The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4) Read online

  The benefit of a winter party in London was the lack of accepted invitations. There was hardly anyone in London to attend.

  But he could see her fright, and he knew her discomfort.

  So why did he stand here, across the room, watching the whole thing?

  Duncan took a long drink of the punch he held, the taste burning in his mouth. She had only danced twice thus far, which was shockingly lax on the part of the men present, and those had been with the Gerrards. Tibby suggested that Annalise open the evening on Duncan’s arm, as they were thought to be almost relations, but Colin had insisted on the honor.

  Duncan would thank him later.

  He could not dance with Annalise tonight. Not if he wanted to maintain any sort of self-control or preserve his image.

  He was halfway to shredding it as it was.

  At long last, one of the men surrounding Annalise asked for a dance. She flushed slightly, but smiled that soft, secret smile he so adored, the one that meant she was more pleased than she would dare say. A nasty thrill of jealousy twisted his gut and he shifted uncomfortably against his pillar.

  At least she danced with Thomas Granger, and not one of the more senseless creatures. Granger he could tolerate well enough, though at the moment he wished the man thousands of miles away. The man was neither fop nor fool, both wealthy and respectable, and had far more intellect than one would expect from a gentleman. He was, in every respect, the sort of gentleman that a young woman of Society should wish herself to marry, if they could be so fortunate.

  Granger would never be invited to his home again.

  “If you are so in love with her, Duncan,” murmured a distinctly feminine voice from behind him, “why not dance with her yourself?”

  He turned halfway to see Kate standing there, looking regal and exquisite as always, her gown a rich burgundy that only served to accentuate her dark, fine coloring. She always looked so composed and refined. He was one of few people, he suspected, who knew what sharp wit and good humor lay within her. She kept her attention on the ballroom floor, apparently only paying attention to the dance. He looked beyond her to see that Derek was still conversing with Sir Charles Baldwin, their host. So they had just arrived, then. Excellent. He needed a distraction.

  “I can assure you, my lady,” he replied, returning his attention to the dancing, “that my current observations are purely cursory. I have no personal interest whatsoever.” His heart thudded wildly in his chest, still stunned by her sudden proclamation.

  “Liar,” she replied with a slight laugh. “You are about to make a meal of that girl and turn one of my favorite bachelors into chicken feed.”

  He grunted and took another drink of his punch as his glower deepened.

  “I appreciate your reticence, Mr. Bray,” Kate said softly as she moved to stand beside him. “You do not speak unnecessarily, which makes you both intelligent and wise. But, as your friend, and as her friend, I must insist that you answer as to your intentions.”

  “I have no intentions.” He kept his eyes trained on Annalise as if she were the only woman in the room, and he the only man.

  Kate sighed and leaned closer. “She isn’t indifferent to you, you know. Far from it.”

  “I know,” he whispered, his heart feeling ripped from his chest.

  “Then what keeps you here?”

  He swallowed hard as Annalise smiled broadly up at Mr. Granger. “I merely found her. I cannot claim her as well. She deserves to choose for herself, without any notion of gratitude or debt. She deserves… the best.”

  “And who is to say she shall not have it?”

  Duncan shifted and looked at her with warning. “Kate…”

  She gave him a pitying smile. “I will not make mischief for you, my friend, nor do I wish you discomfort. But what Annalise desires is someone who loves her. And you cannot deny that you fulfill that requirement quite soundly.”

  His frame was suddenly wracked with a jolt of shock as he looked from Kate to Annalise and back again. “I… I don’t…”

  Kate hummed a quiet laugh and her dark ringlets bounced slightly. “I see. Think about what I said, Duncan. You deserve the best, too.”

  She put a warm hand on his arm and walked away as if they had only conversed on the weather or the state of the roads, her elegant gown swishing gracefully in her wake. Could she really have that much insight into him? He looked back at Annalise with more confusion and unease than he ever had.

  Love? Could it really be that simple? Were his feelings really so easy to define as that?

  It was too soon, too early to say for certain. The past two days had been anguish for him, forcing himself away from her, not even appearing in the library for their readings. He had paced anxiously in his study or his bedroom instead, praying he had not hurt her. But until he found control, he could not be near her.

  Not that it had mattered. She had been in his thoughts constantly since then. Even when he wasn’t with her, his mind chose to be with her.

  Could it be love?

  “Well, this seems to be going well,” Colin announced as he came to stand by him.

  “What does?” he asked innocently as Thomas Granger returned Annalise to her previous position, bowed to her, and then excused himself to attend to Lily Arden. Now that was a match Duncan could approve of.

  Colin snorted, bringing him back to their conversation, and swiped a glass of punch from a passing footman. “Your little project.”

  “Cousin,” Duncan corrected with a harsh look.

  “Nothing of the sort,” Colin said with a shake of his head as he sipped his drink. “She is a niece of your aunt’s late husband from his previous marriage. As your relation is Tibby, not her late husband, and it is a niece of his from his previous marriage, and not to Tibby, the girl is no relation of yours at all.”

  “Why is that distinction important?” Duncan growled with a glare back at the group of people surrounding Annalise.

  Colin shrugged as he, too, took in the spectacle. “Because it means you can join the throng of admirers without shocking anybody.”

  “Who says I want to join?” he nearly barked, only keeping his voice down for the benefit of other patrons beginning to swirl about them.

  His friend looked surprised. “I thought you wished to play protector, Duncan. Wouldn’t the most effective way to do that be to act a part of the collection?”

  Duncan turned back to his observations with a grunt. His friend had a point, and it did not seem to him that Colin had any of the same suspicions that Kate did. That was not surprising, as Kate was a great deal more intelligent than Colin and had infinitely better sense.

  “She certainly looks well, doesn’t she?” Colin sighed proudly, seeing where Duncan’s gaze lay. “Not quite at ease, but altogether very charming.”

  “Yes.” He could not elaborate, not without sounding like a fool.

  “It seems that our friends have done quite well with her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Any residual worries on your part? Or hers?”

  Duncan heaved a sigh and leaned more heavily against the pillar. “Many, for my part. But I’m not certain about her worries. I am ready to stop this whole thing the moment it gets out of hand, assuming it does, but she wants to do this. She actually wants to. So what am I to do? I cannot force her to stop, and yet…” He trailed off, knowing it would do no good to continue the thought.

  Colin made a faint noise of assent, then turned to him. “Did you get her a gift, as I suggested?”

  He nodded, pleased to have a topic he could properly converse upon. “I did.”

  “And what did you decide?”

  He smiled as he recalled the day before, when his gift had arrived. “I bought her a puppy.”

  Colin was utterly silent and Duncan looked over to find his friend staring at him in horror.

  “What?” he asked in surprise, wondering what in the world was wrong with that. Annalise had been so pleased by the dog and he would h
ave done it again just to see the smile that she had given him.

  “Good heavens, Duncan,” Colin scoffed, not bothering to hide his disgust. “When I suggested a gift for the girl I was talking of ribbons or flowers or a particularly lovely poem. Not a puppy.”

  Duncan frowned. “What is wrong with a puppy?”

  His friend shook his head sadly. “Duncan, Duncan, Duncan. No woman is going to pay any attention to any man when there is a puppy present.”

  “This is not about her paying attention to me,” he retorted, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t that what he was craving and fearing at the same time?

  That drew a snort from his friend. “Oh, very well then, give her more puppies, by all means. Then perhaps you’ll go back to normal.”

  “She was happy with it, Colin. She was delighted.” He could not help smiling at the recollection. He had settled on a pug, as it was the most popular breed among ladies in London, and it had been just as enamored with Annalise as she had been of it. She instantly named him Lancelot, which seemed far too grand a name for such a small creature, but he would never deny her anything.

  And it had worked like a charm. She was so fond of the dog that Duncan had stopped worrying about her state of mind and being. There was no need to protect her now.

  “Be still my ever-bleeding heart,” Colin muttered sarcastically. “She would also have loved a hair comb, Duncan. Far more sensible and less troublesome. But you go ahead and be happy she has that puppy now. Let me know when your birthday is and I’ll be sure to send you a cat. You’ll need the attention.”

  He gave his friend a wry look. “Don’t cats normally ignore people?”

  “Do they? Much better. You will be able to relate to each other.” Colin shook his head and left, muttering under his breath.

  Duncan sighed irritably and looked back at Annalise, now preparing to dance with young Christian Harris. He had done the right thing. He was doing right by her.

  He was.

  The dark feeling in his chest would abate soon enough. And then he would be well again.

  Annie smiled at the group surrounding her, feeling as though her cheeks would break under the strain she had put on them this evening alone. So many people had been introduced and conversed with her, she would never be able to remember them all. She didn’t know the names of any standing around her, but as they were not addressing her at the moment, she was safe.

  And she had danced. Several times now, and each had been a pleasant experience. All of the people she had met had been so kind and complimentary, it was quite an exercise in restraint as she forced herself to react modestly and without embarrassment. And as yet, she hadn’t trod upon any toes, which she considered to be a triumphant achievement.

  She glanced over against the far wall, where Duncan stood, where he had been standing all night. He had not come over to her at all, the whole course of the night. He had watched her, as intently as a hawk, his eyes just as steady. She could not read the meaning in them, nor his carefully vacant expression. Was he displeased? Or was he simply being watchful?

  He had not spoken to her in two days, saving for his presenting her with her new puppy, Lancelot. She adored the dog, and her heart had fairly burst at such a kind and thoughtful gift from him. Lancelot brought her joy and delight, and she wished she could have expressed her gratitude more effectively. She had never been given anything of value by anyone, and the puppy was already like a friend, one who would always make her smile and soothe away fears.

  In spite of that, she missed Duncan. More fiercely than she could have imagined. He seemed to be avoiding her altogether now, even during meals. And she yearned for the briefest touch of his hand. For a smile. To hear his voice. He had not come into the library since they had danced, and oh, how she missed hearing him read to her.

  Her face flamed as she recalled the heat of that dance in the music room, in front of all of her friends, none of whom seemed even remotely aware of the turmoil she had endured. And she had not forgotten the steps to the dance, not at all. She simply could not continue in such a state without doing something both pathetic and shocking.

  Why would he not come over to her? Couldn’t he see her nervousness, which he had easily soothed before? Couldn’t he see that all of this was for him?

  She scolded herself and looked away as he noticed her gaze upon him. She could not pretend this was entirely for him. She wanted to live in this imaginary world he inhabited, even if for only a little while. To dream while she could, for none of this would last.

  Not for her.

  A lone figure entered the room then and her attention was drawn to him briefly.

  Her heart lurched so suddenly in her chest that she lost her balance for a moment. Thankfully, no one noticed, but she could feel slight tremors starting in her fingers.

  She glanced back up as she pretended to scan the room, and her stomach clenched again.

  There was no mistaking the leanness of his body, the coldness of his eyes, the permanent sneer etched into his features.

  Albert Thorpe was here.

  But how? He could not have known she was here, there was no possible way for anyone to trace her. Yet here he was, in the same room as her, in London, of all places.

  Was he considered a man of high Society? She couldn’t imagine so, not after what he had put her through and his usual manner of dress and speech. But how else could he have obtained an invitation to the ball this evening? She knew he had money, but she had not thought it equal to those she now associated with.

  He saw her group and tilted his head for a moment, no doubt wondering at the fuss, and then his eyes found her. Locked on her. And the surprised registered in his pale face so plainly she knew she had been right. He had not known she would be here.

  Which meant he had no plans for her.

  Yet.

  His thick brows snapped together and she quickly shifted her attention to the people nearest her, engaging them in conversation on whatever she could think of first. Thankfully, they were both exceptional conversationalists and did not need much input from her. Perhaps she could convince Mr. Thorpe that he was mistaken. Perhaps he would think the idea of her being here as so far-fetched that it would be impossible.

  Then again, perhaps he would merely bide his time.

  Feeling panic rising, she looked over to Duncan, only to discover with a sickening jolt that he had disappeared.

  She forced herself to keep breathing, and looked around for a familiar face, anyone that could help at all.

  Mary and Moira were close at hand, but engaged in conversation with a few other ladies. She had seen Kate and Derek dancing moments ago, and would not have interrupted them for a fortune, not with the way they stared at each other. Nathan and Colin she had not seen, but Geoffrey and his brother were nearby. She could rush to them if need be.

  Feeling slightly mollified, she looked around again. Thorpe was not looking her direction anymore, and she allowed herself to breathe a bit easier.

  Marianne sat at the opposite end of the room from her, surrounded by her own collection of admirers, which far outstripped her own. That was as it should have been. She glanced over at Annie, and she saw a flicker of concern cross her features, but then it was gone and her cool, complacent demeanor was back in place. She turned away from Annalise, and back to her own group.

  She didn’t mind. She had expected worse.

  The room was full of people now, and so it would take some time for Thorpe to get near her, if he wished, though a public scene was not his way. Flashes of memory infiltrated her mind and she forced herself not to whimper in remembered pain.

  Her hands shook and she had to fight the urge to wipe at her brow, which felt warm and damp.

  “Look at her, the vain ridiculous creature,” a woman near her sneered.

  Shocked, Annie looked at her, only to find that she was not the one being spoken of. The woman was looking directly at Marianne.

  “Have yo
u ever seen such a woman?” the lady continued, scoffing and fanning herself importantly. “Who does she think she is, to find herself so far above her company?”

  Annie was shocked at the number of heads nodding near her. She glanced back where Mr. Thorpe had been, but he seemed to have vanished, thankfully. Perhaps he did not recognize her after all.

  “Miss Bray has always been a cold, calculating creature,” a young man muttered, shaking his head. “As impenetrable as a fortress, and just as deadly.”

  Annie knew her mouth was agape, but she could not muster the strength to close it. Were they really speaking so boldly of Marianne in company?

  The first woman tossed her copious hair and adjusted her bodice. “She has no accomplishment, you know. Barely passable in anything at all.”

  “I heard she lures her suitors in with hopes and then laughs as she dashes them all to pieces.” Annie did not know who spoke this, nor could she contain the fury surging through her veins. Her fears of Mr. Thorpe were now gone, banished by her indignation for her friend. She could not bear this. Was she meant to?

  “Oh, I know she does,” another man said in an urgent tone. “I have heard it from no less than three unfortunate men who attempted for her favors.”

  “Favors,” a woman scoffed. “Poisonous darts, more like.”

  “Well, you do know who she learned it all from,” an older woman… what was her name?… spoke up, looking at the rest. She had hardly spoken and had not been with this group for long. She wore far too many ruffles and beads, and the sheer volume of fabric surrounding her would have served to make three full dresses for the woman.

  Every head shook in confusion, every eye fixed on her, waiting for the answer.

  Annie could not allow this. She would not.

  “That is enough,” she said loudly, in a voice she did not recognize at all. It was strong and powerful and full of authority.

  All eyes were now on her, but she could not look at anyone for long. She was not that brave.