Chapter Four

 

Miss Caroline Thrup was a friend to Annabel. Well, perhaps friend was stretching their relationship a bit far, for would a woman who termed her friend as ‘plain’ truly be called a friend? That was exactly what Caroline had done, bruising Annabel’s pride in the process. Not that Annabel had thought much of how she looked, but it was the principal of the matter.

When she told Juliet what Caroline had said, her cousin had marched right over to Caroline’s house to convince her to apologize to Annabel. That was the type of cousin Juliet was. What they had found was Caroline kissing a pillow as if it were a lover, and under threat of exposure, the woman had indeed apologized to Annabel.

Now, whenever Annabel was to encounter Caroline, like tonight at a party the girl’s parents were hosting, thoughts of that night came to mind. Annabel hoped she could maintain proper decorum, for the last time she saw Caroline, she had burst out laughing. And poor Caroline knew exactly what had made her laugh, for she gave Annabel a right glare that should have set her on fire on the spot!

The fact of the matter was that, besides her aunt, Annabel had no one else she would call a friend now that her cousins were gone. They had all been so close, Annabel never considered the need for a friend. Now, she wished she had more than Caroline. At least she had that, she supposed. She could have been without anyone.

Two weeks had passed since Annabel’s parents had left Scarlett Hall on some new adventure. They never told her where they were going, but they certainly had no issue in telling her where they had gone once they returned.

Lord Agar had also left to do whatever he needed to do, or so she assume for she had not seen him since the night he proposed marriage to her. Marriage! The thought made her shiver.

Aunt Eleanor had aided Annabel prepare for the party earlier, helping her into the various layers of clothing. Now she looked at her reflection in the standing mirror, looking this way and that at the lovely pink gown with white embroidered flowers across the bodice and bottom hem of her skirt. It was the most elegant dress she had ever owned, a gift from her aunt for her eighteenth birthday.

Although she and her aunt had gone to Rumsbury the day after her parents left, the new gown she had ordered would not be ready for at least another week, and that was after Aunt Eleanor paid the seamstress extra to have it finished as quickly as possible.

Annabel looked at her reflection once more. What she saw was worry around her eyes; although it was not as prevalent as it had been a fortnight ago. Each day that passed allowed her another day of repose from that awful Lord Agar, and although she was not a confident woman, Annabel did hope that her situation would improve. And soon.

However, she took notice of something more, something new, in that reflection. The dress brought out the color in her cheeks, and for the first time in her life, she felt beautiful. Let that horrid Caroline say she was plain this night!

But no. It was hard to imagine she was beautiful. Unlike her cousins, no gentleman of worth had paid her any attention before, why would they do so now? In fact, it seemed that only men who were scoundrels or who wished Annabel to be the object of their lust looked her way.

“Perhaps I am cursed,” she murmured. “I will probably either end up a spinster or be married to an old man like Lord Agar.” The thought made her shiver despite the heat of the night.

“You look wonderful.”

Annabel turned to see her aunt standing in the doorway. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts, she had not heard the door open.

“I knocked, but there was no reply,” Aunt Eleanor said. “It is time to leave. Are you ready?”

Annabel nodded. “Yes, Auntie,” she said with a smile. “I am ready.”

Her aunt walked over and stood beside her in the reflection of the mirror. “You have grown into a beautiful woman,” she whispered in Annabel’s ear. “Tonight will be your first party as a woman, your debut shall we say, and you will begin a path on which you will meet many men worthy of you.” She walked over and collected a shawl from the top of the chest at the end of the bed. “And one of those men will be a man with whom you will one day fall in love. Perhaps even marry.”

What her aunt said was kind, but Annabel knew better. “It is nice of you to say so, but I must be honest. I fear that no man will even glance my way. I do not understand why, for I do not think I am hideous to look at. Yet, not one man of worth, one who is kind, has taken notice of me thus far.”

Her aunt sighed and took hold of her hands. “I shall tell you a secret only a few women know. I trust you will not tell anyone.”

Annabel smiled. A secret with which her aunt would entrust her would hold much importance. “I will never tell a single soul.”

“Good. Now, it is very important that you understand that, as a lady, it is an honor for any man to approach you let alone speak with you. The honor is his, not yours, for you should be held in the highest esteem. As long as you keep this in mind, you will find men will respect you much more than they respect women who titter and flutter their eyelashes at every gentleman who looks their way. Men will not admit this, of course, for most of them—gentlemen included—can be quite uncouth. But you do not want that type of man anyway, now do you?”

Annabel giggled and hugged her aunt. “I suppose I do not,” she replied. “And thank you. I will certainly keep what you say in mind.”

Her aunt gave her a strange forlorn look as she held her at arm’s length. Then she shook her head and said, “We must be on our way or we will miss the party.”

***

The ballroom at the Thrup estate had cream and white walls. The room was lit by two large chandeliers and a sconce between numerous paintings depicting Lord Thrup engaged in various hunts. Caroline had confided in Annabel that her father had never been hunting in his life despite the subject matter of the paintings. Apparently, the man feared horses to such an extent that he refused to ride, so rather than going hunting himself, Lord Thrup paid a man to bring him pelts to claim as his own. Everyone knew the truth, but none made mention of it for reasons Annabel did not understand.

It seemed every member of the ton within a hundred miles of the Thrup home was in attendance, or so Annabel suspected when she entered and looked down at the sea of heads that filled the ballroom. Some faces she recognized from parties her aunt had given over the years, but many more were people she had never seen before. Everyone was dressed to the nines. The women wore an array of colors—all various shades of red, blue, green, and gold—and the men wore tailcoats of blue, black, and brown, their cravats perfectly tied and the buckles on their shoes polished to a gleam.

Most held a glass of punch as they smiled and laughed while they engaged in conversation. The music coming from the quartet that played on a dais in the corner was drowned out by the cacophony of voices and laughter, although several couples danced a spry country dance in a space that had been cleared, surrounded by onlookers who clapped and tapped toes along with the music.

Unfortunately, no gentleman approached her to speak to her let alone ask her to dance, but she refused to give any indication of her disappointment, not with her aunt standing beside her. Annabel refused to ruin the evening for the woman, and if men did not find her as exciting or interesting as the more vivacious young ladies, she could do nothing about it.

Caroline emerged from a small circle of people, her yellow skirts flowing as she came to stand beside Annabel. Her cheeks were flushed, and she wore a wide smile. “Lady Lambert, Annabel. I do hope you are enjoying my party. You do like it, do you not?” Was there a pleading note in her tone?

“It is a wonderful party,” Aunt Eleanor replied with graciousness. “One of the best I have ever attended. Annabel was just telling me that she could not have wished for anything grander if it was her debut.”

Annabel smiled. Of course, she had said no such thing. It was nothing more than polite conversation, and therefore, small lies were permitted.

“That brings me joy,” Caroline said. “I want nothing but the best for my guests this evening. Mother said I should enjoy myself, but I cannot fathom being selfish.”

Annabel had to hide a smile. Caroline and her mother were known to be Rumsbury’s biggest gossips and to be quite selfish, so she doubted Lady Thrup said anything remotely close to those words.

“Oh, Lady Lambert, Mother wanted to speak to you. She is over by the food table.”

“Then I shall go and say hello to her,” Aunt Eleanor said. She smiled and walked away, wearing confidence fit for a queen. How Annabel envied her!

Annabel straightened her shoulders in an attempt to emulate her aunt, but Caroline frowned.

“Must you thrust your bosom so? There are better ways to attract a gentleman’s eye, you know.”

Annabel shot the young woman a glare. “I am doing no such thing. I simply want to appear the strong woman my aunt is. She is well-respected, and I wish to be like her.”

Caroline glanced in the direction Aunt Eleanor had gone and sighed. “I do agree.” She turned and took a half-step closer to Annabel and lowered her voice. “Mother is quite jealous of her, you know. But do not tell anyone.”

“Jealous?” Annabel asked incredulously.

“Oh, yes. She claims that Lady Lambert has procured a drink made by the hands of heathens to keep her skin appearing so young.”

Annabel laughed. “I can assure you she has done no such thing.” She glanced around the room. “Where is Reuben? I thought he would be here with you.” Reuben, or Lord Haskett, had spoken of courting Caroline and was the very man for whom Caroline had been caught practicing kissing on the pillow.

“Did you not hear?” Caroline asked. “Reuben became engaged to another woman, whom I shall not name.” She gave a derisive sniff. “They are to be married in two months.”

Annabel placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “I am sorry. But do not worry; you are a formidable woman. Another gentleman will come along, and he will prove to be much more worthy of your hand.”

“I suspect the woman is carrying his child,” Caroline said as if Annabel had not spoken. “Why else would he not want to court me? Mother agrees. She discussed the matter with several of her friends at the home of Lady Miller last Wednesday, as a matter of fact. I had wanted to discuss the matter with Juliet, but I heard the rumors surrounding her and hope she is now safe from harm.”

“And what rumors would you have heard about her?” Annabel asked, careful to keep her voice controlled. Any number of tales could be floating upon the rumor stream, and some could be true, but she would not add twigs to that current before hearing what this woman believed she knew.

“That cobbler,” Caroline said. “The man who touched my leg and tried to do far worse with her. I heard that Juliet was sent to London to a home for those feeble in mind. I would understand if she was. What happened at that horrid man’s shop had to be quite traumatic.”

“No, she is not in London,” Annabel said indignantly. “Nor has she lost her mind.” She saw her aunt returning and lowered her voice. “I shall tell you at another time. In secret.”

This made Caroline grin—she did enjoy secrets—yet, Annabel would never tell her. “I look forward to us having tea together soon, then.” With that, the woman moved on to greet other guests.

And to jump in for a swim in that stream of rumors, Annabel thought with disgust. How sickening some of these women were spreading gossip that had absolutely no root in truth!

As Aunt Eleanor joined her, Annabel said, “If you wish to leave, we may.”

“Leave?” her aunt said. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

Annabel looked around at the guests. “No. I do not mean to complain, but my standing here is futile. Whether it be an hour or ten, I fear no gentleman will approach me, and I wish I understood why.”

Her aunt was not given the opportunity to reply. “Lady Lambert?”

They turned and Annabel could not help but smile at the man beside her. His wavy blond hair and kind blue eyes made her curious how her aunt knew him.

“I am she,” Aunt Eleanor replied. So, she did not know this man? That only intrigued Annabel further.

The man bowed. “My name is Lord Richard Lockwood, Earl of Favorsharm. I have recently purchased a home in Rumsbury and desire to meet my peers.” As he spoke, he looked at Annabel, and for a moment Annabel could do nothing more than stare. Was the man speaking to her?

“Lord Lockwood,” Aunt Eleanor said. “My niece, Miss Annabel Lambert.”

Annabel curtsied and managed to whisper a greeting.

“I was told the parties in Rumsbury are some of the best,” Lord Lockwood said with a smile. “I did not believe them until now.”

He looked at Annabel once more, and her heartbeat increased. Was the man inebriated? He had to be if he was wishing to speak to her.

But no. Although he had the odor of brandy on his breath, he did not otherwise appear to be drunk. Annabel had seen drunkenness before, and he showed no signs whatsoever.

“I would have to agree with what you heard, my lord,” Aunt Eleanor replied. “This is Annabel’s first party since reaching eighteen, but I suspect it will not be her last.”

Lord Lockwood turned his full attention to Annabel. “I hope you are enjoying the evening.”

Annabel nodded, although she wanted to tell him that not moments ago she had wanted nothing more than to leave. “It is a wonderful party.” She glanced at her aunt and remembered the advice she had given her. She straightened her posture and added a bit of haughtiness to her tone. “It is nice to have a civil conversation with a gentleman such as yourself.”

The man grinned. “If I may be so bold, Lady Lambert,” he said, “but may I have permission to call on Miss Annabel?”

“That would be acceptable,” Aunt Eleanor replied.

Annabel could not believe her good fortune! A gentleman, one who appeared kind, wished to call on her! She was so overcome with emotion, she was uncertain if she should laugh or cry.

“Would next Monday be acceptable?” Lord Lockwood asked.

Annabel waited for her aunt to nod and then replied, “I believe that can be arranged. We are at Scarlett Hall. Say, one o’clock?”

“That would be splendid,” he replied, red-cheeked. He gave them a bow. “I do look forward to speaking with you.”

“As do I, my lord,” Annabel replied. When the man was gone, she turned to her aunt. “What you suggested was true! I do not know from where the confidence came, for I never imagined that I had any. However, when I summoned it, I felt as if I could accomplish anything!”

“You do have confidence, my dear,” her aunt said. “And it is a great strength inside you. My father once told me that it is something on which one must call in times of trouble, and he was a very clever man. I have had to call upon my own strength often. That gift is as strong in you, I am certain, and it will always serve you well.”

Annabel’s heart was happy. “Thank you,” she whispered. The evening was so much better than how it had begun.

Then the oddest of feelings came over her. Her legs became weak and her heart thudded in her chest as the most handsome man she had ever seen entered the room.