Louise M. Gouge (16 page)

This time no pleasant feelings resulted from his touch. Anna looked up at Lady Greystone, desperately wishing to find a way to please her employer. “I—I can walk back to the house.”

The lady barked out a hard laugh. “And get lost in the process? Utter nonsense. I have invested too much in you to have you get lost in the streets of London.”

Indeed, the viscountess had arranged for a modest wardrobe to be made for Anna in the coming days. While the lady’s words sounded harsh, they actually reaffirmed Anna’s growing sense of security regarding her position.

Major Grenville, however, frowned at his mother. “Madam, please. Miss Newfield can ride Brutus. I shall walk beside her and take her home.”

“No, no, no. We must not miss this opportunity. Once the Season begins, every toady and sycophant in London will be at Lady Drayton’s doorstep seeking some sort of sponsorship.” Lady Greystone stared across the park, then turned back to the major with a look that Anna could only describe as wily. “I have a better plan.” She waved the groom away. “Take the mare back to the mews. See that she is properly tended.” Her stare landed next upon Anna. “Oh, how I do wish you were someone significant, but this will have to do. Edmond, no one is quite so heroic as a gentleman who protects a lady in distress. This is what we will do to impress Lady Drayton. You will stay here with Newfield, as you have not yet been presented to the marchioness. I shall fetch her. That is, I shall happen upon her and ask if she would be so kind as to convey Newfield back to Greystone Hall in her carriage.”

“Mother, I hardly think—”

“Indeed, you hardly ever seem to think.” She blew out a cross breath. “Must I do everything to advance your prospects?”

He flinched. Anna’s heart stung for him. “But Lady Drayton will see through the ruse. I could simply have Miss Newfield ride Brutus.”

“Nonsense. I shall tell her that your horse is too spirited for my companion, inexperienced rider that she is.” She sniffed. “Now, I must be off. That bench.” She pointed her riding crop to a stone bench beneath a spreading willow tree near the river bank. “Wait there.” She started to rein her horse away, but turned back. “Newfield, I don’t suppose you can limp.”

Before she could stop herself, Anna laughed. “Limp, my lady?”

“Humph. The
gel
hasn’t the slightest bit of artifice, even when it would be useful.” She reined her mare around and loped away.

Anna eyed Major Grenville. They both laughed.

“Well, dear lady, shall we
limp
over to that bench?”

“Why, Major, I cannot think of anything I would rather do.” But in truth her stomach felt as if a hive of bees had taken up residence in it. She had made the mistake of admitting to herself that she loved him. Now she would be alone with him, and that would challenge every whit of her self-restraint, lest her feelings be evident in every word and every look.

Chapter Twenty-Five

B
eneath a clear blue sky, a light breeze stirred the trees and shrubbery along the Serpentine River. Brutus, tethered to a nearby bush, nickered his greeting to passing horses, then returned to nibbling the tender new grass at his feet. Seated on the bench beside Miss Newfield, Edmond decided to make the most of these minutes alone with her.

“Lovely day.” Hardly an intelligent beginning, but she did not seem to mind, if her pleasant smile was any indication.

“It is indeed.” She seemed to be studying the traffic with the curiosity of a student. “I am surprised to see so many different shapes of carriages. Is there a different name for each?”

“Yes. For instance, that is a curricle.” He pointed his riding crop toward a two-wheeled chaise drawn by two black horses. “And that four-wheeled carriage is a barouche.”

“Goodness, I hope I can remember which is which.” The merry twinkle in Miss Newfield’s eyes belied her worried tone. Here in the shade of the tree those eyes took on a rich emerald color, while the wind blew several strands of hair from beneath her bonnet.

Edmond reached out and tucked them back in place.

Her eyes widened and color brightened her cheeks, adding a lovely glow to her fair countenance.

“There. That’s better.” He gave her his most officious frown, as he would to a junior officer whose uniform was not entirely in order. “I thought we should tidy you up a bit after your ordeal.” He should not have touched her. But in truth he longed to kiss those delicate lips now puckered with concern, longed to tell her what was in his heart. Merely touching her hair was a minor offense. What he actually wanted to do was free those dark brown tresses of all restraints and let them blow in the wind like the fluttering new leaves on this willow tree.
Hmm.
Better put a stop to such thinking before his unruly hand surrendered to another impulse. “Mother will want to present a well-groomed companion to her friend.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” She looked away and a comfortable silence settled over them for several moments. “Tell me, Major, why are no flowerbeds planted in this charming park?”

He followed her gaze. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps we should present a bill to Parliament demanding an immediate planting.”

“Oh, yes. Another bill for Parliament.” She smirked in her charming way. “Perhaps they should simply turn the management of the entire country over to us.”

“Indeed.” He bowed to her. “I would be pleased to reign with you.”
You are already the queen of my heart.
Would that he could say those words to her. Perhaps one day.

Her eyes flared briefly as they did when she was surprised. But as always, she regained her composure and gave him her impish smile. “What would you do if you were the king?”

“Hmm.” He returned a smirk, then gazed off, trying to think of some nonsensical quip. But all he could think of was his looming return to war. A mad impulse gripped him. He would tell her of his feelings. No, he could not. If—
when
he returned to America, she must be free to find someone to love and marry, in spite of Mother. He heaved a sigh, weary of the battle within him. “I would grant the Americans their demands and bring our military home.”

“Are you saying you do not wish to return to the army?”

He shook his head. “In a word, no.”

She tilted her head in her charming way. “All this time I have been praying for your advancement. Now I will pray that you will find a way to remain in England.” She brushed away a leaf that had settled on her lap. “Do you wish to remain in the army?”

“Not at all. Were it not for Mother, I would have resigned my commission as soon as I returned last October.”

“Ah.” Another grin formed. “And all this time I thought you enjoyed wearing your uniform. Mrs. Parton will be quite disappointed if you do not wear it to all the parties this Season, for she found you very handsome and, what did she say,
heroic.
”

Edmond gently grasped her hand. “And you, Miss Newfield, would you be disappointed, would you find me less heroic, if I put off my crimson jacket for a plain black suit?”

To his shock, her eyes reddened, and a broken laugh escaped her. “I cannot imagine anything you do would disappoint me.”

The trust emanating from her pressed into his soul as nothing before in his life. How gladly he would surrender everything for her happiness.

She looked away, breaking the cord that had bound their gazes together. But she continued to rest her hand in his grasp. “When you put on that black suit, what will you do?”

Marry you. Provide for you. Work every day for your happiness.
“I should like to become a barrister.”

“Major, you will make an excellent barrister.” Her face crinkled into pretty confusion. “Why, then, I suppose you will be addressed as
Mr.
Grenville, will you not?”

He chuckled. “Yes, well, only if I can actually achieve my goal.”

“But what is preventing you?”

“Miss Newfield, have you met my mother?”

Her wry smile exuded both agreement and a rebuke. “She cares very much for you, or she would not trouble herself.” Her eyebrows arched. “What is required for you to become a barrister?”

“I must find a sponsor and take up residence in one of the Inns of Courts to study under a senior barrister. After three years, if I have proved myself, I will be tested and called to the bar.” He gazed across the park, imagining himself arguing some point of law before the courts.

“Why, it seems this would be an excellent career for you. Perhaps even lucrative. Why does Lady Greystone prefer that you remain in the army?”

His pleasant daydream evaporated. “She has never explained her reasons to me. But then, Mother rarely explains anything. Perhaps because fame and riches can be had more quickly for an officer during wartime.”

“I see. That would be more expedient. But just this morning she said she would not like for her sons to be sent off to foreign lands.”

Edmond had wearied of talking about his intractable parent. “And what about you, Miss Newfield. What do you think I should do?”

She glanced down at their still-joined hands. “I must agree with what Lord Greystone said this morning. I’ve grown used to having you in the household. I am not eager to see you leave.”

He pulled her hand up to this lips and placed a kiss on her fingertips. “Neither am I eager to leave you, my dear Miss Newfield.”

Her eyes grew round, her lips parted. “Lady Greystone—”

Not what he had hoped to hear her say.

“—is coming.”

As if they were actors in a play, each knowing his part, they moved to opposite ends of the bench to watch Mother’s approach. Behind her came a grand white barouche pulled by four matching dapple-greys and bearing the crest of the Marquess of Drayton. The driver in front and two footmen at the rear wore dark green livery, completing the picture of power and position.

Beneath his carefully schooled expression of boredom, Edmond’s emotions churned with dread over the uncertainties of his future.

* * *

Anna could not still the pounding of her heart. She had just as much as confessed to Major Grenville that she loved him. And if the tenderness in his eyes was any indication, her feelings for him were reciprocated. Yes, it was possible she was seeing only what she wanted to see. And her mother had warned her long ago that some men used pretty words to steal a lady’s virtue. But the major had offered no pretty words. In fact, in all these months since meeting him she had never observed a single incident during which he behaved as less than a gentleman.

But then, what good were his feelings or hers when a vast chasm lay between their places in society? Still, she could not regret this brief time when they had said nothing dangerous to each other—and yet had said all. Nor did she feel the slightest whit of guilt upon seeing Lady Greystone approach. In fact, she longed to say to the woman,
I love your son.
But for his sake, how much better to say,
Why can you not permit him to do as he wishes with his life?
And of course, she could say neither.

Lady Greystone reined her horse to a stop. The barouche stopped behind her. A footman jumped from the carriage back and helped the viscountess dismount. While Anna and the major rose to meet her, she waved them over impatiently, then grasped the major’s arm and tugged him forward, leaving Anna several yards away.

“Lady Drayton, may I present my son, Major Edmond Grenville, who was wounded while fighting valiantly in the American war.”

Anna had never before heard a single compliment fall from Lady Greystone’s lips, especially for the major, yet such praise would greatly encourage her son.

The marchioness, an ancient matron with light blue eyes, smiled and extended a bejeweled hand over the carriage side. Her purple bonnet framed tight ringlets of white hair that surrounded her pale, cherubic face. “Major Grenville.”

“Lady Drayton.” He stepped forward, kissed her hand and bowed. “I am honored.”

“Not at all, my boy.” The lady’s voice carried a tone of authority not unlike Lady Greystone’s, but much kinder. “It is I who am honored to meet one of our war heroes.” A merry sparkle lit her eyes. “And I suppose I shall meet many more in the days to come.”

“No doubt, madam,” Major Grenville said. “We must thank God for the victory on the Continent.”

“Indeed, we must. Now, where is my friend’s little companion?” The marchioness peered around him.

Anna offered a curtsey, but had no idea what to say.

Again, Lady Greystone summoned her with an impatient wave. “Lady Drayton, this is Newfield. She is a quiet little thing, so do not expect much.”

The marchioness chuckled. “But that is the work of a companion, is it not? To comfort her employer by her mere presence.”

Anna hardly believed herself to be a comfort to Lady Greystone, but she tucked that idea away for future consideration.

“Come along, Miss Newfield.” The marchioness summoned her footman to help Anna into the carriage. “Now, Lady Greystone, I would be most pleased if you and your son would ride with us. One of my footmen can bring the horses.”

“How kind of you, madam.” Lady Greystone gave her a subdued smile, but Anna heard a note of satisfaction in her voice. Her plan was working. But what would that mean for Major Grenville?

Once they were seated in the barouche, the marchioness ordered the driver to take another turn around the park. Then she eyed Lady Greystone. “You have time, do you not?”

“I do, but I cannot answer for my son. Edmond?”

From the glint in Major Grenville’s eyes, Anna feared he would make some jest. She held her breath.

“Madam, I am at your disposal.” He waved one hand carelessly. “The regiment will simply have to do without me for the afternoon.”

Lady Greystone stiffened, but Lady Drayton laughed merrily. “Ah, I can see you are a delightful young man.” She eyed Anna. “Now, Miss Newfield, you must tell me, are you related to a country vicar named William Newfield?”

Anna jolted. “Y-yes, Lady Drayton. He was my father.”

“So he is deceased? Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.” Genuine sympathy emanated from her countenance. “I could not imagine why Lady Greystone would dress you in this black. Now I understand. And your mother?”

Lady Greystone emitted a soft huff of displeasure. Clearly, the turn of the conversation did nothing to advance her purposes. Anna would answer briefly so the exchange could return to the major’s career. “Gone, too, madam.”

“Ah.” The marchioness reached across the carriage and patted her hand. “Like you, she was such a pretty little thing, all the rage during her Season. Mind you, one does not remember every miss who debuts in Society, but Miss Elgin was, as they say, a diamond of the first water.”

Now a gasp came from Lady Greystone. But her surprise paled when compared to Anna’s. “Are you saying my mother once enjoyed a London Season?”

“Yes,” Lady Drayton drawled. “Did she never tell you?”

Anna could only shake her head. Without meaning to, she glanced at the major, who sat beside the marchioness wearing a bemused smile.

“What have you been keeping from us, Newfield?” Lady Greystone’s honeyed tone conveyed veiled displeasure. “Or should it be
Miss
Newfield.”

“There now, Lady Greystone,” Lady Drayton said. “’Tis obvious the
gel
has no idea. And why would she? Her parents would hardly brag about it. As for you, do you not recall the scandal the marriage created? The daughter of Sir Reginald Elgin rejecting an earl to marry a country vicar? Although I must hasten to say many of us found it delightfully romantic.” The lady’s laugh was a musical trill, but she quickly sobered. “Of course she was disowned and disinherited. And all for love.” She tapped a finger on her powdered cheek. “Let me see, that would be some six and twenty years ago. Perhaps you were not in town that year?”

For the first time since Anna had met Lady Greystone, the woman seemed unable to speak. Her eyes shifted from the marchioness to Anna and back again. At last she ground out, “I believe I would have been in one of my confinements at the time.”