Annabelle by MC Beaton Read Free Book Online Page A

wrapped Christmas present, he reflected with fond amusement. She had more than hinted the previous night that she wished to legalise their relationship, but as usual Lord Varleigh had shied away from the idea of marriage and had bought his mistress a magnificent rope of pearls by way of consolation. These now adorned Lady Jane’s bosom, almost hidden in the multitude of tucks and frills.
    Jane tugged at his arm and then looked up at Lord Varleigh in surprise. He was standing quite still, gazing across the lawns with an arrested look on his face. Jane followed his gaze. Annabelle Quennell was entering the gardens on the arm of Captain Jimmy MacDonald. Despite the chill of the day she only wore a silk shawl over her shoulders. The wind whipped at the lace overdress, sending it dancing and swirling round her body, revealing tantalising glimpses of the slim green dress underneath. She was wearing a frivolous little white straw bonnet with the brim lined with pleated green silk.
    The Captain and his two cronies, Major Timothy Wilks and George Louch, appeared to be teasing Annabelle in a rather heavy manner for she suddenly blushed painfully and looked down at her shoes. Lord Varleigh was sorry for the girl. The Captain was a good sort, but there was no denying his humor was fit more for a tavern wench than for a gently bred girl. He would have started towards her had he suddenly not become aware of the vise-like grip on his arm. He looked down at his partner.
    “I want to get out of this wind, Sylvester,” she pouted prettily, “and you stand gawking at our country maiden.”
    Lord Varleigh felt himself becoming irritated by Lady Jane for the first time. Her possessive manner smacked more of the wife than the mistress.
    Nevertheless he led Jane towards the marquee. It was arranged with flower-decorated tables, a long buffet withhundreds of delectable dishes, and in the center of them, in pride of place, the Standishes’ enormous silver punch bowl. Most of the guests were already sampling the hot punch as the tent, like the day outside, was unseasonably cold.
    Annabelle could only be glad that her fiancé had become engrossed in a conversation with his friends and had, for the moment, forgotten his heavy flirtatious manner.
    The Captain and his friends seemed capable of betting on the most ludicrous things. The latest was a proposed cricket match to be held by the Greenwich pensioners, the eleven on one side to have but one arm each and both their legs; and the other to have both their arms and only one leg each. This strange match was to be run by a nobleman and a
would-be
member of the Jockey Club. The gentlemen were loudly debating whether to back the “legs” or the “wings” and roaring with noisy laughter at their own wit.
    The talk of legs and the pressure against her own under the table made Annabelle wish Captain Mac-Donald would keep his own limbs to himself. No matter where she sat, he seemed to manage to press his legs against hers in the most embarrassing way. She suddenly felt his large hand on her knee and slapped it with the ivory sticks of her fan only to receive a reproachful look for her pains.
    Annabelle was unaccustomed to liquor, and the two glasses of punch she had consumed had immediately gone to her head. She even began to find some of the Captain’s jokes, which consisted of quite terrible puns, extremely funny and began to laugh very hard, wiping her streaming eyes with her lace handkerchief.
    “Why, I believe they are well suited,” said Lord Varleigh thoughtfully.
    “Who?” said Jane impatiently. She did not like to beinterrupted when she was eating.
    “Annabelle Quennell and her Captain.”
    “Oh, I am glad your mind is at rest,” said Jane acidly and then murmured, “but I must find out the name of her dressmaker.”
    But Lord Varleigh had caught the undertone. He raised his quizzing glass. “Yes, Miss Quennell has a very individual style and a good sense of color,” he