Lucy Muir (19 page)

Lord Stanton sat. The Prince offered him a cherry brandy and looked at him thoughtfully. The personal interest Prince George took in the problems of his friends was one of his most attractive qualities.

“You have obviously botched it, Stanton. Leave it to me. You don’t know how to handle women, at least not respectable ones.”

“There is nothing to be done. She was quite adamant in her refusal.”

“Leave it me,” the Prince repeated.

Lord Stanton made no more protests, but he doubted very much the Prince would be able to help, however good his intentions. There were limits, even to what a Prince could achieve.

Chapter Twelve

After the first difficult day when Lord Stanton had made his ungracious offer, Anne was surprised to see how little their ostracism by the haut ton upset her life, although its effects were immediately evident. Even the appearance of the announcement of the engagement between Melissa and Lieutenant Halcott in the
Gazette
did not lead to an increase in their invitations to social functions. Anne did not miss the constant round of entertainments, and Melissa claimed she did not miss them either, immersed as she was in the plans for her wedding. They did go occasionally to Drury Lane and Covent Garden in the company of the Halcotts, but only the Millbanks and Brookfields came to their box between acts.

Lady Amelia seemed the most distressed by their ostracism, missing her best friend’s company at the various entertainments. Her friendship with Melissa had given her more self-confidence, and she felt the want of her support.

“It is so unfair,” Lady Amelia declared one morning. “No one will listen to the truth of what truly happened. Even Mama was not going to allow me to call upon you anymore, but George told her that we would, whatever she said, and reminded Mama that
he
is the head of the family,” Amelia finished, looking at her brother proudly.

Lord Millbank appeared embarrassed at his sister’s praise, and busied himself taking a pinch of snuff from a new cobalt-blue snuffbox.

“But I must tell you my news,” Lady Amelia continued. She looked shyly at Melissa. “Lord Woolbridge has asked George for permission to pay his addresses.”

Melissa hugged her friend joyfully, and Anne gave her best wishes. She and Melissa had been correct in their assessment of the situation. Lord Woolbridge had come to appreciate the quiet good qualities of Lady Amelia. Lord Millbank looked proudly at his younger sister, pleased that she had captured such an eligible
parti
. Anne felt her load of guilt lighten a little more. Another person whom she had feared had been harmed by her irresponsible behaviour was once again happy.

Lady Amelia pressed Melissa and Anne to attend the ball at which her betrothal would be announced, but they reluctantly refused, begging her to understand.

“I understand,” Lady Amelia said, “but I did so wish you to be present.” She sighed. “At least when we are both married we shall be able to receive each other.”

Taking comfort in that hope, Melissa and Amelia pledged to attend each other’s weddings, and Lord Millbank and Lady Amelia took their leave.

* * * *

That night Anne and Melissa were engaged to attend one of the few functions still open to them—a supper party the Halcotts were giving. Mrs. Halcott had been careful to invite no one who did not fully support her protégées, and the evening passed more pleasantly than Anne had expected. She was reminded of their first supper there, even to being seated next to Captain Leslie. It had only been a few months ago, but their lives had changed so greatly since that time that it seemed years.

When the gentlemen rejoined the women after their port, Mrs. Halcott asked Anne to entertain the company by playing a piece upon the pianoforte. Anne agreed, and played a sprightly sonata by Mozart. Her place at the pianoforte was then taken by Melissa, who accompanied herself as she sang several light airs. As Anne sat listening to her, she was approached by Captain Leslie.

“Miss Southwell, would you join me for a walk in the garden?” he asked quietly.

Anne agreed, surprised, for Captain Leslie had avoided being alone in her presence since the day she had told him she loved another. She rose, and they left the drawing room together unobtrusively.

The Halcotts’ garden was small, but pleasant, and they walked to a stone bench where, by mutual consent, they stopped and sat together. For a few moments they sat quietly, enjoying the strong evening fragrance of the flowers. Then Captain Leslie broke the silence.

“I wish to tell you that I shall be leaving London. I have a few weeks leave, and I shall be going to Brighton ahead of my regiment.”

Anne felt a great sense of loss. She and Captain Leslie no longer enjoyed the free and easy comradeship they had shared before, but there was still a bond between them. Anne knew that the captain had been deeply hurt by her refusal, and realised that the move was probably the best thing; however, she would miss him sorely.

“I shall be sorry to see you go,” she said, looking at him sadly, knowing it might be the last time she saw him. He sat next to her, erect in his dark green Rifles uniform, the gold trim matching the gold of his hair as it shone in the moonlight. His blue eyes reflected a sorrow that had not been there previously.

“Remember,” he said sincerely, “if you are ever in need, a note to the 12th Rifles will bring me to your aid.”

Overcome, Anne took his hand and pressed it between hers. Captain Leslie bent forward and kissed her softly on the lips. They sat hand in hand for a long while before they rose and walked slowly back to the house, knowing that this was farewell.

* * * *

The next morning, Anne had trouble shaking off the sense of sadness brought about by Captain Leslie’s departure. She was working on the guest list for Melissa’s wedding when Benton brought an invitation to her, holding out the silver salver with a flourish. Anne was surprised to recognize a thick gold-edged invitation from Carlton House.

She opened it with a heavy heart. It must be the influence of Lord Stanton again. Did he think that another invitation to Carlton House would once more reinstate them in Society’s good graces? Didn’t he realise that they were beyond redeeming in the eyes of Society? They were more likely to think she was one of the Prince’s mistresses, Anne reflected.

She glanced over the invitation, having no intention of going, when she noticed some differences in this invitation from her first. It stated that a carriage would be sent for her and seemed to be signed by the Prince of Wales himself, instead of his secretary. Anne sighed, supposing she would have to go. It appeared to be a royal command. She looked at the invitation again. It said she would be called for at half past seven on the fourteenth—three days from now. Melissa was not included. Perhaps the Prince
was
intending to make her his mistress, she thought wryly. In any event, she could not refuse a royal summons.

Anne showed the invitation to Melissa, who was as puzzled by it as Anne, but agreed that Anne must go, as did Mrs. Halcott when she was informed. Privately, Mrs. Halcott also feared that the Prince was planning to make Anne his mistress. She told Anne to avoid being alone with his royal highness, and that if she got into an uncomfortable situation to put him off by telling him she had a chill. The Prince’s fear of contagion was well known.

That Thursday Anne dressed as elegantly as she could. If she were going to be thought a Fashionable Impure she might as well look like one, she reflected. She chose her most elaborate gown, a trained robe of gold edged in trim with a Greek key design. The robe opened in the front to expose a petticoat of white satin heavily embroidered in gold thread and overlaid with gold net. Anne put on her headdress of ostrich feathers, and since it would be bad manners to appear at Carlton House without jewellery, she again borrowed Mrs. Halcott’s diamonds. When the carriage picked her up, complete with the royal insignia on the door, she knew that her neighbours would be thinking the worst.

The driver did not take her to the front entrance of Carlton House as Anne had expected, but to the back. Here she was met by a servant in blue-and-gold livery who led her into the palace and directly to the room where the supper was being held. Most of the guests were already seated. Her idea that the Prince intended to make her his mistress gained in strength when she was conducted to the table where Prinny himself sat. The servant guided her to her place, where, to her anger and horror, she was seated between Lord Stanton and Beau Brummel. She could not imagine two people she would less like to be next to. She had not seen or spoken to Lord Stanton since the day of his ungracious proposal, and Brummel she had assiduously avoided the entire Season, fearing his cruel tongue might damage her ward’s chances if he chose to direct it against her.

Anne sat stiffly between Lord Stanton and the Beau, looking at neither. When the guests were all seated, Anne barely noticed when the Prince rose from the table and addressed the company.

“My friends,” he said graciously, “I am holding this small supper party in honour of the betrothal of a close friend of mine. I am pleased to announce the engagement of Henry Stanton, Marquess of Talford, to Miss Southwell, daughter of Major Southwell.” He smiled benignly and raised his glass in their direction.

Anne went into shock at the Prince’s words. Lord Stanton had arranged this somehow. How
dared
he! He knew she could not refute the Prince. Anne sat immobile, staring at the Prince, her eyes wide, until she felt a hand under her elbow forcing her to rise. Lord Stanton, seemingly fully in control, bowed to the Prince and thanked him gracefully. Prinny, beaming, sat down and began helping himself to the dishes before him. The rest of the guests followed suit.

Anne, still in shock, sat rigidly, unable to speak or eat. Gradually, a well-bred voice impinged upon her consciousness.

“Miss Southwell,” it was saying, “may I serve you some poached turbot? I recommend it highly.” Mr. Brummel, for it was he who spoke, placed a small amount upon Anne’s plate.

With a tremendous act of will, Anne forced herself to gain control. She must eat—she sat directly under the Prince’s eye. She could not offend him, and could not attract adverse attention by sitting frozen at her place all evening. She thanked the Beau and began to eat, although the fish tasted like ashes in her mouth.

As the meal went on, Anne became grateful for the fact that Mr. Brummel sat next to her. He spoke to her easily, not appearing to notice anything out of the way in her short and sometimes irrelevant answers to his questions. She paid no attention to Lord Stanton on her left, and he in turn occupied himself talking to the woman on his other side. Perversely, this angered Anne, and only the impeccable social grace of the Beau helped her to get through the interminable supper without error.

At last the Prince rose from the table, and Anne felt a hand under her elbow again, forcing her to rise also. As they worked their way through the room, many of the company came to offer congratulations, and Lord Stanton answered them easily. Anne pasted a frozen smile upon her face and only nodded and curtseyed in response to remarks addressed to her. Slowly and surely Lord Stanton manoeuvred her through the crowded room, acknowledging the wishes of his friends. He seemed to know his way around, and before long managed to guide Anne into an empty passageway. He led her unprotestingly down the hall and into a small salon illuminated by a blazing fire. Here Lord Stanton shut the door and leaned against it. At last Anne came out of her trance.

“How dare you!” she raved at Lord Stanton, turning to face him angrily, “You knew I could not refute what the Prince said. How dare you!”

“I had nothing to do with it. It was as much a shock to me as it was to you,” Lord Stanton said grimly. “It was Prinny’s idea entirely. I had no inkling of his plans until you were seated beside me.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Anne cried. “I told you it was not necessary for you to sacrifice yourself to save my reputation. Melissa is marrying Lieutenant Halcott, and I intend to return to Medford. I no longer care what Society says of me.”

“Will you listen to me,” Lord Stanton said in frustration. “I tell you I had nothing to do with this.”

Anne, furious at the realization that she would now be forced to marry Lord Stanton and live with him knowing he did not care for her, continued to storm at him wildly.

Finally, Lord Stanton lost patience. “By gad, I think Prinny may have the right of it in his lessons to me on how to woo a woman,” he swore. He grabbed Anne, pinning her arms to her side, and began to kiss her roughly.

Anne, frightened lest her true feelings for Lord Stanton show, fought to be free from his embrace, but he only held her more tightly. He forced her backwards and onto a low sofa against the wall, his lips continuing to plunder hers. His weight pushed her down until they were half reclining together on the sofa, his arms still holding her. Her resistance weakened at the nearness and touch of this man she loved so much, and finally crumbled. Tentatively, she moved her lips beneath his.

Lord Stanton, feeling the difference in Anne’s response, raised his face from hers and looked at her intently. Anne knew her love was there for him to see, but she no longer cared. Her pride had gone. “Anne,” he said softly, touching her face softly. She caught his fingers in her hand and held them lightly, a gentle gesture that seemed to inflame Lord Stanton. He crushed her against his body and began to kiss her demandingly. Anne returned his kisses willingly, drowning in an ocean of new sensations. Then, as from a far distance, she heard a groan from Lord Stanton, and he pulled away from her, sitting up and taking her hand in his. Anne, confused and embarrassed by the passion she had displayed, sat up, too, keeping her eyes downcast and half-shut.

“Anne,” Lord Stanton said softly, leaning forward and caressing her hair with his free hand.

Anne’s heavy-lidded eyes opened fractionally. “Yes?”

“Why did you refuse me that morning?”