Swept Away (20 page)

“Dash it, Anna m’dear, if you have not cost me half a crown in a trifling wager with Barrimore.” He pointed to the clock on the mantlepiece. “ I was convinced you would sleep until noon. In truth, I must say, if it were not for the clamor of the hoards outside our window this morning, I should still be abed myself. All this sea air. The sun bursting rudely through the curtains before anything remotely resembling a civilized hour...” He waved a hand to disparage the injustice of it all. “Far too countrified for me, I am afraid. Too many bumpkins hawking apples and wanting to haul you by wagons to the seaside. Frankly I cannot see why the regent would find the place the least bit endearing, since he is never off his pillows until late afternoon. As for him paddling out with codfish, well, I just cannot see the charm.”

“No doubt he has heard that a swim in the salt water is extremely beneficial for his health,” Barrimore explained. “That it enriches the blood and clears the mind.”

“Not to mention dampening any interest he might take in the daughters of the local gentry, what?”

Anthony laughed at his own jest, but Barrimore’s dark eyes did not betray the slightest flicker of humor as they fastened on Annaleah. “I am exceedingly sorry I could not keep our appointment yesterday, Miss Fairchilde. As I explained in my
note
... I was detained somewhat longer on business matters than I had anticipated.”

Anna saw the warning in his eyes and although she had seen no such note, nor had he sent one, it was apparent he had not said anything to Anthony about what he had seen on the cliffs. He had not betrayed her indiscretion and was relying on her to reciprocate by not making him the laughingstock of the
ton
. In this way, they could both return to London unscathed and cheat the gossips of a delicious
scandalum magnatum
.

Her relief was almost as draining as her approbation.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “And yes, the delay was perfectly understandable.”

For the first time ever, she thought she saw a visible easing of the tightness around his formidable jaw. With a further start, she realized that Winston Perry, Marquis of Barrimore probably never found himself in the position of having to depend upon the charitable acts of others.

“As it happens, I also find I must start back today. The
Bellerophon
, having run ahead of the same storm that struck us last night, has arrived in port two days early and no doubt the debates in the House will accelerate accordingly.”

Florence settled into her chair with a scowl. “Surely there are enough soldiers garrisoned at Berry Head to form a firing squad.”

Barrimore held Anna’s gaze a moment longer before addressing her aunt’s remark. “Undoubtedly there are, Madam, and I would be among the first in line to pass out the powder cartridges and shot. Unfortunately there are those of a more lenient nature who feel he would pay a higher price if we returned him to exile and made him eke out his days knowing he was roundly defeated.”

“You sound as if you do not believe he would accept it.”

“He escaped from prison once; he can do it again. Especially with the proper help.”

“Are you still on about this renegade Bonapartist Ramsey seems bent on resurrecting from the dead?” Anthony arched his brow as he inspected the small platter of cheese, paté, and toasted bread triangles Mildred had brought in earlier. “In truth, he is probably in the right place to do so, for there have been sightings of ghosts in the caves hereabout for centuries.”

“Really? Then perhaps I was not just imagining that I saw such an apparition on these very cliffs.” Barrimore’s cool green eyes settled on Florence. “A man presumed to have died long ago of a shrunken head in Borneo.”

To her credit, Florence did not even blink. She held Barrimore’s gaze and though they both knew he was making an oblique reference to Emory Althorpe, they might have been discussing something as trivial as the weather.

It took a massive effort for Anna to refrain from clutching her aunt’s hand. She had no idea what the penalty was for harboring a traitor to the crown, much less kissing one.

Anthony, who had been busy spreading fois gras on a piece of toast, missed the innuendo altogether and chuckled. “As I recall, I had Annaleah thoroughly convinced there were ghosts in every room here at Widdicombe House. Do you remember the incident, Anna, when we were children and came for a visit? You annoyed me to such an extent during the day that by night I had you screaming and running out of the room in terror of your life?”

“Yes,” she said. “I remember.”

“God a-mighty!” He pinched his face around a sour pucker and looked at his aunt. “What the devil do you feed your barn fowl? This goose liver tastes like bog moss.”

Florence did not take her eyes away from the marquis as she answered. “We do not have any geese, Nephew. It is probably yesterday’s kidneys from a rather old ewe.”

Anthony swallowed with obvious difficulty and wiped his mouth on a hastily produced handkerchief. “Yes, well. I expect my palate has been spoiled by Whites. Which reminds me, Anna dear, I am much relieved to see Auntie’s ankle is improved, for I must insist we leave for London today as well. Mother will have received my note by now and has likely dispatched one back in the next mail coach, and it would be best if neither one of us were here to accept it. Quite apart from the overcrowding in town--we could not even hire a hackney this morning to bring us out; we had to use the berline in all this mud!-- Barrimore has reminded me the regent’s Masquerade ball is Friday next and we would both be flayed alive if we were not in attendance.”

This time Anna did reach out and grip her aunt’s hand for courage. It was one thing to avoid Barrimore’s cold stare in a cluttered parlor, it was entirely another to endure it for three days within the tight confines of a travelling coach.

“A masquerade ball,” Florence said. “How lovely. Yes, I suppose it is time she went home. I shall miss her, of course--” she gave Anna’s ice cold hand a little squeeze-- “and will hold her to her promise to visit again soon.”

“We were hoping to be away as early as this afternoon--?” Anthony looked from one to the other. “Really, you need only pack the essentials. The rest can be sent on later.”

“I shall have Willerkins find Clarice at once to pack what is required. And if the gentlemen can spare our company for another few moments, I will go up and fetch that lovely ring you were admiring the other evening, Anna dear--the one that matched your eyes so exquisitely. It would be a shame for you to have to wait until I died to enjoy it. ‘Tis only a bit of paste,” she added, winking at the men, “but it is pretty, and pretty girls deserve pretty things, do you not agree?”

Anthony offered a complacent shrug, while Barrimore only flexed a muscle in his jaw.

“Then if you will just help me up, dear--?”

Anthony moved forward to assist her to her feet, but Florence whacked him smartly on the shin and reached for Anna’s arm instead. At the door, she paused and glanced over her shoulder.

“Please, do help yourself to the cheese and kidney paste. I shudder to think what Mildred will invent next if the tray is returned untouched to the pantry.”

They progressed along the hallway with only the muted thump of Florence’s cane to break the silence. At the bottom of the stairs, Anna drew back and opened her mouth to speak, but her aunt raised a finger and pressed it against her lips, cautioning her niece against it.

“These old hallways, you know. Full of echoes.”

Anna bit her lip and waited until they were at the top and well along the upper hall in the direction of her aunt’s bedchamber before she could bear it no longer.

“He knows. Barrimore knows Emory was here.”

“He suspects,” Florence corrected her. “He saw you with a man who fit the general description of Emory Althorpe, and because he has been in the company of that oaf Ramsey and other gentlemen who have undoubtedly been engaged in endless rounds of debate concerning Rory’s purported crimes, he has considered what he saw and arrived at a breathtaking conclusion. The fact you were
kissing
the bounder when he saw you would only make him more susceptible to suggestion.”

“But what if he repeats what he saw, even if he only
thinks
he saw it? Will that not bring every constable and soldier within fifty miles of here? Will they not search the house top to bottom and question you endlessly?”

“If they search the house, what will they find? Dusty carpets and a thousand spiders spinning webs of intrigue. And I will have you know I was once questioned by the Duke of Cumberland himself when those pesky Jacobites were inviting the French to help restore their Catholic king to the throne. For a full month they kept me in a damp prison cell because they had heard some silly whispered rumor that I allowed smugglers to land guns and exiled Scotsmen in my bay. I merely played the innocent fool, weeping and wringing my hands, swearing on my own virginity that I had no knowledge of anyone engaged in such activities.”

Florence glanced over with a wry chuckle. “I had carnal knowledge in trumps when I lost my virginity to a handsome groomsman at fourteen. And I made enough profit off the smugglers to buy and breed some of the finest horseflesh in Devonshire. Come to think of it, I sold some of those same horses to the English army a few years later for twice what I paid for them.”

“The tauntings of an arrogant nobleman who has had his pride cuckolded?” The snort Florence released would have better suited Broom. “A mere irritation, child. Something on which to hone your feminine skills. Despite the stiffness of his neck, I vow the man is clearly smitten with you. What is more, I would stake my new whalebone busque that a few well-fluttered glances would have him on bended knee again, offering all he possesses for the charity of your smile.”

“But I do not want him on his knee,” Annaleah insisted. “Nor do I want him offering me anything, not even his escort to London.”

“Be that as it may, you will have to find some way to endure it. Now come here a moment and let us choose a trinket that will inspire the appropriate awe in any future suitors.”

She led the way into her bedroom--a cavernous chamber filled with mementoes from the past eight decades, including a huge carved oak tester bed that could easily sleep four. Its canopy and curtains were made of scarlet velvet swagged with fat gold cords and fringed tassels, a color scheme that was prevalent in the carpets as well as the brocaded silk wallpaper. The ceiling was painted with naked cherubs and cupids peeking through a forest of red and gold leaves. Everything seemed old and dusty at first glance, but it was just because there was so much clutter crammed into every nook and corner. Paintings, books, chairs, a hundred figurines and objects collected over the years vied for space with tables, a tapestry stand, even a small pianoforte buried under another mound of well worn books.

Anna had never been invited inside her great-aunt’s bedroom before; she had always been left standing at the threshold like a tinker hawking wares at the kitchen door. Part of the reason for that, she suspected, was the full size painting of a nude woman reclining on a scarlet fainting couch. The woman was young and beautiful, with full, lush breasts and generously rounded curves; a portrait that had obviously been painted with an eye attentive to the smallest, most erotic detail. Her hair was a cascade of thick chestnut brown waves spilling over the cushions and trailing over the side of the couch. Finer, silkier curls were clustered at the top of her thighs, where one of her hands, with its long delicate fingers was placed with the teasing suggestion of an invitation.

“I was just about your age when I posed for that,” Florence said proudly. “I had every stallion in the parish rearing up on his hind legs to show off his potential, driving my father mad day and night with their flowers and poetry. I recall one persistent fool used to read sonnets outside my window late at night until Father could not take it any more and had the servants empty all the thunderpots onto his head at once.”

“Yet you never married.”

“I wanted to. I must have asked him a hundred times over the years, but the man I loved was as proud as he was stubborn. He was just a lowly groomsman, you see. A stable boy. Regardless of how high he climbed through the ranks, he still considered himself a servant and respected my father, my family too much to besmirch my blood with his. I called him every kind of fool I could think of, especially after Father was gone and we were both too old to care about scandal. But by then I suppose we had become too comfortable living as we were, husband and wife in everything but name. I even tried my damnedest to get with child, hoping that would shame him into relenting, but alas, that was not to be either, though I vow there is not a chair, a carpet, a cranny in this house we have not put to good use. Even now, I frequently have occasion to call him old Tremble Legs.”

Anna could scarcely give voice to her thought. “Willerkins?”

“Not much to look at beneath all those wrinkles, I grant you, but ah when he was young he could put me on my knees with just a glance.” Florence gazed up at the portrait and chuckled. “He caught a dreadful fever one year and I thought I was going to lose him. I had this painted and hung in his room so that every time he opened his eyes he would see what was waiting for him when he recovered. The fever burned nearly four stones off his weight, but wobbling or not, as soon as he could stand he came scratching at my door.