Embrace The Dawn. Jackie Summers

gaze shot to her uncle. “Colonel Twining? You didn’t tell me he’s been invited to dinner.”

      A strange look passed between her uncle and Jane Herrick. Finally George cleared his throat while his gaze dropped to his lap. “Mistress Anne, I’ve something to tell you. Mrs. Herrick has kindly answered my request to coach you in the proper deportment for your appearance this evening.”

      A flash of foreboding skittered up her spine. “If you’ve paired Colonel Twining as my dinner partner again, then I’d prefer to remain in my chamber and go without food for a week.”

      George’s ruddy face darkened. “Don’t tempt me.” He craned his neck and rubbed his finger along the inside band of his shirt, then glanced with pleading at Jane.

      Jane dimpled back at him, then turned the dazzling smile on Anne. “Your uncle only wishes that you make your finest impression on his guests this evening. I thought we’d practice some polite phrases you may wish to use during dinner, and perhaps we might subdue your hair—”

      “Aye, do something with her hair.” George scowled back at Anne. “God’s teeth! She looks like the devil’s own spawn with that wild mane.” His black brows knotted together. “Look how it threatens to unfurl from her cap like Lucifer’s red banner fluttering on a windy Sabbath morn.”

      Jane smiled. “When I’m finished managing your niece, she’ll be the paragon of acceptability. I assure you, sir.”

      Anne curled her fingers into the tufted ends of the chair. “Uncle George, I demand to know what’s going on.”

      “You’ll demand nothing!” George answered. “You’ll do what Mrs. Herrick says. For once, you’ll behave without embarrassing me when...when I announce your betrothal at dinner.”

      Nothing could have prepared Anne for the shock that coursed through her. She shook her head numbly. “Betrothal? To whom?”

      “Colonel Twining has offered for your hand,” her uncle continued, “and I’ve accepted for you.”

      Anne gasped, unable to get her breath. She could only stare at him while she tried to take in what he was saying. Her uncle continued speaking, but her mind blocked out his words. Betrothal? She was to wed Colonel Twining?

      Shock and panic mixed with betrayal. Anne sprang to her feet, her knees shaky. “Uncle George, certainly y-you can’t m-mean to wed me to that...that...”

      “It’s well time you’re wed.”

      Anne rushed to him and knelt at his knees, her gray skirts billowing out behind her. “Please, don’t do this. I promise I’ll never disobey you again.” She swiped at another rebellious curl. I’ll do anything—”

      George stood and jerked her to her feet. “Anne, calm yourself. Your behavior is unseemly.”

      Jane leaned forward in the chair, the black fan in her hand flitting like a wounded bird. “There are worse fates than to marry a handsome, wealthy man such as the colonel, my dear.”

      Anne jerked free and turned to face her, aware suddenly that not only Mrs. Herrick, but everybody must have known of the betrothal except herself. She felt like a fool, as well.

      “Twining is a lecher and I’ll never marry him!”

      George glowered down at her. “Oh, yes, you will!” Then he turned and forced a smile at Jane. “Forgive me, my dear, but would you allow us a few minutes alone?”

      “Of course, sir.” Her gray eyes slanted toward Anne, her expression sympathetic. Then she folded gracefully into a curtsy before closing the door behind her.

      George’s blue eyes snapped with anger. “Your wedding will take place six weeks from tomorrow, and that’s final. Now follow Mrs. Herrick and do everything she says. For once, you’ll behave as your position dictates.”

      Anne squeezed her fingers on the edge of the chair. “What would my father say if he knew you’ve betrothed me to a—”

      “Hold your tongue!” George’s voice rose as his attempt at constraint dissolved before her. “I hold no loyalty to your father and you’re old enough to have loyalties of your own. You’d best appreciate a man like Colonel Twining, not a dandy like your father, a fop who’s disgraced himself and his family, flying his plumes against the Commonwealth.”

      Anne returned her uncle’s fiery gaze with one of her own.

      “How can you say that about your own blood?”

      “A sorry fact I’d like to forget. He would rather chase romantic rainbows than be a father to you. He never wanted you or your mother. He’s never coming for you, and the sooner you understand that, the better you’ll be.”

      “How dare you speak of him so!” Anne squared her shoulders and faced him down. “He’s been fighting side by side with the king at Worcester. For all you know, my father may be dead—”

      “I pray to God every day that he is!”

      A wash of renewed anger coursed through her. For the first time, she realized how vast was the well of rage and resentment that festered beneath her uncle’s reproach. Her eyes stung with frustrated tears, but she blinked them back. “Nothing I do will make you accept me, because I’m your brother’s daughter. You can dress me as a Puritan, threaten to bend me to your will, but I’ll always be a Royalist’s daughter. Unlike you, I’m proud to know my father is a man who had the courage and vision to stand with King Charles against the tyranny of Parliament.”

      Anne picked up her skirts and whirled toward the door to find Colonel Twining, resplendent in a crimson wool uniform, blocking her way. His granite gray eyes bored into her and she knew immediately that he had heard everything.

      She felt like a chick with a hawk circling overhead.

      Well, so be it! Maybe if he knew of her repulsion for him, he’d break the marriage contract. The idea gave her hope.

      Anne pushed past him, but Twining grabbed her arm and half dragged her back into the room.

      “My dear, what has upset you?” His stare glittered with feigned expectation.

      “You know very well!” Anne’s chin rose defiantly. “I’ll never marry you!” She tried to wrench from his hold, but his grip tightened on her wrist like a vise.

      “I wouldn’t be so hasty, if I were you,” he replied silkily.

      “Let go of me, you...you...weasel-faced lecher.”

      Twining’s thin lips lifted in amusement. “I’ll overlook your passionate expression, my dear, as long as we understand each other.” He pulled her closer, his voice as final as a death knell. “By Christmas, you’ll be my bride.” She grappled against his grip. His mouth twisted in what appeared to be enjoyment. “You may take your leave, my dear, but return to the study within the hour, when I’ll escort you into the great hall for dinner.”

      Anne stopped struggling. His hawklike sweep of the nose and the square jaw quivered as if he were in pursuit.

      “And if I refuse?” His smoky eyes sparked as though fired by her challenge. She almost thought he hoped she’d defy him.

      “You’ll obey,” he said finally. “Because I’m planning a very special wedding present for you, my dear.” His hard gaze raked over her. He was so close she could smell the tobacco and what she thought might be brandy. She was afraid if she didn’t hurry and leave she might be sick.

      “I don’t want anything from you,” she managed to reply.

      His black eyebrows flicked up. “Very well, if that is your wish.” His gray eyes glittered. “But I’ve already submitted a petition to Lieutenant General Cromwell to pardon your father from the charges brought forth by the Commonwealth.” She heard a stifled gasp from her uncle sitting nearby.

      Twining’s face lit with