by Leenie Brown
Alex crossed the room and opened the door to call to the butler, giving him instructions to see that all was made ready for his trip. Then, with a smile, he turned to his friend. “How have I always gained an audience where none was extended?”
Jonathan groaned. “Who am I to write about soirees?”
“Do you still correspond with Brownlow?”
“On occasion, but that is a business matter and this…” he waved at the paper as he rose to follow his friend from the room.
“Is a business matter,” said Alex. “Your job is to see that I make all the proper connections, that all the required meetings are arranged so that I might be able to be successful in my ventures, is it not?”
His friend sighed and shook his head. “This is not a business venture, but I shall give you every opportunity I can arrange. However, I am still not in favour of the idea.”
Alex clapped his friend on the shoulder. “As far as I am concerned, my friend, this is the most important business venture in which you will ever take part. That is, of course, until you find yourself a woman to pursue in earnest.”
Jonathan groaned once again as they left the dining room.
Alex stopped abruptly and turned to face his friend. “We must not fail in this venture.” He placed a hand on each of Jonathan’s shoulders. “We simply cannot fail.”
His friend sighed. “Very well. I can see the importance, and I will do my best to help secure her. Though I question your sanity, I will do it for you.”
“Thank you. That is all that I ask.” A smile lit his face. “Now, to tell my uncle that I shall be leaving for town in two days.” He let out a great breath as if being relieved of some great burden as he exited the house. Indeed, he had not felt such welcome vigour in some time. He had no doubt that the challenge that lay before him would tax him to the end of his patience. She always had. But, he drew a deep, satisfying breath as he walked toward the stables, the prize ─ ah, the prize for endurance would be satisfying indeed. Finally, his heart would feel whole.
Chapter 1
January 21, 1812
Anne de Bourgh hurried across the ballroom toward her cousin, Lord Rycroft. She bit back a small smile at the expression of disapproval his wife Mary gave him when he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his side. He had never been one to hold to propriety. She remembered him often getting into trouble for some mischief every time he visited Rosings when he was young. Not that he visited very often since her mother and his mother, though sisters, did not like each other very much. She sighed. Her aunt, Lady Sophia, was easy to like. It was her mother, Lady Catherine, who was the challenge. Not even Anne could tolerate her mother’s constant nattering and interference for any length of time. It is why she feigned illness so often and hid in her room. She could not hold back her smile this time. How many times had she escaped from her mother by taking to her room and climbing down the trellis?
“You are even more beautiful when you smile.” Mr. Blackmoore stepped into her path.
The smile slid from Anne’s face. Why could this gentleman not understand her refusals? She made no reply but attempted to step around him.
“Ah, Miss de Bourgh,” he said, taking her by the elbow, “a dance is about to begin. Will you not join me?”
Anne pulled her arm away from him. “Indeed, I will not. I have told you more than once that I do not wish to make or keep your acquaintance.” Again, she attempted to step around him only to be once again prevented.
“Miss de Bourgh, it is just one dance. How can you deny me the pleasure of such lovely company as yourself? Surely, you cannot be so cruel.”
Anne crossed her arms. “I assure you that I can be.”
“Blackmoore.” Lord Rycroft’s voice held a warning. The gentlemen, though friends, had not re-established the camaraderie they had shared prior to an incident involving Mary.
“Rycroft.” Mr. Blackmoore nodded his head in greeting.
“I did not invite you to harass my guests.” Rycroft tipped his head to the side and raised a brow. Anne could see the slight clenching of his jaw and knew that he was more than just a little disturbed by the actions of the man.
“I was merely asking Miss de Bourgh for a dance.”
Rycroft shifted his gaze to Anne. “And does the lady wish a dance?”
“If she does not, then she shall have to sit out the entire evening.” Blackmoore smiled at Anne. It was not a friendly smile but one of cunning and calculation, and exactly the type of smile that Anne despised the most.
“My card is full,” said Anne.
“Surely not.” Blackmoore’s hand reached out to take her card, Anne quickly pulled her hand back.
“This is not my card, sir. I fear I have left my card in the retiring room. I was just on my way to ask if Lady Rycroft would accompany me to retrieve it.”
“Not your card?” Blackmoore’s tone spoke of disbelief.
“That is what I said.” Anne smiled as her eyes held firmly to his for a moment before she dipped a curtsey and with an if you will excuse me, stepped around Blackmoore and hurried toward Mary.
Anne stamped her slippered foot and crossed her arms as she stood next to Lady Rycroft. “He is without equal,” she muttered as she scowled at Blackmoore.
“Are you well?” asked Mary.
Anne turned her attention to Mary. “I am well, but he is not. There is something seriously wrong with that man’s head.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she realized that Mary was not alone. “Forgive me.” Her cheeks flushed crimson. “I struggle to keep my thoughts to myself at times.”
Lord Brownlow chuckled. “Not unlike your cousin.”
“Indeed,” said Mary with a laugh. “Lord Brownlow this is Miss de Bourgh. Miss de Bourgh, Lord Brownlow.”
“A pleasure,” said Brownlow with a bow.
“Is it?” said Anne in surprise.
Again, Lord Brownlow chuckled. “It is.”
“Then, I thank you,” said Anne with a curtsey before turning to Mary. “I fear my determination to avoid a certain situation requires me to ask you to accompany me to the retiring room.” She glanced back toward where Blackmoore and Rycroft still stood conversing. “As much as I would like to continue talking to Lord Brownlow,” she smiled at the gentleman, “I find that doing so puts me at risk of speaking to him again,” she tipped her head toward Blackmoore, “and I have no desire to do so.”
“Very well,” said Mary. “I shall accompany you. Lord Brownlow, if you will excuse us.”
“Certainly, Lady Rycroft, Miss de Bourgh.” He nodded to each lady in turn.
Anne began to walk away from him but then stopped and returned. “Do you have a dance that is free?” she asked Lord Brownlow in a whisper.
“I do,” he replied, also in a whisper.
Anne cast a wary eye toward Blackmoore. “Which one?”
“The one after supper remains open.”
“That will do,” said Anne. “I do apologize for being so forward, sir, but I may have told someone that my card was full, and I must now fill it.”
Brownlow chuckled softly. “If you need a second dance, Miss de Bourgh. I have the last of the evening available as well.”
Anne sighed, and her shoulders drooped in relief. “That would be most helpful,” she admitted.
“I am pleased to be of assistance.” Lord Brownlow shook his head as she scooted away.
Mary took Anne’s arm as they left the ballroom. “You do know that ladies are not to ask gentlemen for dances, do you not?”
Anne nodded. “I would not have done so if it had not been necessary.” She looked up and down the hall, confident that she would not be heard, she continued. “Mr. Blackmoore insists on importuning me at every turn. I could not see a way to avoid dancing with him and still be allowed to dance with others.” She smiled sheepishly. “So, I lied.” She looked away from the disapproving look that Mary gave her. “I know it is wrong,” she said softly, “but I should be able to r
efuse a man like him without refusing all others.”
Mary patted Anne’s hand. “I agree that it is not fair.”
“If you would rather,” Anne looked up at Mary, who had like Kitty and Elizabeth become a dear friend over the past two weeks, “I could plead a headache and borrow a room in which to rest.”
Mary shook her head. “There is no need of that. We shall just have to find enough gentlemen to fill your card so that your words no longer remains untrue.” And so they did. With Mary’s help, Anne’s card was full before they returned to the ballroom.
Anne remained near Mary or Lady Sophia for much of the first half of the evening. Anne had not realized just how pleasant it could be to sit or stand near someone who did not constantly remind you to straighten your posture or smile more engagingly or less wide or less frequently or more often. Anne had even managed to sit for supper without her mother near. When the meal was over and all exhibitions of talent completed, Anne once again sought to limit the amount of time she had to spend with her mother.
After one particularly lively dance in the latter half of the evening, Anne, at Lady Sophia’s insistence, took a seat not far from an open balcony door. The breeze was refreshing and Anne closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the cool air. Her feet were beginning to hurt, and she was certain her arms would be nearly unusable by morning. She had not realized just how much exertion there was in dancing. It was tiring, but the fatigue was not unwelcome. In fact, she found it exhilarating. She had not enjoyed herself this much since the last time she sneaked out of her bedroom to ride. Riding had always been a pleasure to Anne, but her mother disapproved of too much exertion and exposure to the elements.
Anne was just beginning to ruminate on the ridiculousness of being confined to one’s room to preserve one’s health when she heard a familiar and unwelcome name.
“Madoch,” said Lord Brownlow, “I feared you were not going to show.”
“I had an unexpected call to which I had to attend. There really was no avoiding it.”
Anne cautiously turned to look at the speaker. It could not be him. He was not of the gentlemen class. She paused and sighed. Perhaps she was lowering him a bit more than he deserved. His father was a gentleman, but he was a second son, that much was true. Her breath caught in her chest as she located ─ Alex. It was him! She immediately slipped from her seat and out the door to the balcony. Oh, she knew it was wrong to be so far away from one’s chaperone and alone, but it could not be helped. She could not ─ simply could not stay in that room where she might have to face him.
Anne looked left and then right. If she remembered correctly, the library was to the right, three windows down. And the door to the garden had been open in there when she and Mary had gone looking for her cousins, Darcy and Richard, to fill her dance card. Quickly, she began heading for the library. She would be safe there. Kitty and Richard had not been seen for a while. Kitty had probably required a rest again, Anne mused. Her head was still not quite right after her fall and required her to frequently seek solitude. For a moment, Anne considered feigning a head injury as an option to avoid her mother. It was an option she had attempted to this point. The thought had stopped her, and she glanced over her shoulder as she heard footsteps behind her.
She lifted her skirt and made to run the few remaining steps to the library, but Mr. Blackmoore was quicker than she and had her by the arm before she could flee.
“Ah, Miss de Bourgh, it seems we are meant to marry.”
Her eyes grew wide, and she shook her head.
He slid an arm around her and hauled her closer to him. “But we are in a very compromising position, are we not?” He wore that sly smile once again. “Such a scandal will put to an end any other offers of marriage but mine.” He bent his head to kiss her, but she turned her head to the side and pushed at his chest.
“I would rather die an old maid than married to the devil.” She turned her head the opposite direction of his mouth once again and pushed some more.
He chuckled near her ear. “The devil?”
She pushed against him again. “Yes, the devil. Who else traps a lady into marriage just so he can keep his mistress and his money?”
“You would be surprised how many do just that,” his mouth was still near her ear, and he whispered into it before kissing it.
Anne gasped and without thought slapped him. “Libertines, the whole lot of them,” she cried. “Let me go,” she demanded as she continued to struggle to get away.
“No, not until you have consented to marry me,” he growled as his grip on her twisting form tightened.
“I cannot. I will not.”
“Darling,” called a voice behind her, “your dance card. It was rather foolish to hold it so loosely as to let it fall into the border.”
Blackmoore released his hold on Anne as the other gentleman joined them.
Anne spun away from Blackmoore and nearly straight into the man she had sneaked out here to avoid. “Thank you, Mr. Madoch,” she stammered as she took a dance card from him with trembling hands and a curious look.
“It took a bit of searching, and I fear my shoes may be too soiled to enter the ballroom again, but there it is. A prize by which to remember this night.” He smiled at her just as he had always smiled at her. It was an open, unaffected smile, a smile of true delight.
Her lower lip trembled, and she sucked it in between her teeth. No one else in her life had ever smiled at her like he did. It was one of the things that had made it so hard for her to turn him away the last time they had met.
He took one of her hands and spoke in a low voice. “Perhaps a few moments in the library would be beneficial. I saw one of your cousins at the window.”
She nodded.
“I will just make sure that this gentleman has made it back to the ballroom before I join you.” His voice rose slightly in question.
Again, she nodded. She did not wish to see him in the library, or anywhere, for that matter, but the alternative of being left here with Mr. Blackmoore was, without a doubt, the worse choice. So, she gathered her thoughts and her strength and walked as calmly toward the library door as she could. When she reached it, she glanced back. Alex stood, arms crossed, before Mr. Blackmoore. She could hear Alex’s rumbling angry tone. She shook her head. He had always stood as her protector. She sighed. If only he had the means and position to meet her qualifications, her search for a husband might be over. “But he does not,” she whispered sadly to herself as she stepped into the library.
Chapter 2
“Anne?” Richard, who was standing near the door to the garden, stepped to the side to allow here entrance. “What brings you to the library by way of the balcony?” He took her by the arm and guided her to where Kitty was sitting. “And without a wrap? You are positively frozen!”
Anne dutifully took a seat next to Kitty. She knew that when her cousin started using the tone he had just used, there was very little chance of doing otherwise. As sweet and gentle as he could be, there were times such as now, when he towered over her and spoke with such an air of authority that she knew for certain he was indeed Lord Matlock’s son.
“I needed some air,” she muttered. “I know it was foolish to go out without my chaperone, but …” Her voice trailed off as she saw him fold his arms and shake his head.
“You were outside in the dark, alone?”
She nodded and then shook her head. “I was alone at first, but then Mr. Blackmoore discovered me, and he would not unhand me until Mr. Madoch appeared.” Anne huffed. “The rules of society and propriety are insufferable.” She folded her arms and glared back at her cousin, bracing herself for whatever battle she might be starting. She was not in any frame of mind to be scolded by him.
To her surprise, he shrugged. “They are.” He took a seat near the settee where Anne and Kitty were sitting. “But, it is not advisable to ignore those rules unless you are prepared to pay the price.” He took Kitty’s hand in his own. “And the price can b
e very high indeed.”
“So it can,” said Darcy, joining them. “Although,” he pulled his wife close to his side, “there are times when doing so has had a most pleasant result.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “Mr. Blackmoore is not a pleasant result,” she muttered. She shuddered at the thought of being forced to marry the man.
“And that is why we must follow the rules as closely as we can.” The comment might have been a scold, but instead, Kitty’s voice was soft and reassuring as if she were merely agreeing with Anne.
The door opened, and a cool breeze entered with Alex. He stood for a moment not quite knowing what he should say to so many people, who were looking at him in surprise. Finally, he stepped forward and bowed. “Alexander Madoch,” he said by way of introducing himself.
“Madoch?” said Darcy. “Not the same Madoch that used to skulk around Rosings’ stables and plague the stable master with questions and suggestions?”
Alex bowed his head in acknowledgement. “One and the same.”
“I have not seen you in years.” Darcy stuck his hand out in welcome to the man. “How have you been keeping yourself?”
“He has been working for his uncle in Brighton,” said Anne. “Or so I have heard,” she added softly when all eyes turned her direction.
“Miss de Bourgh is correct. I joined my uncle in Brighton five or was it six years ago?”
“Six years ago, November,” said Anne without thought.
He smiled at her. It was good to know she had not forgotten him. “I believe you have the right of it. It was six years this past November.” He turned his attention back to Darcy. “My uncle owns a stable in Brighton. It is a popular establishment with those who come to visit.” He glanced at Kitty and then Elizabeth. “I am fairly certain I know you two gentlemen as Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I am at a loss as to who these lovely ladies are.”