To Win a Wallflower
Auteur
Liz Tyner
Lezers
19,0K
Hoofdstukken
22
Chapter One
Falling in love with a shadow, a whisper of husky voice or laughter softer than silk, was impossible.
But when he saw the flash of wrist move in the hallway beyond the door, saw the bracelet slide and heard the innocence, he didn’t care that he hadn’t believed in love until that moment.
He stilled, only aware of the movements and sounds outside his vision.
Then she was gone. Footsteps pattered away.
He took in a breath, trying to hold the moment close, trying not to let the drone of her father’s voice cover the memory of the laughter.
He shook those thoughts away. Love was for people who didn’t know how to make money. They needed something to hold on to. But Gavin kept saying that Annie would change Barrett’s mind on marriage and love.
Barrett had wagered to let Gavin out of the obligation incurred from sending him to university and Gavin had put up taking care of their father one day a week. Gavin insisted that Barrett had to spend several days in the Carson household before he could declare himself a winner.
‘So tell me, Carson...’ Barrett forced his lips into the closest resemblance to a smile he could manage and leaned closer to the older man. He knew the power of his gaze. Knew the broadness of his shoulders and knew his voice could put more force behind his words than a fist. ‘Tell me more about this flying balloon business you started.’
‘It’s the wave of the future.’ Carson hesitated, moving sideways in his chair, fumbling with the cuff of one sleeve that enveloped his wrist, a tremble to his fingers. ‘A wondrous method of transportation.’ He glanced down. ‘But I believe I’ve told you all I know about it.’
‘Nonsense.’ Barrett’s trouser legs strained against muscle momentarily when he stood. ‘I’d like to return tomorrow and spend a few days with you. Discussing business, of course. Very important. Your words help shape my decisions. You’ve a wealth of experience, Carson.’ And a wealth of hot air. Carson didn’t understand that he needed to put his efforts into his chandlery shop and bring it up to snuff before starting any new venture, particularly one so nonsensical as flying balloons.
Carson touched his sleeve in an attempt to straighten a fold of the cloth, but he missed his goal. ‘Do...do you really think that’s necessary?’
Oh, it had become very necessary the moment Barrett had heard that laugh. He’d not been sure his brother told the truth. But apparently he had. Carson had a daughter who hardly ever attended society events and, Barrett’s brother claimed, was more beautiful than either of her sisters. An impossibility—and if his brother hadn’t had an insistent gleam in his eyes, Barrett wouldn’t have given the words a second thought. Curiosity had propelled Barrett forward and the wager had only cemented his intentions.
The laughter he’d heard lingered in his head, tantalising him. In that second he’d realised he wanted to see the woman, Annie, and hear her voice again.
He bowed to Carson. ‘I must thank you for the invitation. I’m quite honoured. I shall arrive tomorrow and I hope seven days is not too short a time for us to become better acquainted.’
‘Seven—’ Carson’s voice squeaked at the end.
‘I agree wholeheartedly.’ Barrett’s strides could never be considered long, but they were stealth and power in one.
‘Until tomorrow, then...’ He turned. ‘And I am almost embarrassed to say this—’ he tapped his thigh ‘—but I’ve a difficulty walking stairs. If you’ve a room on the first storey, that would suffice. Perhaps one with a ray of morning sunlight to brighten my spirits.’
The woman’s room was on the first storey. He’d see her face.
Then, to the sound of the man’s gasp, Barrett stepped into the hallway. His brother stood not far from the door. The barest glance was all the acknowledgement Barrett gave to the smug blink as he walked down the stairs.
‘Mr Barrett, a moment...?’ His brother’s voice.
Barrett didn’t stop and Gavin strode behind him, keeping pace.
At the entryway, Barrett kept walking and he hoped Gavin would take the hint.
Outside the door, Barrett paused enough to let his brother step beside him. ‘Go away.’ Aware of the many windows around them, he kept his voice soft. ‘I would prefer people not know we are acquainted.’
‘I knew you could not resist—the challenge, or seeing her.’ That swagger of Gavin’s head—the same Barrett had seen on his father—sent a sizzle of irritation down Barrett’s spine.
‘I still haven’t seen her face,’ Barrett said. ‘I’m curious. Get me a meeting with her. I just want to see what she looks like. That’s all.’
Gavin held two fingers extended and made a walking movement with his right hand, then he reached out with his left and snapped his hand closed over the fingers. ‘Last words of the unmarried man.’
‘My last words are go away.’
Gavin turned on his heel. ‘Good day, Mr Barrett. Please take a care with those poultices I mentioned.’ His voice rose in volume. ‘They’ll do you well, but be sure you stop with a single one. Otherwise, before you know it, you’ll be trussed up like a big goose waiting for the stewing pot.’
Gavin bounded back into the house.
Barrett unclenched his hand, wondering why he’d ever thought it good to have a brother—except Gavin had told him about this woman, Annie.
His town coach was waiting and Barrett gave a nod to the man in the perch, eyes telling him to keep his seat. Barrett strode to the vehicle door, pulled it open and slid inside with one lunge.
The awe in his brother’s voice had caught Barrett’s attention when his brother had first spoken of the Carson sisters.
If it weren’t for the bracelet sliding on her wrist, he might have been able to put her from his mind and wait out the seven-day wager unhindered. But he wondered what kind of face went with such a gentle laugh and what Annabelle Carson looked like.
He could usually turn his thoughts away from any direction he didn’t want them to go, but he couldn’t close away the question of the appearance of the woman who had such delicate laughter.
The sound of purity. Unblemished laughter.
If only she’d stepped into the opening so he could have seen her. He drew a fist up and put his elbow against the side of the carriage, feeling cramped in the close quarters, but still unable to put her from his mind.
At the soirées and society events he attended, he never paused to look at the innocent ones sheltered by the chaperons. Work did not stop because the sun set and the music started.
A smile might be halfway on his face, but he put it on much like he did his cravat. He preferred building an empire over having a nice bit of fluff hanging on his arm. The fluff was a weakness for a man who needed adoring eyes gazing up at him in order to build his image of himself.
Barrett closed his mind to the woman, moving his focus to how he would renovate Carson’s shop, thinking of the light fixtures, and updates to bring the business out of the seventeen hundreds.
As the carriage slowed at his home, he opened the door before the vehicle came to a complete stop, then jumped free in the last seconds of movement, letting the door swing behind him, knowing the driver would shut it if needed.
He bounded up the stairs to his chamber, forcing his mind to the world around him. In his room, he tossed his coat and upper garments on to the chair he used when donning his boots. The woman’s laughter returned to his memory. His trousers landed on the table that framed the foot of the bed. He stretched, head back, eyes closed, arms at his side, fists clenched, reliving each second of the moments she had stood outside the door.
A thump and crash switched his movements into action. He grabbed his dressing gown, throwing it on, the collar on one side folding under at his shoulder. He tied the sash as he rushed from the doorway and up the stairs to his father’s room.
Even in the darkness, the shape lying on the floor didn’t surprise him.
He reached down, fisted one hand on his father’s shirt, the other on the back of the loose trousers, and lifted the wiry shape almost without effort. He only stumbled when he put his bare foot down on a bottle.
In a few strides, he stood at the bedside, and tossed his father on to the bed.
Without turning, he acknowledged the footsteps he’d heard behind him. ‘Summers—somehow see he is bathed tomorrow. And air out this room, if possible.’
‘Yes.’ Summers sauntered to Barrett’s side. Neither man moved for a moment.
Barrett thought of the morning’s antics. He tilted his head up so he could watch the servant’s eyes. ‘Has the maid recovered?’
‘She’s fine. Just a fright. She understands.’
Summers, who only had two speeds—slow and blink-fast—was the only man who’d ever been close to besting Barrett in a brawl and it had taken Barrett longer to recover than he’d wished.
‘We can’t leave him alone any time at all. He’ll burn down the house or attack one of the smaller servants.’ Absently, Barrett clasped his left hand over his right fist, tracing the scars.
‘He was asleep when I left him with the maid.’ Summers had no emotion in his voice.
‘Or pretending...’ Barrett stopped. ‘If you absolutely must leave him in the future, make sure he has at least two people with him. You and I are the only ones to be allowed alone here. He’s stronger than he looks. Always has been.’
‘He’s begun to get loud. Shout out the window. The neighbours...’
‘Do the best you can. And don’t turn your back on him. Ever.’ Barrett felt the weight of his decision. The sensible thing would be to have his father confined. And he couldn’t understand why he didn’t do it. It wasn’t as if he particularly cared for the man.
‘For now, just let him be and keep the women away from him.’ He paused. ‘Go back to bed. I’ll sit with him for the rest of the night, but I doubt he’ll as much as roll over. He’ll be having pleasant dreams.’ Dreams of taking food from the mouths of others, perhaps. Or using a lit candle, planning to catch a dog’s fur on fire. He’d only tried that once, though. Barrett looked at the scar that ran along the side of his forefinger to his thumb and covered his first knuckle.
What other people considered nightmares, his father considered fairy tales.
‘A brandy before you retire, sir?’ Summers asked.
Barrett shook his head and ran one hand through his locks. Then he pulled out the collar bunched at his neck, straightening it. ‘Not if this is what it might do to me. If one of the maids is about, you might send her up with tea.’
He heard Summers leave, then Barrett turned, walked to the overstuffed chair, righted it and sat. He’d almost asked Summers to put a pillow over his father’s face. But he couldn’t say for certain Summers wouldn’t do it.
His thoughts drifted to the innocent laughter he’d heard earlier in the day. His brother would jest at him if Gavin knew he thought of the woman. Gavin had been right. The Carson daughter did pique Barrett’s interest. But no matter.
He closed his eyes, rested his head against the upholstery of the chair and imagined a world filled with the gentle laughter that he’d heard.
Annie raised her head at the sound of the knock. ‘Come in,’ she said, holding her place in the book.
Her father peered around the door. ‘Dearest, we’re going to have a guest and you’ll need to stay in the floor above this one.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Is my aunt bringing friends?’
‘No. This is a visitor. A man. I do business with him.’ Her father stood, feet planted, his voice persuasion soft.
‘A visitor? One?’ She stared at his face. ‘And I’m to move?’
Her father nodded, his jaw working sideways.
The rose room was empty. In fact, both of her sisters’ rooms were vacant. Honour was in Scotland and Laura had married a man who’d courted her through letters.
‘Besides, you are getting older now and it will be comfortable for you to have your own storey.’
‘I’m to stay above?’ She glanced at her book, not really seeing it, and then looked again at his face. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Very.’ He nodded, his lips thinning. ‘Our guest is a man. His father, the Viscount, is ill and our guest handles the duties for the family. I want you to stay from underfoot, Annie. While he’s here at least. We’ll be discussing important matters. You must not be a distraction for me.’ His face relaxed. ‘Please, dearest. He and I will be busy. He wants to change the chandlery shops. He thinks the improvements I planned are not the right ones.’
She paused, studying her father’s face. ‘He’s a viscount’s son?’
Her father kept his mouth closed while he gave a quick nod. ‘Yes. But not an important one.’
‘Not an important one?’ She leaned forward, trying to figure out what her father was thinking.
‘No. A title is not everything.’ He checked his pocket watch. ‘It’s a lot. But not everything.’
Annie opened her mouth. ‘I’m glad to hear you say that.’
‘Well, it’s not that I didn’t want your sisters to marry well. I admit it. I admit it freely. And I do want you to have the opportunity they squandered. But this man, well, he is not marriage minded.’
‘I’m not either.’
‘Bite your tongue.’ He put the watch back in his pocket, the chain dangling. ‘Marriage is everything. The right marriage is everything. And your sisters did not understand. You will do us all proud and wed someone who will bring respect to the family.’
He lowered his chin and looked at her as if looking down the sights of a gun. ‘You’ll marry well. You’ll be happy. Just like your mother and I. And your children will thank you.’
She bit the inside of her cheek, 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.
