My Rogue Lord

chapter Four

"My lord, you have a wonderful taste in décor."
Jonathan resisted the urge to roll is eyes. Décor? Décor?! What in the devils name did he know about décor? The wench should know he had no hand in such things. He highly doubted her father or brother chose the décor of their respected homes.
Jonathan smiled pleasantly, he felt like a shamed lamebrain. More so, he hated pretending to be something he wasn't. And right now he was not feeling happy and he hated pretending. Unfortunately for him, the charade must go on.
"Don't we all have varied talents?"
The lady giggled. Jonathan gritted his teeth. For the past two hours his ears had been ringing with shrill giggles.
"My lord, I have heard you are a man of many talents." The lady batted her lashes.
Sweet Lord! The wench should not pursue the art of flirting, ever.
"My lady, I am humbled by your opinion." Jonathan purred as the dance mercifully came to an end.
He offered a quick bow before walking towards where Edward stood with a ridiculous grin.
"I loathe my father."
"Jonathan, the wench was not that bad. She even looks appealing." Edward said in exasperation as he glared at a couple of ladies who kept sending him covet glances.
"You did not have to endure hours of giggling or flirting. Or fortune hunting mothers." Jonathan grunted, his annoyance clear.
"True, but you did not have to endure their shameless flirting while Annabelle watched." Edward retorted.
Jonathan winced. He could sympathize with his friend, but that did not mean he had to know that inane fact.
"I stand corrected. You have gone through a greater horror. Forgive my insensitivity."
"Don't make me ruin your pretty face, the ladies will no doubt then turn towards me with their favors. A most bothersome task, if I were to be honest."
Jonathan stared at Edward.
"Did you know vanity has its limits? Or perhaps you're simply delusional."
"Or perhaps you're a git. Come off it, what has you in a pinch? You're usually not this...pompous."
"Pompous?"
"Would you like me to use another word?" Edward drawled as he saw Annabelle slip out the ballroom.
"No need." Jonathan grunted.
Edward raised an expectant brow.
"The chit-"
"Which chit?"
"The pastry one."
"Ahh."
"Aye, she mentioned to me that she was ailing."
"Call for a healer then." Edward shrugged.
Jonathan glared at his friend.
"You had just spoken to her not two hours prior, did she look unwell to you?"
Edward thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"Precisely. She is ailing and yet she is hiding it."
"Mayhap she does not want to put suitors off?"
"Why would anyone care of such ridiculous notions?"
"It's the ugly truth of the world we have created. We ignore and hurt our own for people we do not know nor particularly care for."
"All though you are correct, that is not her reason. She was saying something about a woman having to endure many things."
Edward made a noise at the back of his throat. "If it makes you feel better I can have Annabelle go speak to her."
"I'll ask Annabelle myself."
"As you wish."
They stayed quiet for a few more minutes before Edward grinned.
"Do you feel better now?"
"Berk." Jonathan growled.
Edward's grin only broadened.
Jonathan chuckled, hitting Edward on the back of his head.
"You love me." Edward grinned.
"Let's see where Annabelle disappeared off to." Jonathan grumbled, unable to hide his slight smile.
***
"These are heavenly."
"Ye think so, m'lady?"
"I know so! Are you certain I cannot steal you away?"
Cook chuckled. "As much as I am fond of ye, m'lady, the young lord has returned home. I simply cannot leave him."
"Annabelle! I told you to leave my cook alone." Jonathan smirked as he placed a quick peck on Cook's chubby cheek.
Annabelle scowled, why did he have to come now? And where did he come from?
"Naughty boy." Cook blushed.
"Only for you." Jonathan grinned as he popped a pastry in his mouth.
"Humph." Annabelle scowled.
"May I try a pasty?" Edward asked with wide, innocent eyes.
"Of course you may, my dear boy. This is also your home, even if you have been gone the same amount of time the young lord has." Cook sniffed.
Edward grinned wolfishly before, he as well, gave Cook a peck on the cheek.
"Jonathan." Annabelle said sweetly, too sweetly.
"Aye?"
Jonathan, being too immersed in the pleasures of the saccharine, fluffy, buttery goodness, did not notice Annabelle's tone of voice, nor did Edward, for that matter. Therefore it was no surprise Annabelle's question had them both choking on their indulging dessert.
"Would you marry me?"
"I...uh... you...Edward..?"
"Annabelle, my love?" Edward said worriedly. He had not waited all these years for naught.
"Will you?" Annabelle prodded sweetly while batting her lashes, uncaring that her fiancé and friend were gasping for breath.
"You want my cook." Jonathan accused when his coughing fit had subsided.
"You did not think she wanted to marry you for your toad like face, did you, my lord?
Jonathan scowled at the voice before turning around.
"Tis rude to eavesdrop."
"I have manners, my lord. Besides, I was invited." Albert sniffed.
"Who would invite a nuisance such as yourself?" Jonathan drawled.
"I invited him." Annabelle piqued as cook put another plate of delicious sweetness in front of her.
"Tis not for you, m'lords." Cook warned as she swatted their hands away.
"Why is she allowed?" Edward and Jonathan whined simultaneously.
"Tis because I have not seen my young helper in so very long." Cook answered fondly. I had to make something special for her.
"Neither have you seen us." Both the lords sulked.
"And here I thought you two were men." Albert barbed.
"Why you..." Jonathan and Edward growled in union, again.
"Albert, may you please escort Edward and Jonathan away from the kitchens, they are disturbing me while I eat." Annabelle smiled sweetly.
"Why certainly, my lady. Lord Barbarian one and two, if you will follow me."
"Have some respect for your lord." Jonathan scoffed.
"We are NOT barbarians." Edward growled.
Albert looked heavenward.
"My lady, how you agreed to marry this child is beyond me."
"I am not-"
"Edward, Jonathan why are you two here?" Annabelle snapped. She couldn't enjoy her sweets with their bickering.
Both lords answered together.
"This is my home, I can be here."
"Jonathan needed you."
Annabelle raised a perfect brow, her eyes twinkling.
"What do you need now, Jonathan?"
"I don't need you. Cook, may you prepare a tonic for a headache, and something for swollen ankles...and let's see...yes, a tonic for retching... and for a backache." Jonathan finished, quite proud of himself for remembering.
Cook, Albert, and Annabelle stared at Jonathan in horror.
"Dear Lord, I may swoon." Cook mumbled as she swayed slightly.
"What have you done, my lord?" Albert wiped the sweat from his brow, ashen faced.
"Jonathan McKenzie Rivers." Annabelle said slowly, dangerously slowly.
"Why are they all staring at me in such a manner?" Jonathan whispered, quite loudly, to Edward.
"What did you do? Annabelle looks like-"
"Like she's going to turn you into a castrated lamb?" Annabelle cut in.
"Precisely. If I may know, what I have done to be condemned to such a fate?" Jonathan asked as he slowly put his tart down.
"Surely, my lord, you jest. I did not think even you had the audacity to do such a deed and then waltz in here demanding concoctions. I have raised you better than this." Albert said furiously.
Jonathan and Edward look towards each other, puzzled.
"Do you reckon they have gone daft?"
"I do think so."
"Surely, Jonathan, you cannot be so obtuse." Annabelle snapped.
"I am not obtuse." Jonathan bristled.
"Annabelle, love, what is amiss?" Edward asked worriedly as he cautiously moved towards Annabelle.
"I cannot believe you have taken part of this." Annabelle spat.
"We are slightly confused, my love."
"What you two are is oafish."
"Annabelle, we really don't know what has upset you in such a manner."
It was Albert who answered.
"My lord, when a lady, or female, is retching, has swollen ankles, her head and back ache, pray tell me, what do you reckon one would assume?"
Jonathan sighed.
"I would reckon the person is ailing, what would you reckon?"
"And you, Lord Dracmore?"
"I'm Lord Dracmore, now am I?" Edward muttered so only Jonathan could here.
Jonathan grinned.
"Well?" Albert prompted rather impatiently.
"I would assume they are ailing." Edward answered cordially.
"The symptoms that you have revealed do not imply that a woman is ailing, they imply you have impregnated someone!" Albert said, his face going red.
"Good Lord." Jonathan whispered in abhorrence.
"Why in the Devil's name would I do such a deed?"
"I...you didn't? I mean... then why were you saying you needed a concoction." Albert sputtered.
"Because someone has complained about those illnesses." Jonathan answered in obvious exasperation.
"You had to have known what you were implying." Annabelle bristled, coming to Albert's defense.
"How in the Devil's name would I know you people would fancy such nauseating notions? I am a man. I have no business knowing the ins and outs of a female's symptoms." Jonathan growled.
They all stared at each other in silence.
An awkward silence.
"Forgive me, my lord." Albert bowed.
"No need for such formality." Jonathan replied abashed. It wasn't every day that the person who raised you apologized to you.
Jonathan danced on the balls of his feet while everyone exchanged awkward glances at each other.
"Pie?" Cook asked.
"I'm certain it would be delicious but Edward and I must leave, if you may have the concoctions prepared posthaste."
"I will have them made." Cook smiled.
"And I shall help." Annabelle said.
"And I shall make certain our door remains locked." Albert retreated.
"What door is the old git referring to?" Edward whispered.
"I shall explain." Jonathan sighed.