A Rogue No More - Lana Williams Page 0,6

for writing from the beginning, and that was something Annabelle appreciated more than she could ever explain. It had proved to be a gift beyond measure.

Margaret, their younger sister, remained at home with their father this evening. Having her to help with his care was a blessing. But neither Annabelle nor Margaret could calm him when his confusion caused agitation like Caroline was able to.

“How is Father?” Caroline asked, her smile faltering.

“Today was a good day.” Lady Gold shared a look with both her daughters.

That was the best they could hope for, to take one day at a time. Some days were better than others. Those eased the pain of the bad ones when he didn’t remember where he was or who they were. His confusion was painful, hurting them, worrying them. The times when he was more like his old self were a salvation to them all but were few and far between.

Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m pleased to hear that. We intend to spend some time with him on the morrow. Richard was thinking of taking him to the dock for another visit.”

“He’ll enjoy that.” Their mother nodded with approval. “But be sure to avoid speaking of Napoleon’s return if possible.”

The topic upset her father, but it was difficult to steer clear of it completely when the broadsheet headlines were filled with updates on the war.

“If it arises I will speak of Wellington and his efforts in glowing terms,” Aberland said.

Though he never spoke of it, Annabelle knew Aberland had been part of England’s network of spies but had eased away from the work upon his marriage to Caroline. Recent events had tempted him to rejoin though thus far he’d resisted. Thank goodness he’d stepped in to help with her father’s shipping business, saving it from financial ruin. He kept their father up to date with his decisions though that was an uphill struggle when Sir Reginald’s short-term memory was so unreliable.

“I trust all is well, Annabelle?” Caroline gave her a meaningful look.

Annabelle could hardly contain her excitement. Caroline was the only person in her family who would be truly pleased about the new book contract. Her mother had expressed concern and again suggested Annabelle stop writing. Margaret had been happy but was distracted with the design of a gown she was working on. Her love of fashion far outweighed books, even those written by her sister.

“It is.” Annabelle smiled aware her sister would know exactly what she meant.

“I look forward to hearing the details. Are things progressing as expected?”

“Not exactly.” The image of Thomas Raybourne came to mind, something that happened frequently since her meeting with him. “There has been an unanticipated wrinkle but nothing that can’t be overcome.”

At least, that was her hope. She refused to allow him to change her goal. What would Caroline think of his involvement? Annabelle couldn’t risk discussing it here.

“Oh?” A frown marred her sister’s brow as Louisa and the Earl of Granger joined them.

“What has you frowning already, Caroline? The evening has only just begun.” Louisa greeted each of them as did her husband.

“Nothing at all,” Caroline responded with a smile.

But Annabelle could feel the weight of her sister’s regard. Had her own expression given away more than she’d intended? She truly was worried about Mr. Raybourne and whether she could trust him. He’d admitted he had no publishing experience and his reputation as a rake concerned her. His involvement was an unexpected twist that lent uncertainty.

The only time Annabelle liked uncertainty was in her stories. Within the pages, she loved to keep her readers, and herself, guessing. But the actual publishing of her book was a completely different matter. A business matter.

If only he didn’t cause such a reaction in her. That made her agreement with him far too personal.

She was pulled from her unsettling thoughts when Viscount Barrow, a nice man with a shy manner, asked her to dance. From there, the evening passed quickly between lively conversations with her family and enough dancing to keep things interesting.

The night was drawing to a close when she heard her name—or rather, A. Golden’s name, in a familiar, deep voice. She stilled, heart thudding as she slowly turned to see Mr. Raybourne a short distance away speaking with another man. About her.

What did he think he was doing? He knew she kept her identity a secret. Why would he choose to discuss A. Golden at a ball?

“I’m going to check my gown,” she told her mother then moved