Lois Menzel (25 page)

As they moved down the corridor Anne said, “I should like to thank you for your kindness.”

“’Twas nothing, miss, I’m sure.”

The landlady opened the door to the private parlor and Anne stepped inside. Tenbury stood before the fireplace, where several large logs crackled and hissed, driving away the dampness.

Anne realized that Kimble had overlooked no detail when he dispatched the coach to Hounslow, for Lord Tenbury had also been transformed since the early morning. He wore a dark gray cutaway coat and waistcoat buttoned over a crisp white shirt and snowy cravat. Pristine breeches disappeared into top boots shiny enough to be used as a looking glass. He turned his head when she entered and smiled at her.

“Your appearance is much improved since last I saw you,” he said as he indicated a bench near the fire. She walked to it, the smell of freshly baked bread making her realize she was still hungry.

“I think the landlady barely knew me,” she remarked.

“Quite likely,” he agreed. “Earlier you looked more like a ragged beggar than a lady of quality.”

She feigned a look of outrage. “Perhaps I did. But how ungallant of you to say so, sir.”

“Are you not the one who insists upon honesty in all things?” he challenged. “No half truths—no deceit?”

His voice had gone in a moment from lightly teasing to deadly serious. She looked up to see him regarding her, his blue eyes penetrating.

“Yes, certainly,” she replied. “Honesty in all things.”

He sat beside her near the warmth of the fire. “Jack explained what happened. He regrets that you had to endure such hardship,” Tenbury said.

“Mine was not nearly so difficult as his. I had shoes, and my feet for the most part stayed dry. Did he tell you that he carried me across a stream, walked through freezing water in stocking feet, just to secure for me some degree of comfort?”

“No, he did not tell me that. But I am not surprised.”

“Did he explain that our being on the bed together was my idea? He was on the floor to begin with, but if you had felt his feet, they were like ice, and I know his wrist must have pained him dreadfully, though he never complained. I insisted it was the only prudent thing to do.”

Tenbury turned slightly and took her hands in his. “Your concern is touching, and I am certain there is no one who could find fault with your motives. Believe me, I understand.”

“You looked very angry when you first found us.”

“I was up all night. I was anxious for your safety. I apologize if my reaction overset you.”

He raised one of her hands to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss on it. “What happened to your wrist and your hands?” he asked as he turned them and held them palms up before him. The right wrist was discolored and swollen, while both hands were crisscrossed with long reddened scratches, some of which had raised welts.

“When Jack dropped the pistol, I picked it up. The highwayman twisted my wrist until I dropped it. The scratches are from the brambles in the woods. In some places they were very thick, and even though Jack broke a path, I still had to fend them off.”

He lowered his head and kissed each of the scratched hands, while his lips lingered even longer on the bruised wrist. It was an act so unexpected, she knew not how to react.

Even as she struggled for words, he saved her from having to respond by rising to his feet in a sudden change of attitude. “I will ask the landlord’s wife to put some ointment on the scratches. Then we must be on our way. We should easily reach Tenton tonight.”

“Tenton? Are we not going back to London?”

“When you disappeared,” he replied, “I had no idea what had happened to you, or how long it might be before I could return you to Charles Street. I sent for Cassie, informing Mrs. Boone and your household that you were accompanying my mother and Arelia to the country. It was the best I could do to allay suspicion. I doubt they believed the half of it, but they have no evidence to support any other theory.”

He strolled into the hall calling for Mrs. Weaks while Anne looked after him with a troubled frown.

Chapter 19

A short time later, Tenbury’s coach set off toward Wiltshire. While Jack occupied one seat and Cassie and Anne shared the other, Tenbury and Murdock accompanied the coach on horseback. When Murdock suggested that his lordship travel inside the coach, seeing as he had not slept the night  before, Tenbury replied that if he had been interested in his groom’s opinion, he would have asked for it. Murdock thereafter lapsed into silence, speaking only when spoken to. The trip passed uneventfully, the coach arriving at Tenton Castle after dark.

Arelia and Lady Tenbury made a great fuss over Anne and Jack, hovering like mother hens and directing servants to prepare rooms. They all settled in the salon, where Arelia demanded to be told all the details of the robbery.

“I need to speak with Miss Waverly,” Tenbury said. “If you will excuse us, perhaps Jack can answer your questions.”

Anne accompanied Tenbury across the hall to the library. When they were inside and the door firmly closed, she took a seat while he stooped to stir the fire to life and add a few logs. Next he kindled a taper and began lighting more candles.

Anne sat regarding him expectantly. He had asked for the interview but now seemed reluctant to begin.

“What was it you wished to say to me, my lord?” she asked.

Tenbury extinguished the taper and replaced it on the mantel before coming to sit near her. “You asked me earlier today if we were returning to London. You do understand why we cannot?”

“Because you think people will discover what happened last night.”

“I cannot say, and it matters little what story the gossips ultimately spread. What concerns us is that you were seen leaving town in an open carriage with my brother. You did not return at the time you were expected; in fact, you did not return to your home at all. Even in my household, where the servants are loyal to the family, such a tale could leak out. In your house, with servants newly hired, there is no question the story will be all over town in a matter of days.”

“I was considering this on the drive down here,” she offered, “and I have decided that perhaps it would be best if I returned to Pentworth House.”

“The scandal will eventually follow you there. There can be no escape from it.”

“You draw a grim picture, my lord.”

“Perhaps I do, but I assure you it is a realistic one. It is vital that you understand the seriousness of the situation.”

Feeling the pressure of tears mounting behind her eyes and unwilling for him to see her cry, Anne rose and walked to the fire, pretending to warm herself. His words had, in fact, chilled her to the quick. Her future, which only a few days ago had appeared so rosy, now loomed before her as a fearful, bottomless chasm.

“You may, of course, go to your home if that is what you truly wish,” he said. “There are, however, several other options you should consider.”

She turned, forgetting her tears, eager to hear of this ray of hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. “And what are they, my lord?”

“You could marry—as soon as possible. The gossiping tongues would not be stilled, but they would speak of elopement, not ostracism. Is there anyone to whom you have formed an attachment— someone in London perhaps?”

“There is no one,” she said, almost imperceptibly.

“I must tell you that Jack is most willing to offer. He is very conscious of his obligation—”

“I could not accept him,” she interrupted, “for I do not consider any of what happened to be his fault. He was wonderful—brave and caring. I would not reward him by binding him in a marriage he did not seek.”

“Do you love him?” Tenbury asked, holding his breath while he waited for her answer.

“I love him as a dear friend.”

“There is one final option you must consider. I would be honored if you would agree to become
my
wife. I have a special license. With your consent, I will go and speak with Dennis Pearce immediately; he could marry us tonight.”

Dozens of questions leaped to her mind together, all struggling for the uppermost place. Why was he offering this? Did he feel responsible because Jack was involved? Or was there more to it? Then there were the questions on her side. How did she feel about Tenbury now? Could she trust him, or was there still, as there had been when they met, a motivation she knew nothing of?

With all this turmoil in her mind, her voice was still. He seemed to take this lack of objection as a form of consent. “I will go and speak with Pearce,” he said and turned to leave the room.

In desperation, she found her voice. “Please wait, my lord. You must give me time to think.”

“I am afraid there is little time, and even less to think about. You may return to Pentworth, a social outcast who will be an object of scorn and crude speculation, or you may choose to be my wife.”

She lowered her eyes to the floor, once again blinking away tears.

Her total dejection, her grim, hopeless attitude was too much for Tenbury. He had decided during his long ride home that he would not complicate the necessities of the evening with protestations of love. He suspected she was a long way from trusting him, but he found now that his resolution would not hold. Whether she believed him or not, he must at least say he wanted her for herself, not for any other reason. Walking to her, he took her hands and led her to the sofa, then sat beside her.

“You have not asked how I come to have a special license in my pocket,” he said.

She said nothing, but the question was in her eyes.

“That night at the pool,” he said, “I would not have behaved so, had my intentions not been honorable. I nearly asked you then to marry me, but I did not like having secrets between us. So I went to find Chadwicke. On my way through London, I picked up the license on a whim, hoping I could convince you to marry me at once. The memory of that night made me impatient to have you in my arms again.”

His voice had trailed nearly to a whisper. What he saw in her face did not encourage him. She looked troubled, confused. She was so close, her lips so inviting, her expressive eyes swimming with tears. Would action serve him where words had not?

He linked his hands behind her neck and brought her mouth to meet his. As she closed her eyes a tear slipped away and coursed a path down her cheek, yet when he felt her respond, his hopes soared. He ended the kiss before he wished to, even though she had made no attempt to stop him. He held her face in his hands as he whispered, “Anne, I love you. Forget the rest; forget the questions and the doubts and think only of that.” He pushed himself up from the sofa and rang the bell. “I am going to find Pearce. When the footman comes, have him bring you something to eat.”

A moment later she was alone, but those three magical words he had said echoed again and again through her ears. “I love you.” Her father was the only other person who had ever said them to her. Did Tenbury mean them? Or were they uttered from obligation? from guilt? from expediency? He had never wanted any of the women society had to offer—why should he want her?

There was only one answer. She was wealthy, naive, and amenable. She was quiet and unassuming; she would never put herself forward. Tenbury could have her wealth yet continue to live his life much as he always had. She would be there, stuck away in a corner. She would never challenge him; he would go his own way.

As unappealing as this was to her, it had two strong elements in its favor. First, as he had pointed out, she had little choice. It was either marriage or social ruin. Secondly, she felt that being a part of his life, even a minor part, would be better than being no part at all. If she ran away to Pentworth House and resumed her reclusive life there, she would probably never see any member of the Saunders family again.

The servants brought her a tempting dinner tray, but she had no appetite. She had made her decision: she would marry Lord Tenbury.

When Arelia entered the room a few minutes later, Anne was able to greet her with an outward appearance of calm. Arelia came to sit close, her concern for Anne’s recent ordeal plain.

“Jack has been telling us what happened. You must have been terrified.”

“The highwaymen were rather frightening, but Jack knew just how to handle them. Then he led us safely through the woods.”

Arelia reached to take Anne’s hands, her countenance grave. “Jack says that you are fine. Is it true? Or is there something you could not tell the men?”

Anne shook her head. “I told them the truth. My legs are sore, and my feet blistered, and I have these scratches on my hands; that is all.”

“If I had ever suspected that road would be so dangerous—”

Arelia paused as the door opened and Tenbury entered. He glanced first at Anne and then spoke to his sister-in-law. “Have you been sharing your news with Miss Waverly?”

“No,” Arelia answered. “We have been discussing the events of this past night.”

“It seems congratulations are in order,” he continued, as he drew Arelia to her feet and planted a kiss upon her cheek. Turning to Anne’s inquiring gaze he added, “Mr. Pearce has just informed me that he and Arelia became engaged yesterday. My felicitations, Arelia. I think you have chosen wisely, and I wish you well.”

Rising herself, Anne added her good wishes to his. She embraced her friend warmly as she exclaimed, “Oh, Arelia, I am so pleased for you—and for Dennis, too! I am convinced you belong together, and I wish you happy.”

Anne’s worries, momentarily forgotten in the face of Arelia’s news, came rushing back at Tenbury’s next words. “Has Anne told you our news? That she is about to become my wife?”

He took Anne’s hand possessively in his as Arelia regarded them suspiciously. Tenbury looked cool and confident, while Anne’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“Has she agreed to become your wife, or is she being bullied into accepting?” Arelia demanded, her voice disapproving.

Tenbury’s eyes hardened as he met Arelia’s challenge unblinking. “She will make a free choice.” Then turning his gaze to Anne, he added, “And she can certainly speak for herself.”