Annabel's Christmas Rake Read online

  “Why are you not dressed yet?” A tiny frown flirted with the edges of Lynette’s mouth as she stepped through the door and closed it quietly behind her. “Have you forgotten?”

  “No,” Delilah said immediately before she drew an arm across her chest. “Um…forgotten what, precisely?”

  “That we have caroling practice in Hyde Park.”

  “I did not know that was today!” Delilah’s eyes widened. “Why did you not remind me?”

  “I did,” Lynette said dryly. “Yesterday at breakfast, at dinner, and when I wished you goodnight.”

  Annabel bit back a smile. Her best friend’s penchant for forgetting things was almost as impressive as her ability to eavesdrop. “We will be ready to go,” she promised as she skipped across the room and threw an arm around Delilah’s shoulders. “Won’t we, Delly? All we need to do is get dressed—”

  “I am afraid you will not be going with us,” Lynette said, looking rather sympathetic.

  “Not going with you?” Annabel’s eyebrows darted together in bewilderment. “Why ever not? I have attended every other practice.” Not that it made much of a difference. She’d learned the carols of course – Deck the Halls was her favorite – but there was nothing that could fix her tone deafness. Nevertheless, she’d enjoyed each and every outing and had very much been looking forward to this one. After all, the entire thing had been her idea. Usually caroling was a Christmas tradition typical of the working class; an accepted means for them to receive charity in the form of coin or baked goods. But they were often turned away by those who could help them the most which was why Annabel had decided to put together a small group of like-minded individuals who would be able to carol throughout Grosvenor Square on their behalf.

  It was yet another in a long line of causes that Annabel had created and supported over the years. Depending on her mood – and inspiration – she’d varied between raising money for orphans, asking for higher wages for the serving class, and even demanding that all carriage and work horses be given a mandatory day off. Given the fact that she was a young, unmarried woman without much influence her causes never seemed to gain much notice but they were still very important to her.

  “I believe your mother has other plans for you this afternoon,” Lynette said kindly.

  “Other plans? But she never mentioned – no,” Annabel groaned as she threw the back of her hand across her temple. “Not another one.”

  “I am afraid so.” Lynette winced. “Although from what she said Lord Reynard sounds quite nice. He is a viscount and from what I hear is quite an adept fisherman.”

  “He could be a prince for all I care and I still wouldn’t want to meet him. Where does she keep finding them all? I behaved abominably at the last ball. I thought that would be enough to scare them off.”

  “Is that why you threw off your gloves and quoted the part from Romeo and Juliet where they kill themselves in the middle of the ballroom with everyone watching?” Delilah wondered out loud.

  “Yes, although little good it did me,” Annabel said darkly.

  The corners of her mouth twitching with suppressed laughter, Lynette shook her head. “I am sorry, darling. Truly I am. But on the bright side, maybe this one will be different from the rest. Come along now, Delilah. You need to get dressed and fix your hair.”

  “And maybe pigs will start flying in the dining room,” Annabel muttered, bitterness creeping into her tone and shoulders slumping in resignation as Delilah brushed past.

  Her friend turned at the door. “It will not be the same without you,” she vowed.

  “Make sure Temperance keeps the Waverly cousins in line.” Notoriously flirtatious, Joanne Waverly and her cousin Winnifred had the attention span of two gnats. One moment they were singing beautifully, and the next their heads were turned by a handsome man riding past in a carriage. It was really quite annoying.

  Delilah nodded solemnly. “I shall.”

  “And watch the sopranos. They were a bit off-key on ‘Here We Come a-Wassailing’ last time.

  And–”

  “We will make sure everything goes perfectly,” Lynette interrupted. “You have our word.”

  Annabel bit her lip. “Very well. I shall be here if you need me. Slowly dying of boredom,” she murmured under her breath.

  “I heard that,” Lynette said mildly as she opened the door and ushered Delilah into the hallway. A gust of cold air flew in, brushing Annabel’s hair away from her temple. Grasping a long tendril, she rubbed it agitatedly between her thumb and pointer finger, snarling the delicate strands.

  “I meant for you to hear it,” she shot back.

  Her sister-in-law sighed. “Do try to give Lord Reynard a chance, Annabel. You know how happy it would make your mother if you were to find a suitable husband.”

  “Yes,” Annabel said softly as she watched Lynette and Delilah leave without her. “But how happy would it make me?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Annabel waited in the front parlor for Lord Reynard’s arrival. Sitting with her chin lowered and her hands folded demurely in her lap, she appeared the very picture of ladylike grace. If someone did not know better – someone like the unfortunate Lord Reynard – it would be easy for them to imagine she was the epitome of a well behaved young woman. To get an idea of what she was truly thinking, they would have to look past her perfectly pleasant expression to the tiny muscle that twitched on the right side of her jaw. Beyond that, there was little that gave her away…save the faint bobbing of her ankle hidden beneath the voluminous folds of her morning dress.

  Hearing the faint murmur of voices, she drew back her shoulders and waited for Lord Reynard with a smile painted on her face. When the door opened to reveal a short, bullish man with wavy brown hair and small, watery blue eyes her smile wavered, but she was too versed in the art of feigning interest to let it vanish all together.

  After being forced to endure the attentions of suitor after suitor, Annabel had learned the easiest way to get rid of them was to merely be patient, let them muddle through telling her how much wealth they possessed (as if how many houses a man owned defined his character) and kindly – albeit firmly – show them to the door. There was no use losing her temper, no matter how irritated she became, and if they asked to call on her again her answer was always the same: a resolute no.

  All that being said, the easiest way wasn’t always the most entertaining.

  “Lord Reynard, I presume.” Standing gracefully, she extended her right hand and struggled not to roll her eyes when the viscount fawned over her fingers as though her nails were made of precious jewels. No doubt he was going to compliment her beauty any second.

  Annabel hadn’t the faintest idea why men persisted on putting so much stock in a woman’s appearance, but it certainly did not win them any favors with her. She hated that when they looked at her the only thing they ever seemed to see was a pretty face and gleaming blonde hair. What about her intelligence? Her humor? Her quick wit? Were those not attributes worthy of mention?

  “Lady Annabel.” His voice unpleasantly high-pitched, Lord Reynard dipped forward into a bow that brought him eye level with Annabel’s cleavage. “You look as lovely as a long stemmed yellow rose in the full bloom of summer.”

  A long stemmed rose in summer? What the devil was he going on about? If nothing else, she had to give him full marks for creativity. Although she was already a bit tired of feeling his hot breath on her chest.

  “Are you referring to my height, Lord Reynard, or are you complimenting my breasts? How do they look, by the by? I fear I haven’t examined them that closely in quite some time.” Drats. There went her patience. And she’d been doing so well! A full thirty seconds and not a single disparaging remark. Lynette would have been so impressed.

  “Your – your breasts?” The viscount stuttered, his entire face flushing a dull, mottled red as he dropped her hand and stepped back. “I – I am not quite sure I follow, Lady Annabel.”

  “My daughter is o
nly teasing, Lord Reynard.” This was spoken hastily by Annabel’s mother as she swept into the parlor and hurried over to stand beside her daughter. Taking Annabel’s arm in a firm grip, she squeezed in silent warning, nails digging through the thin muslin fabric of her sleeve to pinch the skin beneath. “I fear Annabel has a rather obscure sense of humor. I do apologize on her behalf. Please, have a seat,” she said, gesturing to an oversized sofa upholstered in blue silk. “Refreshments should be here shortly. Do you like blueberry scones?”

  “I am partial to almond,” Lord Reynard said stiffly as he sat on the sofa. Following her mother’s lead, Annabel reclined into a high-backed rosewood chair. She planted her feet firmly on the rug and stared straight ahead, her mind already made up where Lord Reynard was concerned. He was no different than the rest. Self-absorbed, pompous, and here for all the wrong reasons.

  She knew his type. The viscount hadn’t come to call because he liked her or found her especially charming. He’d come because as the daughter of an earl with no scandal attached to her name, she would make a suitable wife and mother. Well, little did he know Annabel had absolutely no intention of being suitable. Not for him or any other man looking for a pretty wife to place on their shelf!

  “Oh. I am afraid we haven’t any of those.” Lady Townsend’s lips pinched together before her face brightened. Even though she was a woman well into her fifties, Rebecca Blackbourne had managed to retain her youthful beauty. She had plumped a bit over the years and her hair boasted far more gray hairs than blonde, but her infectious smile and bubbly nature took years off her appearance. Despite her insistence that Annabel find a husband, she was a good mother. A bit anxious at times, but who could really blame her after everything Adam, Annabel’s ne’er-do-well brother and Nathaniel’s identical twin, had put her through?

  Sometimes it was because of Adam that Annabel thought her mother took such care with her. Not because Annabel and Adam were close – she hadn’t seen him in nearly two years – but because when Rebecca looked at her daughter she saw glimmers of her son…and it terrified her more than she’d ever dare admit.

  “But I am sure you shall enjoy the blueberry,” Lady Townsend continued with a beaming smile at Lord Reynard. “Our cook is excellent. The best in Grosvenor Square, wouldn’t you agree, Annabel?”

  “Mrs. Parsons,” Annabel said, taking care to enunciate their cook’s name after a meaningful glance at her mother, “makes the best scones I have ever tasted.”

  “Yes, yes,” said her mother, hands fluttering in the air. “I forgot. Mrs. Parsons. We have taken to calling every member of our serving staff by name,” she explained to a rather bemused looking Lord Reynard. “Annabel’s idea, you know. It is one of her…well, one of her causes you see.”

  The viscount folded his arms across his chest. “Causes?”

  “Yes,” Annabel said, reinserting herself into the conversation. “I believe everyone, at any given time, should have at least one good cause. Do you not, Lord Reynard?”

  “I suppose, although it would depend entirely on the cause. Are you referring to a cause of a personal or political nature?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Personal, of course. I find I have little patience for politics.” Or for viscounts.

  Lord Reynard’s mouth curved in a very indulgent, very annoying sort of smile. “Few women do, Lady Annabel. Tell me, what interests and hobbies do you have aside from your various causes? I fear when we were last together there was little time to get to know one another. Lady Winthrop’s ball was quite the crush, as they say.”

  “I enjoy various pursuits,” Annabel began, a bit thrown aback that Lord Reynard would express any personal interest in her. Perhaps he wasn’t so boorish after all. Although she still did not like the way he had gazed at her bosom. “Horses have always been a great passion of mine. Do you ride, my lord?”

  “As often as I am able.”

  Sensing an area she could exploit, Lady Townsend immediately straightened in her chair. “My daughter is quite the accomplished equestrian,” she chirped before Annabel could think of a reply. “I dare say she began riding before she could walk!”

  Lord Reynard’s squinty gaze flicked to Annabel. “I am glad to see we have something in common.”

  “Yes,” she said grudgingly. “I suppose that is true.”

  “You should plan an outing in Hyde Park,” Lady Townsend continued brightly. “I am certain my son Nathaniel would love to accompany you. Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon would be splendid,” said Lord Reynard.

  Finding herself the recipient of not one but two expectant stares, Annabel bit down on the inside of her cheek.

  Hard.

  “I am afraid I am otherwise occupied tomorrow.”

  “Otherwise occupied?” Her mother’s eyebrows snapped together. “Otherwise occupied doing what?”

  “Caroling practice, for one thing. It is one of my causes,” she told Lord Reynard. “A group of us are going caroling before Christmas to collect donations for those less fortunate.” And then, because she had a sneaking suspicion what his answer would be, she could not help but ask, “Would you care to join us, my lord?”

  “Join you?”

  “Why yes,” she said sweetly. “The more the merrier, as the saying goes.”

  The viscount frowned. “Do you not think begging is best left to the poor?”

  “Oh dear.” Casting her gaze heavenwards, Lady Townsend clasped her hands together in her lap and murmured, “Why do I even bother?”

  “I am sorry,” Annabel said as her eyes narrowed to thin slits of green, “but I do not recall using the term ‘begging’.”

  “What else would you call traipsing from house to house singing for food and coin like a common gypsy?” Lord Reynard looked genuinely bemused, as if the notion of a charitable cause was completely foreign. Unfortunately, his expression of vague repulsiveness was not unique to him. It was an expression Annabel had seen time and time again whenever she brought up one of her beloved causes. While the idea of using the advantages given to her at birth to assist those who had been born with nothing seemed a rather obvious one, it seemed the majority of the ton preferred to pretend as though the lower class – many of them destitute and starving – simply did not exist.

  “Helping those unable to help themselves while spreading holiday cheer?” she suggested.

  “Be that as it may, I find hardly find caroling a suitable activity for a young lady such as yourself.” His gaze shifted to Annabel’s mother. “Surely you must object to this, Lady Townsend.”

  Lady Townsend sighed. “In fact I do not. I am sorry, Lord Reynard, but if there is one thing you should know about my daughter it is that she is a very strong-willed, opinionated young woman.” Taking Annabel’s hand, she squeezed it tight as she turned her head and met her daughter’s surprised stare. “If you are seeking a docile, biddable wife I believe you would do best to look elsewhere, my lord.”

  “I believe I shall do that.” Standing stiffly, Lord Reynard executed two short bows. “Good day, my ladies. I will see myself out.”

  Annabel waited until the front door had opened and closed to say, “Well I know one house we will not be caroling at.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” Clasping her temple with both hands, Lady Townsend stood up and walked to the window, the corners of her mouth pulling down in distress as she watched Lord Reynard climb into his carriage. “Another one, Annabel? That makes five this month alone!”

  “I am sorry Mother, but did you truly mean what you said? Annabel asked softly. “You made it out to seem as though being strong-willed and opinionated is…is a good thing.”

  Lady Townsend turned from the window. “But of course it is. I am proud of the woman you are becoming and I am proud that I raised a daughter who knows how to speak her mind.” Lowering her hands, she regarded Annabel with great affection. “In time you will learn how to moderate your opinion, but for now I would much rather you say
what you feel than hide behind good manners. Anyone can be polite and hold their tongue, Annabel. It takes a special person – a special woman – to know when to speak up, especially for those who are not always able to speak for themselves.”

  “Oh Mama.” Springing out of her chair, Annabel crossed the parlor in three leaping strides and flung both arms around her mother’s neck, hugging her close and breathing in the comfortingly familiar scent of rosemary and warm spice. “I love you.”

  “Now, now,” said Lady Townsend as she patted her daughter’s back. “I love you as well, but this does not mean you are off the hook in regards to finding a husband. Nor does it mean I approve of the way you have been treating your suitors, Lord Reynard included.”

  Annabel rocked back on her heels. “But you said–”

  “I know what I said. Just as I know that Lord Reynard was not the most suitable candidate.”

  “Then why allow him to come calling at all?”

  “Do you remember when you were looking for the perfect mare? How many stables you dragged your brother to?”

  “Yes. But what does that–”

  “In my experience, finding a husband is rather like finding the perfect horse. You have to look at a few nags before you find a stallion.”

  “Mother.” Not knowing whether to laugh or turn red from embarrassment, Annabel did a bit of both. “Is that how you came to be married to Father?”

  “Heavens, no.” Lady Townsend waved a hand in the air. “Our marriage was an arranged one. Well…of a sort. Suffice it to say when all was said and done I had little choice in the matter, and neither did your father. But then, I have never been very good with choices. That is where you and I defer, my dear. I would much rather make something out of what I have been given then risk getting stuck with nothing. You are bolder than I ever was. Prettier as well, and certainly more courageous. I only hope…”

  “You only hope…” Annabel urged when her mother fell silent.