Trust Me (29 page)

“Mama is remarried
now.”

“To a commoner. A
nabob.” Grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “But perhaps your grandfather was wilier
than Saxby gave him credit for, eh? Perhaps he left a greater fortune when he
died.”

The whole time she
spoke, grandmother was watching. Collecting information about every nuance of
emotion in Anne’s face. All to be used for the attack at some time in the
future.

Jon couldn’t help
glancing at Anne’s face, at the mention of a further fortune coming from her
grandfather.

But Anne’s thick,
dark lashes veiled her eyes.

It was high time he delivered her
from this inquisition. “Grandmother, if we are to begin listing all the members
of
our
family who married to gain
rank or wealth, we shall be here longer than one afternoon,” he said.

Grandmother kept her
sharp gaze on Anne. “Who was your grandfather’s wife?”

Anne took another
slow sip then carefully placed the teacup back on the saucer. “Her name was Ana
Fuentes.”

“Very little else is
known of her, except that she came from Trinidad.”

“That is correct.”

“She could have been
anyone.”

“She was a
gentleman’s daughter.”

“A gentleman’s
natural daughter?”

“What does it matter
now?” Jon let all of his irritation out in his tone.

“It matters. We must
know the truth so that we may be prepared when it becomes general knowledge.”
She turned back to Anne. “Your grandmother came from the Caribbean. The heat
does strange things to noble blood.”

“No one said she was
noble-blooded.” Anne seemed calm enough.

“The rumours say she
was—well, at least part of her linage was noble. Those half-bred chits from the
tropics are said to be unstable in their minds. Are you unstable?”

“Grandmother,” Jon
said warningly

She waved him off
dismissively. “I want to hear what your wife has to say for herself.”

“I fancy I am as
stable as anyone else, all things considered.” Anne’s expression was placid,
her voice remarkably even.

Grandmother paused
then she chuckled. “All things considered, eh?” She rapped her cane on the
floor several times. “Heh-heh-heh.” She flashed her pearlscent blue gaze at
Jon. “She’s certainly understated. And yes, quite beautiful in an exotic way. I
see the attraction. However, I am not quite sure yet what to make of your
bride.” She turned back to Anne, narrowing her eyes. “But you were with
Cranfield when that horse killed him.”

 
“I have told you before, Grandmother, she wasn’t
with him,” Jon said.

Grandmother set her
jaw. “I would have found a way to remove myself from that carriage. My husband
as well.”

“I have seen many
carriage accidents.” Jon’s deep voice sounded beside her. “Simply climbing out of
a carriage and walking away is an extreme rarity.”

“I had a carriage
accident and I walked away.”

“Your carriage was
stuck in the mud and your companion, Lord Coggins helped you out and carried
you over a puddle.”

Grandmother glowered
fiercely. “That’s not how it happened.”

“You mean that is not
the common story. It is, however, exactly what happened.. You know it and I
know it.”

“I have a strong will
to live. I have never understood those who do not. I would never simply give up
and lie there whilst my husband’s life was in danger.”

“Anne wasn’t with
Cranfield.”

Grandmother’s mouth
twisted. “Why do you persist in perpetuating that lie that Richard and
Francesca Bourchier told? No one believed it. Servants talk.” Grandmother
turned her piercing gaze upon Anne. “I’ll have the truth, girl, were you or
were you not with Cranfield?”

“You don’t have to
answer that, Anne.”

Grandmother scowled.
“No, let her answer.”

“Yes, I was with
him.” Anne’s voice sounded calm enough, but her hand within his was ice cold.

He squeezed her hand
and turned to her. “You don’t have to dignify her questions with a response.
She doesn’t have a right to pry like this.”

“I think she just
wants to know the truth.”

He could see she was
determined to hide her distress. Determined to face his grandmother. That was
what he wanted, after all, wasn’t it? A countess strong enough to face down his
Grandmother. But no, he didn’t want Anne to pretend. He didn’t want her to be
hurt.

Yet she had to learn
to fend for herself. He wouldn’t always be able to be at her side with his
family and in Society.

Grandmother frowned.
“Seeing him die like that—I hear his skull was completely crushed in, his
brains splashed all over the interior of that carriage. There was nothing left
of his head for the undertaker to place in the box except for an empty skull.”
She waved her hand as though she were demonstrating the arc of the horse’s
hoof. “All of London was agog with the story. Such an experience would be
enough to drive any young woman insane, Caribbean blood or no Caribbean blood.”

For the first time in
many, many years, Jon experienced a drop-dead type of shock. His heart had
seemed to die in his chest.

Even he had not
expected Grandmother to be so openly cruel.

Anne was still. Her
chest appeared to be barely moving. He touched her arm. She jumped and turned
to him. Her eyes were wide, her face terribly pale.

Rage beat through
him.

He jolted to his feet
and crossed to where Grandmother sat and stood over her, glowering down at her.
“Apologize.”

She glanced up at him
with that innocent gaze he knew so well. Her tiny frame and the delicate
details of her gown only increased the effect. “What?”

How dare she play the
innocent!

He would cut her
funds and banish her to the country, to the dowager cottage, with just her
personal maid as a servant…But, wait. There would be repercussions for
banishing Grandmother, and he would not bear them alone. People would assume
that Anne had instigated it.

Grandmother wielded
real social power and influence. It would go very badly for Anne if people
sympathized with the old woman and made Anne the villainess in this drama.

He took a deep
breath, forcing his anger down with much effort. He struggled for calm.
“Apologize to my wife for your prying, rude and insensitive comments.”

“Oh Jon, goodness.”
Anne’s voice sounded tremulous and soft. “Don’t make such a fuss.”

He continued to
glower down at Grandmother. “The dowager has stepped beyond the limits of
civility.”

“I think it may just be
her way, is it not?” Anne said, her voice still soft, still unsteady yet
somehow resonating with a dignity that put a bittersweet pang into his heart.

It tore at what
little forbearance he yet felt with regard to the old woman. He cut Anne a
brief glance. “If you mean to ask if being a spiteful cat is her normal way of
relating, yes, I suppose you are correct.”

“Then I must become
accustomed to her, Jon.”

“Anne, let me handle
this.”

Anne’s breasts rose
and fell with a deep breath. “Lady Ruel,” she said with that same quiet
dignity.
 
“I tried very hard in that
carriage. But William’s body had fallen on me when the vehicle rolled. I
couldn’t move him. We were trapped.”

“But surely you could
have exerted yourself—I mean to just give up! Never in my life have I simply
given up. I just cannot understand.”

“You don’t want to
understand,” Jon cut in coldly. “You never want to face anything that makes you
feel afraid or vulnerable. But we’re all human. Mortal.”

Grandmother’s jaw
hardened and her eyes burned with ire. “Don’t you lecture me, my boy! I was a
fighter for decades before you were born. I changed your nappies!”

“You never changed a
nappy in all your days. You’re just a spoiled, arrogant aristocrat. You’ve
never faced real danger, you’ve never had the chance to see what you are truly
made of. To see the limits of your character.”

Grandmother’s mouth
fell open. She stood. “I’ll not stand here for you to berate in such a
shameless fashion. But I’ll say one thing that bears repeating. I would have
escaped that carriage and seen to it that my husband survived. I would not have
just given up!”

“Leave us.”

“I would never have
hidden myself from the world like a timid rabbit!”

He leant closer to
her face. “Remove yourself from my sight.”

“This is the countess
you have forced upon me! Upon this family!” She all but screamed the words into
his face, her eyes bulging with rage and vivid spots of scarlet slashed across
her high cheekbones.

That instant, his
soul seemed to go cold, every aspect of his being overtaken by the sum total of
the hatred and resentment he’d ever felt for this woman. A flash of what it
would feel like to wrap his hands about her thin, wrinkled neck threatened to
overwhelm his last shred of self-control.

“Now.” He ground the
words out. “Leave now. Or I shan’t be responsible.”

The high, angry
colour drained from Grandmother’s face, leaving it ashen. Like death. She gave
a sharp cry then turned and fled in a rustle of skirts.

****

Anne stood at the
window, staring down at the garden. She shivered and pulled her wrapper
tighter. She was cold, so very cold. Even a long, hot soak hadn’t warmed her.
She stared at a rabbit that came bounding across the stone path. Her eyes
glazed over.

“Anne… I can’t…
move.”

William’s voice
was so weak. Again she tried to lift him and pain shot up her into her
shoulder, white-hot sparks of nauseating agony. Her arms began to shake, to
falter.

Thud, thud.

The sound was
loud. And close.

Oh God… Oh God!
William.

The wall cracked open,
letting in a jagged slant of light. Water dripped down the interior.

William!

Her stomach clenched.
Acid welled up into her throat and she gagged.

She ran behind the
screen and bent over the chamber pot. Coughing. Gagging on the taste of bitter
tea.

The door to the
sitting chamber opened.

She gasped and
swallowed back another bout of retching, pressing her hand to her collarbone
and using all her will to force it back hard,.

Boots sounded on the
carpet. Her heart pounded with the fear of being caught in her weakness. She
stood straight and pressed a hand to her unsettled stomach. Then she took a
deep breath before walking around the screen.

Jon entered her
doorway, his face drawn tight with concern.

She managed a huge
smile for him, willing happiness and brightness into her expression.

He approached her and
took her hands. “Anne, I think you should lie down for a while.”

“I am fine.”

“The things she
said—”

“Mean nothing. It is
her way, is it not?”

His gaze moved over
her face. “Anne.”

“What?”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend that nothing
happened.”

“They were just
words… I knew she cared nothing for me. I am the stranger who has come to push
her out of her home.”

He squeezed her
hands. “What happened downstairs had nothing to do with you and everything to
do with me and how she feels about me.”

“Jon, we must try and
understand her. I know what it is like to be a dowager. To suddenly be pushed
out of one’s position and home. It is a hard adjustment. Perhaps this is why
she seems on the offensive.”

“I don’t want to make
excuses for her.”

“We must be tolerant
of her. She is your Grandmother. She is the Dowager Countess of Ruel. We have a
duty to her. Please promise me that you will try and be patient with her.”

“I can try, I suppose
but I won’t overlook another breech in manners on her part like today. I don’t
wish to discuss familial duty at the moment. I want for you to share with me
your feelings about what happened in the parlour.”

“It upset me at the
time, I admit. But in thinking on it, I have decided that it means nothing.”

His gaze was so
searching, seeking to peel back her layers to see all. She had to look away.

“You’re tired.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.
We had little sleep last night.”

“We don’t have to go
out this evening.”

“Oh no, I want to go out
tonight. I just need a little rest.”

He caressed her neck.
Waves of warmth shuddered through her and her tense muscles went slack. It
drained the last of her energy and she couldn’t help sagging against him.