Free Annabelle's Courtship by Lucy Monroe Page B

knocking the entire grouping of knick-knacks off the shiny black table. “I would think that if he has the effrontery to say he is going to court me, then he is honor bound to do so.”
    “Yes of course, I’m sure he’ll continue to court you if that is what you want,” Diana said, obviously trying to soothe, but failing.
    “It’s not a matter of what I want. The man is stubborn as they come and will not give up easily,” Annabelle insisted.

    Annabelle fingered a piece of silver trim and thought morosely that she had been quite wrong about Ian’s stubbornness. Moving away from where Diana discussed the merits of some dyed muslin with the modiste, Annabelle tried to find something of interest among the bolts of colorful fabric. Her mind persisted in dwelling on Ian’s easy defeat.
    Although he continued to claim the customary two dances when they attended the same fete, he had not offered his escort for the evening since the Markham ball. He had not called at Lady Beauford’s townhouse either, nor had the promised trip to the museum materialized.
    He had sent her a Kashmir shawl with a note saying it was to ward off the chill of London’s fog without putting undue constraints on her aunt’s coal supply. The jest had made her smile. Her smile had come rather sparsely of late when the gift was not followed up with a visit.
    The final bit of evidence that convinced Annabelle that Ian no longer sought to court her was the fact that although Robert had been in Town for nearly a week, Ian had not approached him for permission to pay his addresses to her.
    Diana would have told Annabelle, even if Robert did not. To hear Diana tell it, the two gentlemen found a great deal else to discuss. Annabelle had been right. They shared a mutual interest in crop rotation and fertilizers. In fact, the last time Annabelle had seen Ian had been in her brother’s drawing room. She had been visiting with Diana. Ian politely inquired about her aunt’s health and then went off to find Robert.
    Diana’s voice interrupted her thoughts.”Oh, look at this one. It is so lovely.” Annabelle peered at the fashion plate Diana waved before her. It showed a split gown with a surprisingly low décolletage over an underskirt of contrasting color, both skirts ending in a double flounce. It was just the other woman’s style. “It would be scrumptious on you, I’m sure, Diana.”
    “I was thinking of you.”
    “I don’t carry off flounces well and the bodice is a bit low for my figure.” Diana frowned. “You are too hard on yourself by half. If you would give some of these fashions a chance, I’m sure you would be surprised at how well they look on you.”

    “You know what I think—” Annabelle began, but was interrupted by a raised hand from her friend.
    “I know, I know, you can’t make a peacock out of a peahen with tacked on feathers.
    Really, Annabelle, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to make a peacock out of a peahen anyway.”
    Annabelle smiled at Diana’s assertion. “Come, show me something more my style.”
    “This is your style if you would but try it.” When Annabelle moved away, Diana abandoned the fashion plate. “At least you wear some interesting colors now, but you still have a lamentable tendency to dress plainly.” Annabelle grinned. “Now you are starting to sound like Aunt Griselda. If you begin comparing my dress to that of the domestic help, I shall not be responsible for my actions.”
    “Perish the thought,” declared Diana.
    The modiste caught Diana’s attention and soon she was busy looking through another set of fashion plates.
    As Annabelle picked up bits of lace and rubbed fabric swatches between her fingers, she wondered why she was not a great deal happier that Ian had finally accepted her refusal of his marriage of convenience. She should be elated, but instead an awful sense of desolation pervaded her.
    The interest of other suitors did nothing to dispel it. It had come something of