A Lady by Chance (Historical Regency Romance) (20 page)

"With pleasure. Now, before we go to the East End, I would like you to allow Colette to arrange your hair fashionably."

Anna knew Charles would not come to her chamber when he came home. He would go to his dressing room and don fresh clothing for the Taylors' ball, avoiding any private conversation with her.

When she heard him talking with Manors in the adjoining chamber, she quietly opened the door, greeted both gentlemen, then walked up and placed five pounds in her husband's hand. "It seems you won the wager, my lord."

Wearing a freshly ironed shirt and gray breeches, Haverstock looked from his hand to his wife's face, realization dawning. "So our loss will be Ainsley's gain."

Anna nodded.

His mouth set in a grim line, he said, "I will make the announcement at dinner."

Before dinner, Lydia met with Ainsley in her brother's library, freeing Haverstock to announce the nuptials over the dining table where the newly betrothed couple stood somewhat awkwardly while the family toasted them.

Even in his enthusiastic toast, Haverstock's face bore no sign of happiness. Indeed, none of the family showed signs of elation over Lydia's engagement. Cynthia burst into tears. "What are we going to do without Lydia?" she asked, her voice muffled with sobs. "This is so sudden."

Anna suspected Captain Smythe's failure to make Cynthia an offer brought on her tears as much as attachment to Lydia.

"Wouldn't it have been nice to have had a double wedding?" Kate asked, placing a bejeweled hand on Mr. Reeves' arm. "But we'll be wed before your bans are posted."

Now two of Charles' sisters were embarking on misalliances, Anna thought with sadness. She shot a glance to the end of the table where her own husband sat, and her heart constricted. It wasn't just his size that gave Haverstock commanding presence. Everything in his dark good looks – the stern cut of his square jaw, the wisdom in his black eyes, the strength of his magnificent body – exuded  authority. Anna realized she had no right to judge anyone's choice of husbands. She certainly had not married for love. And for all she knew, her husband still could be a French spy. More the pity. For now she would probably love him were he a homicidal maniac – though she could not seriously imagine him doing anything that was not honorable.

If only she could prove that Sir Henry – and not her husband – was the French spy.

But the truth was no more attainable than Charles' love, she lamented.

Anna noticed the dowager's disposition had taken a marked turn for the better in the past two days. Was it because James was coming home? A contented smile softened her black eyes at the announcement Lydia would be taken down off the shelf.

"I must say, Lydia," Kate offered, "your hair looks uncommonly good tonight."

Lydia beamed at Anna. "Anna's Colette arranged it for me."

"They do well by you, Lydia," Haverstock said.

"Tomorrow Anna and I will go to Madame Devreaux's for my trousseau."

"Do you mean Anna knew about the engagement before your very own mother?" the dowager demanded.

"I am afraid, Mother," Haverstock intervened, "the close friendship between Anna and Lydia excludes most of us. The two share many things we are not privy to."

The dowager gave a snort. "Like those afternoon romps. One would think they were going to a leper colony."

"I feel so very fortunate Anna has come into our family," Lydia said.

Squire Ainsley lifted Lydia's hand and placed a kiss on it. "Not nearly so fortunate as I that you are coming to mine."

Color rose to Lydia's cheeks.

Following dinner, they rode in two carriages to the Taylors' ball. Lydia and the squire rode in Haverstock's, and Kate, Cynthia and Charlotte rode in Mr. Reeve's.

"I beg that you not ask me to stand up with you, squire," Lydia said on the way to the ball. "I am a most deplorable dancer."

Taking her hand in his, the squire said, "Please, call me John. And I am pleased you are not partial to dancing because I fear I have two left feet."

Looking at the pair across from her in the dimly lit carriage, Anna wished Lydia wore a more lovely dress. The drab green was serviceable, but a special night like this called for an elegant dress.

"I wonder if Captain Smythe will be at the ball," Lydia said.

"One wonders if he will ever come up to scratch with Cynthia," Anna said. "What do you think, Charles?"

In his brooding mood again, Haverstock hugged the side of the carriage, not even allowing his leg to touch her skirts. He met her gaze. "Pardon?"

"Do you think Captain Smythe will offer for Cynthia?"

"I don't know that I've ever given it a thought," he said stiffly. "I daresay the matter is between Cynthia and the captain."

"I think he's behaved shamefully," Lydia said. "All these weeks he's been leading Cynthia on. Everyone expects a declaration any day. As pretty as she is, no other man will even come close to her. And now the captain's become conspicuously absent."

"Shameful, indeed," the squire uttered.

Though it was late in the Season, the crowd at the Taylors' was the largest Anna had seen. Haverstock and Anna led the newly betrothed couple around, introducing the squire to everyone as Lydia's fiancé.

After spending over an hour on introductions, the gentlemen settled Anna and Lydia at chairs against a wall in the ballroom and went to procure refreshments.

Vigorously fanning herself against the room's stifling heat, Anna did not notice Sir Henry had walked up to claim her for a dance. A frown on her face, she slowly closed her fan and rose to her feet, stiffly offering him her hand.

"How delightful it is to see you tonight, Lady Haverstock," Sir Henry said, leading her on to the dance floor.

Anna did not respond.

Since the dance was a waltz, he gathered her into his arms and whispered, "Have you found out the information we need so desperately?"

"My husband tells me nothing,  and if he did, I would not tell you."

"What about Ralph Morgan? I see you two together every afternoon at Hyde Park. I think you could get anything you want from the man."

"You mistake the matter," Anna said with vehemence. "Mr. Morgan escorts me out of friendship to my husband."

"Mr. Morgan is noted for having an eye for beautiful women, Anna. And in case you have not looked in your glass lately, you are incredibly beautiful."

"I assure you Mr. Morgan is completely oblivious to any beauty I might possess." Anna saw her husband return to where she had been sitting, holding two drinks in his hand. He scanned the dance floor until he saw her. Then he stiffened.

At that moment Lady Jane, wearing a heavily embroidered ivory gown, walked up to him, bowed low to say something to Lydia, then straightened up again and spoke to Haverstock, an angelic smile on her face. Anna's stomach plummeted when she saw her husband give Lady Jane the drink he had brought for her. 

The dance seemed interminably long, and Anna discouraged conversation with Sir Henry. She could not take her eyes off Haverstock and Lady Jane. Why wouldn't the woman leave? Now she was fanning herself. The next thing Anna knew, Lady Jane acted as if she were going to swoon. Only Anna was sure it was feigned to solicit Haverstock's interest.

He gently took the slim blond by her elbow and led her from the crowded ballroom.

"I see your husband's marriage has done nothing to cool his feelings toward the lovely Lady Jane," Sir Henry said.

So Lady Jane did have a claim on Charles' feeling, Anna thought morosely, unable to respond to Sir Henry.

When the dance was over and Sir Henry restored Anna to her seat by Lydia, Lydia greeted Anna wryly. "Would that I'd had a banana peel to throw at Lady Jane's delicate feet."

A smile crossed Anna's face. "How wicked you are."

"Not as wicked as she. I have never seen a more unbelievable attempt at fainting."

"So I'm not the only one who thought so," Anna said.

"I hope my fool of a brother can see through her."

Anna felt a tap at her shoulder. She turned and saw Mr. Churchdowne.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Haverstock?"

Anna gracefully rose.

He knew that she didn't love him. He knew that she never had. He knew she was responsible for Pierre Chassay's death. And she was an enemy of his country. So why did it hurt so badly to see her in the arms of Sir Henry and Harry Churchdowne?

Haverstock smirked at Jane. She had always fancied herself a marchioness. His marchioness. And she had always annoyed him. She was no more faint than he was. After giving her a suitable amount of time to cool off, he asked, "Do you feel up to standing up with me for the next set?" Something in his pride made him want to show Anna other women could be attracted to him.

"Oh, I'm quite refreshed now, my lord," she said, setting a possessive hand on his arm as he led her to the dance floor.

He swept by Anna, ignoring her while giving a curt nod to Churchdowne. He gave his full attention to acting as if Jane were the most important person in the room. He made a great deal of seriously looking into her eyes. He laughed and smiled at everything she said. He squeezed her hand. All the while he watched Anna from the corner of his eye.

It was as if there were no one else on the dance floor except his beautiful wife. He watched her lovely body moving gracefully beneath the soft drape of her sky blue gown. And with a bitter rage, he watched Churchdowne's face as his earnest eyes caressed Anna.

Damn that Churchdowne! Haverstock kept thinking. Did he have to hold Anna so close? And how dare he dance with Anna after the scene at White's. It might give Anna a bad name.

"Since you've gone and married," Lady Jane said, "I have decided to marry, too."

"And who is the fortunate man?"

"I cannot tell you since I have not yet received the offer, but I expect it within the week. I will say that he outranks you."

Haverstock raised a brow.

"And he's quite old, so I may have to take pleasure with a younger man like you, Charles."

Somehow, with all her faults, Haverstock could not imagine Anna speaking as Jane just did. Jane of the impeccable lineage, he thought disgustedly.

Chapter 22

Madame Devreaux ran her discerning eyes along the sizable length of Lydia and spoke to Anna. "I have not seen this sister before, no?"

Anna shook her head. "This sister's tastes run to riding habits more than ball gowns, but now she will need a trousseau."

Within minutes, the modiste's assistants scurried around Lydia, measuring her, holding lengths of various shades about her face. All the while Madame Devreaux exuded excitement.

Anna realized the dressmaker extraordinaire was not just counting the generous sums she would receive for the commissions, but she was also being challenged creatively to transform Lydia from the ugly duckling into the beautiful swan.

"Do you not agree, Madame Devreaux, that Lydia's breasts are one of her best assets and should not be covered?" Anna asked "To be sure," the woman said, leading Lydia into a dressing room. There, Lydia disrobed, and Madame Devreaux draped a bright white sarcenet from just over her bosom to the floor.

Anna stood back and gazed. Lydia looked almost pretty. Certainly striking. "You are a positive genius, Madame. Lydia looks quite lovely."

Lydia gave a skeptical glance into the glass. "Do you not think the bodice is too low?"

"Not at all!" the modiste said. "We only see the top of what promises to be exquisite endowments. Your husband-to-be, he will be enraptured."

Lydia's face clouded.

Madame Devreaux had undoubtedly said the wrong thing, Anna thought. The idea of intimacy with the squire was not welcome to Lydia. Anna remembered with deep longing every torturing touch from her own husband. Despite the pain of losing him, she would do it all over again. Better the pain than going to her grave never having experienced their magical blending.

Anna watched the young assistants work. "Tell me, Madame Devreaux, are your helpers good needlewomen?"

"But of course. Only the best." The dressmaker wrote some measurements down on paper.

"What kind of wage do they receive?"

"I pay a generous wage," she defended, not mentioning a sum.

"Have you need for another employee?"

The woman nodded. "This season we have been so terribly busy. My poor girls, they work into the night. I could undoubtedly use another."

"Sally!" Lydia exclaimed.

Anna's eyes danced with delight. "Exactly."

"You have someone?" the modiste asked.

"She has no great experience," Anna said, "but her work is good, and she is an excellent learner. To compensate for her lack of experience, I propose to pay her wages during her apprentice period – without her knowledge, of course."

Madame Devreaux smiled broadly. "Of course."

"Oh, Anna, what a delightful plan," Lydia said. "I cannot wait to see her face when we tell her."

"I say, Lyddie," Morgie said on the way to the East End that afternoon, "you look different."

"It's her hair," Anna said.

"Oh, yes. Quite becoming," he said.

"Lydia is to acquire a new wardrobe for her trousseau," Anna announced.

With shaking hands, Morgie reined his horse, pulling to a complete stop, then turned wide eyes on Lydia. "Your what?"

"My trousseau," she answered. "Did you not know I am to be wed?"

"I did not!" he snapped. "By all that's holy, I see you twice every day, and you don't even have the consideration to tell me something as momentous as your wedding plans. Just who in the bloody hell is it you're marrying?"

Anna's gaze shifted from Morgie to Lydia, and her long-standing belief in their affection for each other was confirmed. A pity Morgie did not realize the depth of his feeling for Lydia.

"Squire John Ainsley," Lydia said.

Morgie took up the ribbons and began to canter, avoiding Lydia's gaze. "Never heard of the man."

"He lives quite near Haymore. He's a widower," Lydia said.

"I am sure you don't have to explain the man to me," Morgie said, his lips compressed.