Annabelle by MC Beaton Read Free Book Online Page B

remarked.
    “Never mind her—have you heard the latest on-dit,” said Jane. “’Tis said, on Sunday two pairs of
turtle doves
took flight from Ingleton to Gretna Green; but by the nimble exertions of some
pouncing hawks
, the
cooing pair
were overtaken near Shap and very impolitely conducted back to their respective homes!”
    “If you mean young Honeywood and the Clermont girl, then why not say so?” said Lord Varleigh in a bored voice. “I detest the sleazy innuendo of the scandal sheet.”
    Lady Jane hunched a ruched, tucked, and embroidered velvet shoulder on him and began to talk loudly to a young man at the next table.
    Lord Sylvester Varleigh found his gaze straying back to Annabelle. The girl was getting quite bosky and should not have been allowed on the Town with only Captain MacDonald as escort, affianced or not. But she had style, unusual in a girl unaccustomed to the intricate world of high fashion. Now Jane appeared most attractive in the bedchamber, after she had divested herself of her too elaborate toilette. He had a sudden vivid picture of Captain MacDonald and Annabelle in the bedchamber and shook his head to dispel the image.
    Annabelle caught his glance in her direction, and the sudden look of distaste on his face, and sobered almost completely. She became aware that her face was flushed and that her hair was coming down at the back. TheCaptain was interspersing his now very racy conversation with frequent demands for more punch. Annabelle remembered her godmother’s warning and tugged at the Captain’s braided sleeve. “Do you not think,” she queried timidly, “that you have had enough to drink?”
    The Captain gave her an outraged look, and his friends stared at her with their mouths open. “Had enough to drink?” echoed Mr. Louch in a high penetrating voice which carried round the marquee.
“Had enough to drink
. Jimmy could drink that whole punch bowl and walk from here a sober man.”
    Annabelle looked at the punch bowl in amazement. It was the size of a young bath, made of solid silver and embellished with various embarrassing scenes from the Greek myths such as the Rape of Iphigenia.
    “Hey, Captain,” yelled an officer from the next table. “Lay you a monkey you couldn’t do it.”
    “Done!” roared the Captain. He raced from the table and mounted to the buffet table by way of an empty chair, and before the cheering guests’ eyes, he plunged headfirst into the punch bowl so that only his glossy Hessians could be seen waving in the air. A small tidal wave of punch slopped over the side and straight onto Lady Jane’s lap. She began screaming and screaming while the guests roared and cheered. Lord Standish pushed his way through the crowd of the Captain’s admirers to try to pull that gentleman from the punch bowl while Lady Standish led the now weeping Lady Jane towards the house to find her a change of clothes.
    “By Jove, Miss Quennell!” howled George Louch exuberantly. “You’re a lucky girl to have a man like that. What a capital gun!”
    Am I too prim, thought Annabelle desperately? Why should I always feel so shocked and embarrassed? Everyone else seems to admire Captain MacDonald. PerhapsI have not tried hard enough to understand him.
    “It is time to go home, Miss Quennell.” At the sound of the familiar voice Annabelle looked up and saw Lord Varleigh beside her chair. His normally hard gray eyes were warm with sympathy. Without a word she put her hand on his arm and they walked towards the entrance to the marquee. Annabelle turned back briefly. The Captain was sitting in the middle of the table with pieces of cinnamon and lemon in his hair like some exotic headdress. He had started to roar out a bawdy song and was being frantically hushed by Lord Standish. Then the Captain looked to where Annabelle was standing with Lord Varleigh, and his eyes suddenly looked very sober and alert. “Heh!” he cried. “Heh!” But Lord Varleigh had firmly led Annabelle from