Louise M. Gouge (20 page)

“Ah.” Lady Greystone’s eyes narrowed. “If that should happen, perhaps we can arrange an introduction for Miss Newfield. Prinny’s notice would grant her great significance.”

The idea gave Anna no pleasure. Even in her little village of Blandon, the Prince Regent’s reputation for profligate living had become a cautionary tale for children. She would just as soon not receive his notice.

The two ladies put their heads together and gossiped about this and that. Anna ceased listening, concentrating instead on the movements of the dancers. The musicians played with great skill, and their merry tunes set her feet to tapping. How easy her lesson would have been with music. She would keep that in mind in case Lady Greystone arranged another session with poor Mr. Turner.

For the next hour or more Anna continued to survey the scene. Never before had she been given the opportunity to watch other people at play in such a grand way. Other matrons gathered in the chairs around her, clucking like hens. Young ladies in gowns of white or light colors were invited to dance by men both old and young. Some matrons in darker colors took to the floor with great energy. All appeared to be having a grand time. Lady Drayton brought her husband, the marquess, for an introduction and granted Anna a reprieve not to participate in the gaiety until her mourning was over.

Just as Anna began to weary of the scene, she spied a flash of crimson near the ballroom door. Her heart leapt into her throat, but only briefly. Instead of a fine head of dark brown hair, the young officer sported curly golden locks. Try though she might, she could not dispel a gathering gloom. What if Major Grenville did not return? How could she bear it if he was gone from her life forever?

Chapter Thirty

E
dmond paced the small, unpretentious parlor in Squire Beamish’s residence, trying to maintain a calm exterior even as his temper rose. No doubt the man had kept him waiting so he could gain the upper hand. But Edmond would have none of it. He would discover what had happened to Miss Newfield’s inheritance, whatever it took. Both Greystone and Uncle Grenville assured him of their support. Edmond carried the inventory list from the vicarage, and Greystone had even penned a threatening letter, should the man refuse to cooperate.

The walls sported dark paneling, contributing to Edmond’s mood. The furniture likewise was all browns and greys. A collection of some fairly valuable whatnots decorated the room: figurines of horses, a bust of Julius Caesar and shields bearing unremarkable crests. While every object appeared to have been dusted recently, the chamber had an atmosphere of disuse. In all his imaginings about the squire, he never considered that the man might live this modestly. But that did not give him an excuse for stealing a young lady’s meager funds.

Just as he was about to march from the room and search for the squire, the door opened and a short, thin man of perhaps sixty years scurried in. His long, pointed nose gave him the appearance of a mouse. Perched upon that nose were thick-lensed spectacles, which magnified his round black eyes and completed the picture of a rodent. His dull brown suit, made of cheap wool, was frayed at the collar and cuffs. A thin line of dust extended down the length of one sleeve. A cobweb clung to the side of his dark grey hair.

“Major Grenville, sir.” He held out his hand. “Forgive me. My manservant said you have been waiting for over an hour while he searched for me.” He laughed, a squeaking sound much like the animal he resembled. “I was busy in my workroom, you see, and I think he failed to see me because of some boxes in the way. Ah, the perils of being a small man.”

Edmond shook his hand, even as his conscience smote him for his uncharitable thoughts about the man’s appearance. “Squire Beamish.”

“Well, my goodness, do sit down, sir, and tell me what brings a cavalry officer to my humble abode.” He gestured toward a chair and took the one across from it.

Once seated, Edmond felt his anger slip away. No doubt this gentleman’s size often put him at a disadvantage. But a vision of another small man came to mind, one who had rocked all of Europe on its heels and had been defeated only last week. While Beamish might be just a country squire, he still had a small kingdom to rule, and Edmond had the duty to make certain he had not oppressed his subjects.

“My occupation and uniform have little to do with this visit.” Except to intimidate, if necessary. “Although, when I returned to England from America October last, I visited Blandon to report the news of Lieutenant Peter Newfield’s death to his family.”

“Ah, yes. Poor Peter. What a fine lad and a sad loss.” The squire’s forehead furrowed. “And of course Mr. Newfield died as well. My, my, what a loss to everyone.” He squinted at Edmond. “And worst of all, for Miss Newfield to go off as she did with some passing soldier. Why, we always thought she was such a fine Christian miss—”

“What?” Edmond leaned forward, almost rising to his feet until he thought better of it. He did not wish to frighten the squire. “What are you saying? Where did you hear such a thing?” So his instincts about Danders had been correct from the beginning. He had tried to tarnish Anna’s reputation out of sheer maliciousness.

“W-why—” The man pressed back into his chair. “My solicitor, Mr. Danders, told me all about it, his charming wife confirming it. The very day the vicar was laid in the ground, the girl stole some valuables from the church and ran off with a—” His pale face turned whiter. “Sir, are you that soldier?”

“I am.”

“And there is more to the matter?”

“There is. Miss Newfield’s disappearing inheritance.”

“Oh, my.” The squire’s mouth gaped, and his eyes darted here and there as if he was at last comprehending some great matter. Finally he slumped further down in the chair and repeated “Oh, my” on a whisper.

Edmond did not have the heart to berate the man, even though he had failed to ensure that his minion had properly performed his duty. But Edmond still had to complete his investigation. “On the day Mr. Newfield was buried, I had the misfortune of meeting your solicitor and his
charming
wife. When they were determined to toss Miss Newfield out to the wolves, I accompanied her—with the seamstress Mrs. Brown as our chaperone—to my mother’s house, where she has found a satisfactory position as Lady Greystone’s companion.”
Until I can marry her.
“Did you never speak to Mrs. Brown about this matter?”

“Oh, no, no. With all of my experiments, I never manage to get to the village.” He coughed out a strange little laugh. “Always mean to, you understand. But Mr. Danders takes care of everything for me and tells me not to trouble myself.” He grimaced. “I pray it is not too late to make amends.” Then he stood and straightened his shoulders like a good soldier. “Major, will you kindly come to my office where we will sort out the details?”

* * *

“Truly, madam, I do not need another bonnet.” Anna resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of Lady Greystone, Mrs. Parton and the modiste. Seated in front of a vanity mirror in the Bond Street millinery shop, Anna had endured trying on at least a dozen lovely creations this morning, but not one pleased her benefactress.

“Nonsense.” Lady Greystone walked from one side of Anna to the other, studying the grey satin bonnet through narrowed eyes. “Look at me.” She guided Anna’s chin in the right direction. “Hmm. No, not this one.”

“I see what you mean.” Mrs. Parton moved to the other side and directed Anna’s chin toward herself. “One cannot deny that these lighter greys reflect an appealing silver in her eyes, but they seem to dull her brown hair.”

“Indeed,” Lady Greystone said. “Now if her hair were black, the contrast would—”

“Madam.” The modiste purred in a rich French accent as she draped a length of delicate brocade across Anna’s shoulder. “If you would consider a tint to ze lady’s half-mourning, thees light green will complement both ze eyes and ze hair.”

“Oh, how divine.” Mrs. Parton clapped her hands.

“Yes, yes, a divine color.” Lady Greystone continued to study Anna as if she were an inanimate object. “Giselle, instead of a bonnet, you must use this fabric to make her a ball gown, and we must have it tomorrow.”

Anna released a quiet sigh. Once again they were discussing her as if she were not present or, at the least, had no opinion worth regarding. For the entire week since the marchioness’s ball, the two older women had dragged Anna about London, visiting some of the finest homes and introducing her to wealthy, aristocratic friends. Of course, everyone else was doing the same thing with their unmarried charges. Thus, after some deliberation, Lady Greystone, Mrs. Parton and Lady Blakemore decided Anna
could
be considered marriageable, as a parent’s death generally demanded only six months’ mourning, not a full year.

On Wednesday, the day after Parliament opened, Lady Greystone had been “at home” to receive visitors. Some ladies of the older generation, remembering Anna’s mother, had come to meet her out of curiosity. Others, those with marriageable sons, had come to find out if she was a worthy bride. While some had shown interest, none had made an offer, which relieved her more than words could express. Should Lady Greystone settle upon a match for her, Anna would be forced to refuse. Only one gentleman would suit her. If she could not have him, she would remain a spinster.

In addition to making plans for Anna, Lady Greystone also searched for a match for her eldest son. Thus far not one young lady had sparked her interest. Too young, too silly, no sense of style, insufficient influence or dowry and, most important, the father lacking a title. All reasons not to give notice to the bevy of aristocratic debutantes who had flocked to London for the marriage competition. When Lady Greystone focused her attention on her son’s prospects, Anna felt a profound sense of reprieve.

During this time, with her daily dance lessons and shopping trips, she had no chance to speak privately with Lord Greystone to ask after Major Grenville, and he seemed disinclined to offer her any information. Instead, from time to time he merely gave her that mysterious smile, which had ceased to comfort her days ago. Once Parliament opened he was rarely at home. When he was, Lady Greystone commanded his attention.

No one mentioned the major, so Anna could only wonder whether he had abandoned his dreams of becoming a barrister and returned to his regiment in America. Was he even now on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean? Anna prayed many times each day for his safety and, if the Lord willed it, that he would return home unharmed and enter the career to which he aspired. With each prayer, Anna added a post script:
Lord, if it is Your will, please grant that Major Grenville and I may marry one day.

Chapter Thirty-One

“N
ow, Greystone.” Lady Greystone set a hand on her eldest son’s arm to delay his departure from the chaperones’ corner of the ballroom. “You must ask Miss Newfield to dance, but only once. And you must choose an early dance so the other gentlemen may see she is, for lack of a better word,
out.
”

“Yes, of course, Mother.” Merriment lit the viscount’s handsome face. “Miss Newfield, do you have a preference? Shall it be the minuet or the Sir Roger de Coverley?”

“Oh, no, my dear,” Lady Greystone said. “Lady Blakemore’s balls always open with a minuet and close with the Sir Roger de Coverley.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully with her fan. “If you begin your evening with her, everyone of note will think you favor her. And the last dance will provide no opportunity for her to receive other offers. It should be—”

“Any country dance, my lord. I thank you.” Anna’s nerves fluttered like a covey of trapped birds. Although Lord Greystone had shown her nothing but kindness, she could not help but long for his youngest brother to be her partner for her first public dance.

With a bow the viscount took his leave. Anna joined Lady Greystone in the corner where older ladies sat to oversee the festivities and younger ladies found refuge when they had no partners. Anna had long ago decided she would much prefer to sit here than to put herself on display on the dance floor.

Couples lined up for the first set, with Lady Blakemore’s married daughter and a marquess leading the minuet. Anna noticed several crimson uniforms sprinkled among the brightly colored finery of the guests, but after a fortnight she had ceased looking for the only soldier who held her interest. For the most part, her eyes were fastened on the footwork of the dancers and her mind desperately reviewed Mr. Turner’s many instructions. This floor had been dusted with chalk to keep the revelers from slipping on the polished surface, and so Anna could dismiss one fear. She still must remember the steps.

Her day of reckoning had come. There was no escape. Unlike her training for the canceled foxhunt, her dance lessons would be put to use at any moment. Her one consolation was this lovely gown, her favorite of Giselle’s creations. More light green than grey, the brocade was comfortable for dancing, with its high waist not too confining over her stays and its underskirt sure to protect it from the chalk. Anna held no scruples in regard to the color.
Papá
had never made much of clothing particulars and would never scold the poor people of Blandon over a failure to wear mourning apparel. Still, Anna wondered what he and
Mamá
would think to see her so gaily clothed
and
at a ball.

After the guests had enjoyed several dances, but still too soon for Anna, Lord Greystone approached, his blue eyes twinkling. “You cannot escape your sentence, Miss Newfield.” He held out his hand. “Time to perform.” The brotherly tone in his challenge reminded her of Peter urging her to join him in some bit of harmless mischief.

“Oh, well.” She placed her hand in his and stood. “What’s the worst that can happen?” She had not played that game with herself in months. Even now it held little appeal. With no one to laugh with over life’s absurdities, she found it more and more difficult to laugh at all.

“
Miss
Newfield,” Lady Greystone almost growled. “You will not embarrass my son.”

“Yes, madam.” Anna released a helpless sigh.

The viscount’s warm chuckle and supporting hand provided some reassurance as they journeyed to their places, hers near the bottom of the ladies’ line and his across from her. The music began and the top couple danced their way through a series of figures. Anna watched closely, dreading the moment when she would do the same with the viscount. Yet as each couple executed their turns and they moved up the line, her own confidence grew. When Mr. Turner had brought a young man to play the piano for her lessons, the Mozart tune now playing had been her favorite. Her feet began to feel lighter, as if they were ready to take flight.

Her turn came. She turned to face her partner…and her knees threatened to buckle. “Major Grenville!”

The object of Anna’s love stood opposite of her, a broad smile lighting his dear face and a spark lighting his dark eyes. “Miss Newfield.” He gave her an elegant bow, but she dared not curtsey or she would surely fall over. The room and everyone in it seemed to disappear and she could see only the man of her heart.

“Move on, young lady.” The older woman next in line nudged her. “’Tis your turn.”

The major gripped her hand and spun her into the first figure. As Anna’s awareness returned, her feet remembered their patterns while her heart did a dance of its own. Their movements made it impossible to talk, but Anna felt no need to do so. His eyes communicated all she had hoped for.

At the end of the set, he offered his arm and they strolled out of the ballroom down a long hallway toward the refreshment room. He gazed down at her with tenderness. She smiled up at him, hoping he would see in her expression all that she felt for him. Conversation buzzed around them, but she heard only him, saw only him. He had not left her. And somehow she felt certain, this time, he never would.

* * *

After dreaming of her lovely face and sweet presence for nearly a fortnight, Edmond ached to take Miss Newfield into his arms and kiss her right here in front of everyone. How beautiful she looked in her pale green. How he wished to shout to all who would hear that he was madly in love with the most beautiful young lady in the world. Yet too many things must happen before he was free to give in to his yearning. He could, however, reassure her about one important matter.

He directed her toward the beverage table. “Will you have some lemonade?”

“Yes.” She clutched his arm as if it were a lifeline as they walked.

Then, with glasses in hand, they found two chairs by the wall.

“Where have you been?” Biting her lip, she stared down at the floor. “Forgive me. I should not have asked.”

Edmond’s heart twisted. Just as he feared, she had worried he would not return. “Of course you should ask. You may ask me anything.” He tried to use a light tone to encourage her. Her sudden, trusting smile revealed he had succeeded. “I had several business matters to take care of. I believe everything is now settled. But before I make any final decision, I must repeat my question of several weeks ago. If I should change my occupation, will you miss this, ahem,
dashing
uniform?” He injected a modicum of playfulness into his tone.

“Not for a moment.” Her instant response encouraged him.

“Well.” Just for emphasis, he exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “That makes it much easier to report to you that Uncle Grenville has agreed to sponsor me at the Inns of Courts. I shall be under his tutelage until I have, as they say,
eaten my dinners
in the presence of the barristers there. And before you ask, that simply means I have spent enough time in suppertime fellowship with the gentlemen to prove my knowledge and ability.”

“Oh, Major—” She blinked and her lips quirked prettily to one side. “Why, however shall I address you now? I will now count three Messrs. Grenville on my growing list of acquaintances. Why, la, how shall I distinguish amongst you?” Her lilting voice echoed the silliest young misses in the
ton.

He shook his head sadly. “Ah, poor little thing, with so much on her little mind. Perhaps you will find it easier to distinguish me from my uncle and brother Richard if you call me by my Christian name.”

“Hmm.” Her smooth forehead wrinkled as if she were pondering the issue. Then she pinched her lips together as if trying not to laugh. “Was that Edward? Elton? Elbert?”

He bent down and whispered in her ear. “Edmond.”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly. “Yes, of course.”

He really should not tease her this way, but could not resist. Again, he bent close to her ear. “May I call you Anna?”

She glanced down the hallway toward the ballroom, then stood like an army private when an officer came into view. “Only when Lady Greystone is not present.”

“What—?” He turned just in time to see his parent striding toward them. As he rose to greet her, his stomach clenched.

“There you are, Miss Newfield.” Mother glared at him up and down. “And you, Edmond, not on your way to America, after all.” The disappointment in her voice was clear.

Yes, here he was. And he had wasted precious moments with his beloved without telling her his most important news.

“Lord Winston has requested an introduction.” Lady Greystone’s displeasure was written across her face and resounded in her words.

Anna cringed inwardly but maintained her posture. “Lord Winston?” The young man, whom Mrs. Parton had pointed out earlier, was passably handsome but seemed quite arrogant toward his several dance partners. Hardly someone Anna wished to meet.

“You cannot know what this means, Miss Newfield. To receive the notice of a baron whose title bears an ancient patent is a great honor. You must not miss this opportunity. I have invested entirely too much in—”

“Madam, please.” Major Grenville…
Edmond
reached out toward his mother, but she stepped away. With a heavy sigh, he turned to Anna, all good humor gone. “Do you wish to meet Lord Winston?”

She tried to smile at him, but it felt more like a grimace. “No, I do not.” Her benefactress gasped, so Anna hurried to add, “However, Lady Greystone has been generous to a fault in preparing me for Society. I am pleased to…please her.” She prayed he would understand. “Will you excuse me?”

Edmond grasped her hand. “Only if I may claim another dance this evening.”

“Of course.”

“No.” Lady Greystone took Anna’s other hand.

Anna stiffened. Then she laughed. “Do you both realize how foolish you look, as if you were playing tug-of-war and I am the rope?”

Lady Greystone gasped—
again.
But Edmond snorted out a laugh, then released her and brushed a kiss across her cheek.

“Go. Enjoy your dance with the baron. I shall be waiting when you finish.” He stared at his mother. “Or, circumstances preventing that, I shall visit you tomorrow at my brother’s home.”

Anna sensed what he was saying. Lady Greystone often spoke of
her
home, but in truth, the town house belonged to her eldest son. And Lord Greystone had made it clear that Edmond would always be welcomed there.

Lady Greystone’s eyes narrowed, but before she could speak, Edmond strode away. Anna’s heart went with him.