Amanda Scott (24 page)

Sylvia grinned at her, and Anne realized it was the first time she had seen such a happy expression on the child’s face.

Anne got up when she finished her chocolate, and began at once to busy herself with preparations for the public day. For the next fortnight, she kept her attention fixed on her plans, sending out invitations to nearby gentry and causing notices to be posted for the general public wherever they might do some good. She did not neglect Sylvia, however, and whenever she found the child trailing like a shadow at her heels, discussed her plans with her, speaking just as if she were receiving normal replies in return.

They saw little of Andrew during that time, for his new tutor, William Pratt, soon arrived and, following orders from Lord Michael, kept the young duke’s nose to the grindstone. Anne was a little concerned that if his supervision proved too rigid, His Grace would soon rebel, but she could think of no way to intervene without diverting her husband’s attention to herself. As it was, Lord Michael was beginning to behave in an uncomfortably prickly fashion, for which she knew she was solely to blame.

She managed to keep him from her bed by various and devious ploys. Her headaches were good for two days, and then she had a legitimate reason for five days more. A message from a tenant on another of the ducal estates took Michael away for three days, but even so, by the end of the second week, she was certain he must be thinking her a most invalidish female.

To keep him at arm’s length, she kept busier than ever, organizing a fortune-teller for their public day picnic supper and other last-minute entertainments, including a well dressing—for she had discovered that floral offerings made to ensure the wells would not run dry were a tradition of the county on such occasions. What with these and her usual activities, by each day’s end, she was truly exhausted, and Michael did not press her when she pleaded fatigue. He did mention more than once, however, that he would be delighted when they had put the public day behind them.

Each time she encountered him, Anne experienced a fluttering sensation in her midsection, and wished she were certain of the truth; however, he was frequently gone during the day, and even some evenings, and on the latter occasions, she found it rather too easy to imagine him disporting with the women at the
Folly.
In her earlier imaginings, though she had known of his rakish past, she had assumed that in whatever romantic liaisons he had enjoyed, his companions had been ladies of his own class—all comfortably unknown to her. Thanks to her sisters and Lady Harlow, she was aware that many women of the
beau monde
sought passion elsewhere than in their marriage beds—though not, it was hoped, before they had presented their lords with an heir. Until Jane’s revelation, however, Anne had never imagined that Lord Michael might have consorted with common prostitutes.

She enjoyed frequent visits from Lady Hermione, of course, but the nearer they approached to the grand day, the less they saw of Lord Ashby, for he was immersed in plans for his balloon ascension. On the day before that auspicious occasion, he announced with pride that he had made enough money through his subscriptions to pay for his inflammable air with a good bit left over, which he meant to use toward the purchase of a new balloon.

That evening Lady Hermione dined with them again, accompanied by her brother, Viscount Cressbrook. Cressbrook was a solid block of a man some five years her junior, whose still-dark hair was brushed severely back from his high forehead, placing his large nose into unshielded prominence. While Bagshaw and his minions served tea and other refreshments, the viscount complained that his housekeeper had gone off to tend her ailing mother again. No one encouraged him to expand upon this topic, and the moment he fell silent, Andrew, who took a deep interest in Lord Ashby’s endeavors, demanded to know how high his new balloon would go.

Lord Ashby replied, “Ain’t the altitude but the distance that counts these days, my lad. What with the Frenchies trying to cross the Channel, and our lads trying to get to Ireland, we must be able to stay aloft a good long time, I can tell you.”

“Well then, how far can you go?”

Looking modest, Lord Ashby said, “I daresay a good wind from the south would carry us right on up to Scotland, my boy.”

Anne paid them little heed, for she was conscious of Lord Michael’s keen gaze upon her and wondered what excuses she could offer to keep him at a distance after their public day was done. That night, confiding her problem to her journal, she was unaware that as she wrote, she soon stopped thinking about James.

Dearest James,

I do not know which way to turn next if I cannot bring myself to confide in Mrs. Flowers—and from what I am told of that lady, I daresay it will be most difficult for me to do such a thing. Indeed, I do not know that she can help me even if I can bring myself to speak of the unspeakable, for I have no good cause to believe she even knows you, let alone that she will know your habits.

The fact is that I have begun to care for my husband, and I do not want him to be guilty of anything so reprehensible as what I am led to believe. But Jane Hinkle is not one to make up stories about anyone, let alone about her master. I must know the truth. If I cannot learn it from Mrs. Flowers, I do not know what I shall do, for I cannot ask you, nor would I have good cause to believe what you said if I did ask. Life is such a puzzlement! To think that I was used to believe that if one were honest and dutiful, all would be well. How foolish and innocent I was then.

Clearly, he thought, watching the little maid put more wood on the fire, preparing the room for his night’s entertainment, although Edmund’s holdings were still in a tangle that would take months to unravel, certain things must soon come to light if, in fact, they had not done so already.

Edmund’s private debts, particularly the wager, as it stood, put a colossal strain on the ducal assets, but at the moment, they served his interests well. He might be forced to reveal the truth before the deadline, but even that eventuality could be turned to good account. Indeed, with the least care, he would easily retain his own powerful position. He had seen as much during the past fortnight, except perhaps where Anne was concerned.

She maintained an unusual distance now, an aloofness, and as yet seemed to have developed no proper wifely fear of her husband, but once he had the other matters in hand, that small defect could be dealt with in its turn. In the meantime, kindness, courtesy, a light hand—those were the right tactics for the present.

He spoke to the maid. She looked wary but not unwilling, and when he spoke again, she put down the wood basket and moved obediently toward him.

T
HE MORNING OF THE
Upminster public day dawned with clear blue skies and unseasonably warm temperatures. Wanting to be certain that all was in readiness in the gardens, Anne slipped from the house alone to have one last look around before people began to arrive. As she emerged from the cool, shadowy house onto the terrace and into the comparative warmth of the garden and a flock of white pigeons fluttered from the lawn to the roof, she drew in a long breath of satisfaction. Heat already quivered like gauze above the pebbled carriage drive where sunlight dried the morning dew, and the borders were bright with new blooms. The well-scythed turf was a brilliant green, and she could hear the buzzing of bees in the limes. The front garden was neat and tidy, if not yet at its best. In another month, she knew, it would blaze with summer color.

Beyond the gardens lay wilderness or woodland, composed mostly of beech and chestnut trees, and threaded by mossy paths that were presently thick with bluebells and daffodils. Anne had arranged for a children’s scavenger hunt in the woods, and other activities throughout the gardens, to keep the youngsters amused while their parents chatted and visited.

The south garden, enclosed by a massive wall of the same golden stone that comprised the house, and dating to the time when bishops inhabited the Priory, offered a curious sense of seclusion and quiet now. Inside its walls, herbaceous borders lined long green walks connecting little square orchards of ancient apple trees, under which she had planted irises, pansies, and other humble flowers, which had sprouted but not yet begun to bloom.

Passing through one archway after another, she made a circuit of the house, then entered the woodland, now alive with chirping birds and chattering squirrels. Emerging near the outlet from the lake, she crossed the arched bridge and walked toward the river. Before she had gone far, however, she realized that she was no longer inspecting but merely enjoying herself, and decided that she ought to get back to the house. She wanted time to break her fast and inspect preparations inside before the first visitors began to pass through the gates. Turning to hurry back, she kept her eyes on the path to avoid tripping over a stray branch or stone until, halfway to the main entrance, warned by his looming shadow, she looked up to find her husband blocking her way.

The expression on his face was not encouraging, and Anne remembered, belatedly, his command to take her footman whenever she stirred outdoors. She had not recently been so careful to obey him, frequently forgetting to send for Elbert when she wanted a word with Quigley or one of the other outside servants. Often one of the maids had been with her, but only because Anne had been giving orders of some sort or other, and had simply walked outside with the maid hurrying to keep step with her. Even more frequently of late, she had had Sylvia at her heels. But the thought that her safety might ever be at risk when she stepped outside occurred to her only now, as she gazed into Lord Michael’s stern countenance.

For a moment he said nothing at all. He merely looked at her in that searching way she had begun to notice more and more, as if he would read her thoughts in her expression. She could not have explained to anyone just then how she knew he was displeased. She was not even altogether certain that it was not her own guilty imagination that put anger where there was none. She knew only that she felt just as she had been used to feel when caught out in mischief by her father or, worse, her grandmother.

Anne’s mother had never noticed particularly what she did, and although Rendlesham blustered and bellowed, and was known to employ more painful measures, her grandmother had been the one who always stirred the most fear, for old Lady Rendlesham was what the servants called “a proper Tartar.” The little shiver that raced up Anne’s spine now brought back most unpleasant memories of those few occasions when she had inadvertently annoyed the old lady.

“Good morning, sir,” she said, outwardly calm, though her pulse was racing. Perhaps if she said nothing to remind him that he had commanded her …

“Where is Elbert?” he said, putting that fancy to flight.

She forced herself to meet his steady gaze. “I don’t know. I came outside to see that all is in readiness, for I shall not have time later, you see, and the first guests will begin to arrive by ten o’clock. Before then, I must also have a look round inside, although I am perfectly certain that Bagshaw and Mrs. Burdekin will have all in train. It is just that …” She saw that he was not paying heed to her words but was merely waiting, patiently, for her to finish speaking. “I expect I ought to beg pardon for forgetting to send for Elbert,” she said before he could say whatever he intended to say, “but I’d be telling an untruth if I said I forgot. I find it irksome, you see, always to have to seek him out. And, pray, do not say he ought to be following at my heels all day, for if he did, it would drive me to distraction.” She paused, studying his face, then added with a sigh, “I suppose that does not weigh with you in the least. You might just as well say what you wish to say to me and have done with it.”

He controlled his expression, though she was certain it went against the grain for him to do so. No doubt, she thought, he was keeping a rein on his temper so as not to create a scene where it might be overlooked by the servants. Finally, he said, “Would you be more likely to obey me next time if I thunder at you now?”

She gave the question the consideration it deserved, then said with equal calm, “I don’t suppose I would. I’m afraid I just don’t understand why it’s necessary to have a footman always at my elbow when I am inside our own grounds with our servants all about me.”

“Are they all about you now, Anne?”

She bit her lip. “Well, no, not exactly, sir, but I am not so far from the house that, if I were to encounter some sort of ogre, someone would not hear me shout and come to my rescue.”

“And have you stayed entirely within the grounds?” he asked in that same tone. “It seems to me,” he added, when she opened her mouth to assure him that she had not left them, “that you were coming up the path from the river when I encountered you.”

“Well, yes, I was,” she admitted, “but truly, I did not go more than a hundred feet. Still, you are right to remind me that I was unwise to venture down that path alone. I won’t do so again.”

A silence fell. Then he said, in that same even tone, “Am I now to retire, convinced that you will submit to my commands, madam? Do you believe that by such tactics you will escape the scold you deserve?”

“If you truly mean to rake me over the coals, sir, I wish you will do so at once, for I still have things to do and we shall both be too busy once people begin to arrive to have a moment to think, let alone to quarrel.”

“Do you ever quarrel, Anne?”

“No, sir, not usually. I am thought to have a rather placid disposition, for the most part. I am generally accounted to be the peacemaker in my family, you see.”

He grimaced. “You give me little peace, madam.”

“I am sorry if that is the case, sir.” She waited, certain he would say more and wishing he would get it over with. That she had displeased him distressed her, but she thought his command a nonsensical one and had too many other things on her mind just then to take the time necessary to soothe his anger.

He was watching her again, and she was conscious of an urge to stamp her foot and tell him to get on with it. Fortunately, before she could give in to such a foolish whim, he said, “I hope you were not meaning to attend the picnic supper you ordered for our guests this evening, my dear, for I’ve given orders to serve us privately inside. I have several things I want to discuss with you.”