Annabelle’s heart wrenched. Her poor lovely sister-in-law had no business being worried about the blowhards and backstabbers in London Society. She patted Marianne’s hand once more. “The truth is, I’ve never met anyone as dear as you are, Marianne, in all my years of living in Society. If your brother is half as kind and caring as you are, I’m certain he’ll be better than the lot of them as well.”
As if on cue, Stockton knocked at the door again. “Lord Bellingham and Lord Elmwood,” he announced with a bow before stepping aside and retreating.
Beau stepped into the room first as the three ladies rose to greet the men. Her brother’s form blocked Annabelle’s view of Lord Elmwood at first and she didn’t dare be impatient enough to lift up on tiptoes and crane her neck to try to see the man. That would be uncouth. She waited while Beau stepped forward to give her a hug. She squeezed him tightly. “It’s so good to see you, Beau,” she whispered.
“I’ve missed you, Annabelle,” he replied warmly.
“Annabelle,” Marianne said as soon as Beau had stepped away from her side. “Allow me to introduce you to my brother, David Ellsworth, the Earl of Elmwood.”
Annabelle lifted her chin to take in the dark-haired man who stepped forward.
Her jaw dropped. She quickly snapped it shut.
Standing in front of her in impeccably tailored clothing, wearing an ironic smile on his too-handsome face, was the self-same man she’d been unbearably rude to the night before in the Harrisons’ garden. The man who hadn’t been back at the dinner table when she’d returned, causing her no small amount of frustration. She’d nearly asked her hostess about him when she took her leave. Only stubborn pride had kept her from it.
“Ah, Lady Annabelle, is that your name, then?” Lord Elmwood said, his smile not wavering.
If Annabelle had been a different person, the kind of person who hadn’t spent years perfecting the art of showing no reaction when she chose, her face would have been up in flames by now. Instead, she was perfectly calm and collected when she allowed the smallest hint of a smile to lift one side of her mouth and replied, “Yes, my lord. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Ah, but we’ve already met, haven’t we?” he replied, his dark brow quirking into a frown. “Unless I’m mistaken. Wasn’t that you in the Harrisons’ garden last night?”
Annabelle inhaled sharply. Her face still blank. Very well. The man wasn’t going to do the honorable thing and pretend as if this was their first meeting. Marianne was right. He wasn’t trained in the subtle art of social niceties. Fine. “Yes.” She straightened her shoulders. “It was.”
“Ah, then surely you remember me.” He pointed at himself. “Don’t you recall? I am the only man in the country who isn’t trying to court you.”
Chapter Five
If he were being honest with himself, David could admit that he enjoyed seeing the look on Lady Presumptuous’s face when he introduced himself as the only man in the country who wasn’t trying to court her. It was a mixture of pure shock, a healthy dose of discomfort, and a hint of anger. Good. She should feel aghast after having treated him so rudely last night.
His sister’s elbow promptly met his ribcage, however, and he jerked forward, coughing slightly. “Don’t be rude, David,” Marianne said through a fake smile. “This is Beau’s sister.”
At the moment, David didn’t care who Lady Presumptuous was to Beau, but he promptly replaced the smug smile on his face with a more suitably bland one. “A pleasure,” he said, bowing to her the way he’d been instructed to by Lady Courtney.
Lady Annabelle cleared her throat and tossed back her head. “Lord Elmwood is correct. We’ve met,” she announced to Marianne with her own painfully tight smile. “At least…well, I didn’t realize who you were at the time, Lord Elmwood,” she finished quietly. “I believe you introduced yourself as Mr. Ellsworth.” The hint of irritation sounded in those last two words.
“Would it have made a difference in how you treated me, my lady?” he replied, still smiling. He didn’t care if he got Marianne’s elbow again, that comment had been worth it.
Marianne glanced back and forth between the two of them, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. You’ve met? When?”
“Yes,” Lady Annabelle hastened to answer, clearing her throat again uncomfortably. “At Lady Harrison’s dinner party last night. We ran into each other…in the garden.”
A thunderous look came over Marianne’s face. She turned to glare up at her brother. “David, please tell me you weren’t smoking again.”
David glanced at Lady Annabelle. He lifted a brow. Would she expose him? Given how rude she was, he wouldn’t put it past her.
“Oh, no. No. No,” Lady Annabelle hastened to say. “At least, I didn’t see him smoking.” Her voice was sweet, lovely, and entirely convincing. He might have even believed it himself, if he didn’t already know it was a lie.
David narrowed his eyes on her. So, she wanted to play nice now that she knew who he was? Lady Annabelle’s eyes met his with a clearly pleading expression in them. She was silently requesting that he play along. Fine. It was decent of her to not mention the smoking. He wouldn’t mention it, either.
“I don’t see why a grown man cannot enjoy a cheroot from time to time,” Bell interjected.
“David doesn’t smoke cheroots,” Marianne replied. “He smokes hideous cigars from Portugal.”
“The cigars are from Spain,” he clarified. “I only received them while I was in Portugal.”
“Regardless,” Bell replied. “I say you should be able to smoke whatever you like.”
Marianne quickly took up that argument with her affianced while David eyed the young lady who stood in front of him today wearing a simple but obviously expensive white gown and matching white kid slippers. A wide pink sash was tied behind her back in a bow. Her blond hair was pulled up effortlessly in a bun on the back of her head and her cheeks were bright and full of life. She had a distinctive twinkle in her eye that he’d noticed last night, but today it was even more pronounced. He had not been wrong about her looks, either. The woman was gorgeous. There were no two ways about it. Too bad her beauty had obviously gone to her head and made her vain. She was clearly only attempting to be cordial to him now because she hadn’t realized before that he was the brother of her soon-to-be sister-in-law.
After he’d left the party last night, David had reflected upon their interaction all night. It had bothered him. If Society was full of a bunch of simpering prissy geese who thought they were the center of the universe, he truly was not going to like it here. For God’s sake, he would eventually be expected to find a wife among this type of young ladies. No, thank you. He much preferred the guileless girls in Brighton who smiled and laughed and danced and didn’t go around trying to accuse you of following them out into a garden where you went to have a cigar in peace and quiet.
And somehow this particular young lady, who clearly believed herself to be the princess of the debutantes, was not only going to be related to his sister through marriage, but she was supposed to be the one to teach him how to behave politely in Society? It was like having Atilla the Hun teach you subtlety. How could she teach him anything about being polite? She’d been beyond ill-mannered last night. Why in the world had Marianne and Bell thought she was the correct person for the task? Was it possible they had no idea how discourteous she was to bachelors?