Earl Lessons by Valerie Bowman
Chapter Seventeen
After taking a few minutes to compose herself, Annabelle had nearly made it to the French doors to re-enter the ballroom when one of them opened and Lord Murdock slid outside.
“My lord?” she said, surprise evident in her voice as she took a decided step back.
“My lady,” he replied, bowing obsequiously, his smile tight.
Annabelle didn’t care for the glint in his eye. “I was just about to return to my mother—” she began.
“Yes.” He slipped an arm through hers and forced her to walk with him back toward the balustrade. “All in due time. First, I was hoping you’d allow me to speak with you privately for a few moments.”
Annabelle glanced back at the doorway they were moving farther and farther from. A shudder traced its way up her spine. Whatever Lord Murdock wanted to say to her, it wasn’t something she wanted to hear. She could sense that.
“Only for a moment,” she insisted, trembling. “I really must get back.”
As soon as they made it to the balustrade, Lord Murdock let his arm fall away. He stood between her and the French doors, blocking her view of the ballroom. The glint in his eye turned harder. “You don’t know me very well, Lady Annabelle,” the marquess began.
Annabelle nodded, her heart pounding. “No,” she agreed. What was he about?
“If you did know me, you would know that I am not a man to be trifled with.” His jaw was tight and for the first time, she saw anger simmering in his dark eyes.
Annabelle clutched the balustrade to steady herself. She hoped Lord Murdock couldn’t tell that her entire body was shaking. “Have I done something to offend you?” she forced herself to ask in a clear, steady voice, but panic was clawing at her middle.
The marquess’s dark eyes narrowed on her. “Not returning my calls, not sending thank you letters for my gifts, and allowing that buffoon from Brighton to cut in on our dance just now. I fear you’ve offended me many times over, my lady.”
Annabelle sucked in her breath. She’d had no idea he’d been harboring ill will toward her, and she certainly didn’t like the way the man said ‘my lady.’ It was as if he was claiming her for his own. “I certainly have never meant to offend you,” she replied. She didn’t need a powerful enemy like the Marquess of Murdock—but she refused to be berated by this man.
She made to step past him toward the ballroom. His hand shot out to grab her wrist, twisting it slightly, hurting her. She froze but refused to allow him to know she was in pain. “Have you something else to say?” she asked, her nostrils flaring. How dare this man accost her in this manner? She owed him nothing.
“Indeed, my lady,” he ground out. “It’s something important, so listen well.”
Annabelle tried to wrestle her wrist from his grasp, but that only served to tighten it. She clenched her jaw and refused to look at him as he brought his mouth close to her ear. “I saw you kissing Elmwood just now,” the marquess hissed. “And I can go straight back into that ballroom and tell everyone who’ll listen, which will all but force you to marry him. Or…”
Fear and anger flared in Annabelle’s chest. Damn this monster. He was about to blackmail her. She closed her eyes, waiting for his next words. “Or what?” she nearly spat.
“Or, you can come back inside and dance with me and finish the dance this time. And you can return my calls, and thank me for my presents, and allow me to take you riding in the park.”
Annabelle clenched her teeth. The man was completely mad. What could he possibly think the result of this scheme would be? “I suppose next you’ll demand that I marry you?” she asked in a voice that was much calmer than she felt.
“All in due time, my lady. For now, I’ll thank you to stop acting as if I’m bothering you. I’ve spent long enough trying to do things the right way.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Annabelle asked, half-afraid to hear the answer.
“Let’s just say I happen to have quite a lot of money riding on the hope that you’ll finally come down off your high horse and marry this Season. Marry me, in fact.”
Her nostrils flared. “You’re insane.”
“No. I’m a man who is tired of being at the beck and call of every simpering debutante who’s named the catch of the Season. Lady Julianna tossed me over last year. I refuse to be humiliated again.”
Annabelle wrenched her wrist from his grasp and this time he let her go. He gave her a tight smile and smoothed his coat front. “I’ll see you back in the ballroom, my lady. And this time we shall dance a full dance.”