To Win A Wallflower. Liz Tyner
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waiting.
‘This is enough of this talk,’ he said. ‘You’ll be going to the upstairs room and you will be staying there until you come to your senses.’ He bent his head down. ‘I did not appreciate how you stayed off to yourself at Lady Cruise’s birthday celebration. You hardly spoke one word during your dance with Lord Richard. His father is a duke, and even if the lad is only the fourth son that’s still a duke’s son.’ He raised his hand in tandem with his face. ‘You hardly looked at him during the whole dance.’
‘Father. Have you ever listened to him? Yes, he’s a duke’s son and he can say that in five languages.’
His jaw shuddered when he shook his head. ‘Enough. I will not allow you to throw away such opportunities like your sisters did. We will do right by you.’
‘By sending me to the attic? Where the maid sleeps?’ When a viscount’s son visited? That was so unlike her father. She would have expected him to have pulled her by both arms into the room with the man.
‘In this case, yes.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘Nothing,’ her father said. ‘But he’s spent his life...not like the Duke’s son. Lord Richard is admirable. Respectable. And I know he thinks highly of you.’
Before she could stop herself, her eyes flicked to the ceiling.
‘You will stay out of the way for the next few days.’ Her father’s brows met in the centre.
She tucked a finger into the book. ‘I have no wish to interfere. I just don’t wish to move to the upper floor. Although perhaps it will seem more lively with Myrtle about. I never know what she might say when I ask her for something. She once returned three times to ask me what I sent her for. It was easier to get it myself.’
‘She’s a good servant.’ Her father moved his head so that he looked into her eyes. ‘Myrtle has served my family her whole life. Loyal to the last heartbeat.’
‘But both my sisters’ rooms are empty now. The guest will have a place to stay there.’
He shook his head. ‘No. He is here to discuss business. We cannot risk you disrupting it. And it would not be proper for you to be near. Besides, he is not interested in a marriage. Lord Richard is. End of subject.’
She closed the book and watched her hand as she ran her fingers over the spine. ‘Do you not think I am wise enough to make my own decisions?’
‘Of course you are.’
‘I would sometimes like to... Perhaps I should go stay with my cousin while the visitor is here? I would like that. You always insist she visit me and never allow me to take the coach to their home. I hardly ever leave the house and, if I do, it is always with you and Mother.’
‘I do not want you, my only sensible daughter, to risk becoming ill like your mother. Your mother has never been the same since your birth.’ His bottom lip quivered. ‘But, of course, we are ever thankful for you and we would not change a thing.’
She could not answer. She hated her mother’s frailty as well, but she would risk her own health to step outside the doors.
‘It is only because I care for you.’ His chest heaved. ‘If you do not wish to wed, I can accept that. But if you do wed, then you will marry a man of standing. It is for your benefit to marry well.’
‘I know.’
‘Promise me you’ll keep out of sight while my guest is here. And not forget like you did last time. I heard you in the hallway.’
‘I won’t forget.’
It would be no use arguing with him. He only cared for her safety and happiness. She smiled at him. He nodded, glanced at the book in her hands and left.
She turned back to the novel although she wasn’t fond of Swift. She didn’t feel like reading.
Twisting the bracelet on her arm, she stared at it. The circle of sapphire stones in the silver setting swallowed her arm. But what good did it do to have jewellery if no one ever saw it?
If she had mentioned a wish for a dozen horses, her parents would have put them at her fingertips, but not at her disposal.
She knew the man had been in the sitting room the day before. Had heard the deep rumble of his voice and had followed it. Then the physician had almost caught her eavesdropping, but she’d managed a laugh and told him he had a smudge of jam on his face. That smudge of jam had diverted his attention.
The only person besides relatives and servants to visit was the physician. She didn’t particularly like him, but he did have a rather pleasant voice when he talked to her mother. A strong voice. Almost the same as the man she’d heard speaking with her father.
Only the Viscount’s son’s voice rumbled a bit more. Didn’t sound so friendly. Almost a growl.
She wondered what he looked like.
She stood, went to the drawn shades, and moved one aside enough to see out. She couldn’t even see the street. Just another house across the way. Now she would be one storey higher above the road. One level further from the rest of the world. And fewer windows.
She wanted be with her sister. Knew in her heart that her sister, Honour, needed her. It would hurt her mother if Annie left, but Annie couldn’t help worrying about Honour. Laura was fine, she was certain. She’d run off to be with the man she loved.
Without them, life was one day after another. Everything the same. She knew she could find a way to bring Honour home and to reconcile her parents to it. Yes, there would be tears. Disgrace, perhaps. But the family could rebuild itself, or just accept things as they would be.
Barrett nodded at Carson’s recounting of stitching used in the air balloons as he and Carson returned to the house. The man’s notion of a rousing evening left a little to be desired. It didn’t improve with the tenth telling. Barrett had had to insist they return home early as he couldn’t bear another moment of the camaraderie.
Barrett gave the servant his hat, letting Carson ramble on. Three days. He could not take another balloon story and he had yet to see the daughter. Several times he’d caught a whiff of perfume in the air or heard skittering noises above his head, and just a hint of a voice that he’d heard only once before. He remained in the house, surprised that he was willing to stay, but aware he’d always had a persistence inside him that he couldn’t quite understand.
Carson remained at the doorway, giving the butler instructions to pass along to the housekeeper to pass along to the cook. Barrett continued up the stairs.
As he ascended the stairs, he realised she stood at the top, watching him.
A slender woman, with little of her face left over if you subtracted her eyes and lips and hair. She was seemingly frozen at the sight of him.
It would not have been out of place for her to be bathed in sunbeams and yet she hardly seemed the incomparable that his brother had spoken of. More like a whisper of a woman than the temptress his brother described.
He walked into her presence, unable to look away in those moments, trying to discern what was different and yet not staring. ‘You must be Miss Carson.’
She nodded, dipping her head to him.
‘Annabelle,’ her father called out behind Barrett, ‘you are supposed to be in your room.’ His voice intensified so much that Barrett turned to him.
‘I thought you were to be out all evening,’ she responded.
The man moved up the stairs with more speed than Barrett would have thought him capable of.
Barrett stepped aside.