Emily was right, in some regards. Lord Brenleigh did cut quite a dash, and he was personable and well liked by everyone as far as Anne had seen. As beautiful as she was, she was not the social butterfly that other ladies seemed to be. Her come-out ball had been exciting, yes, but also mentally exhausting. Making small talk and being pleasant with so many strangers, remembering who was who and what courtesies should be accorded to each, had been enough to make her head swim and her stomach rebel. The next day she had wanted nothing more than to sit next to the fire in her room and read with a full pot of hot tea at her side. What if Lord Brenleigh didn’t care much for reading? She knew he had spent most of his life in the country, but that need not signify. He had looked so well at ease here in London, perhaps he had discovered that the hurly-burly of the London social scene suited him quite well.
Anne felt nauseated. As the Countess of Brenleigh, it would be her responsibility to be his hostess. She would be expected to accompany him to all manner of engagements and keep even more engagements herself. And then she must throw her own functions too. Picnics and balls and dinner parties, planning, planning, until she was so sick of the sight of seating charts and menus that she felt she would go mad. That was how her sister-in-law, the duchess, lived.
But this was what she had been raised and trained for all her life.
“There is no reason to think Lord Brenleigh has no interest in literature,” Anne said, trying to soften the mood a little. “Why, I believe he has very thoughtful eyes.”
Emily shrugged once more. “I’m not sure what that could mean. A cat appears to have thoughtful eyes, and all it is thinking about is the next mouse it will slaughter.”
Anne sighed and was beginning to become a little angry. Surely she could rely on her friend to be happy for her, even if Emily might not favor the match. It was obvious that Emily did not like Lord Brenleigh for some reason, but as Anne’s friend, could she not
try
to see all his fine qualities and how brilliant a match it was? If only Emily
had
done that. If only she had gushed and gone on and on about how great a catch Lord Brenleigh was, then perhaps Anne would have been able to believe it too. Instead, she had awoken that morning from yet another of her romantic dreams, and the man who had been the object of those dreams for so long had not changed. Oh, she still could not make him out clearly, but he was nothing like Lord Brenleigh. He had dark hair and soft features, and in her dreams he whispered shy things to her, and they often ran off into the woods or the dusty attics of an old manor to be alone.
Why couldn’t she be happy?
There was a soft scratch at the door, and it opened to reveal a flustered-looking maid. “Begging your pardon, miss. But the little Miss Jane has taken her kitten and hid it away somewhere,” the maid said, speaking of Emily’s four-year-old sister. “Nurse is near frantic for looking, for she’s afeard that the kitten might be squashed up in a cubby and not able to breathe. Miss Jane thinks it a great lark and won’t tell us where she’s hid the little thing.”
“Oh, dear.” Emily sighed and set her cup back on the tray. “Anne, please don’t cut our visit short. This won’t take but a minute.”
“Has she done this before?” Anne asked.
“Yes. It seems to be her little game recently, but she always tells
me
when I ask. I shall be back in just a moment.”
“Of course.” Anne forced a smile and sipped her tea again. When Emily and the maid had gone, she allowed herself to lean back on the sofa in a most unladylike way and close her eyes. She tried to think of all the reasons why marrying Lord Brenleigh was not only the most prudent thing to do, but the most desirable. Unfortunately, it was not long before thoughts of an immaculately dressed blond paragon were replaced by the sweet chestnut-brown eyes and raven-black hair she had come to know so well.
“Lady Anne?”
Anne turned with a delighted start. Standing in the doorway, his hand still curved around the edge of the door, was Ben. He looked as if he was dressed for riding, and he held his hat in one hand.
“Ben!” Anne said, rising. “I was wondering if I would see you today. Are you off, then?”
“I was, but Emily told me in the hall just now that you were here.” He turned his hat over in one hand and seemed to examine the brim.
“Oh. Well, I don’t wish to keep you from your ride, but if you would stay a moment, you can wish me happy,” she said, filling her voice with false cheer. Ben would lift her spirits. Surely he would congratulate her and remind her of the excellent choice. Ben had always been such a good friend.
“Wish you happy. Yes,” Ben muttered, smiling slightly. He crossed to the chair that Emily had just left, being sure to leave the drawing room door open for propriety.
Anne watched him as they both sat. She reached for the teapot to pour him a cup, but he shook his head.
“I did read the announcement in the paper this morning. I wish you happy,” he said again, nodding.
Anne frowned. His words were right, and even his tone of voice was without fault, but he did not smile and he did not look at her.
“Thank you. I…I am quite lucky, am I not?” She chuckled nervously. “My rank aside, I am hardly a diamond of the first water, and—”
“Lord Brenleigh is the lucky one, Anne. Never forget that.”
Anne looked up, wide-eyed at the unusual roughness of his voice. Their eyes met, and some vague image in the back of her mind told her that she had seen this before, though she could never recall seeing such an incomprehensible look on Ben’s face.
He rose suddenly and walked toward the fireplace. He leaned one hand against the mantel and turned his hat in the other. “As I said, I do wish you happy. Truly. I hope that you will be happy, but… You should know, if you do not already, that many marriages among our peers are arrangements built on money or rank or dynastic desirability. I believe my own parents have such a marriage, and…” He sighed heavily, and his jaw clenched in a way that left Anne sinking back into her chair. “And there are some ladies who can be happy with this, but I never would have thought to believe that you could be one of them.”
Anne sucked in a breath. A strange kind of pain struck her chest, as if her heart had been pierced. What was he saying? She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t cold and…and mercenary! But wasn’t she? No, perhaps not her precisely, but Culfrey was. He wanted her to marry Lord Brenleigh because of his rank and lineage, and she had gone right along, dutifully.
Her eyes filled with tears, for if his words had not been enough, the look on his face surely was. It was as if she had been struggling to read a dark room and someone had just lit a candle. The fuzzy face that filled her dreams, both waking and asleep, came into focus. Every shy, whispered word she had imagined now had a voice. It was Ben. It had always been Ben.
“Ben…” she said, rising.
“I wish you happy, my lady.” He pushed away from the mantel and toward the door, his strides tense and agitated. “You will please, I beg you, not send me an invitation to your wedding. Good day.”
She watched him go, too paralyzed with her shock and crumbling hopes to do anything else. It was not until she heard the front door slam that she came back to herself. She was a fool. Dear God, how could she have been such a fool? Ben, showing her such attention at the ball. Ben, asking her to go driving in the park when he had never done anything like that before. And Ben, teasing her for years about how pretty she was and what a picture of a bride she would make one day
“for a very lucky man.”
She pressed her hand to her lips, not certain that she would be able to keep her pain hidden. She collected her reticule and bonnet from the sofa and rushed out into the corridor. As she was making her way down the stairs, she asked a footman to retrieve her maid from the kitchen where she was taking her refreshments, and would he please make her excuses to Miss Cayson as well?
She needed to get out, get away. How would she ever face her friend now? Oh! Emily knew! Why else would she have been so cold and disapproving of Lord Brenleigh? She must have harbored hopes for Ben too.
Anne sent up a prayer of thanks when her maid appeared before Emily had returned. She was still tying the ribbons of her bonnet as she flew down the steps and into the now meaningless beautiful sunshine, her poor maid struggling to keep up.
Chapter Ten
Sins of the Father
A week passed, then two. Finally Richard could no longer ignore the angry letters that had managed to find him. He was ashamed of himself for having run off, for that was precisely what he had done. After fleeing White’s and burying himself in his study with a bottle of port, Richard had jotted off a few notes to several of his friends to inform them that he was joining a party in the country and was not planning to return for several weeks at least. Since there were always numerous house parties going on at that time of year, he left it to his acquaintances to guess which. Such an obvious lie would not last for long, though. The ton was forever in the business of its members, and he knew that after a while, it would generally be agreed that he was at no party anywhere. Well, at least not any party decent enough to be spoken about.
He did not care. It didn’t matter. The whole damn ton could believe he was drunk at a secret invitation-only orgy for all he cared! But still, the letters had found him anyway. Obviously his secretary had not had the spine to evade Culfrey for long.
Richard,
I can only imagine what kind of debauched circus you have run off to, but it will not be tolerated. I thought that you could at least be counted on to see to our sister and the family name by presenting yourself and behaving in a manner befitting an Avery, but obviously I was mistaken. I know you left town after the engagement announcement was placed in the paper, so you may not feign ignorance of the event to excuse yourself. Anne conducted herself well at the soiree we held to celebrate the engagement, but your absence weighed on her, and it was commented on by more than one person.
I have decided to announce the wedding date at Lady Shoal’s picnic on the 29th, and you will be there. Do I make myself clear? If you do not show yourself and do your duty to the family, and especially Anne, at this crucial time, I will cut you from the family. No more empty threats, Richard. Society may guess at the cause all they like, but they will know that your family no longer receives you. I trust I will not have to send another of these missives.
Culfrey
Richard folded the letter again, for he had read it several times already, and placed it back into the cavity of his lap desk. The carriage swayed as it turned the last corner and continued on a smooth gravel drive. He had received his brother’s final and most threatening letter on the twenty-fourth, leaving him more than ample time to return to London, but he had waited. He had sat brooding over mugs of warm, watered-down ale at the dingy Brighton inn where he had taken up residence, until he could no longer avoid the inevitable. He was willing to tolerate many things, but ostracism from his family was not one of them. And this time he believed his brother would make good on the threat.
He pulled at his ornately tied cravat only to be met with a disapproving grunt from his valet, who sat on the seat opposite. Richard looked up at the old servant and forced a careless smile. He had waited so long to make his decision to return to town that he had in fact left himself no time to even stop home. It was the twenty-ninth; the Shoal picnic would be beginning just now, and he was going to make it merely because he had sent an urgent message to London for his valet to meet him halfway, at an inn with appropriate attire and all his necessary toiletries.
The man was so obviously disgruntled Richard wondered if he would be looking for a new valet tomorrow. The thought would have made him laugh at any other time, but Richard did not feel like laughing.
He was not sure what he felt, to be honest. Oh, he knew what he
had
felt. He had felt betrayed and hurt beyond anything he would have imagined. If he had doubted his love for Henry at all, the pain that still ate at him confirmed it further. Julian’s betrayal had been a violation of trust, or at least his dignity, but it had not come anywhere close to making him feel so lost. After Henry’s betrayal, when Richard had been able to breathe without it catching in his throat, the anger had come. Hot, stewing anger.
The carriage drew to a halt, and Richard climbed down after the footman lowered the step. He took his cane and hat and turned to give an appraising look to his valet. The man sniffed and lifted his chin as only the most superior and insufferable of servants could do, but he eventually sighed and said, “May you enjoy the festivities, my lord. I will see that your luggage is properly delivered back to the house.”
Richard lifted one eyebrow. “I must be a more generous employer than I thought, Gibbs, if you’re planning to stay. Help yourself to the better sherry when you arrive.”
Gibbs nodded haughtily, as if to say he had already had that exact intention in mind. The carriage would return to London, and Richard would be forced to join his siblings on the return trip. No doubt that would prove to be a merry ride.
Rather than enter the house and suffer the unnecessary attentions of the butler, Richard headed off across the lush, well-kept lawn and around the house, which was a modest manor that the Shoals used rarely for their temporary escapes from town during the Season. The picnic was a large event, and well attended if the sounds of laughter and conversation were anything to go by. He rounded the house and stopped at the wide stone steps leading up to a grand terrace. He would have to find Culfrey first and wipe the smile from his face. Richard had a suspicion that his brother would like nothing more than to banish him from the family.
He spotted Culfrey almost immediately, deep in conversation with some crony.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it, Tom?” Richard said, emphasizing the name.
Culfrey’s companion wrinkled his nose and balked at such a familiar address. Culfrey merely turned, his lip curling.