Retreat From Love (33 page)

“Our early arrival will simply provide the ladies with more time to plan the betrothal ball,” the strange gentleman said, beaming. When he had Freddy’s attention he bowed deeply. “Your Grace, how do you do?”

“Fine, thank you. And you?” Try as he might Freddy could not remember ever meeting the man. What were they all prattling about? His pulse began to pound as he heard the trill of Anne’s laughter behind him. His mother tilted her head with a frown and narrowed her eyes at Freddy. Freddy just smiled. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to brazen it out. Then his mother turned her head and aimed her displeased expression at the unfortunate man whom Freddy could not remember. Why was she angry with him?

“Thank you, Lord Carlton-Smythe,” she said in a voice that indicated she was not thanking him at all. “I’m sure His Grace has no interest in the plans for his betrothal ball.”

Well, that caught Freddy’s attention. “My betrothal ball?”

His mother turned to him with a smile, which instantly put Freddy on the alert.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Your Grace. I shall take care of everything.”

Freddy took a few steps down the stairs. “And how, Madame, did you know that I was planning on marrying?” He was becoming so angry he was afraid of what he might say or do, so he stopped in the middle of the steps.

Lord Carlton-Smythe guffawed with laughter, but the pretty girl next to him had a look of dawning horror on her face. Clearly she was smarter than her father. The duchess was rather smart too.

“I signed the betrothal papers in your absence, Your Grace,” she said sweetly, “as you requested.”

So she thought to corner him by making him support her lies. That may have worked when he was young, but not anymore. “I did no such thing.”

Freddy’s flat statement caused Lord Carlton-Smythe to choke on his laughter, and his daughter stepped over and gave him a resounding thump on the back. He glared at her and she shrugged helplessly then backed away.

“Frederick,” his mother said in a chilling tone, and Freddy knew she was upset. She hadn’t called him by his given name since he’d become duke.

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Anne and Brett chose that moment to walk through the door to the entry hall. They were laughing, Anne hugging Brett’s arm as Brett lowered his head close to Anne’s, too close for a mere acquaintance. It was clear to everyone in the hall they were on intimate terms. Freddy heard his mother gasp, the sound carrying in the cavernous, marble-lined space, and Anne’s head whipped around. Freddy saw the shock and horror on her face before she stumbled to a halt.

“What is
she
doing here?” the duchess asked with obvious shock. “Reeves, please escort her out through the servants’ entrance.” With that the duchess turned away and walked toward the Carlton-Smythes, arrogantly assuming her orders would be obeyed.

Freddy’s vision wavered for a second as pure rage boiled to the surface. He knew this little scene was about more than the dubious betrothal and Anne’s presence. It had been years in the making and Freddy had no one to blame but himself for not taking control of his estates and his life long ago. He knew his anger was the result not only of his mother’s current behavior, but other things, such as Bertie’s letters, the way she’d taken out her hatred of his father on Ashton Park, and the way she’d treated Anne and her mother to name a few. She had a whole host of crimes she needed to pay for. But not in front of strangers and the servants.

“Reeves, did you have time to call for my carriage?” Freddy asked quietly.

Reeves looked between Freddy and his mother with trepidation. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Excellent.” Freddy turned and held out a hand to Anne, who stood frozen next to Brett. “Come, my dear. The carriage shall take you home. Brett can accompany you and I shall see you this afternoon.” Brett urged Anne forward and she took a hesitant step toward the stairs, then another. By the time she and Brett reached him and Anne placed her hand on his arm the duchess had stopped in the middle of the entry hall and was looking back at them, an incredulous look on her face.

Freddy continued down the stairs unperturbed, although he could feel Anne’s hand tremble on his arm.

The duchess glided effortlessly into their path. They were forced to stop, and Anne clutched Freddy’s arm so tightly he knew he’d have bruises. “Frederick, I do not think it appropriate that you allow this woman in the same room as your betrothed.”

“This woman is my—” Freddy stopped as Anne grabbed his arm with both hands and gasped.

The duchess looked like a hound on the scent as her eyes narrowed again. “What?”

Freddy sighed and looked at Anne who had her eyes fixed on him desperately. She wouldn’t look at his mother. Anne pleaded with her eyes, and he knew she just wanted to leave and avoid a scene. He looked coolly at the duchess. “Excuse us, Madame. I will see Miss Goode out, and then we shall meet in the library.”

The duchess went from cool to livid in the space of a heartbeat, although the only indications were her pallor and a twitch of her left eye. She turned to Anne. “How dare you attempt to snare another of my sons with your lewd behavior?” She spoke very low, and from the corner of his eye Freddy saw Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe attempt 167

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to shove her father further out of earshot. He made a mental note to thank the young lady.

He was furious, and yet his fury had created a dark stillness inside him. He had crossed a bridge here. He no longer cared what his mother did or said. She was a stranger to him. He was about to speak, but Anne’s voice startled him to silence.

“I do not understand you.” Anne spoke quietly but firmly, and she realized her trembling had stopped. She felt as if she had finally confronted her fear and it was nothing but a shadow on the wall and not the beast she had expected. She felt free of the duchess’s weighty censure at last.

The duchess misunderstood her meaning. “You understand me perfectly. I have taken steps to protect Frederick from you. He shall marry as befits his station, and you will never rule here. Never.” The last word was said with such satisfied venom that Anne had to fight recoiling from the older woman.

Anne just shook her head. Beside her Brett slid his hand along her arm and squeezed and Freddy took a small step closer to her side. But both men remained silent, and Anne recognized that they were going to let her deal with the duchess, and she was grateful. This confrontation had been too long in coming.

“You had them. You had all of them—Uncle Ash, Jerome, Bertie, Freddy—and you threw them all away.” Anne’s utter bewilderment at the duchess’ stupidity was clear in her voice. “You could have had them always. You could have had friendship and love, but you threw it away for appearances and position. Do you understand what you’ve lost? Do you?”

Brett’s hand tightened involuntarily, and Anne knew he was thinking of Bertie. The duchess had never mourned him, not really. She’d worn her black and said the right things, but there had been no real feeling behind it. Anne’s rage over what had been lost to them all simmered inside her.

“You took Bertrand away long before he died.” The duchess rose to her full height, almost as tall as Freddy. “He chose to align himself with a girl of no family connections, no position and no wealth. Do not speak to me of Bertrand. It is he who threw his privilege and position away.”

Anne continued as if the duchess hadn’t spoken. “He never understood why you couldn’t love him. Did you know that? He was always trying to make you care, make you pay attention, but you never did. You simply took Freddy and left him behind, as if he were a shoe damaged beyond repair.” Anne had to stop and breathe deeply, trying to get herself under control. “Bertie was too good for you. Uncle Ash adored him, and you left him here for father and son to love one another. For that, both Bertie and Uncle Ash were grateful. We were all grateful.”

At the mention of the late duke the duchess’s lips thinned until her mouth was nothing but a slash of hatred.

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Anne hugged Freddy’s arm to her. “You threw them away, and you stole them

from Freddy. And for that I shall never forgive you. Never.” Anne let go of Freddy and Brett and walked around the duchess, sweeping her skirts aside deliberately to show her disdain for the older woman. The duchess hissed in a breath as she passed. Anne stopped in the doorway and turned to look at the duchess. She seemed smaller in Anne’s eyes, diminished, bitter, a woman with nothing. “I do not understand you, and I hope I never will.”

With that Anne turned to walk away, but she was stopped by the presence of a beautiful, elegant young woman and an older man standing far off to the side. The duchess’s words repeated in Anne’s head.
He shall marry as befits his station
. Without being told Anne understood that this was the girl Freddy was to marry, and for a moment she felt lightheaded, and then reality returned with a rush and her stomach recoiled. She somehow managed to get through the door, giving the footman there a weak smile.

“Your things, Miss Goode,” the footman said kindly, handing Anne her gloves and shawl and reticule.

She had forgotten about them. She took them and held the gloves as if they were a precious heirloom. “Thank you, James,” she said quietly.

Behind her she heard Freddy give instructions to Reeves to show the Carlton-Smythes to a drawing room and bring refreshments, and he told his mother to meet him in the library. She jerked in surprise as a warm hand glided around her upper arm.

Looking up, she saw Brett standing there on the steps next to her, looking at her with pride and sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Anne,” he said softly. “I would not have had our night end like this.”

Anne smiled at him tremulously. “Yes, well, I can certainly say that neither would I.”

Brett huffed out a little laugh. “You were marvelous. She deserved that.”

Anne shook her head. “Perhaps.” She turned and they took the steps down to the drive and the waiting carriage. “I look at her now and I see a bitter old woman. If I were a true Christian I would pity her.”

“Then I am no true Christian,” Brett said wryly.

It was Anne’s turn to laugh softly. “We will not tell Mr. Matthews,” she joked. She was surprised when Brett’s arm stiffened beneath hers. Before she could ask him what was wrong she heard footsteps behind them and turned to watch Freddy descend the stairs.

When he reached her he came far too close for propriety and kissed her hand lingeringly. With a breaking heart Anne realized that the duchess was right about one thing at least. Freddy needed to marry as befit his station, and as much as Anne cared for him she could not commit adultery with him. She had no other choice but to walk away when he married.

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“Anne,” he whispered, holding her hand to his heart. “I am so sorry, darling. She had no right.” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and Anne’s resolve firmed. He couldn’t help what he was doing, though it surely marked her as his mistress to all who saw him treat her so in public. He was so loyal, so passionate. She must remove herself if she was to help him maintain his appearance and dignity as the Duke of Ashland. She smiled bravely, hoping he couldn’t see what she was feeling.

He saw, but he misunderstood. “She’s upset you, my dear, and that is the last thing I ever wanted to happen by inviting you to Ashton Park.” He kissed her hand again. “I adore you, darling Anne. You vanquished her. Her power here is gone.”

Anne shook her head. “She is still your mother, Freddy. You must treat her accordingly.”

Freddy’s lips thinned, giving him an uncomfortable resemblance to his mother. “I shall treat her accordingly, Anne, never fear.” He took a breath and let her hand go.

“But I must deal with this situation.” He looked at Brett. “Do you mind taking her home, Brett?”

“Freddy,” he chastised. “Of course I don’t mind. But I am worried about leaving you with the duchess.”

Freddy laughed mirthlessly. “I think I am old enough to handle my mother, Brett.”

He squeezed Brett’s shoulder. “I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me.” He backed away smiling. “Until later, Anne my love.” With a wave he turned and went back up the steps to the entry.

Anne didn’t want to look away until he’d gone back in the house and was out of sight. She knew it might be the last time she saw him for a long while. Almost surely the last time they parted as lovers. Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears.

“Anne?” Brett asked, his concern evident. “Are you all right?”

Anne shook her head and tried to smile while she bit her lip. “I’m a little upset, I suppose.”

Brett ushered her to the carriage and helped her inside. “I’m not surprised after that scene.”

Anne didn’t try to correct him. Once inside the carriage Brett took her in his arms and rubbed her back soothingly. “Freddy will take care of it, Anne. You shan’t have to see the duchess at all, if you don’t like. I don’t think Freddy will let her remain anyway.

He does not wish her to be here while he is reacquainting himself with Ashton Park and the village. She has had too much control here for too long.”

Anne agreed completely, but she couldn’t muster much interest in what Brett was saying. She was desolate. Because to walk away from Freddy meant to walk away from Brett. Whether or not they were lovers, they loved one another, and she didn’t think either of them would be happy without the other. No, she could not break them apart, so she must give them both up. The thought terrified her. She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to keep Brett for herself. If she must give up Freddy, then she wanted to keep 170

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Brett. She deserved happiness. She’d been so alone, and she’d lost so much. But she couldn’t do that to Freddy. He needed Brett too, even perhaps more than Anne did.

Her thoughts made Anne turn her face into Brett’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see what she was feeling. She hugged him tightly, holding on for as long as she could, memorizing his smell, his touch, the sound of his voice as he murmured soothingly to her. These memories were all she would have, but they were better than the fantasies of Brett she’d lived with for so long.