He came out of the library to meet her before his butler had a chance to announce her.
"You
'
re shaking,
"
he said, gray eyes quickly scanning her frozen expression.
"There
'
s a nip in the air,
"
she temporized, looking around
her with interest.
Warm lips brushed her cheek in a proprietary caress. "Don
'
t fret! The painters and plasterers cleared out days ago. Everything is just as you wished.
"
And it was. It had been a pleasure to do over Dalmar
'
s house
…
not that there had been much room for improvement. The beautifully proportioned foyer with its arched Venetian window on the first landing and the elegant sweep of white marble stairs was a picture in symmetry. Through the well of the double staircase two floors above one could catch the light from the glass dome in the white and gilt coffered ceiling. The adjoining salons were a perfect complement to the gracious entrance hall. A new coat of paint and a lick of polish had worked a remarkable change in the place. Though she
'
d offered to have the interior done in restrained blues and greens, colors she felt sure were more comfortable for the Earl, he had insisted that she use the warmer hues which she preferred, reminding her that the house would be home for both of them.
In the end she had compromised. She had kept the pearl gray damask which was already on the walls, but where there were carpets laid, on the stairs and in the main salons, she had chosen a maroon Axminster with a small gold fleur-de-lis design. On the long windows, in matching damask, were reefed curtains lined with taffy. The upholstered pieces, like most of the mellow walnut furniture, was from a former era, and now recovered in shades of either gold, crimson, or gray.
"Are you pleased with your handiwork?
"
he murmured, leading her firmly into the ground floor book room.
Smiling easily, she responded, "You
'
re the one who has to live with it. You tell me.
"
He turned her slowly to face him. She almost faltered when she came under his searching scrutiny. "What is it? What
'
s wrong?
"
he asked softly.
His solicitous tone, played to perfection, grated on her nerves. Summoning a weak smile, she playfully essayed, "I did not come here today so that you could seduce me, Dalmar. I have work to do, or had you forgotten?
"
His intent look relaxed, and he flashed her one of his special
cozening grins, which never failed to do peculiar things to her heart. Evidently her heart had petrified, for it did not so much as tremble.
"So that
'
s why you
'
re nervous. How can you think it? I brought you in here merely to show you my uncle
'
s library.
"
His eyes lightened in amusement. "I thought you might give me your professional opinion of it. But now that you mention
it, surely one little kiss…
"
Carefully stepping away from him, she said over her shoulder, "You seem to have developed quite an interest in the subject of books.
"
She made a pretense of examining a shelf of leatherbound volumes, her fingers deftly skimming over their spines. He was watching her with a hooded expression. She selected a book and opened it. Seconds later she slammed it shut and said brightly, "What a disappointment! Ah well, let that be a lesson to me. One should never judge a book by its cover.
"
"What did you select?
"
he asked, moving closer.
"A book on horses, a subject in which I have not one iota of interest.
"
He smiled lazily. "And as I told you, I intend to change your petty aversion to horses and dogs and so on.
"
"Ah yes, your personal crusade. You just won
'
t believe that I refuse to make the same mistake twice. You
'
ll never learn.
"
She hoped that the sugary smile she bestowed on him blunted the sharp edge of her words.
As she tried to push past him toward the door, he captured her wrist. "Why is it I feel you are being deliberately obscure?
"
he asked.
Her smile slipped and her lashes lowered to lie like fans across her cheeks.
"Annabelle?
"
Her chin was tipped up. "You were right before. I
'
m nervous,
"
she told him truthfully. "It
'
s just that I want our first ball to be a memorable occasion.
"
His eyes moved leisurely over her face. Apparently satisfied with what he read, he let her go. "I have every confidence in your ability to achieve whatever you set out to do,
"
he told her gravely.
"Oh, I do hope so,
"
she said, patting his cheek with one long finger. "Oh, by the by. Promise you won
'
t peek into the supper rooms? I
'
m planning a surprise for you. Your engagement present.
"
"There
'
s no need…
"
"There
'
s every need. Believe me, you deserve it.
"
His eyes were thoughtful as she closed the door.
Chapter Eleven
C
olonel Ransome replaced his snuffbox in his coat pocket. His eyes absently roved the room, finally coming to rest on the tall figure of the Earl. Dalmar, formally resplendent in white satin breeches and dark evening coat, was replenishing two glasses from an opened bottle of hock which stood on a satinwood console table.
"What was all the hammering about?
"
asked Ransome, edging himself more comfortably into the commodious armchair which was drawn close to the grate for warmth.
Dalmar looked up. "Hammering? Oh, you mean this afternoon? That was Annabelle
'
s doing. At supper tonight she
'
s going to present me, publicly, mind you, with my engagement present. It
'
s all a big secret. Well, you know women.
"
"It didn
'
t sound like much of a secret.
"
"It isn
'
t really,
"
allowed Dalmar. "She
'
s had upholsterers hang curtains against one of the walls. It doesn
'
t take much imagination to guess what
'
s concealed behind them.
"
"Her portrait,
"
drawled Ransome ironically.
Dalmar
'
s lips flashed a quick, enigmatic smile. "I don
'
t doubt it,
"
he murmured.
"Women are so unimaginative. Why don
'
t they ever think to give us precious gems or furs? It
'
s what they expect from us. I don
'
t think I shall ever understand their thought processes.
"
"Annabelle doesn
'
t lack imagination. I don
'
t think you
'
ll be disappointed.
"
Again, that secretive smile came and went on
the corners of Dalmar
'
s mouth.
"Mmm,
"
said Ransome, unconvinced, his gaze narrowing on his friend
'
s suspiciously bland expression. After a considering moment, he went on, "I shouldn
'
t have descended on you unannounced. To be frank, I
'
d feel more comfortable taking myself off to Grillons or the Pulteney. Don
'
t get me wrong, David. I
'
m honored for the invitation, but if it
'
s all the same to you, I
'
ll skip the family dinner and come back for the ball.
"
"You
'
re staying, and that
'
s
th
at,
"
answered Dalmar. "I need all the moral support I can get.
"
"Odd! I never took you for a coward,
"
mused Ransome.
"You
'
re thinking of the battlefield. I
'
m at home with cannon and saber. This is different.
"
Ransome raised one questioning brow as he accepted the long-stemmed glass which was thrust into his hand.
Gravely Dalmar explained, "I expect to come under fire from a score of disappointed suitors and, if I
'
m not mistaken, my credentials are going to be thoroughly vetted by the lady
'
s relations. I
'
m counting on you, for old time
'
s sake, to put in a good word for me. In other words, lie like blazes!
"
Chuckling, Ransome asked, "What
'
s she like?
"
"You
'
re mad if you think I
'
m going to sing the lady
'
s praises to you. I have a long memory, Paul.
"
"You are referring, I collect, to that unfortunate episode in Madrid?
"
"I
'
d forgotten her. What was her name? Not that it matters. No, I was thinking of the girl in Paris.
"
"You
'
ve only yourself to blame if Mimi preferred me to you.
"
Ransome raised his glass in a taunting salute. "As I recall, your affections were very fickle. You never made the least push to hang onto your
chè
res amies.
"
Slightly uncomfortable, Dalmar interposed, "Yes, well, this isn
'
t a fit conversation for a gentleman who has just become engaged.
"
He settled himself in a leather upholstered armchair and took a long swallow from the glass in his hand. "How long will you be in town?
"
he asked, abruptly changing the subject.
"That depends. I have taken a month
'
s leave. There are relatives near Salisbury whom I ought to look in on. Truth to
tell, there
'
s nothing pressing. I
'
m at rather a loose end this time around.
"
Dalmar had a vague recollection of the last time they had spent a furlough together in England. Though the two men had only a nodding acquaintance at that time, they
'
d been drawn to each other by mutual antipathy to the whole race of women, Dalmar because his engagement had been abruptly terminated, and Ransome for reasons which he had never disclosed. The Earl had since heard that Ransome
'
s wife, who had died in a carriage accident two years before, had been something of a harridan.
"
That settles it then,
"
said Dalmar. "You
'
ll be my guest for as long as you
'
re in town. You
'
ll meet my brother in a moment. I can
'
t think what
'
s keeping him.
"
"He
'
s younger than you by quite a few years, I think you once told me?
"
"Five years.
"
"I thought it was more.
"
"No. What made you think so?
"
Ransome shrugged. "I don
'
t know. This and that. I had the impression that you were something of a mother hen where your brother was concerned. You always found time to write to him even when we were on the move, which is more than many men did with their wives.
"
Dalmar
'
s lazy glance lifted to meet his friend
'
s considering stare. He said casually, "Scarcely a mother hen. In spite of my years of absence, we
'
ve always been close. That is all.
"
Ransome, sensing the other man
'
s reticence, allowed the comment to pass unchallenged. After a pause, he remarked, "I take it the business with Monique Dupres has been amicably settled? Oh, don
'
t look at me as if I
'
m trespassing on private property. It did
n
'
t take much to put two and two together.
"
"And you came up with?
"
"Your betrothed.
"
Dalmar
'
s brows went up and Ransome gave an unrepentant chortle.
"David, this is my line of work, remember? Once I discovered that Monique Dupres had been keeping journals
,
foolish woman, especially in
her
line of work, it did not take
me
long to figure out where Mrs. Annabelle Jocelyn, owner of one Bailey
'
s Press, fitted the puzzle.
"
"Remarkable!
"
said the Earl noncommittally.
"Well?
"
"Well what?
"
"Have you got the diaries?
"
Ransome
'
s persistence startled a reluctant laugh out of the Earl. Shaking his head, he confided, "No, but I
'
m not worried. For one thing, Annabelle trusts my judgment. She may not admit to it yet, but I
'
ve already persuaded her that it
'
s against her best interests to publish them.
"
"Clever,
"
said Ransome with exaggerated respect. "How much have you told her?
"
"Nothing. And with good reason. Annabelle would never adopt a course of action simply to oblige His Majesty
'
s Government. Moreover…
"
"Yes, I know. Once she becomes your wife, you
'
ll do as you like with Bailey
'
s.
"
"No! That has nothing to do with it. I was going to say that moreover, I
'
ve outflanked the lady, though she doesn
'
t know it yet. Annabelle admires astute men of business. She
'
ll have to admit that I
'
ve been one step ahead of her all the way.
"
"You think she
'
ll congratulate you? Most women wouldn
'
t.
"
"Well, not precisely 'congratulate.
'
She may not like it, but she
'
ll accept it, given time. There
'
s nothing womanish about Annabelle.
"
"Your confidence is staggering,
"
said Ransome dryly.
The door to the library opened to admit a young man whose physical resemblance to the Earl was marked. Intelligent gray eyes appraised Ransome momentarily before the newcomer crossed the distance that separated him from his companions. He walked with a slight limp, Ransome observed interestedly.
John Falconer was a year or two shy of thirty. To Ransome he appeared much younger. Five minutes into the conversation and he had deduced why this should be so. It wasn
'
t precisely because Falconer was of a retiring disposition. As Ransome closely observed, the two brothers
'
relationship came back in full force. Dalmar, affectionate, considerate, respectful, gave every appearance of having just taken a young
fledgling under his wing.
Ransome was a trained observer. He sensed that the young man
'
s life had been touched by the finger of tragedy or by some devastating misadventure. He
'
d heard, of course, of the gossip surrounding the death of Dalmar
'
s father. It seemed to him in that moment that it was highly probable that John Falconer had played some significant part in that old scandal. On reflection it scarcely seemed possible. The man would have been no more than a boy of ten or eleven when he had witnessed the duel between his brother and his father. There was a mystery there that begged to be solved. Ransome grew impatient with himself. Every man had a few skeletons in his cupboard. He himself was no exception. Resolutely he turned his thoughts from unprofitable speculation.
"Is she a termagant, then?
"
he heard Falconer ask of his brother with a look that was a comical compound of genuine dismay and halfhearted cajolery.
Laughing, Dalmar answered, "Never say I said so! No, no, John, really, that description does not do justice to Annabelle. She
'
s spirited, I
'
ll give you that. But in other respects, she has a decidedly craven streak in her nature.
"
"Oh?
"
asked Ransome, interested.
"She
'
s afraid of dogs and horses,
"
explained Dalmar. Something in his brother
'
s expression provoked him to add, "John, I assure you, Annabelle is quite human.
"
"Is she anything like
…"
"Yes?
"
"Lady Diana?
"
Colonel Ransome became alert. Lady Diana Merril was the lady whose family had broken off her engagement to the Earl. Shortly afterward, she had been forced to marry a wealthy gentleman more than twice her age. Now a wealthy widow and no longer under her mother
'
s thumb, rumor had it that she was on the hunt for a husband.