An Inconvenient Wife (19 page)

“Yes, Madam.”

Juliette swept in behind him
with her usual verve and Anne smiled as she rose to greet her. Being with child
did not appear to have slowed the Countess down one whit; indeed, Anne thought
her new friend more vigorous than ever.

“I believe pregnancy agrees
with you.” Anne came around her desk to clasp Juliette’s hands and studied her.
“You look radiant.” With her glossy black curls clustered around her face and
her blue eyes as clear as a child’s, she looked hardly more than a girl
herself.

“My dear Anne. I cannot tell
you how splendid it is to be over that horrible morning sickness. Such a
trial,
and how nice to feel well again.” She gave Anne’s hands a squeeze, tossed her
hat and gloves on a nearby chair, and took off her pelisse. “I hope you are
more fortunate when your time comes. I am told not everyone suffers so.”

Anne flinched and turned
away but not before Juliette caught the set expression on her face.

“I am so sorry. My wretched
tongue! Do forgive me.” She sank down on a settee and pulled Anne down beside
her. “I take it circumstances have not changed? What an idiot the man is.”

“There is nothing to
forgive! Our friendship is such by now that you should feel free to say
anything you like. Indeed, I depend upon it. I would be quite undone without
you to confide in.” Anne sighed, and produced a small smile. “I usually do not
allow the circumstances to bother me, nor should they, since I have
no
expectations. Westcott made the terms of our marriage very clear right from the
beginning. There would be no intimacy, and that surely precludes procreation!”

“Westcott talks a great deal
of nonsense,” Juliette retorted. “You’ve given him far more leeway than he
deserves. You need to seduce him.”

Anne choked and gaped at her
companion. “I don’t know the least thing about seduction and even if I did,
Westcott would not take kindly to having his hand forced.”

Juliette narrowed her eyes
and looked sternly at Anne. “The way he looks at you sometimes, I think he
might be glad of a little push.”

She smiled suddenly and
waved her hands in one of the graceful gestures that so fascinated Anne. “But I
see you are distressed and I will cease plaguing you. I had an entirely
different reason for my visit today.” She pursed her lips and gave Anne a sly
look.

“It’s more than time you
were introduced formally to the neighborhood. I am planning a dinner with you
and Westcott as guests of honour. Two weeks from today and yes, that will give
you time to have a gown made up.” She raised a hand and went on before Anne
could protest. “People are starting to talk. I know you have had callers, and
made a few calls, but whatever is between you and Nicholas, the outside world
must see this marriage as unexceptional, if only for Sarah’s sake.” Juliette
laughed, touched Anne’s shoulder lightly and gave her a little shake. “Don’t
look so horrified. It is not as bad as that.”

Anne’s rigid posture eased.
She
was
overreacting. It was not as if she had never been in company
before, although she suspected an event of this kind to be much grander than
her father’s military affairs. More that Westcott would not be pleased being
forced to spend an entire evening in her company. Saying as much, she was
heartened by Juliette’s instant denial.

“Fustian! A pleasant evening
with an attractive woman, amongst his friends, is exactly what he needs. It is
more than time for him to go about in the world again and stop brooding over
the past.”

That struck a nerve, and
Anne kept her voice even with an effort. “He is still grieving for his wife.”

Juliette leaned her head to
one side, a speculative gleam in her eyes. “That, I believe is not true. I
never met Camille, but St. Clair has told me of her, a little. She was not a
comfortable
wife, I understand, and while Westcott no doubt loved her to distraction at one
time—they married very young. I think he feels excessive guilt about her death
and Sarah’s injury.

“Surely it was not his
doing. I understood he was not even to home at the time.” Anne felt her cheeks
grow warm. “I try not to listen to the servant’s gossip, but admit to being
curious.”

“Perfectly understandable,
my dear.” Juliette smiled and stood. “Unfortunately, St. Clair did not tell me
much. But you are right. Westcott was in London.” She collected her belongings.
“Gracious, look at the time. St. Clair will be beating on your door any
moment.”

“Before he does, I must
thank you for sending Mary Caxton to us. She is a delightful person and the
children adore her already,” Anne said. She rose and walked out with her guest.

“Mother Lynton thought she
would suit, as did I, and we are both pleased to have her in a suitable
position. Her father is a vicar, the family is large, and she is determined not
to be a charge on her parents.”

“Commendable, and our good
fortune,” Anne said lightly, then asked, “Did St. Clair accompany you?” She
laughed, and continued on before Juliette could reply. “A foolish question! I
know by now your husband goes everywhere with you, and no doubt Westcott
carried him off to the stables first thing.”

“He scarcely allows me out
of his sight these days. All my efforts to persuade him that pregnancy is a
normal condition are still for naught,” Juliette said with a mocking smile,
putting on her gloves. “And I do believe something was said about a new horse.”

“A pony,” St. Clair said as
he appeared in the passageway and moved toward them. “For Guy, I understand.
Nick tells me you have talked him into teaching the boy and his sister to ride,
Anne.” He smiled at the two women, tugged Juliette’s hat from her grasp and
placed it on her head. “Something with which I heartily concur.”

The earl tied the ribbons
under his wife’s chin with such a loving expression, fully returned, that Anne
looked away. She felt like an intruder, with an envy that made her heart ache.
Jealousy
does not become you, Anne. You should be glad your friends have so loving a
marriage. They are few and far between and many much worse than yours.

“Anne can be quite
persuasive,” Westcott said as he joined them.

Unsure from the bland voice
whether he meant that in a good way, Anne glanced sideways at him. He wore a
faint smile, but was that due to their guests? From the sharp look St. Clair
gave him, she was not the only one to question it, but a footman appeared to
announce that the Lynton carriage was at the door, and the moment passed.

A flurry of farewells and
they were gone. Anne started to return to her sitting room, wanting a few
minutes alone before she joined the children. While she liked the new governess
very much—Miss Caxton was a cheerful and competent young woman—Anne still spent
much of her time with them.

“Anne? Have you a few
minutes?”

She halted and turned to
face him. “Certainly.”

He nodded and indicated that
she should precede him. “My study or your sitting room?”

“The sitting room,” Anne
said, hiding her surprise at being given the choice. Most of their private
conversations—those few of them!—were held in what she considered his sanctum,
a large intimidating room not unlike its owner.

Would he think the cozy
little room she had claimed horribly shabby? Messy, certainly, she judged
silently, looking around as she paused on the threshold. Her gaze swept over
the books lying about, her guitar on a table in one corner, and the partially
cleaned lute propped beside it. Music stands leaned against the wall and a
stack of sheet music was piled on a chair. She did not believe he had been
inside since giving his permission “to use any room in the house as you wish”.
In fact, other than the evening meals, she saw little of him. She waited for
his comment, but it appeared to meet with his approval, for his sudden smile
was genuine. She relaxed and sat in one of the chairs facing the fireplace,
unlit at this time of day, but laid and ready.

“It is rather untidy,” she
began.

“Not at all. More that it is
comfortable,” he said easily. “I can see why the children like coming in here,
although I know the music is the primary draw. I have been meaning to tell you
for some time how much I appreciate your teaching Sarah to play.”

Anne felt herself flush at
the look of regard in his eyes. “Sarah is an excellent student and a pleasure
to teach, as is Danielle. They are becoming friends, I believe.”

Anne hesitated, uncertain as
to how much to say, but the expression of interest on his face encouraged her
to continue. “Sarah is wonderously even-tempered, and is good for Danielle, who
is often too serious. The reciprocal language lessons lead to much laughter.”

She leaned back, raised her
hands, and steepled her fingers under her chin. “Guy, however, is
not
musically inclined. He is much happier outdoors.”

“Most boys are,” Westcott
said.

That ingenuous statement was
followed by laughter, much to Anne’s gratification. She had seldom seen him in
so amiable a mood and while appreciated, could not be at ease with so unusual a
manner.
Which is not entirely fair, Anne. He has several times in the past
few weeks been moderately friendly, enough for you to feel he no longer
actually dislikes you.
Amused at the absurd thought, she returned her
attention to Westcott.

“I certainly preferred the
stable to the schoolroom.” Westcott shook his head, a quizzical expression on
his face. “Where Sarah gets her musical aptitude, I’ve no idea.”

Anne’s hands dropped into
her lap and she leaned forward. “Sometimes it is simply a gift.” She studied
him thoughtfully for a moment and added, “Thank you for buying the pony and
offering to teach Guy to ride. He admires you tremendously and has talked of
nothing else for days.”

Westcott’s brows rose. “I
don’t know why, as I have had very little to do with him until recently.” He
gave her a crooked smile. “And Guy must speak of other subjects, as he is seldom
silent.”

Anne had to laugh. Guy
was
a talkative boy, partially, she believed, due to months of repression, but
mostly because he was so interested in everything around him.

“He can be irrepressible at
times,” she agreed, “but entertaining for all that.”

Westcott’s expression held
more than a little skepticism and Anne lowered her gaze to hide her amusement.
For all his brusque manner, the viscount was surprisingly tolerant of the
orphaned children he had taken into his care.

“So you say.” Westcott changed
the subject. “My intent in seeking you out was to ask if you rode. I have
acquired a lady’s mount in hopes Danielle will change her mind about riding
lessons and felt you might like to make use of the mare until she is ready.”

His tone was again cool and
indifferent, and Anne keenly felt the loss of their brief camaraderie. Whatever
Juliette thought she saw, Anne knew only that Westcott was determined to keep
her out of his life. Suddenly discouraged, she stood and summoned a smile.
“Yes, I do ride and would enjoy the opportunity for an outing. Perhaps it will
encourage Danielle. If it should do so, we will need another horse.” That
comment was thrown out as casually as possible to avoid any chance of appearing
demanding. An unnecessary effort, it appeared, given the short “Naturally” as
he stood, and with no more than a quick glance at her, he left the room.

Anne stared at the door, her
hands fisted in annoyance, and not a little pain. Every time they so much as
approached
anything near friendship, Westcott slid behind the cool barricade he’d
erected. His marriage to Camille had not been entirely happy. That much Anne
had gleaned from the occasional comment dropped by Mrs. Lawson or Nurse
Timmons. But
she
was nothing like his first wife, not in appearance or
in manner. The portrait in the long gallery portrayed a beautiful, delicate and
probably exceedingly graceful young woman who had no doubt charmed everyone she
met.
While you are
a…a married spinster!
Dispirited, Anne sank
into her chair and brushed irritably at the tendrils of hair tickling her
cheek. The braid always loosened as the day progressed, no matter how tightly
it was bound.
Why do you arrange it thus, Anne? An unbecoming style and a
nuisance as well. Do you want to appear a dowd
?

“Absolute balderdash,” she
said loudly into the empty room, and felt her face flush at her nonsense. She
was not a dowd. A bit subdued in appearance, perhaps, but there was no way
in…in
hell
she could compete with her predecessor, even if she
wanted
to, which she did
not
. All she wanted was a friend, some adult
companionship. It seemed little enough.
Which it may be, but more than you
are likely to get.
Appreciate what you have, Anne—a home, security,
children, friends.

She braced one cheek on her
fist and closed her eyes. The children expected her to join them, but….not
today, she decided. In a few minutes, she would send word to Miss Caxton to
carry on without her. She needed some time alone, or better yet, a visit with
Maggie. Juliette had grown to be a dear friend, but Maggie knew Anne better
than anyone.
A blessing, that, since you scarcely seem to know yourself.