour perspiration on his coat. “Tell me, my girl, have you opened your legs to him?” There was predatory anticipation on his moist lips.

Annalise stepped back, keeping her spine erect, refusing to be dragged down to her uncle’s base understanding. “Lord Exmore and I are friends. You wouldn’t understand our relationship because you don’t comprehend beauty or grace.”

“It is you who do not comprehend these things.” He pounded a side table with the padded edge of his fist. “Beauty and grace? What do you fashion yourself now? A poetess? What you need to learn about are decency and chastity.”

“I won’t listen to your insults any longer. I’m leaving as soon as may be.”

“You do not tell me what you are going to do.” He grabbed her arm. “You will obey my wishes.”

A servant cleared his throat. “Sir, the Marquess of Exmore,” he announced.

Annalise turned her head as Exmore walked in. His gaze drifted from her face to where her uncle squeezed her arm. His lips made the slightest tremor, his nostrils flared, yet when he spoke, his voice was low and smooth. “Good evening.”

Her uncle rushed forward, almost tripping on the foot of a chair. Barely recovering his balance, he performed a stumbling bow before Exmore. “My lord.”

“I desire to speak to you in private regarding your niece,” Exmore said.

“Annalise is a witless—”

“Not another word dishonoring Miss Van Der Keer,” Exmore thundered. He pointed to the closed double doors at the back of the room. “Is this the study? It usually is in such drab, middling homes. How can you bear to live in this rodent’s hole?”

Her uncle paled at having his home belittled by the great man. Exmore didn’t wait for him to answer but strode toward the parlor. He didn’t look back when he addressed the servant. “Have tea and biscuits brought to Miss Van Der Keer.” He opened one of the doors. “Come, Sommerville.”

As her uncle passed, he looked to Annalise for sympathy at Exmore’s belittling of him. Annalise ignored her uncle. Exmore closed the study door behind the men.

What was Exmore’s game? She had a nervous inkling that she knew the answer. She couldn’t let him do this. He didn’t love her but was acting out of honor.

She wanted to burst into the parlor and cry, No, no, this isn’t necessary.

She had only to survive one more night under her uncle’s roof, and then she would sail away, liberating herself and Exmore.

The conversation between the men was quick, not five minutes, but it seemed like an hour to a fretting Annalise. When it was over, her uncle bounded out, his demeanor radically changed. He appeared overly pleasant, trying hard to be the congenial man he wasn’t.

“Well, now, here she is. Hee hee. So beautiful. Ready to make you a very happy man.”

Annalise’s gaze shifted between her uncle and Exmore. “Smile, girl,” her uncle commanded. “He wants to marry you.”

“May I have a moment alone with my bride-to-be?” Exmore said.

“Of course, of course.”

Annalise waited until her uncle retreated from the room, bowing as he went. Silence permeated the room. When she opened her mouth to speak, Exmore rested his hands on her shoulders. “No, Annalise, don’t turn me away yet. Listen to my case.”

“I can go to Holland. I have enough money of my own. This is all unnecessary.”

His fingers slid down her arms until they interlocked with hers. “I want to marry you,” he said quietly. “If you will have me?”

“But I…” She gazed up at his eyes, not expecting to see the vulnerable yearning in them. She wanted to say she loved him. She wanted to give him everything Cassandra hadn’t. But she couldn’t. Tears burned in her eyes. “I don’t love you. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. I know you don’t love me. But you are honest. You hide nothing.”

“That is not enough for a marriage.”

He sank to one knee. “For months, I’ve wandered about in a haze of despondency. Nothing could lift me from my low spirits, except brandy and gambling and…” He didn’t finish, but she knew he found empty pleasure in women. “Then one day, I wandered into a print shop to waste hours, for I had so many hours in my day, and this lovely lady arrived. She had such a light around her, and she spoke of exotic creatures. Later, she met me at a masquerade and I concealed my identity to keep her near me longer, because she broke through my gloom. Then she spoke to me in a tea shop, and her presence was like sunlight in my darkness.” Annalise’s tears were free-flowing now. He kissed her hand, letting his lips caress her skin. “And I hope I’m not presumptuous when I say that you find happiness in me.”