SOMEONE TO FIGHT MY BATTLES FOR ME

"If I don't leave now," she said, "I may miss part of the performance. Are you sure you can't think of some reason to delay me?"

"Have a good time," her guardian said uncooperatively.

"You really have the best of it, you know," she said, looking around the library as she pretended to straighten her sleeve. "What could be better than a pleasant fire and a good book?" Her eyes touched on the leather-bound volume on the table beside him.

"Ah, but you..." Ian said straight-faced. "You shall have Mr Travener and the soprano."

"You surely don't think Mr Travener will be there, too, do you?" she asked, trying to indicate her dismay over that possibility. "He doesn't strike me as being musically inclined."

"Simply opportunistic," Ian said. "I suspect Mr Travener will begin to appear at whatever occasion you frequent. My godmother likes him. And he's personable enough that he won't have any difficulty procuring invitations to all manner of events. After all, a single man is always a welcome addition."

"The marriage mart," she said, her eyes holding his. "I had forgotten."

'Someone to fight my battles for me.' And she knew, with more certainty than she had ever felt before, that the only man she would want in that role was the one man in all of London who would probably never consider himself for it.

Not by word or deed had Ian Sinclair ever indicated she was anything to him other than a responsiblity. Nor had he indicated that he wanted her to be more. He had certainly not courted her, and it was only now, considering the face before her, forever marked by experiences. She could only imagine, that she thought she knew why.

Even if Ian Sinclair found her attractive, he would never reveal that attraction. She was his ward. And, as foolish as it seemed to her, he truly believed she should be happier paired with someone as shallow as Doyle Travener.

She had promised Mrs Kemp that she would be guided by Mr Sinclair's wisdom. She hadn't promised, however, that when Mr Sinclair was being so patently foolish, she wouldn't attempt to change his mind.

"I must confess," she said, gathering her courage, "that I should much prefer to spend the afternoon here with you."

His eyes reacted, the dark pupils expanding a little into the rim of colour. He said nothing for a heartbeat, and then he smiled. It was the same annoyingly avuncular one he bestowed on Margaret Rhodes.

"Only think how disappointed Mr Travener should be by your non-appearance. Not to mention Lady Laud."

"I doubt either of them would give a fig," she said.

"But Elizabeth should," Ian reminded her. "After all, she has worked very hard to make you a success."

"A success so that I can make a good marriage," she said. "Or is that "good" marriage in and of itself the success she has worked for?" The edge of bitterness in the words seemed obvious, but Ian's didn't change.

"Of course," he said.

"And what if my idea of a "good" marriage, a successful marriage, is very different from that which the ton holds?"

"No one will ever force you to marry someone you don't love and want to spend the rest of your life with," Ian said. "All Elizabeth and I are trying to do is provide an opportunity for you to meet that man."

'And if I have already met him?' The words were on the tip of her tongue, and yet she hesitated to voice them.

And into the small pause came the sound of Elizabeth's voice.

"I thought you had gone," the Countess of Dare said.

Annie turned her head and found Elizabeth standing in the doorway. She held a book in her hand, and her questioning eyes moved from Annie's face to her brother-in-law's.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, her voice puzzled.

"Nothing more serious than a discussion of Annie's newest suitor," Ian said. He sounded slightly relieved at Elizabeth's intervention. "I was telling her that she can probably count on him dancing attendance at whatever events she chooses to attend."

"Well, you shall miss him this afternoon, if you don't hurry," Elizabeth said. "I don't think Lady Laud will like to be kept waiting."

Rebellion flared briefly in Annie's breast. After all, she really would rather spend the afternoon here.

She tamped it down, however. Remembering all that these two people had done for her, she knew she couldn't now refuse to follow through. She had been brought to London expressly for entertainments such as this. And she had allowed her guardian to spend an enormous amount of what she now believed to be his own money on her coming out. It would be the height of ingratitude to refuse to go through with it now.

"Of course," she said aloud. "How thoughtless of me. I shall see you both at dinner, I hope."

She glanced again at Ian, but she could tell nothing from his face. His eyes were still fastened on Elizabeth.

And the Countess did make a very compelling picture, Annie acknowledged. Coolly elegant and always serene, she was exactly the kind of well-read and intelligent woman who would appeal to Ian Sinclair. Just as she had obviously appealed to his brother.