The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4) Page 12

  Which did not explain why he was friends with Colin, but there it was.

  A loud burst of laughter interrupted his reverie and he looked at the door of his study in confusion. He had suspected everyone to be out on such a fine day. The snow still lay crisp and white outside, but the sun was shining at last. Surely they would have gone for some fresh air.

  Music filled the halls and wafted into the study. It was elaborate and intricate and beautiful, he thought with a smile. Then he frowned. It was also entirely beyond Marianne’s skill.

  Oh, his sister was quite accomplished, more so than a typical London girl of Society, that much he knew for certain. But while she was talented in all things, she was not especially excellent in anything, particularly with music. No one hearing her would suspect she lacked in any respect at all. But Duncan, who had endured hours upon hours of her recitals as a test of will, knew that her talent only extended as far as her patience, which was limited. And what he was hearing right now from the music room was not something she could have played without significant practice.

  Which she never did.

  Curious enough to investigate, he rose from his chair and snuck out of the room. The music was spritely and joyful, reminding him of a certain young girl who used to dance in flowerbeds before she was informed it was improper. Before such things became important to her. He smiled at just the sound of it. The closer he drew to the music room, the more he knew it could not be Marianne.

  Or at least, not Marianne alone. Could it have been a duet?

  If he suspected Kate were in the house, he would have said no, it was simply her. But Kate was madly gifted and accomplished musically. And he knew for a fact she was not in the house.

  Who could duet with his sister? Tibby did not play, much to her apparent dismay, and often bemoaned her lack of musical accomplishment loudly and publicly. But she was a great appreciator of music and held musical galas annually. Had she decided to learn the basics of playing? At her age? He would not be surprised, the woman had recently vowed she would also learn Italian, and she was dreadful, but determined.

  He would certainly tease her endlessly if she had taken up music as well.

  Another burst of girlish giggles met his ears and he frowned briefly. Definitely not Tibby.

  The music grew louder and faster and his pace matched it. He peered around the door of the music room and his breath caught in his chest.

  His sister was at the pianoforte. And next to her was a small, slender wisp of a woman with golden hair that looked like the sun. She looked at Marianne with a wild, carefree smile and her complexion was rosy and warm, the very picture of beauty and health. And they were playing with such delight and laughter, they might have been the best of friends.

  Astonishingly, his eyes and his chest burned and he struggled to know which he ought to soothe. He found himself breathlessly laughing when they laughed, uncertain why or how, but he felt as light as feather and twice as flimsy. A weight he had not known he had been carrying was suddenly lifted from his shoulders, and he could breathe as freely as he had ever done.

  The girls raced to the end of the song with gusto, Annie trying furiously to keep up with her far simpler part, but she matched Marianne note for note. The final chord was struck and both burst out laughing again as one of Marianne’s notes was a trifle off, then they adjusted for the actual notes and raised their hands from the pianoforte, still giggling like children.

  He did not want to disturb them, but he could not remain. He shifted his weight and the doorjamb creaked with its relief at his movement. The girls turned in surprise, and Annie’s emerald eyes went wide with shock even as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

  Marianne had nothing of the sort. She grinned as her eyes twinkled merrily. “Found us, have you? Took you long enough.”

  He regarded his sister with surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  “That is the fourth time we have played that song this morning and no one has even peeked in at us.” She looked at Annie with a look of mock consternation. “Perhaps if we put words to it and sang at the same time, we might receive our due attentions.”

  The two of them snickered helplessly, and Annie covered her mouth with one of her delicate hands. Good heavens, had she ever laughed this much in her entire life? She was a fairy of joyful innocence when she laughed, and the sound was more musical than anything he had ever heard, including their playing just now, or even Kate’s excellence.

  “I did not know you played,” Duncan said softly, his eyes only for Annie.

  “I don’t,” she quipped. She smiled brightly, her expression still so full of joy and delight he was strongly tempted to kiss her.

  The impulse took him by such surprise and force he felt himself falter just a bit. But given his size, it was noticeable and awkward. Annie did not react at all, but Marianne gave him a look that spelled trouble for him later.

  Frantically, he swallowed and attempted to recover some semblance of control and normalcy. “Then how did you…?” he asked, gesturing to the pianoforte.

  Annie’s smile widened and her blush deepened. “Marianne has been good enough to teach me a little here and there this week. I am not very good, but…”

  “You are doing very well for a beginner!” Marianne insisted with a squeeze to her arm. “Even I am impressed, and I am never impressed.”

  “You sounded like Tibby just then!” Annie squealed with wide eyes.

  Marianne looked positively horrorstruck. “I did? Good heavens. Time to go for a walk. Come on, Annie.” She jumped from the bench and took Annie by the hand, leading her from the room.

  “What, you’re leaving now?” he asked, knowing he sounded far too concerned.

  Marianne rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, Duncan, we are. I have to change, I cannot go walking like this.”

  He saw no reason why that should be the case. She was looking very pretty today and it would have been entirely suitable for a walk about London.

  “Do not look at me like that,” his sister huffed. “You have no idea about fashion.”

  Duncan gave Annie a bewildered look and received only a shrug in return. She was apparently just as clueless.

  “Well, I would like a word with Annie, if I may,” he said suddenly, not willing to let her out of his sight just yet.

  Marianne looked more put out than ever. “Well, Annie needs to change as well!”

  “Do I?” Annie asked in surprise, looking down at her dress. It was a new one and Duncan had never seen it before, but it looked rather fetching on her. A simple blue day dress, hardly fine or expensive, and certainly something his sister would never have worn. But Annie needed no such finery, and it heightened the green in her eyes in such a way that they were the very first thing anyone would notice.

  “No,” Duncan said forcefully at the same time his sister screeched, “Yes.”

  Annie looked between the two in confusion, and the siblings stared at each other in a silent battle of wills.

  Typically, Marianne would win these battles. She was headstrong, determined, and incredibly opinionated. She was accustomed to getting her way and thrived with that knowledge and self-proclaimed authority.

  But where Annie Ramsey was concerned, Duncan would accept no defeat. And he could stare at his sister for an exceptionally long time until she, too, understood that fact.

  Finally his sister threw her hands into the air with an exasperated huff. “Fine! See if I care! But she will change her boots. I have to insist upon it. I will send Agnes down with her coat and boots, you impossible louse.” She whirled from the room in a flurry of skirts.

  “You love me!” he called after her, sending a crooked grin at Annie, who had not handled the tension well and hesitantly gave a small smile back.

  “God alone knows why!” his sister replied.

  Duncan chuckled and shook his head.

  Then he realized he was alone with Annie and had no idea what he wanted to talk to her about.

 
Blast.

  She watched him expectantly, her eyes still filled with mirth, though a bit diminished. He had not failed to notice how she had nervously shifted her glances between the two of them as they had tested wills. Two weeks with his family and she still expected the worst. How long would that go on? When would she witness enough goodness to replace the underlying fear?

  She tilted her head at him, no doubt curious as to why he had said he wished to speak with her. He could not have said why or on what subject he wanted to speak, could not have said he actually wanted to speak at all. Looking at her seemed to be quite enough at the moment.

  But he knew she would hardly see it that way. So he would have to think of something to say.

  Anything.

  Anything at all.

  “Good morning,” he finally said softly.

  That maddening hint of a smile reappeared and he would swear hours later that her eyes twinkled. “Good morning.”

  Excellent. Now what?

  “Are you… enjoying your time here? With us?” He sounded like a frightened schoolboy stammering before a particularly fierce master.

  Annie, it seemed, didn’t notice. “Oh, yes. I have loved learning music and drawing from Marianne. She is sweet and kind and ever so patient to teach me. And Tibby has been helping me to improve my manners.” She blushed a bit and looked down at her toes. “I’m still so rough and unrefined, but I am learning.”

  “And your reading is much improved.”

  She beamed at him. “Yes. Thank you for helping me. I have enjoyed our reading time together. You have been very kind to me, Duncan. All of you have.”

  His mind was swirling with the amount of speaking she was doing. He was used to the timid, shy creature from before, the one who hardly spoke at all. Not that he minded, quite the opposite. He was delighted that she was opening up in such a way.

  “I am very grateful,” Annie said in her soft, sweet voice.

  Grateful? He did not want her gratitude. He did not care.

  He wanted… He wanted…

  What the devil did he want, anyway?

  “Are you happy, Annie?” he asked suddenly.

  Annie’s pale brows rose and she bit her lip. “Yes, I think so. Why shouldn’t I be?”

  Why indeed?

  “I have more than I ever dreamed I would,” Annie continued slowly, seeming to choose her words with great care. “I still feel very out of place… I doubt that will ever change no matter where I am employed. But I am learning how to fit in. To want to fit in.” She smiled up at him and again his heart stopped. “I have so much to learn, so much I still need to be, but I am happy.” She shook her head faintly, and her voice took on a hint of wonder. “I don’t know when I last felt that.”

  His chest ached at her words and he took her hand without even noticing he had. “Good,” he murmured, stroking it. “I want you to be happy. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I… You should be happy, Annie.”

  A soft blush appeared on her cheeks and her smile turned shy. “Thank you.” She shifted almost uneasily, looked out of the door, then back at him. “Do you think I need to change my dress? I don’t want to distress Marianne by wearing something… inappropriate.”

  He sighed a small laugh and shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about distressing Marianne ever, Annie. She will always get over it. And your dress is perfectly appropriate. In fact, if I might say so, you look very pretty.”

  Her eyes lit up and searched his eagerly. “Really?”

  He swallowed and nodded. “Really.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to the back of it.

  He heard her breath catch and felt his match it. Her eyes turned a shade darker and a bit of anxiety entered them, the barest shadow of fear reappearing.

  “What?” he asked softly.

  She swallowed and stepped away. “Nothing. You’re sure this dress is all right?”

  He smiled again. “Do you like your dress, Annie?”

  “I think so…” She said it almost as a question and looked at him as if for approval.

  He shook his head at her. “I told you my thoughts, Annie. But my thoughts on the subject matter very little. All that matters is what you think of it.”

  She bit her lip again, chewing in indecision. Then she looked out of the door again. “Marianne was so upset. I think I should go change.”

  Duncan felt a twinge of disappointment, but shrugged as if it made no difference. “If you like, Annie.”

  She nodded. “I would.” She turned to go, then winced and turned back. “That is, if I may? If we are finished? I don’t want to be rude.”

  He could not help the smile that formed on his lips. She was still as uncertain and timid as ever, checking on every little detail. Her confusion amused him, and made her even more charming. What would he do when she no longer asked for permission or his opinion? When she was no longer afraid or uncertain? When she tired of his protectiveness and his lurking? When she had grown enough to have real and gainful employment?

  He forced himself to smile at her as kindly as he knew how. “You may, Annie. You don’t need to ask. We are finished here.”

  She nodded and gave him his favorite barely-there smile. “Thank you for speaking with me, Duncan. I enjoyed it.” She bobbed a hint of a curtsey and walked out, then turned suddenly. “We will still read tonight, won’t we?”

  Inexplicably, his chest was seized with a burst of pain. How long would that go on? When would she tire of their evenings in the library? Her uncertainty unnerved him. He would always want to read with her.

  Always.

  He nodded, unable to say a word.

  She smiled with what he hoped was relief. “Good. I… I enjoy that, too.” She averted her eyes and turned away.

  Duncan exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his hair, laughing ruefully at his own distracted behavior. He used to have such composure, some might even call it poise, if he weren’t so massive and oafish. Now he was a babbling mess of a man who hardly knew which way was up. The change was laughable. It was also terrifying.

  “I have an idea.”

  He froze as he turned around. Tibby stood a little ways behind him, her arms folded over her bright green silk gown, several feathers sticking out of her elaborate hair. Her expression was superior, knowing, and altogether mischievous.

  It was eerily too much like Colin Gerrard’s typical expression.

  “How long have you been there?” he asked, knowing a defensive tone was clear.

  She smirked. “Long enough.”

  He frowned at her, attempting to appear menacing. “How did I neither see nor hear you?”

  His aunt made a harsh sound and paired it with a matching look. “You have a second door to this room, Duncan. You should pay more attention in your own house. How can you expect to know anything if you cannot remember the basic logistics of a house that has been in your family… Well, not very long, actually, but you’ve certainly lived in it long enough to…”

  “Tibby…”

  She raised her hands and waved him off. “Never mind, never mind. As I was saying, I have an idea.”

  “Do I want to know?” he asked politely, knowing he probably did not, but neither would he have a choice.

  The smile Tibby offered was neither comforting nor encouraging. “Yes.”

  He doubted that very much.

  “And, I suspect, very much no.”

  That certainly caught him off-guard. When she did not continue, he raised a brow and gestured. “Well?”

  “I want to sponsor Annie for a real London Season.”

  Duncan’s mouth gaped open for a long moment. Then it worked noiselessly. Eventually, his voice caught up. “No,” he said firmly. “No, no, absolutely not.”

  Tibby’s eyes narrowed. “You misunderstand me, my dear. I have already decided. She will have a London Season and I will sponsor her, and if we have any luck, she will find herself a husband before the Season is out. I was merely informing y
ou. Thought you ought to know.” She turned on her heel and swept out of the room grandly.

  He stood there for several heartbeats, then his brow snapped down and he marched after her.

  “Tibby!” he barked, his voice booming throughout the house. “Tibby, wait!”

  “Explain it to me again,” Duncan sighed, putting his head into his hands.

  “Quite simple, my dear,” Tibby said from the far corner of his study. “Annie is far too good to be a companion or a governess or anything of the sort. Her station is all that limits her.”

  “I know that,” he grumbled, grinding his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Of course,” his aunt replied a bit too gleefully. “We all know it. Even Marianne.”

  He lifted his head and looked at her in disbelief. “Really?”

  His sister was not the sort to let that detail slip by. She held firm beliefs about station and fortune and the like. It was irritating, but there it was. He could hardly believe she would ignore something so monumental, in her estimation, as a difference in situation.

  Tibby smiled, no doubt understanding precisely where his thoughts were at the moment. “You saw them on the pianoforte today. She loves her, Duncan. Marianne has a sister at last, or a true friend, at the very least. When was the last time Marianne had any such young woman? Annie would be far more a companion for her than she could ever be for me, though I daresay I would take her in an instant.”

  “So why don’t you?” he asked, his head feeling like it would split in two.

  “Because I want her to have more.”

  It was said so simply, so honestly, and he felt the same way. But a Season in Society? With fawning cads and daring debutantes and the criticism and scrutiny of snobs and fools and good-for-nothing tiresome gossips the likes of Lady Greversham? He could not allow Annie to be subjected to that, she would not be able bear it.

  Or perhaps he would not.

  “So,” Tibby went on when he did not reply, “obviously we shall change her name. Not that anyone here should know her, but you never know these days. Obviously, the Season is still some weeks away, so we shall test her out while London is quiet, and it will give us plenty of time to prepare her. And she shall be a long lost relative of mine. Some niece of a late husband from his previous marriage or some such nonsense, and her fortune shall be rumored at some twenty thousand pounds.”