Lucy Muir (16 page)

“I need your help in talking privately to Miss Southwell at your rout tonight.”

Lady Brookfield considered refusing unless her brother told her what he was up to, but decided it was not time to force his confidences.

“I shall help if you will give your word you intend the girl no harm. I cannot have her reputation destroyed in my home. I quite like Miss Southwell, and her ward, as well.”

“I have no intentions of seducing her in your house, dear sister.”

“Very well. If she attends I will take her apart from the company on some excuse, but I can give you no more than half an hour.”

“That is all I require,” Stanton replied.

* * * *

Anne almost did not attend the rout that evening. She had a feeling Lord Stanton would be there, and did not wish to answer questions about Melissa’s sudden preference for the viscount. Then she realised that if he did not see her at the rout party he was perfectly capable of calling upon her at Half Moon Street. She would rather face him at his sister’s. Melissa, however, did refuse to go, pleading a headache, Anne did not believe her, but chose not to challenge her ward’s decision and went alone with Mrs. Halcott.

Anne did not know whether to be glad or sorry that she did not see Lord Stanton when they arrived at the rout. She was speaking to Mrs. Halcott and Mrs. Spencer when she was surprised to be approached by her hostess, who asked her if she would be willing to examine a new pianoforte she had purchased, as she knew Miss Southwell was an accomplished musician. Flattered, Anne agreed, and followed Lady Brookfield from the room and up a wide flight of stairs. Lady Brookfield stopped outside a closed door and addressed her.

“I hope you will forgive my subterfuge, my dear. My brother requested that I arrange a way in which he might have a private conversation with you without its being remarked. I agreed to help him, but I also told him it would be up to you whether you spoke to him.”

Anne only wished to get the interview over with. “Yes, I will speak to him.”

“He is here in the library, then. I will come for you in half an hour.” Lady Brookfield opened the door, holding it for Anne to pass through, and closed it behind her.

Lord Stanton rose from his seat by the fire. “I knew you would come, Miss Southwell. Please sit down,” he said, motioning to a striped sofa. “What is this about Melissa and Lord Woolbridge? You surely did not tell your ward of our wager?”

Anne sat on the sofa and told of Melissa’s overhearing their conversation on the balcony and her subsequent determination to marry Lord Woolbridge.

As Anne told him what had happened, Lord Stanton drummed his fingers upon the mahogany table next to his chair, undecided as to what course he should take. The honourable thing would be to release Anne from the wager, but he was reluctant to do so. It was his only excuse for continuing contact with her.

Anne waited in silence, hoping Lord Stanton would offer to release her from the wager. She wished only to forget the whole mess her imprudent behaviour had gotten her into. She regarded him steadily, noting his tight-fitting cream-coloured breeches, dark green coat and snowy cravat, but for once remaining unimpressed with his sartorial splendor. Several minutes passed without either speaking, and Anne realised the marquess was not going to cooperate. She would have to suggest the one way out that she had been able to think of.

She spoke, her voice flat. “It has occurred to me that there is a way in which I could persuade Melissa to reinstate Lieutenant Halcott in her affections. If I were to pay off the wager now, Melissa would have nothing to gain by refusing to marry Lieutenant Halcott.”

Lord Stanton looked at her in astonishment. “Do you know what you are saying, my dear?”

“Yes, Lord Stanton, I do.” Their looks caught and held. Without a word, Lord Stanton got up, removed his coat and joined her on the sofa. He turned Anne’s face to his and lightly caressed it. Anne did not pull away or flinch, but neither did she respond.

With a muffled curse, Lord Stanton swept her into his arms, holding her closely, and placed his lips upon hers. Anne lay unmoving in his embrace, still angry and determined not to give the marquess the satisfaction of a response, but her traitorous body had a desire of its own. Lord Stanton must have felt the almost imperceptible softening of the lips beneath his, for his kiss became gentle, tantalising, and his hand caressed her back through the material of her dress.

Anne was unexpectedly overwhelmed with a sensation of deep tenderness for the man beside her. The intensity of the emotion frightened her until she realised with sudden clarity what it was—love. She loved Lord Stanton. With that realisation she forgot where she was and what she was doing, aware only of a great yearning for the man she was with. Her tense body relaxed involuntarily, causing Lord Stanton’s lips and hands to still in surprise. Abruptly, his arms tightened around her, crushing her gown, and his kiss became hard and rough for a moment before he suddenly thrust her from him and stood up.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “I consider the wager made void by your cousin’s overhearing our conversation. There is no honour in winning in such a manner. You may tell your ward that, and if she refuses to accept it, tell her you have already paid. She would not allow such a sacrifice to go for nothing.”

Without another glance at her, Lord Stanton picked up his coat and left the room.

Shakily Anne rearranged her clothing and sat up. What had happened? Had her behaviour given Lord Stanton reason to leave her in disgust? Now that she was willing to give him what he desired, did he, perversely, no longer want her? Misery that her love had led to his rejection almost made her dissolve into tears, when a light tap at the door recalled her to herself.

Hesitantly, Lady Brookfield entered. “Forgive me, my dear, but the half-hour is passed. I thought I would accompany you back to the party.” She paused as she took in Anne’s disheveled state and red eyes.

“Are you feeling quite the thing, Miss Southwell?”

Anne regained her composure with an effort. “I am quite all right, Lady Brookfield.”

“I see you have been overcome with the headache. Would you like me to notify Mrs. Halcott and order your carriage brought round?”

“Thank you, Lady Brookfield,” Anne answered tremulously. “I should be most grateful.”

This time it was Anne’s turn to be silent during the ride home in the carriage. Mrs. Halcott put it down to her headache, although it did not explain her red eyes, and agreed to leave her only after extracting a promise that Anne would retire immediately.

 Anne stopped at Melissa’s bedchamber and requested to speak privately to her ward. Sanders looked at Anne curiously, but, seeing Anne’s drawn face and red-rimmed eyes, obeyed without a word. Anne took a chair at the bedside and colourlessly informed Melissa that Lord Stanton had called off the wager. Melissa, her perceptions heightened by her own love for Lieutenant Halcott, sensed there was a great deal more to the situation than Anne was telling her but let it pass.

“If you truly feel you have been released from the wager, then I shall not marry Viscount Woolbridge. It is fortunate that he has not yet approached you for permission to make an offer. Although,” she added in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, “I think Society is going to label me a heartless flirt.”

Anne tried to smile, but it was a sad effort, and Melissa did not attempt to keep her guardian when Anne said she wished to retire. But she asked Sanders to prepare a tisane for Anne and take it up.

This night Sanders tisane was not effective, for Anne lay awake a long time, unable to sleep, unable to cry. Her misery was too deep for tears. How could she have come to love Lord Stanton? He was a dissolute rake. She didn’t know how she had come to love him, but she did know that life without him would be totally unbearable. But somehow she would have to face it, because he had made it very clear that he didn’t want her. He had thrust her away and left her as though he found her distasteful. But why? Anne tossed fitfully in her bed. That was what she didn’t understand. Lord Stanton was a rakehell, after all, and she had only been giving him what a rakehell presumably wanted. It must be that she had betrayed her feelings for him.

Yes! That must be it. As a rake, he would not want love from her, not the kind she felt, at least. He had made it quite clear from the beginning what he wanted from her, and she had not played the game. Not only had she lost the man she loved, she had lost her pride. It was a nightmare.

If she could do what she wanted, she would return to Medford and bury herself for the rest of her life in the quiet village. It had eventually assuaged the pain from the deaths of her father and brother; surely it would also do that to the pain of loving someone who did not love her in return.

But there was Melissa. She could not remove her ward from London in the middle of the Season. Particularly not now that she must return the two thousand pounds. Melissa was her ward, her responsibility. She could not abdicate her role. Somehow she would have to put a good face on things and get through the remainder of the Season.

* * * *

Lord Stanton headed directly to Lady Parnell’s when he left his sister’s house. Lady Parnell, her husband still out of town, made Lord Stanton welcome, reclining artfully on a roll-backed sofa in her bedchamber, allowing her silk nightdress to fall open invitingly.

“You have not come to see me recently,” she reproached him, as he helped himself to a glass of brandy from a decanter on a table. “Have you forgotten your old friends?”

“How could I do that?” Lord Stanton drawled, looking at her meaningfully. Lady Parnell
was
beautiful, slender and with satin-smooth skin. He quickly downed his brandy, and sat beside her on the sofa, pulling the pins from her silver-blonde hair. As it fell to her shoulders, she raised her hand to his head, lowering it to hers, and kissed him softly on the lips. But for some reason, tonight her beauty did not have the power to stir him. As Lady Parnell began to untie his neckcloth, he pulled away.

“Not tonight, my dear. I have just remembered a pressing engagement.”

The expression on Lady Parnell’s face changed from one of enticement to one of vexation. She knew the signs. There was someone else. Lord Stanton had tired of her. Her displeasure showed as he kissed her hand and left the room.

Lady Parnell remained on the sofa, a frown on her face. She knew what to expect—in a few days she would receive a beautiful piece of jewellery, a farewell gift. She felt some regret, then shrugged. There was always another ready to take his place.

* * * *

Lord Stanton returned to his townhouse where he ordered a bottle of port brought to his study. He poured himself a full glass and leaned back in a comfortable wingback chair, trying to make sense out of his contradictory feelings. Anne Southwell had thoroughly bewitched him. He had had the opportunity to have what he so ardently desired since first seeing her at Longworth, and he had not taken it. What was wrong with him?

Instead, that insane desire he had had to protect her the day he heard Sedgewick maligning her had returned, and he had been unable to take her as his mistress. Yet he would not, could not, encumber himself with a wife. He would avoid Miss Southwell until he was no longer so besotted. He sat in his study until he had finished the bottle of port and then staggered upstairs. Lewis helped Lord Stanton undress and put him into his bed, wondering what had upset him so. It was very unlike the marquess to drink himself into a stupor.

* * * *

Early the next morning Lord Stanton was awakened by his valet, who informed him that his sister had called and refused to leave until she spoke to him. He groaned. What a devil of a head he had. Grumpily, Lord Stanton told his valet to inform his sister he was indisposed. Lewis did not have a chance to carry out his orders, however, before the door to his bedchamber opened and his sister invaded the room uninvited.

“I will not leave until you speak to me, Henry,” she declared, pulling a straight-backed chair up to the bed and seating herself upon it. “Now, what did you do to Miss Southwell last night? The poor girl looked as though you had tried to ravish her. Did you?”

Lord Stanton raised himself up on one elbow and looked at his sister balefully. How dared she look so fresh and alert? “I assure you, Miss Southwell was unharmed.”

“Then what is going on?”

“None of your affair,” he growled, “but you may rest assured that I shall be staying away from Miss Southwell in the future.”

Lady Brookfield took in her brother’s disheveled appearance thoughtfully. He looked burnt to the socket, which was not like Harry. There was something going on here—and she thought she knew what it was, if he did not. She had never before seen her brother so upset over a woman. Perhaps her brother was finally going to get his comeuppance. His interest in Miss Southwell went beyond mere desire; of that she was certain.

“Well, say your piece and have done with it,” her brother said impatiently.

To his surprise, his sister did not subject him to a dressing down, but suddenly smiled and stood up.

“Later,” she said as she left the room. “Meanwhile I recommend a raw egg mixed with beer and milk. It always works for Brookfield.”

Chapter Eleven

After the fateful night of Lady Brookfield’s rout, Anne found it easier than she had expected to put on a cheerful face. She felt like an actress playing a part. All she had to do was say the right lines and make the proper facial expressions.

Melissa did not seem to notice anything amiss. She was preoccupied with trying to reinstate Lieutenant Halcott and replace Lord Woolbridge in her affections without doing it too obviously. Melissa continued to be seen in the company of the viscount, but she gradually saw him less and the lieutenant more. Anne felt sorry for the viscount. He must see that the Incomparable Miss Amberly again preferred Lieutenant Halcott to himself, but had to wonder what accounted for his fall from grace. Anne observed that Lord Woolbridge did not return his attentions to Lady Conliffe, though. Perhaps he had heard of her involvement in spreading the rumours about Melissa and Anne, or perhaps he felt wooing Toasts of the Town had proved more trouble than it was worth.