"I am overdressed to play cupid. And I shall never do so again, believe me. What use you make of this information is up to you. I seldom interfere in my brother's life. However, I have never seen him in love before, at least nothing beyond the calf-love variety of our boyhoods."
"Are you sure, my Lord, that...? I cannot afford to be mistaken in this."
"Ian is an admirer of courage. Despite the indisputable fineness of your eyes, I suspect my brother's attraction to you has far more to do with that quality than with anything else."
"Are you saying he's attracted to my courage?" she said, her own lips tilting.
Amusement, whether at her or at his brother, had replaced the coldness in Dare's blue eyes. They were almost conspiring.
"Forgive me if I am unable to fully explain my brother's attraction. People fall on love, I have found, for most astounding reasons."
"And after all, I have nothing else to recommend me," Annie said, smiling at him.
It seemed she was finally beginning to understand Ian's sardonic brother, and perhaps even to understand Elizabeth's love for him. People fall in love for most astounding reasons.
"An open and gallant heart," the Earl said, "is the one quality that will always guarantee a Sinclair's acceptance. I pray you will have both in dealing with my recalcitrant brother. And now, if I have your permission, Miss Darlington, I should very much like to partake of my dinner. I have an unfortunate habit of fainting on stairs. You may ask Elizabeth for verification if you wish."
"Annie," she said, holding out her hand. "My name is Annie."
There was a long hesitation as his eyes studied hers. This time she met them fearlessly, however, fighting to control the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. Finally Dare took her hand and brought it to his lips, just as he had done once before.
And yet nothing was the same about the gesture. He held her eyes as his mouth brushed over the back of her hand. And then he held her fingers in his long dark ones as he considered her face.
"I should want to kill a man who hurt my brother. I feel I must tell you that with all honesty, if you and I are to have any sort of relationship. As for the woman who would hurt him..."
"I suspect you would want to kill her, too. I am undaunted by the threat, my lord. If there is one thing of which I can assure you, it is that I would never willingly hurt your brother. You have my word on that."
He held her eyes another moment, and then he nodded, freeing her fingers. And when the Earl of Dare brushed by her this time, Annie didn't attempt to stop him. She stood instead where he had left her, her gaze on the closed bedroom door across the hall.
*~*~*~*
When Ian opened his eyes, it was obvious he had slept the day away. The room was dim, it's windows darkened and opaque. He turned his head towards the chair where Dare had been sitting. He didn't really expect his brother to still be there after so many hours, but knowing Val, he would not have been surprised.
He was surprised, however, when he identified its current occupant. The low light from the lamp across the room drew copper highlights from the dark auburn hair of his ward. Her lashes shadowed her eyes. It appeared her gaze was on her hands, which were in her lap, the right lying unmoving within the left.
Ian couldn't remember when he had ever seen Annie so still. There was always animation about her features, her eyes alight with humour and mischief. Or with anger, as they had been yesterday.
He wondered if she asleep, as unlikely as that seemed, given the uncomfortable straightness of the chair. Just when he was about to decide that must be the case, however, she lifted her head, as if she had sensed he was watching her.
He expected her quick smile as soon as she saw he was awake, but her lips remained unmoving. And he realized the familiar planes and angles of her face were somehow different. It was hard to decide exactly what the subtle variance was, but there was a serenity about her features he had never seen before. A quiet maturity, which had apparently developed overnight
"You're awake," she said.
It wasn't a question, of course, because she could see that he was. And like whatever he had noticed in her face, her voice, too, seemed changed. It was as soft as the shadows that gathered in the room beyond the reach of the light from that single lamp.
Ian wasn't able to read her tone, yet he had believed he was becoming quite adept at that. After all, he had tried for weeks to memorize all the subtle nuances of phrase and expression that made Annie Darlington who and what she was.
The process had been slow, and it had also been delibrate. He knew very well that when he had found the perfect husband for the woman with whom he had fallen in love, those memories would be all he would have left.