Chapter Fifteen

 

Edward sat in a chair by the window as thunder rattled the frame and rain flowed in heavy streams down the panes. Only a week had passed since bringing Annabel to the cottage, yet it felt like years. As he stared out at the storm, he contemplated the last ten years.

How strange life could be. And how quickly it could change. One moment he was a viscount with a vast estate and in good standing, and the next he was a vagabond and a criminal. If he had not put his trust in that one particular person, perhaps his life would have evolved into something far different.

Sighing, he took a sip of his brandy. Across from him sat the object of why he was in a strange cottage. She looked different in the burlap dress, although she was still beautiful despite the less elegant style of clothing. At least now she would not stand out when they were outside, not that they would be able to go out today in this weather.

The woman’s blue eyes spoke of her innocence, as much as her questions revealed her curiosity. Everything about her mesmerized him, and he had no idea why.

She should have been no more than a means to an end, but something about her made her more. Perhaps it was how her eyes had lit up in anger the day they arrived at the cottage—a fire that had erupted when she thought he would ravage her. The woman would prove to be a worthy foe to anyone if she learned the strength she possessed.

He knew she had lived a life of leisure just as most of her peers, yet he felt as if she carried a great burden. She had eluded to those burdens on more than one occasion, and he found himself wishing to know more.

“Last week you mentioned that you cause heartache to those around you,” he said, keeping a casual, almost uncaring, tone to his voice. It would do no good to make her believe he truly had an interest in her. He still had no idea what he was going to do once the ransom came through. “What did you do that was so wrong?”

Annabel looked down at the cup in her hands. “Many things,” she said with a sigh. “I was born a boy, first of all. Father now has no heir and I am a great disappointment to him and Mother.”

“You may believe that, but I doubt that it is true.”

She shook her head adamantly. “Oh, no, it is true. They have told me as much many times.” She sighed. “When I met you and Lord Lockwood at Caroline’s party, it was my first party since turning eighteen.”

“You mentioned as much.” He took a drink to hide the smile at the recollection at Lord Thrup pointing out Annabel to him. How the woman had made his heart race!

“Although I accepted your card to call over to Scarlett Hall, I already had a suitor. A man who wished to marry me.”

Edward laughed. “You are not as innocent as I thought. Were you simply tempting me? Or was there another purpose for the game you played?”

“I am not one to tempt, I assure you. Nor do I play games.” She looked toward the window, and her eyes took on a distant look. “You see, Father and Mother wanted me to marry that particular man. They told me I had no choice.”

“That is not unusual. Surely you know this happens often.”

She nodded. “I am aware of the customary handling of marriages. You must understand, however, that the man is thrice my age and has kissed me against my will even before asking my father for my hand.”

Edward shifted in his chair. Why did it bother him that a man had treated her so?

She did not seem to notice his discomfort. “I was told that I have disappointed them all my life, and that if I were to wed this man, I would finally make them happy. At first, I agreed, for I have always wished to be accepted by them. However, as I thought about my life, I came to the realization that my parents have never loved me. For as long as I can remember, they left me at Scarlett Hall with my cousins while they went off on one adventure or another. Once I became of age, their interest in me changed because they found I could bring them quite a bit of money in exchange for my hand.”

“And what of a dowry? Do not most women have a dowry to gain a husband?”

She shrugged. “They have never mentioned one.” She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Do you think that could be why only old men seek my hand?”

The thought of this woman’s pain caused a strange ache in his chest. “I would not know,” he replied. “But I am sorry this has happened to you.”

“I appreciate you saying so,” she said with weak smile. “Aunt Eleanor told me that night when the man asked me to marry him that I was to be confident. That perhaps I could find a man who cared for me. So, I went to Caroline’s party to see if I could find someone who could love me for who I am. It was there that I met you. I had thought you the most handsome man I had ever seen, that you had to be brave and kind.”

Guilt filled Edward and anger set into his jaw. This time, he could not fight the emotions, and he only wished her to stop. “There is no need to say more.”

Once again, she did not hear him, for she continued. “I told my aunt that the other gentleman, Lord Lockwood, did not catch my eye as you did.”

Ire rose in him. “None of that matters,” he barked. “Don Ricardo was nothing more than a charade. Can you not see that?” Would this woman not stay her tongue?

Apparently not, for she persisted. “That night, when I met you at the gate, I thought of your poem. I thought, just for a moment, that I was walking not only to see you, but walking toward my future.”

She looked at him again. Did she not recognize how uncomfortable her words made him? “You have said often that I am naive, and you are right. The happiness for which I wished I will never have. Men either want to use me to fulfill their desires or to fill their pockets. None have asked me what I want in life, nor will they ever. All I seem to attract are bad men. Where are the kind men spoken of in stories?”

Edward slammed a fist on the table. “I am not a bad man!” he said, the chair scraping the floor as he rose. “I am not like those men!”

“I know you are not,” Annabel said in a tiny voice, the liquid in her glass sloshing. “I imagine that it is not your fault that someone wished to abduct me. Oftentimes, people make mistakes in their lives, which is what you have done. Or so I guess.”

How this woman could make his blood boil! “You wish to know about me?”

She nodded and looked up at him with what appeared to be hope. “I do.”

“Then allow me to share something with you.” He did not care that his voice seethed with anger. “Let it be a lesson that can serve you well in life.”

“I will listen.”

Her soft-spoken demeanor only incensed him more, and he gripped the edge of the table to keep from striking her. He forced air into his lungs. He had never spoken of his past with anyone, and the thought of bringing up that which had haunted him all these years drained him. Dropping into the chair, depleted of his rage, he resigned to visiting the past.

“Like you, I once searched for someone to love. To my great joy, I found it, or so I thought. What I learned was that love does not last, even after you believe you have found it.”

Annabel’s eyes widened in shock. “But certainly there are those…”

“Trust me. You are far better off marrying for wealth or status, for the love of which you speak? The desire? It does not exist for anyone, except poets.”

Angry with himself for revealing even as much as he had, he grabbed the half-empty bottle of brandy and filled his glass to the brim. When lightning flashed and lit up the room, what he saw tore at his heart, for it was the face of a woman who had been stripped of all her dreams. Knowing he was the cause of it did not sit well with him.

“If you wish to tell me more of this Juliet, you may.” His hope was to change to a more desirable topic of conversation, for he no longer wished to dwell on his feelings nor torture her with the truth. He did not want to accept that he cared for this young woman and did not wish to see her hurt. What he had to do was keep himself hard, to push away any weakness that would ruin his financial plans.

Rather than take the path he had laid out for her, Annabel gave a resigned sigh and returned her attention to the window. “I would like to watch the storm,” she said, her voice heavy with sadness.

Edward did not wish to be alone with his thoughts. However, given no choice, he, too, turned to stare out into the darkness of the storm, his eyes falling on the melancholy reflection of Annabel.