“Careful,” Annabel said as he took the cord from her hands. “You don’t want to pull too hard.”
“Of course not,” he murmured, then mouthed,Thank you .
They stood there for a moment, and then, confident that her grandmother and Lady Olivia were ensconced in their conversation, Annabel said, “I’m sorry about your eye.”
“Oh, this,” he said, waving it away.
She swallowed. “I’m also very sorry I didn’t say anything. That was not well done of me.”
He gave an oddly sharp one-shouldered shrug. “If I were being courted by my uncle, I’m not sure I would wish to advertise it, either.”
She had a feeling she was supposed to laugh, but all she felt was a terrible desperation. She managed a smile—not a very good one—and said…
Nothing. Apparently the smile was all she could manage.
“Are you going to marry him?” Mr. Grey asked.
She looked down at her feet. “He has not asked.”
“He will.”
Annabel tried not to answer. She tried to think of something else to say, anything that would change the subject without being painfully obvious. She shifted her weight, then looked over at the clock, then—
“He wants an heir,” Mr. Grey said.
“I know,” she said quietly.
“He needs one quickly.”
“I know.”
“Most young ladies would be flattered by his regard.”
She sighed. “I know.” And so she looked up and smiled. It was one of those awkward sorts of smiles that are at least three fourths nervous laughter. “I am,” she said. She swallowed. “Flattered, that is.”
“Of course you are,” he murmured.
Annabel stood still, trying not to tap her foot. Another one of those habits her grandmother deplored. But it was sohard to stand still when one wasn’t feeling quite oneself. “It’s a moot point,” she said in a rush. “He has not called. I suspect he has moved on to another prospect.”
“For which I hope you are grateful,” Mr. Grey said quietly.
She did not reply. She couldn’t. Because shewas grateful. More than that, she was relieved. And she felt so bloody guilty for feeling that way. Marriage to the earl would have saved her entire family. She shouldn’t feel grateful. She should be prostrate with grief that the match had fallen through.
“Mr. Gre-ey!” her grandmother trilled from across the room.
“Lady Vickers,” he said solicitously, walking back to the seating area. He did not, however, sit.
“We think you must court my granddaughter,” she announced.
Annabel felt her skin turn to beets, and she would have loved to have crawled under a chair, but panic set in, and she hurried over, exclaiming, “Oh, Grandmother, you can’t be serious.” And then to Mr. Grey: “She’s not serious.”
“I’m serious,” her grandmother said succinctly. “It’s the only way.”
“Oh no, Mr. Grey,” Annabel put in, absolutely mortified that he was being ordered to court her. “Please don’t think—”
“Am I that bad?” he said dryly.
“No! No. I mean, no, you know that you are not.”
“Well, I’d hoped…” he murmured.
Annabel looked over at the other two ladies for help, but they were offering none of it.
“None of this is your fault,” Annabel said firmly.
“Nevertheless,” he said grandly, “I cannot stand by while a damsel is in distress. What sort of gentleman would I be?”
Annabel looked over at Lady Olivia. She was smiling in a way that alarmed her.
“It’s nothingserious , of course,” Lady Vickers said. “All for show. You may part ways by the end of the month. Amicably, of course.” She smiled wolfishly. “We would hate for Mr. Grey to feel he was not welcome here at Vickers House.”
Annabel hazarded a glance at the gentleman in question. He looked a bit queasy.
“Please do sit again,” Lady Vickers said, patting the spot on the sofa beside her. “You make me feel a most incompetent hostess.”
“No!” Annabel burst out, without even beginning to ponder the ramifications of that one word.
“No?” her grandmother echoed.
“We should go for a walk,” Annabel said.
“We should?” Mr. Grey said. “Oh, we should.”
“Absolutely, you should,” Lady Olivia said.
“The weather is fine,” Annabel said.
“And everyone will see us and think we are courting,” Mr. Grey finished. He took Annabel’s arm with alacrity and announced, “And so we depart!”
They hurried from the room, not speaking a word until reaching the front steps, when Mr. Grey turned to her and let out a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” Annabel said, stepping lightly down to the pavement. She turned back and smiled. “Ilive to rescue gentlemen in distress.”
Chapter Fourteen
Before Sebastian could respond with a suitably pithy statement, the front door of Vickers House opened and Olivia emerged. He glanced up at her and raised a brow.
“I am your chaperone,” she explained.
Before he could respond pithily tothat , she added, “Miss Winslow’s maid has the afternoon free, so it was either me or Lady Vickers.”
“We are delighted to have you,” he said firmly.
“Whathappened in there?” Olivia asked, descending to the pavement.
Sebastian looked over at Miss Winslow, who was looking rather determinedly at a tree.
“I couldn’t possibly discuss it,” he said, turning back to Olivia. “It’s far too painful.”
He thought he heard Miss Winslow snort. He did like her sense of humor.
“Very well,” Olivia said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “Go on ahead. I shall hang back, being chaperony.”
“Is that a word?” Because really, he had to ask. After thepurview incident, she had no right to be using improper vocabulary.
“If it’s not, it should be,” she announced.
Sebastian had all sorts of pithy replies to that, but unfortunately they all involved the revealing of his secret identity, such as it was. But as he was constitutionally unable to allow the comment to
