The Beautiful One (14 page)

“Then,” he said, “that must make me the happiest of hosts.”

Well
done, Judith
, Anna thought, giving a silent cheer on behalf of Lizzie.

Miss Chittister looked around at the cottage. “So you've been
working
, Grandville. And you've apparently had help.”

Miss Chittister's eyes came to rest on Anna. She felt their assessing weight on her hair and clothes and lifted her chin. Miss Chittister's gaze moved dismissively on, clearly having discarded the idea of Anna as any sort of competition. It wasn't an unfamiliar situation for Anna, but for the first time, it made her cherish a secret smile.

Judith said, “The cottages look very, very fine, Grandville. They will surely put your tenants over the moon.” Her hazel eyes sought his, and though he seemed to avoid her gaze, she was not deterred. “How happy and proud your father would have been to see them.”

He was saved from the necessity of a reply by Miss Chittister. “
My
father is not pleased about the cottages,” she said with a light laugh. “He says you'll give the tenants ideas above their station.”

“Ah, well,” he said evasively.

Anna was disappointed in him. Clearly he felt strongly that tenants deserved better treatment than they usually received, but he'd gotten used to withdrawing over the last year.

“I think,” she said, “that his tenants will feel very much valued here at Stillwell and will return Lord Grandville's generosity with hard work.”

Miss Chittister coughed delicately. “Well,” she said, “Miss Black is certainly convinced of their merit. But come, Grandville, I'm here to carry you off for a visit to Trippleford Manor, and you must stay for dinner. Mama and Papa said I was not to take no for an answer, and indeed I shan't.”

A pause. Anna supposed he wanted to decline and retreat to his manor, but the invitation offered him an escape from the three women there.

“How could I refuse such a gracious invitation?”

Miss Chittister clapped her hands with delight in a way that made Anna clench her teeth. “What a coup, the elusive Viscount Grandville to dine at our house!”

“Judith, Anna,” he said, giving them a vague bow before he held out an arm politely for Miss Chittister.

Anna and Judith watched the viscount and his guest walk out across the fields toward the manor, where doubtless a coach would be waiting.

“Your auxiliary plan seems to have been successful,” Anna said. She went over and put the cover on the whitewash bucket and used that moment of privacy to take a deep, gathering breath and remind herself that she was still just a servant at Stillwell Hall and nothing more.

When she turned around again, the older woman had a quizzical look on her face that made Anna's heart sink further.

“My dear,” Judith said carefully, “is there something between you and Grandville?”

“No, of course not.” That was true. There was nothing of substance between them. No promises had been made, nor could they be.

Judith allowed her eyes to rest on Anna, but Anna did not accept the invitation they offered to talk.

“I had wondered if perhaps there was some attachment between you two,” Judith said. “And just now…”

“He had merely asked me to help, since Lizzie was still sleeping and thus did not need me. Merely a matter of earning my keep.”

“I see. Well, in any case, I'm glad not only for him but for Lizzie as well that he's accepted the ball. What I want most for my stepsons is that they each find a woman they love to marry.”

Anna thought of what Will had said about his wife in the cottage.
“I'll always love her. I'll always be so sorry that she's gone. And I never want to feel again like I did when she died.”

Even now, the words broke her heart a little because she knew that, given the chance, she could easily fall in love with this man who didn't want to fall in love again. She supposed it would be just as well for him that, when he chose an appropriate woman to be his viscountess, aristocrats rarely married for love.

The two women left the cottage with Tristan trotting between them and started back toward the manor, whose cream-colored stonework could be seen in occasional glimpses beyond the trees and gardens. She'd come to find the enormous building ridiculously homey, and she must resist its pull. She must fight against anything in her that yearned for anything to do with Will.

They were walking through a section of the formal garden when Lizzie emerged from behind an enormous old rose bush a few feet ahead of them, obviously in a hurry.

She stopped abruptly when she saw them, her startled look telling Anna she was not glad to find others in the garden. Lizzie's white muslin gown was badly rumpled, as if it had been pulled on straight from a resting place on the floor. Her face was pale, and her red-gold hair looked as if she had yanked it, unbrushed, into a twist. A thick strand hung loose on one side.

“Oh, hello,” she said briskly, and made as if to continue past them, evidently anxious to undo her night's work. Anna caught her gently by the arm as she passed.

“I was out early this morning and saw Lord Grandville doing a bit of gardening. Removing some overgrown ivy.”

Lizzie gasped and looked, if possible, paler. “Grandville?” she croaked. “The ivy? Truly?”

Judith coughed. “Certainly within his duties as lord of the manor to see to the garden,” she said. Her eyes regarded Lizzie with a sympathetic expression that suggested she too must have seen the statues before they were cleared off.

“Oh no! He shouldn't have had to…er, clean up.” Lizzie looked like she might be ill at the thought of her uncle discovering what had happened to Apollo.

Looking at her now, Anna thought it surprising that she'd ever considered Lizzie to be snobbish, when it was so obvious that her haughtiness had only been a screen for the hurt that was now laid bare on her young face.

Lizzie's troubled gaze dropped to the grass, and another piece of her hair slipped from its loose mooring, but she didn't seem to notice. “I expect he'll want to send me away as soon as possible.”

Anna gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. “Actually, he and I had a chat. He's promised that you'll stay a month, and he'll honor that. Though he does expect never to have to do any such tidying in the future.”

“Oh!” Lizzie looked up, color flooding her cheeks. “That is so very kind of him! Of course nothing like this will happen again.”

“I hope most ardently that you're sincere.” Anna caught her eye. “You do see now that there must be no more schemes?”

“Yes, of course.”

Judith said in a gentle voice, “You know, Lizzie, you would probably have been quite amused by Grandville if you'd known him when he was your age. He and his cousin Louie were known to pull the occasional prank. And of course, your father was the worst of the lot, a charming rascal.”

“Sometimes it's hard to believe he and my uncle were friends, even if Grandville was different once. I wanted so much for the two of us to be like family, but I don't know if that will ever happen. Maybe I should just ask to go to another school,” Lizzie said despondently.

“You mustn't give up hope,” Anna said firmly. Especially not now that his spirits seemed to be lightening, she thought, though she could hardly explain
why
she thought they might be lightening.

“I agree,” Judith said. “And I've known him for ages. Just give it a little more time.”

“Very well,” Lizzie said, a little cheered. She tipped her head. “How long have you known him, anyway?”

“Since he was nineteen. I married his father within a few months of Lady Grandville's death.”

Lizzie looked shocked by this information. “Well, he can't have missed his first wife so very much, then. My father didn't remarry for years.”

“Lizzie, I'm not sure we should quiz Judith about such things,” Anna said.

“No, it's all right. And Lizzie knows of what she speaks. I knew even at the time that Alistair was proposing to me out of a desire to distract himself from his grief. But I already loved him so much that I was sure it would be enough for both of us.”

“Oh,” Lizzie said. “That's not very romantic.”

“No,” Judith agreed. “Though I told myself it was, a sort of grand gesture for love that would make everything turn into happily ever after. I was very good at spinning fantasy into truth back then. I was going to make Alistair and his sons love me more than they'd loved the woman they'd lost.”

“I guess it didn't work out that way?”

“No. And your uncle was old enough to see all the mistakes I made.”

“I didn't want a stepmother either. Though you're so much kinder than my stepmother was.”

“Thank you, my dear. But perhaps you might have come to care for her in time. It's not easy to join a family that already exists. I had never mothered anyone, and the three of them had suffered a tragedy. Trying to find my place in the Halifax family became the hardest thing I'd ever done.”

Lizzie absorbed these words quietly. “I've never thought about it that way before, that it might be been hard for the stepmother.”

Judith chuckled softly. “Being a stepmother has its advantages too. I've just now helped Grandville to reconsider the ball, and he's decided that it must go on.”

“He has?” Lizzie gave a whoop. “But that's wonderful!” she cried, enfolding a laughing Judith in a jubilant embrace.

“We'll have our work cut out for us though,” Judith said. “There's so much to be done before the ball. For one thing, some of the rooms look ridiculously barren. I gather Grandville had a number of furnishings put away after Ginger died, the new carpets and paintings and such that she'd bought. So I hope to find them in the attics. Perhaps you two would like to join me?”

“I should like it of all things!” Lizzie enthused.

The ladies agreed to begin work that afternoon.

* * *

Anna was glad to return to the peace of her bedchamber after all that had happened that morning. She felt storm-tossed and fidgety and couldn't settle down with her book.

A maid brought up a luncheon tray, and Anna put it on her vanity and stood nibbling halfheartedly at a piece of cold chicken. She caught sight of herself in the cheval glass and frowned. Her gown really did look like boiled dust.

And for the first time, she cared.

Putting down the chicken, she tilted her head. She tugged her hair out of its messy knot, letting her black curls fall in a glossy jumble to her waist, and tried to see what Will saw in her. He found her beautiful, and now she looked with new eyes at herself.

She'd always believed there was so much more to a person than his or her appearance, but, being attracted to Will, she also had to admit that physical beauty had a role in drawing people together, in making them take a closer look.

She looked approvingly now on her light brown eyes, her pink lips and cheeks, and her trim form. She'd always been happy enough with the way she was, but she'd never believed it likely that any man would find her special.

And so she'd dispensed with efforts to be alluring, telling herself that coiffures and jewelry and fancy shoes were for girls who wanted to simper and giggle. But perhaps she'd also abandoned caring about her appearance and cultivating gracious manners because she feared making a fool of herself if she tried—feared that everyone would have laughed at Dr. Bristol's hoyden of a daughter trying to pass for a lady.

With a shudder, she thought of the horrible Mr. Rawlins, who'd apparently seen beauty in her. He'd seen something in her and tried to make it his. But he wasn't the only one with vision, and now she wanted to own what was rightfully hers.

Lizzie's pink dress was still hanging in Anna's wardrobe, but such a sweet color would never suit her. Instead, she reached behind her waist and pinched the fabric of her dress so that it fit snugly under her breasts. Much, much better.

She unfastened her gown and stepped out of it. In her chemise, she sat on the bed and, taking her gown in hand, threw prudence to the wind. Drawing in a deep breath—this was after all one of only two gowns she had, and she was not very talented with a needle—she snipped at the gown's high neckline. She folded it down and sewed it to make a pretty, scooped square. With a series of neat tucks, she took in the loose fabric under the bust and adjusted the side seams.

She put the gown back on and regarded herself again. The color was still a vague grayish blue, but it looked vastly better now that it traced the woman's body underneath. Humming, she went to work on the brown gown.

When Lizzie and Judith knocked on her door in the mid-afternoon, she opened it and they both stared at her.

“Gracious,” Lizzie said, “but your gown looks marvelous.”

Anna came out of her room, closing the door. “That is certainly a gross exaggeration, considering its color, but I do like it better now.”

“You look quite lovely, Anna,” Judith said as they walked along the hallway. “And you've changed your hair. It's softer and very becoming.”

Anna blushed and smiled. “Thank you.”

Anna and Judith were standing in the foyer at the foot of Stillwell's grand staircase the next morning and discussing with Dart the disposition of items from the attic when the viscount emerged from his library.

She hadn't seen him since the afternoon before, when he left with Miss Chittister, and she was surprised he wasn't now at the cottages. He had on a maroon waistcoat that looked very fine in contrast with his dark brown hair and hung perfectly on those broad shoulders that inspired the worst sort of weakness in her. Just the sight of him was giving her jelly legs. She looked away.

At least she would be leaving in a few weeks or, God forbid, sooner, if the effects of that book somehow reached her. For now she had Lizzie to focus on, and she would be grateful for any distraction the ball preparations would bring.

She could—she
would
—manage to live in the same house with him and behave as if nothing had happened.

“Judith,” he said in the emotionless tone he used with his stepmother, who nonetheless returned his greeting with serene warmth. He turned to Anna, and his eyes glittered at her with secret meaning. A rebellious heat warmed her lips in response. She pressed them together hard.

“A word with you, Anna.”

At that moment, from outside Stillwell's double front doors came the sound of carriage wheels on gravel, and she supposed that he must be awaiting a visitor, perhaps Miss Chittister. Miss Chittister was an appropriate match for him, she told herself cruelly.

Judith, remarking to Anna that she would resume choosing furnishings from the attic, went upstairs.

“What are you doing with the furniture?” he asked Anna.

“Why not ask Judith? I'm sure she'd be happy to discuss her plans with you.”

“I'm asking you.”

She sighed. What was between him and his stepmother ran too deep for gentle prodding. “I'm helping her choose things from the attic to spruce up the manor so it will be festive for the ball. It does currently have rather the air of a monastery.”

He frowned, looking off into space. “I had some things put away after Ginger died. She'd been in the midst of redecorating before…” He shrugged, looking back at her. “I didn't want the new things she'd bought around to remind me of her.”

“Like the picture on my chamber wall?”

“What's that?”

“There's a half-finished pastoral scene on a wall in my chamber.”

“That was Ginger's idea, putting murals in some of the rooms. She liked to support artists.”

“I like her better and better,” she admitted. “I was going to have Lizzie finish the painting.”

“Really? Is she talented at painting and drawing?”

“As it turns out, those are not her best skills. She is, for one thing, extremely gifted in her studies. But
I
am quite fond of painting, and it rather undoes me to wake up every morning to a headless shepherd with no meadow for his sheep.”

“Then finish it if you want to.”

“Truly? You wouldn't mind?”

He sighed. “In truth, Ginger would have hated to see it left undone. To see the house so…”

“Barren? Monastic?”

He gave her a look. “Spartan. Disciplined.”

“Nonsense. It looks odd. Even bachelors need a comfortable home.”

“Maybe,” he said halfheartedly, surprising her. “I'll have some paints ordered for you.”

His eyes traveled over her body and she tingled under his gaze. Oh, these were going to be a hard few weeks.

“What have you done to your clothes? You look different.”

“I had the urge to sew. I should think you'd be satisfied that all your browbeating has had a result.”

“I am pleased,” he said, though he sounded grouchy. “You look exceedingly fine.”

“Thank you,” she said, struggling not to feel too happy about his compliment. “I found something interesting in the attic this morning.”

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“I think it might be for the cottages. A half-finished sign that reads ‘Willow Glen Ha—'”

“Oh that. Yes, it was for the cottages,” he said.

“It's funny that whoever started it never finished it.” She had her suspicions about the sign's creator. It wasn't as if a craftsman would have presented partially completed work to the viscount. “Maybe that someone would finish it and then it could be put out by the cottages. It would look very fine.”

“Maybe.”

At that moment, boots rang out on the stone steps outside the doors, as if someone were taking them vigorously and two at a time. And then, without so much as a knock, the tall doors opened and in strode an extremely handsome young gentleman of perhaps twenty years.

He had black hair that was wavy like Will's, but his had an insouciant streak of white near his forehead that gave him a striking air, as if he'd been touched by some goddess as a mark of favor. He was smartly attired in a dark blue superfine topcoat, crisp white cravat, and tan breeches that looked very well on his long, youthfully slim legs, and he came briskly into the foyer with a grin on his face.

“Hello, Brother,” he said, and bowed playfully. “You are looking all the crack.”

“Am I, Tommy?” the viscount returned with a wry smile as he stepped forward, and the two shared what looked to be a crushingly manly embrace.

He was clearly quite pleased at his brother's arrival. Anna, though, could not rejoice in the arrival of Mr. Thomas Halifax, and was wishing at that very minute for a hole to open in the floor and swallow her. Especially when, the embrace over, their visitor's eyes finally settled on her. His brows drew together, and she knew she was in trouble.

“Why, Miss…Bristol, isn't it?” he said, cocking his head. He smiled. “What on earth are you doing here? Is your father here?”

“Oh. Er, no,” she said.

“What's this, Tommy? How could you possibly know Anna? Or her father?”

Tommy looked surprised by this question. “Why shouldn't I know her? She's Dr. Bristol's daughter. He cured me of that terrible fever I had the summer I was fourteen, at Littlebury.” He turned to Anna. “You
are
Dr. Bristol's daughter, aren't you?”

“Yes.” The word came out like a croak. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the storm clouds gathering in Viscount Grandville's face.

Tommy grinned. “I remember that you sometimes came when your father visited me, to act as his assistant. I'm very happy to see you again. And by Jove, but the years have been kind to you!”

They had been extremely kind to him as well, and she guessed that he did very well with the ladies. She returned his warm greeting, all the while feeling his brother's eyes on her.

She forced herself to face Will. His eyes had darkened to the color of a wintry midnight sky.

“I have met your father,” he said. “Our families are acquainted.”

“Yes,” she said, managing not to croak this time. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”

His eyes glinted at her, promising doom. “But I have not excused you, Anna. Why, I may develop some urgent medical problem on which I might consult with you. Or I may require some other service of my governess. Where is my ward?” His words were mocking, but the light in his eyes was far from playful. He was furious.

“Lizzie was overcome by sneezing from the attic dust, and so she's gone in search of Tristan to take a walk. Of course I will stay here if you wish, my lord, but I had promised to return to the attic.”

Two servants were even then starting down the flight of stairs holding an enormous painting between them. Behind them came another servant carrying a small oval table.

“Go then,” he said with a dismissive gesture that nonetheless said he was far from done with her. And with the quickest of curtsies, she took her leave before he could change his mind.

* * *

“What doings are these, Will?” Tommy asked as he watched Anna ascend the stairs.

“Library.” Will turned on his heel and his brother followed him into the room. They dropped into the striped chairs by the empty hearth.

“Well, and what has become of your male sanctum? Anna Bristol here, and Elizabeth Tarryton too, if I understand correctly. I didn't even know she was coming for a visit.”

“Lizzie's arrival was unexpected,” Will said. A satisfyingly righteous anger was growing within him, and he was wishing he were in London and set for an appointment at Gentleman Jack's, because what he wanted more than anything at that moment was to pummel something. Or, rather, a certain someone.

“Anna is here as a temporary governess to Lizzie, though she may last for perhaps a shorter duration than foreseen, as I may strangle her before the day is out.”

“A diverting image. So you didn't know she was Dr. Bristol's daughter?”

“No.” Will ran a hand roughly through his hair and attempted to unclench his jaw. He supposed he knew why she'd given him a false name, but he didn't like it, not when they'd grown as close as they had.

“She's been going by the surname Black. But she did tell me that some damned peer had tried to take advantage of her in some way, and she was clearly in something of a bind when I first met her, so I can only think she may have adopted a false name to help put the incident behind her.”

Tommy's face darkened. “Damnation! Who is this scoundrel? I'll wring his neck.”

“Easy there. I'd have dealt with him myself, but she won't say. She insists no real harm was done and that she just wants to forget the whole thing. I don't like it, but I won't press her.”

He thought a moment. “And I suppose you and I ought to keep this business about her name to ourselves. There's no need to create confusion at Stillwell by mentioning this to anyone else.”

Tommy nodded, his lips pressed together.

“So,” he said a few moments later, “if Lizzie is walking Tristan, then Judith is here as well?”

“Yes.”

“Why,” Tommy said, smiling, “I haven't seen Judith since I ran into her in London at least a year ago. How is she?”

Will felt a brief spark of gratitude that his younger brother enjoyed such untroubled contentment. He'd always been glad that Tommy, only seven when Judith arrived, never discovered that she'd been their father's mistress.

“She appears to be as usual.”

“Wasn't she traveling in Egypt?”

“I know nothing of where she's been. But you may ask her yourself, now she's here.”

“You have quite a houseful of guests, Brother,” Tommy said, resting an ankle comfortably on his knee.

“Yes, damn it, and not one of them invited. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were in Italy with our cousins.”

“They wanted to stay a bit longer, but I've been back in London a few days. And I've come to Stillwell for the ball, of course. I must say, your invitation was a surprise.”

Will growled. “It was not
my
invitation.”

“But if you didn't send the invitation, who did? Is there a prankster afoot?”

“Judith. She apparently wants to do her duty by Father and see me married. So she's taken it upon herself to arrange a ball here.”

“Oh ho!” Tommy clasped his hands behind his head and flopped back against the chair, the very picture of relaxed enjoyment. “And now you are to have a ball. Excellent! But tell me, how did you not recognize Anna? I must say I thought her a very pretty nurse when she came with her father to cure me.”

“I never met her then.”

“Ah, that's right. Judith and Father were away as well, now that I remember. The servants were quite worried about me. But Anna's tumbling black curls rather caught my eye as I lay in my sickbed, and she was charmingly serious about birds. Her father wrote a few books on birds, come to think of it. Isn't there one in the Stillwell library?”

Will leaned forward irritably and rested his elbows on his knees. He could feel his brother's measured gaze on the back of his head as he stared at the empty hearth.

Bloody
hell.
He'd done wicked things to the daughter of a respected, if forgotten, family friend.

Damn
it
all!

“Things appear to be in a far different state than they were at my visit a few months ago,” Tommy said. He peered at Will speculatively. “And you and Anna seem to be on rather familiar terms.”

Will ground his teeth together and shifted his head to give Tommy a withering, older-brother glare. “I know you are not even remotely suggesting anything untoward.”

“Certainly not,” Tommy said, coloring. “How the devil could you believe I would entertain such thoughts about Dr. Bristol's daughter?”

Because
I
do
, Will thought miserably. “Sorry.” He sat back in his seat again and crossed his arms, feeling ferocious.

“What's going on in the attic, then? Are we selling off the furniture?”

“At present Anna and Judith are disgorging the contents of the attic into the rest of the house in preparation for the accursed ball.”

“Doubtless not an adjective commonly associated with balls. But a festive event should jolly things up around here. Stillwell has had rather the air of a monastery for some time. Why, the entry hall alone, with only that single, plain table along the wall, makes us look like a family of severe people.”

Will clenched his teeth. This was the second time someone had mentioned monasteries that hour. “Enough about the ball. How was Italy? And how are our cousins?”

“Italy was tremendous. The cousins are as usual, which means that Louie has charmed nearly every lady in the country, Andrew is climbing some mountain or other, Ruby is trying out all the Italian fashions, and Emerald has her nose buried in a book. Marcus is still at home, of course, stuck in the schoolroom.”