The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4) Page 21

  “How dare any of you speak of Miss Bray in such a way! What do any of you know about her? What gives you the right to say such horrible things about her? Or to spread malicious rumors? What can any of you say about her at all that is of any worth?”

  “Now see here, Miss Remington,” a man began, his voice kind.

  She shook her head fiercely, that warm flush now spreading to her limbs. “No, I will not see here. This is not some game you play in corners of ballrooms and parties. Marianne Bray is not an object to be mocked or slandered just because none of you have the brain capacity to focus on anything else.”

  Gasps of shock echoed around the group, but she was in too much of a state to consider it.

  “That young woman over there has a heart of gold and her only misfortune is being so beautiful and refined that it is impossible to not be filled with jealousy and envy at the sight of her.” She glared around at them all, her breath coming faster. “She is accomplished in far more areas than I could ever hope to be, let alone the rest of Society, and anyone worth any good opinion would never think of abusing her character in such a way. Shame on you all.”

  She turned from the group, only to have Mr. Gerrard standing before her. He looked positively murderous, and it terrified her. But his eyes were not on her. Instead, they seared the rest of the group, and she wondered if any person could stand such power. He looked down at her and bowed deeply. “Come, Miss Remington. I’m afraid I must claim the rare privilege of a second dance with you.” He held out a hand forcefully and by pure instinct she recoiled.

  But she would not fear him. She tilted her chin up a notch and placed her hand in his. “It would be an honor, Mr. Gerrard.”

  Something almost akin to a faint wink lit one of his eyes and he squeezed her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle.

  “Thank you for the rescue,” she whispered as he led her away. “I fear I was getting carried away. That has never happened to me before. I am generally not inclined to speak at all.”

  “Miss Remington, I was not saving you, I was saving them,” he responded, his voice clipped.

  She looked up at him in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

  He glanced down, his eyes blazing. “I saved the rest of them from you. Any longer and you might have done away with them all.”

  Annie flushed and she dropped her chin.

  “It was the most amazing sight I have ever seen.”

  Surprised, she looked up at him. One side of his mouth lifted at her as he took his place in the dance.

  “You… you approve?” she squeaked, remembering to curtsey as the music struck up.

  He nodded once. “I absolutely do. If I were less enraged, I would have applauded. I, too, am disinclined to conversation, but it is because I have no talent for it. I cannot speak or think clearly when so upset, yet you dismantled Lady Greversham in a few succinct sentences, and in obvious distress.” He shook his head.

  She faltered in the dance. “That was… Lady Greversham?”

  He caught her and held her steady. “It was. And I feel very sure you will have a long line of admirers after that. She is nobody’s favorite person.”

  Annie’s head began to swim and thought she would faint.

  “Come,” he urged softly, “let me get you some air.”

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered as he escorted her off. “I didn’t know it was her.”

  “Did it matter?” he asked, leading her to more open area.

  She considered that for a moment as her head began to clear. “No, I suppose not. I would have said the same to anyone.”

  Mr. Gerrard was silent for a long moment, then he said, “You defended Marianne.” He sounded almost surprised by it.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Even though she has refused to help you.”

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “How did you know?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I know more than anyone ever expects me to. Tell me why.”

  She still did not understand. “Why?” she asked, looking up at him again.

  “Why, Miss Ramsey,” he murmured softly, drawing a shocked gasp from her, “are you defending someone who will not defend you?”

  She swallowed hard, knowing he was right. In this company, Marianne would not defend her. Not truly. She looked over at her and sighed. “Because I love Marianne.”

  “How?” he asked, the word seeming ripped from him.

  She smiled faintly, still watching Marianne laugh in delight at one of her suitors. “Because she sees me. She knows this isn’t who I am. She is the only one not pretending.”

  “I don’t think you are pretending, Miss Remington,” he told her, using her public name once more, and sounding almost proud. “I think you are quite in your element up here with the rest of us.”

  She laughed a sad little laugh. “Then I have become quite the actress. But away from here, away from these fanciful imaginations, Marianne is still the same sweet, kind, generous girl I knew weeks ago. And I will always love her for loving me. Even if it is different now.”

  “Exactly so,” he murmured, his eyes now on Marianne as well.

  Annie looked up at him. “You understand?”

  He swallowed and nodded once. “More than you can possibly imagine.” He cleared his throat and straightened. “And now I think I must return you to Mr. Bray, as he is on his way over. I think he is quite proud of you.”

  Annie sighed as she saw Duncan approaching, his face full of concern. “I dare say I embarrassed him.”

  Mr. Gerrard took her hand once more and held it tightly. “You embarrassed no one, except perhaps Mrs. Coulter and Lady Greversham, for which I applaud you most heartily.” He kissed her hand and led her over to Duncan.

  “Thank you, Kit,” Duncan murmured softly as he took her hand from him.

  Mr. Gerrard bowed. “Mr. Bray. Miss Remington. Good night.” He turned from them and left the room out the nearest door, never once looking back.

  “I am sorry if I embarrassed you,” Annie murmured softly as Duncan led her away.

  He shook his head once. “Nothing to apologize for, sweet. I don’t think I have ever been prouder of anyone in my life.”

  She smiled up at him. “Really?”

  He chuckled and squeezed her hand. “Really. You should have seen Tibby, she was in tears with pride.”

  “Does… does Marianne know?” she asked timidly, looking over at her friend, who still had not seen her.

  He exhaled sharply. “No, I am afraid not. As you said, she doesn’t notice her surroundings. I have a mind to tell her, but…”

  “Don’t,” she insisted. “I don’t want her to know what they are saying.”

  “You want to protect her.” It was not a question, but she answered all the same.

  “Yes.”

  Again, he squeezed her hand. “You are a wonder, Anne Remington.”

  She looked up at him and her breath caught at the warmth in his gaze.

  He cleared his throat suddenly and looked away. “There are quite a few people who are waiting to dance with you. Admirers of yours, if you will.”

  She felt a stab of disappointment. “Oh, but I…”

  “Just look.”

  She looked where he indicated and saw each of his friends standing and grinning, their wives nearby. In almost perfect unison, the four men bowed.

  “I claim the next dance, Miss Remington,” Derek said, stepping forward. “And the one after that, too, if it is not too bold.”

  She returned his smile and looked at Duncan, who was now walking away. Her chest ached, but she forced her attention back to Derek. “Of course, my lord. It would be an honor.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Annie rubbed her tired eyes and set aside her book. Lancelot lay curled next to her, sound asleep, as he usually was these days. She smiled and stroked his soft fur, thinking yet again what a thoughtful gift it had been. Duncan had known she was anxious and overwhelmed by preparing for her introduct
ion, and this sweet puppy had been just the thing to take her mind off of things. He walked at her heels, followed her every move, and crawled up into her lap every chance he got. And he was so adorable she would never forbid him anything.

  She sighed and allowed herself to smile. For the first time in five days, she was not expected anywhere or to see anyone, and she was thankful for it. She had spent the whole morning in the library getting caught up on her reading. Her evenings had been so occupied and her energy so deprived that it had been some time since she had been able to sit in the quiet and enjoy a book. Not since before the ball.

  She sighed and wrapped herself more comfortably in the blanket around her shoulders. She was exhausted. For it being winter, there were certainly a lot of events to be attended. Tibby assured her that it was her novelty that rendered so many invitations, and Annie certainly hoped so. She did not enjoy popularity.

  Not that she ought to be considered popular, for compared to Marianne, she was a wallflower. But she did have some admirers. And callers.

  Thankfully she had none today.

  It was far easier to deal with a larger group of people than smaller numbers. There was surprisingly less attention that way. She was still rather shy when meeting one on one with people, but she was getting better. Slowly but surely, her fears were vanishing.

  She discovered that most people were kind and considerate, and didn’t mind her being reserved. The men she had begun to meet seemed to find it amusing, but did not tease her about it. She couldn’t have said that any one particular man stood out to her at this point, no matter how Tibby interrogated her after each event, but she enjoyed meeting and associating with men that didn’t have nefarious intentions for her.

  A cold shiver ran up her spine as she recollected seeing Mr. Thorpe twice more since the ball. Once on her way to a card party at Lady Beckham’s he had been passing on the street just as she disembarked from her carriage. His eyes had met hers and she knew instantly that he recognized her. But other than his blatant leer, nothing had occurred.

  The second time he had actually spoken to her. She had been shopping with Tibby the other day and he had approached them suddenly.

  “I don’t believe we have been introduced,” he had begun, his voice sounding slick and oozing with supposed gentility.

  Thankfully, Tibby was an excellent judge of character. She had sniffed and looked him over distastefully before saying, “No. We have not,” with a toss of her head and taking Annie’s arm, briskly setting off towards their carriage. Annie had not looked back, but she could imagine how his expression would have looked.

  “Not all men are worth knowing,” Tibby had confided to Annie with a pat on her hand.

  She quite agreed.

  But even the sight of Mr. Thorpe could not detract from her true enjoyment. She was seeing a world she would never have been able to before, meeting people who would have passed her on the streets without a look before, and wearing clothes that she would have spent a lifetime trying to afford. She had nearly accustomed herself to her new wardrobe, much to her friends’ delight. There was something to be said about wearing fine apparel. One could not help but to love it.

  In fact, in this whole affair, she only had one regret.

  Duncan.

  He was more reclusive than usual, keeping to his rooms or his study, or spending time away from the house with his friends. He no longer dined with them and never sought her out. Marianne and Tibby claimed this was his usual way, and they had been surprised by the amount of time he had been spending at home of late. She could not ask more without appearing overanxious, and so her mind had set about to wondering.

  Her imagination had grown quite rampant.

  Perhaps he had felt his duty to her fulfilled. This was a logical conclusion, as he had done so much for her already, and he should not do more. She did not expect more. She would not be surprised if he cast her off, but it did not seem his way or his nature. He was too kind, too giving, too generous for anything of the sort.

  Perhaps he disapproved of her. He had said during her outburst that he had his reservations about this endeavor, so perhaps his true feelings were revealed. But why wouldn’t he wish this for her? Unless he didn’t think she was worthy of such aspirations…

  No, he told her time and again not to think that way.

  Even if it was true.

  She huffed and rose from the chair, blinking away tears. She knew very well she didn’t fit, but it wouldn’t stop her from dreaming. And if she truly wanted to do this right, she had to stop thinking this way. Duncan and Tibby did not see her as a lower creature. Even Marianne saw her as an equal when they were together, away from the world. Publicly, Marianne would always reign supreme, and Annie was content to let her.

  She needed to let Annie Ramsey go. She wanted to be Annalise now. The young woman who had no tragic past, but was strong and vibrant. The one who had made friends with a countess and a marchioness and was acquainted with all sorts of influential people. The one who would take London by storm, even if it was a very small, very brief storm.

  Could she be Annalise?

  Could Duncan love Annalise?

  It was too preposterous a notion, more far-fetched than Tibby’s scheme.

  She was becoming ridiculous, being cooped up here all by herself. She needed some fresh air to clear her thoughts. The day was warmer than it had been in some time, so she could walk, which she enjoyed very much. London was such an exciting place and held so many experiences for someone who only knew a simple life. The sheer number of shops and vendors was enough make her dizzy, and the people who swirled about them were so varied and vast in their differences she could hardly countenance it.

  She could see why Marianne loved it so.

  And she understood Duncan’s distaste for it. It was always busy and bustling, hardly the peaceful setting he would enjoy. She would no doubt feel the same way once she had grown accustomed to it.

  But for now, she enjoyed it.

  She inched Lancelot away, and left the library for her room. As she expected, the dog followed her, bounding excitedly as if they were headed for some great adventure. Once upstairs, she fetched her pelisse and warmest wool coat, bonnet, and gloves, taking a vain moment to admire herself. Truly, one would never know her past from her present. Her coat was a rich navy blue and fit her form so well, she ought to have blushed, but instead she felt a thrill of pride. Her friends had insisted on a matching bonnet, but thankfully one that was not so very extravagant. She was not so far gone as to forget what simple elegance was. She much preferred that to elaborate and overdone.

  Apologizing to her poor Lancelot, she stepped out of the house alone. The air was fresh and clean and she allowed herself to inhale deeply. She truly loved being out of doors, and she wondered faintly what it was like at Duncan’s country home. Not that she would ever see it, but she might enjoy life in the country. Long trails for walking, hills and pastures for riding, fresh air and space for picnics… Yes, while city life was grand, the country would be her true love.

  She did not see many people out and about as usual, but she couldn’t say that she minded. She smiled and politely acknowledged those she did see, and found herself feeling more natural than she ever had. She could not have walked down the streets of her small village and been so comfortable. Perhaps she was not so ill-suited to this life after all.

  She had made her circle of her usual shops and even given a few coins to some hungry looking children, when she felt someone come up behind her.

  “What a generous soul you are, Annie.”

  Her spine tingled and she fought a gasp.

  Thorpe.

  “Don’t make a sound,” he murmured. “Look natural.”

  She hastily swallowed, wishing she had thought to bring someone with her, as Duncan always insisted.

  “You have been avoiding me.”

  “I did not know you were here.”

  He laughed quietly, sending shivers through her a
s if by an icy blast of wind. “You even talk like one of them. But you can’t fool me. I know the real you. And you belong to me.”

  She tilted her chin up a notch. “I belong to no one.”

  He grabbed her wrist tightly. “Watch your mouth. We need to talk, Annie. Now.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  His grip tightened and she bit her lip in pain. “You will talk to me.”

  She shook her head, her mouth remaining firmly closed.

  She was suddenly hauled to the side as he forced her into a dark alley. He shoved her against a cold, filthy brick wall, and her head slammed back against it, knocking her bonnet off. “Who the hell do you think you are, Annie Ramsey?” he hissed, his foul breath wafting across her face as he leaned close. “You think you belong here?” He shook her roughly, his hands now at her elbows. “You are nothing, you understand that? You are mine. You are promised to me. I have bought you. You belong to me!”

  Fear began to eat away at her stomach, but something else swirled in her, too. Something dark and powerful.

  Hate.

  She looked up at him with a glare, though her knees trembled. “I belong to no one.”

  He slapped her across the face, drawing a scream from her. “Shut up, Annie!” he hissed, hitting her once more, harder. “You know better than to scream.” Again he hit her.

  Dots began to appear before her eyes and she struggled to remain upright.

  “You will not talk to me that way,” Thorpe panted, his eyes glinting. “Your brother isn’t here now, Annie. I can touch you all I want. And I will teach you to respect me.”

  She whimpered as fear won out and she grabbed at the wall behind her. “My name,” she managed as tears began to fall, “is Annalise.”

  Thorpe snarled and raised his hand again.

  She braced herself for another hit.

  But it never came.

  “Do not touch her again.”

  Annie’s eyes popped open to find a man holding Thorpe’s wrist in his hand, still raised as it was to strike her.

  “Mind your own business, mangy cur,” Thorpe spat at him.

  The man’s dark eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw ticked, and he suddenly twisted Thorpe’s arm behind his back so violently it drew a sharp cry from him. “At this moment, she is my business,” he growled. “Do not touch her again.”