Desperate and Daring 02 - Belle of the Ball (15 page)

Anabelle didn’t have to wait long before her next encounter with Draven. That evening at a quiet dinner at home, her mother informed her that she had accepted an invitation to dine with Lady Draven and her family two nights later. Anabelle was now in a carriage sitting beside Hazel while their parents shared idle chatter.

She was a bit miffed. She speculated that perhaps her parents favored a match with Draven and why shouldn’t they? He fits the bill of a suitable husband perfectly if not for his manipulative, cold, and domineering ways. They had claimed that they would let her choose her own husband, but this was obvious encouragement of his suit.

Hazel was quiet, but Anabelle could sense her rabid curiosity. She hadn’t come to her that afternoon after Draven left, hadn’t mentioned the odd flowers or asked any leading questions at all. It was disconcerting. Anabelle folded her arms over her chest and huffed.

“Dear, is something wrong?” Her mother paused in conversation and looked to her.

“No.” Anabelle turned her attention towards the window.

“You don’t appear to be enamored of our dinner plans,” her father queried.

“If I am to be honest, I am not.” Anabelle faced her parents. “I found Lady Draven to be quite charming, but it seems there is a plan afoot that I did not agree to follow to begin with.”

Her mother and father shared a glance.

“It’s only dinner, Anabelle.” Her father chuckled.

Anabelle grew even angrier. “And what purpose does this dinner serve? Don’t pretend there isn’t an underlying meaning. I was told I had a choice in my future husband, but it is clear by this dinner that you favor Lord Draven and are pushing me in his direction.”

Her father sighed. “Lord, save me from dramatic daughters. It is true Lord Draven has expressed his interest to me, but it is still only dinner. The choice is still yours. Try to at least be a polite guest tonight. This sourness is not becoming on you.” Her father finished with a hard tone.

Anabelle was stunned and hurt. Her father never spoke to her so harshly.

“Do you understand me?” he continued.

“Yes, Father.” Anabelle bitterly put her anger in check. She had little time to compose a content expression before they arrived at their destination and the carriage came to a stop. They entered a modest though elegant townhouse. Giving her cloak to a footman, they were escorted upstairs to the drawing room where their host and hostess were waiting to greet them. Anabelle steeled herself for her first glimpse of him, but when she entered the room, there were two dark-haired girls who caught her attention.

Warm smiles greeted her and bright cornflower blue eyes. They were the image of their mother with black bouncing ringlets of hair reminiscent of their brooding brother. They were lovely, one on the cusp of womanhood, and the other still a darling child.

“Welcome to our home.” Lady Draven greeted them and invited them to sit. “May I introduce my two daughters, Miss Mary Wood and Miss Felicity.”

“How do you do, Miss Wood and Miss Felicity?” Lady Wellsford smiled as the two young ladies stood and curtsied.

“Very well, my lady,” Mary answered.

“I am delighted to meet you,” Felicity squealed with rosy cheeks. Anabelle took a seat across from the Draven’s on the matching sofa beside her mother and sister. Draven’s sisters were darling. She couldn’t imagine what having a brother like him would be like. Was he distant? Did he converse with them or give them any of his attention? She peeked at Draven as he handed her father a tumbler of amber liquid. She pulled her gaze away and gave her attention to Lady Draven, who was talking of a new addition to their family, a puppy Draven had bought for the girls. Anabelle was all ears. It was a Spaniel puppy to be exact.

“One of the puppies from Lord Dunwick’s litter?”

“Why, yes.” Lady Draven nodded

“How adorable!” Hazel cried. “May we see it? Anabelle and I had the joy of holding them when they were very little.”

Mary jumped to her feet. “Can I fetch her, Mother?”

“I suppose it will be all right. Just for a moment. Ring for Jacobs, he can bring the puppy.” Lady Draven turned back to Lady Wellsford. “Our little Raven is still growing accustomed to the idea of manners.”

Jacobs soon entered and was dispatched to fetch the puppy. He returned shortly with a squirming bundle of shining black fur. Mary stood and took the puppy and set it on the floor.

“My, how they’ve grown,” Anabelle said in awe.

“I do wish we could have gotten one now.” Hazel pouted.

“When you are mistress of your own home, you can have all the dogs you desire,” Lady Wellsford said.

The little puppy made a circle between the two sofas, pausing to sniff at their hems. Anabelle reached down and stroked her little head and was rewarded with a happy lick to her hand. Unable to resist, she picked the puppy up into her lap. “You are so very dear.” She nuzzled the soft fur and sighed in delight.

“And so very tiny,” Hazel remarked.

“She’s just a little cocker. The smallest of the litter. Lord Dunwick didn’t require much convincing to let me have her,” Draven offered.

Anabelle spared him a brief glance. She set the puppy down and it circled the carpet again.

“Let’s not test the waters of fate. Be a dear and ring for Jacobs again, Mary.”

Hazel had taken one last longing pat of the adorable puppy before Jacobs retrieved her. Dinner was announced on the heels of the puppy’s departure and they shuffled into the dining room. It occurred to Anabelle how unusual it was for them to have such an informal and intimate dinner when they were such new acquaintances. Normally, more guests would have been invited to even the male to female ratio, and Draven’s young sisters would not be in attendance. She was pleased, nonetheless. They were delightful and well behaved, and they also gave her a peek into a Draven she didn’t know. Perhaps that was his aim?

She took the opportunity to converse freely with his sisters and see what she could learn. Mary was fourteen and Felicity only ten. They were eager to participate in the conversation and not to be left out. Anabelle often found herself smiling at their innocent observations. The conversation remained light, and never once was anything about Draven and Anabelle mentioned. No alluding to an engagement or any sort of attachment. It was a relief, but she was also intrigued.

He had made it clear what his aim was, and her parents were onboard. But so far, nothing about the evening felt pushed or contrived. So why was she disappointed? She had come prepared for battle, but found no opponent. Dinner finished and the ladies removed to the drawing room. The girls settled at a table to play games, and Hazel and Anabelle joined them. She didn’t care for the idea of Draven alone with her father, but there was naught she could do about it. Mary produced a deck of cards and proceeded to teach them a game she had made up.

It was only a short time before the gentlemen returned, but Anabelle was so engrossed in the antics of the two children that she didn’t notice Draven until he was directly behind her.

“She cheats, you know. The entire game is skewed in her favor.”

“You rat. I would never do such a thing,” Mary shot back at him.

“Then tis amazing how you always win.”

“I knew it all along,” Felicity said in agitation. “You said I was too little to understand the game, but I understand it just fine.”

“How about we play another game,” Anabelle offered before they broke into all-out warfare. “Spillikins, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes, I am very good at Spillikins,” Felicity brightened.

“Spillikins it is.”

Draven fetched the game and Anabelle was surprised to see him return with a chair for himself. He squeezed it in between Mary and herself. Mary looked surprised as well.

“I didn’t know you played, brother.”

“I was once a child myself, Mary. Everyone knows how to play Spillikins.”

“Even rakehells like you,” Felicity piped in.

A stunned silence fell over the table.

“I beg your pardon, young lady, but where did you ever hear such a word?”

“And how to use it accurately,” Hazel mumbled. Draven threw her a glare before returning his admonishing gaze to his littlest sister.

Felicity shrunk into her seat under his gaze. “Twas Mary who said it.”

Draven turned his gaze to Mary. It was withering and reminiscent of quite a few looks Anabelle had received from her own father growing up. It suddenly occurred to Anabelle that Draven, though their brother was also their father figure. It was startling.

“And where did you hear such a word?”

Mary shrugged. “I receive most of my education in profanity directly from you, but I could have heard it in passing from a maid or at the park.”

Draven blinked. “And you saw fit to repeat it in front of your sister.”

Now Mary did look a bit regretful. “That was not wise, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” He needled. “It was now repeated in company. You suppose that was not wise? I suppose a trip to the museum is no longer in order if you can’t manage to hold your tongue around such innocent ears.”

Anabelle bit her tongue. The poor girl looked thoroughly chastised now, but it was not her place to intervene.

“I think it’s time for you to retire. Please escort your sister to the nursery.” He turned away from her.

Mary’s face crumpled, but she didn’t say a word as she stood and collected a very displeased Felicity. “Goodnight, Lady Anabelle, Lady Hazel.” Felicity mirrored her words weakly. They said goodnight to Lady Draven and Anabelle’s parents and then departed sullenly.

“Pot meet kettle, wouldn’t you say?” Hazel spoke first.

Draven didn’t look up as he set up the game. “A young lady should not utter such words in polite company.”

“It doesn’t stop you.”

“Hazel,” Anabelle warned.

“I am not a young lady.” Draven smirked. “Thankfully.” His gaze touched on Anabelle and she saw a glint of heat in his eyes.

She quickly pulled her eyes away. “It is unfortunate their evening had to be cut short, but I understand the ramifications if such a thing had been said in the company other than friends.”

He was still watching her. She could feel it.

“My point is, he should not reprimand them so forcefully when he himself has no care about the words he utters in gentle hearing. In fact, I think you enjoy it at times,” Hazel accused.

“That’s true. But their future rests entirely on my shoulders, and it is up to me to guide them into the social snake pit that is polite society,” he said it with little emotion, but Anabelle had watched him under her lashes and saw the tenseness of his shoulders, the way his fingers curled tightly into his palm.

She decided to change the subject before the entire evening fell apart. “Well, let’s have a game, shall we?” She took the box from his hands and set up the sticks. Hazel and Draven were silent, but the tension eased as they played. The evening came to a close soon after they finished, and Anabelle found herself feeling pensive as she entered the carriage. Many of her expectations were not met, but she was left with a lot to ponder.

She hadn’t had the courage to ask Draven about his father. Something seemed to warn her away from it, but she had every intention of finding out for herself. Draven was becoming a riddle that she needed to solve, especially if she wanted to come out of this courtship with her wits intact.

Anabelle found herself on the sidelines of the Foster Ball, which had turned into a surprise engagement ball. The roar of gossip was almost deafening, but Anabelle paid it no mind. She didn’t care how Miss Foster came to be so suddenly engaged. She only cared about the way she looked at her betrothed and the way her betrothed looked back at her. They were clearly besotted, and Anabelle was envious. Balled in her palm was her list of prospective husbands and all had been crossed off but one. Lord Henry Collins, now betrothed to Miss Felicity Foster. She was not upset that he was engaged, she was upset that she was not, and she had little hope of finding herself in such a situation any time soon.

She shouldn’t feel rushed, but she was. She wanted what they had found, and she wanted it now. She reminded herself there was always next season, and the next and the next. But like the flowers in the drawing room, her time was limited, and the more seasons she had under her belt, the less value she had on the marriage market. It was a horrible thought. She was not a wilting flower. She was not a bag of potatoes due to expire. She was Anabelle, and all she wanted was a man to fall in love with. Hazel came to her side and nudged her.

“You don’t look very happy this evening.”

Anabelle held open her palm and the crinkled list. Hazel took it and opened the wrinkled paper.

“Oh.”

“I am very happy for them. It’s not the man I am envious of, it’s their soon to be wedded state,” Anabelle said morosely.

“We’ve lots of time, Anabelle. There is no rush for us to wed.”

“And no gentlemen of which to wed,” Anabelle said testily. “Unless eligible gentlemen of marriageable age are lurking in the shadows.”

“Perhaps, I know of one at least,” Hazel returned smartly.

Anabelle wouldn’t meet her sister’s gaze.

“You pretend there isn’t something going on between you, but it is quite obvious there is. He’d be with you right now if you were not sulking in a corner. This isn’t like you, Anabelle.”

“You don’t know that. I’ve never faced this sort of problem before. I can’t even predict what I will do.”

“What is it you want?”

“I want to be in love, Hazel.” I want the stars and the moon. I want my heart to beat frantically when he is near and sulk in his absence. I want him to look at me like he feels the same way. I want what Heather and Fallon have.”

“Then perhaps you should open your eyes,” Hazel urged.

Anabelle looked over at her. Hazel indicated to their left and across the room. There was Draven, quite pointedly looking at them.

Anabelle averted her eyes. “I don’t love him. And he certainly doesn’t love me.”

“No, perhaps not, but you both feel a great deal of something towards the other. He is coming over here now. I suggest you consider what I’ve said.”

“What would you do, Hazel? What is it that you want from the man of your heart?” Anabelle said quietly.

“I don’t know exactly, but I don’t want something I have to search for, I just hope I will recognize it when it happens.”

Draven approached them. “Good evening, Lady Hazel, Lady Anabelle.”

“Good evening, my lord,” the twins murmured.

“This is our dance,” Draven reminded her. It would be their second of the evening, and it would be tantamount to a declaration of their own.

Anabelle felt like she was standing on a cliff with a strong wind at her back urging her to fall. Hazel stepped away as her own partner found her and they moved towards the dance floor.

Draven watched her, his gaze unreadable. “Do you wish to not dance?”

Absolutely. But, no doubt, he would find a private place for them to rest, and she would not resist him. She would lose herself to the desire and be no better off than she was before. Perhaps even worse. “I don’t want that,” she stated.

He frowned. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t want to go somewhere private with you, because then I will succumb to your masterful tactics, but I’m also afraid to dance with you because…”

He smiled crookedly. “You will succumb to my masterful tactics? I’ve never been more flattered.”

She rolled her eyes and focused on him. “If we dance, what will it mean? It will be our second dance.”

He sobered. “It will only be a dance if that is all you wish it to be.”

“That is not what society will think.”

“I don’t give a damn what society thinks.”

“I do,” Anabelle returned angrily. “I don’t want my life dictated for me.”

“No one is doing that. You give them too much power. Dance if you want to dance with me, or don’t. All I’m asking for is a dance. It doesn’t have to mean anything we don’t want it to. It can be just a dance, Anabelle.” He put out his hand.

Anabelle felt her heart thud painfully. She felt like weeping and it was the most absurd thing. She nodded and put her hand in his.

Setting it on his sleeve, he escorted her to the floor and they joined the throng of dancers, taking their place among them. The newly betrothed couple was staring adoringly at each other in front of them.

The music started and Draven began to expertly lead her in a waltz. “He was on your list, wasn’t he?”

Anabelle nodded once.

Draven took a moment before he spoke again. An intense wave of jealousy spread through him. “Have you met before?”

“Only very briefly. Certainly nothing to form any attachment to.”

Draven pondered that. “Is he why you are upset?”

“Yes and no.”

“You didn’t care for him?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“But you are distraught because he is no longer on your list?” Draven kept his voice calm and cool.

“No.”

Until now, she had been looking around the room. Finally, she looked up at him. Her eyes glittered with emotion.

“He was the last name on my list. There are no more.”

Draven clenched his teeth. Emotions ricocheted inside him. Relief, anger, jealousy, too many to name. He released a breath and reclaimed his voice. He looked down into her eyes. They twinkled under the chandeliers, a bit darker than usual.

“You still haven’t put my name on your list, Anabelle. I am the only one of those men who sought you. They are fools.”

She bit her lip. A slice of desire cut him across the stomach. A small line appeared between her brows. “I never considered that.”

“Consider it now. It is I who asked to dance with you twice, even knowing you don’t want to appear attached to me in any way, and it is I who sees the stars in your eyes. Consider me, Anabelle.”

She was silent. Her mouth slightly open—from surprise no doubt—and her eyes glittered in that way they did when she was aroused or annoyed with him. He liked that he had a claim to both emotions within her. He’d kiss her if they were alone, but alas, they were surrounded by fools.

“Don’t look so astonished. I’m not the worst prospect in the world, or even on this dance floor.” He snorted, trying to ease the taught thread of tension between them or he might really kiss her—audience, be damned.

She gave a huff of laughter and then smiled. “If you insist.”

“Is that a yes?” He almost miss-stepped. A true testament of his surprise.

“You’re not asking me to marry you, merely asking to be considered for marriage. Correct?” Her smile broadened teasingly.

“That is correct. I am only begging for your consideration.” He smiled in return, victory singing in his chest.

“You begging… Now, that is something I’d like to see.”

“Careful or I may drop to my knees right here and beg to kiss you.” Color filled her cheeks and her lush lips clamped shut.

Anabelle couldn’t believe what she had just done. Had she just made a bargain with the devil? He looked very pleased with himself, and when he had smiled at her, it had sent trails of tingling warmth to her stomach. It was a smile she wasn’t accustomed to. It was a genuine smile, and more shockingly, a happy smile. She had made him happy by agreeing to consider him. That was a revelation. She felt less like a pawn in his game and more like a treasured prize because of that smile. Did he truly care for her that much?

It was dizzying.

“My mother would like for you to come to tea, with your sisters and mother, of course,” she blurted. She felt warm enough to need a fan.

“I’m sure they will be delighted.”

“Excellent. My mother will send a note with the date and time. Now that the end of the season is nearing, our schedule is quite packed. A quiet afternoon tea will be lovely.”

“Do you have time in your busy schedule for a ride in my phaeton? I have a lot of wooing to do before the season ends.”

Anabelle giggled nervously. Draven, of all people, had actually said the words wooing. “I think I can spare some time.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” She nodded. “After afternoon calls.”

“I shall be sure to come early and chase away all of Hazel’s prospects. She was very appreciative before.”

“She was indeed. There is only one prospect she wishes to entertain, and he doesn’t come calling or send flowers.”

“Ah, I suspected as much.” Draven tilted his head to the side. “How troublesome to have daughters that need husbands.”

“In a sense you have two.” Anabelle cocked a brow. He spun her in an elegant circle and their eyes locked again. His looked hard for a moment but then eased. “I suppose. But if we marry, I will release that burden to you and my mother.”

Anabelle didn’t respond to that. The waltz came to a flourishing close and they nearly collided with Hazel and her partner on their return to their mother. Draven disappeared quickly after greeting her parents. Anabelle felt off kilter, but a sense of joy infused her. She didn’t want to dwell on the odd concoction of her feelings or their reason.