Page 82 of West Wind

“You mentioned it to him?”

Rose nodded, blushing. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“I suppose our meeting was inevitable. If not now, in this house, then at a later date. I certainly don’t blame you,” she added when she saw the older woman’s stricken face. “She’s not a particularly warm person, is she?”

Rose shook her head. “No, miss. I meant what I said earlier. You needn’t worry about Mrs. Cole.”

She couldn’t share Rose’s conviction. The cool blonde who’d sat across from her in the library just the day before was regal in her carriage, confident. Shelley had once loved her enough to ask her to be his wife, and now she wanted him back. Annabelle had butterflies in her stomach, worse than any stage fright, worse than any pre-audition nerves. There were many parts for a talented singer, but only one Shelley.

“I should shoot you for this,” Travis said with a bite in his voice that would’ve made another man cringe. Bart smiled and straightened his older brother’s starched collar. “What were you thinking?”

“Wasn’t thinking,” the younger Shelton brother confessed. “I looked at the two of them sitting there, and I couldn’t allow it to end. It was fascinating. Before I knew what was happening, my mouth opened and I asked Dorothea to dinner. Annabelle tried to stop me, I’ll give her that, but I refused to listen. Oh, I asked John to join us as well. Make it more of a party. No one else knows about Annabelle being here, so⁠—”

“All right,” Travis snapped. “Jesus, don’t you ever shut up?”

Bart backed away, feigned hurt on his face. “My life is so boring when you’re away. Don’t deny me⁠—”

“Bullshit,” Travis said slowly. “Boring my ass. You’re the same old Bart you always were, out every night, stirring up trouble whenever you can. Don’t you have anything else to do with your time?”

Bart crossed his arms over his chest and gave his brother an exaggerated look of disbelief. “I’m crushed. I’ve made some fabulous investments, and I manage the family business quite well, thank you. It takes quite a lot of time, as you can imagine.” He managed his brother’s inheritance as well, but he didn’t dare mention that detail, not now. Travis had made it clear in the past that he didn’t want his inheritance. Maybe one day he’d change his mind.

Travis smiled, the same lopsided grin Bart himself used on occasion. “You’re a rake. A rich one, but a rake just the same. Why don’t you marry some sweet little thing who will keep you in line and help you spend your money?”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” His easy smile faded. “Seriously. I’m not getting any younger, and it doesn’t look like you have any intention of carrying on the Shelton family name. Unless you’ve changed your mind? Do you plan to stay this time? Settle down?”

“Hell, no. Annie’s fully recovered. I’ll be leaving any day now.” Travis looked into a gilt-framed mirror and yanked at the restricting sleeves of the black evening jacket he’d borrowed. “Tomorrow, maybe the next day.”

Bart refused to look at his brother as he poured a glass of bourbon and studied it intently. “What about Annabelle?” He faced the long bar. The study was quiet for a few long moments, the air heavy with Travis’s indecision and his own anticipation.

“She’ll be all right.” The words were clipped and gruff.

Bart downed his bourbon in one swallow. “So you wouldn’t mind if I courted her after you leave?” he asked casually.

The ensuing pause was so slight, another man might’ve missed it. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Bart smiled as he turned around. “Fabulous.” He raised a newly filled glass. “You say you’ll be leaving tomorrow?”

“Or the next day.”

Annabelle spent the remaining hours of the afternoon getting ready for the dinner party. She soaked in a hot bath scented with oils. Rose washed her hair. When it was dry she styled it expertly, arranging it atop Annabelle’s head. A few tendrils curled over her shoulder.

Thankfully Rose, having employed several girls to prepare the dinner, spent most of the afternoon with her. In between treks to the kitchen to supervise the older woman tried to build up Annabelle’s confidence, assuring her that Master Travis would certainly not have eyes for Dorothea Cole with her in the room. It was Rose who slipped the champagne gown on Annabelle’s form.

She’d never had a figure like this. Lisette had been trying to fatten her up since she’d turned sixteen, and had done a good job of it. She’d insisted Annabelle needed more energy than other young ladies if she was to become an opera star. The pounds Lisette had worked so hard to pack on her had melted away in the months since that fateful night in New York. Annabelle had a trim shape that almost shocked her.

“Magnificent,” Rose declared when their work was complete. “Master Travis doesn’t have a chance.”

Annabelle took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Her stomach fluttered. Nerves. A performer of her experience shouldn’t be suffering from nerves, not for a small dinner party.

Tonight was about more than a dinner party. There was a lot at stake, more than she dared to contemplate.

Shelley waited for Annie at the bottom of the wide staircase, dressed in his evening clothes, his face freshly shaven. When she was halfway down the stairs he grinned at her and held his breath. At his first sight of her his chest had tightened as if a slender hand clutched at his heart. He was like a weak-kneed sixteen-year-old getting his first good look at a truly beautiful woman. If he tried to speak surely nothing but drivel would come out of his mouth.

She stopped on the last step and faced him, her face barely upturned to his. He took her hands and kissed each one. When he lowered his hands, and hers, he held onto her slender fingers and leaned forward tentatively for a gentle kiss. It was a tender lover’s kiss.

Annie moved back one step, continuing to hold his hands as she spread her arms wide. A bright smile lit her face.

“Look at us, Shelley.”