The Alter Ego: A Regency Romps Story (The Regency Romps Book 6)

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  Nevertheless, he savoured every second.

  “Not now, man, can’t you see I’m busy?” he snapped at the butler. “Go ahead of me and open the door to the parlour.”

  “Would you mind not being so rude to my staff?” said Anna. He was a little out of breath so couldn’t answer her. Besides, he had a horrible feeling that she was trying very hard not to laugh.

  The butler, his lips pressed into a tight frown, pushed open the door with all the contempt he could muster. Anna gave way to her giggles, and he was just about to threaten to drop her right there on the floor when a voice any drill sergeant would be proud of echoed about the room.

  “So you are the scoundrel trying to pull the wool over my Annie’s eyes, are you?”

  Anna twisted in his grasp, and he had to lean against the door frame to stop them both from dropping to the floor.

  “Papa! What are you doing here!” she squeaked.

  A rotund gentleman with a handlebar moustache, very little hair, and an impeccable sense of dress came striding across the room towards them. Behind him stood an attractive Indian woman and three girls who were clearly Anna’s younger sisters.

  “I’m here to save you from this fiend before I beat him to death with a riding whip! Did you hear me, boy? Unhand my daughter at once!”

  *

  Anna continued to stare, open-mouthed, at her family, even as Arthur ignored her father’s demands and walked into the room still holding her. He did not speak so much as a word until he had deposited her, gently, onto the sofa, and asked her quite tenderly if she were comfortable.

  “Annie, are you hurt?” said her mother, rushing across the room. “What has been done to her?”

  “Nothing,” said Anna, torn between accepting her mother’s fierce embrace and pushing her away. “I stumbled while out walking and sprained my ankle, nothing more. What are you all doing here?”

  “Why are we here?” puffed her father. His face had gone red as a beetroot, which was never a good sign. “Why are we here? I’m here to call this impudent scoundrel out for daring to besmirch your reputation, Annie!”

  “Francis, not in front of the girls,” said her mother with a weariness that indicated this rage had been going on for hours.

  “What possible reason can you have for calling me out, Sir?” demanded Arthur, his own face starting to redden as his own temper obviously began to raise. “I should dashed well call you out for making such insinuations about me!”

  “Call me out? Call me out? Damn, but a riding whip is too good for you!” her father shouted, before advancing on Arthur with a murderous look in his eyes.

  “Father, enough!” shouted Anna, which seemed to startle everyone into silence. “I have no idea what is going on here, but for the Lord’s sake can we not have this conversation in front of my thirteen-year-old sister?”

  Both Arthur and her father stared at her in shock, while her mother’s face showed something far closer to approval. Her father muttered something that might have been an apology, but he retreated to the far side of the room to stare out of the window, his shoulders communicating that his anger was still present, if contained. Arthur remained rooted to the spot, hands clasped behind his back and his mouth set into a hard line.

  Anna, for her part, ignored the men and instead held out her hands to the girls, who came charging over and threw themselves into her embrace with little to no thought of care for her ankle.

  “We missed you, Annie!”

  “Are you really ruined? Has he really taken advantage of you?”

  “Will father have to leave the country if he kills that man? Will you come with us if we go to India?”

  “What about Lily? Would Lily have to come to India as well?”

  “I don’t want to go to India!”

  “Well I do, you little bore, so don’t ruin this for us!”

  Anna half laughed, half cried at the babble of the three young girls with barely a year separating each of them. She was used to their silly bickering, but even so, their words seemed far more serious than usual.

  “India? No one’s going to India, my loves, at least not to my knowledge. Unless Mama wishes to take you to meet our grandparents?”

  She looked up at her mother expectantly, but her favourite woman in the entire world just shook her head.

  “No, Annie. There are no plans for that, but your father has not been as circumspect with his tongue as he should have been. Girls, I want you to go up to your room. Immediately, please.”

  The girls groaned, but they did as they were bid. Anna’s lips twitched despite the situation. Her mother had no doubt already cowed the Housekeeper and Butler into submission and had evidently installed the family at Sydney Place whether Anna wanted them to stay with her, or not.

  “There,” said her mother as she closed the door to the parlour behind the girls. “Now we may speak. And Francis, please keep your temper for Annie’s sake.”

  Her father turned around. He took a deep breath before speaking, and Anna could see how difficult it was for him to keep his temper.

  “We received a letter, Annie, from someone concerned for your welfare. We were informed that someone galivanting about Bath as Mr Arthur, claiming to be some relative of the Duke of Lexborough, was making up to you under false pretences.”

  “I am a relative of the Duke!” sputtered Arthur.

  “Please, let my father speak,” she snapped at him. All her old doubts, all her concerns, all the little things that didn’t add up started to come back to her. “Who wrote the letter, Papa? May I see it, please?”

  “You can see it, but you won’t be able to make head nor tail of it,” said her father, scowling. “It’s written in Hindi. I’d have ignored it myself, but it was addressed to your mother.”

  “Mama?” said Anna, unable to keep her surprise to herself.

  Her mother nodded and drew out a tightly folded letter from her reticule. The address was clearly in English, written in a good hand, but the contents of the message were indeed a series of scratches in a language Anna knew by sight, but could not read for herself.

  “Seraphinia,” she breathed.

  Her mother frowned. “There is no name on the letter. Indeed, there is little information about the writer at all, other than the fact that they are familiar with Hindustan. Oh, and are impudent enough to berate me for not teaching you my language, as though that would have been more useful than your French, or Italian, or-”

  “Charvi,” said her father, putting a hand onto her mother’s shoulder. “That can be discussed later.”

  Anna did not miss the dark look that her father gave to Arthur.

  Her mother took a breath and then continued. “Anyway, the person was concerned for you, little love. They thought that you could use our counsel since this Mr Arthur was showing a marked interest in you.”

  “That does not seem enough to have put Papa into a towering rage, or set my sisters off about revisiting India.”

  “That’s because I did a little research,” said her father, his eyes now firmly fixed on Arthur with the intensity of a cat stalking a plump mouse. “I hate to have to tell you this, my darling, but he’s nothing but a damned fortune hunter.”

  The spluttering of shock from Arthur meant that his response was incoherent, even as she looked from him to her Father.

  “A fortune hunter? Surely you jest – he was vouched for!”

  Her father’s face twisted into an ugly grimace. “He won’t be the first wretch to pull the wool over the eyes of his betters, my girl. I conducted my search with the diligence I would a new business partner, Annie. All I can tell you is his Banbury tale about being a relative of the Lexborough’s through the Dowager Duchess is nothing but a hum. There is no family, living or dead, with the surname Arthur that is related to her Grace.”

  “Not… this isn’t true, surely?” she said, giggling even as her heart thundered in her ears. “Arthur, tell me that-”

  She paused because the look on
his face told her everything she needed to know.

  “I was trying to tell you,” he began.

  “I knew it!” shouted her father, and began striding across the room.

  “If you just allow me to explain!” shouted Arthur, backing up and around the table. “Damn it, man, I can’t plant a facer on you!”

  “Think I’m too old, do you,” said her father, raising his fists.

  Her mother rolled her eyes and went over to him. “Francis, stop this. Can’t you see you’re upsetting Anna?”

  “It’s for her good as well,” her father muttered, but he allowed her mother to place a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  “Please, will you listen to me? All of you? I’m sorry I lied – truly, I am! But it’s not what you think! You see I really, am related to the Duke of Lexborough – he’s my brother! I’m Lord Arthur Weatherly!”

  There was a horrible silence. Anna felt the world tip in all directions at once. She went to stand, but the lance of pain that went through her sprained ankle caused her to cry out and drop back to the sofa. Her parents, momentarily forgetting Arthur’s presence, rushed over to her side.

  She was determined, though, to say her piece.

  “You truly are Lord Arthur? You allowed Mrs Rowlands and Mrs Drake, and who knows how many others look foolish when they called you by your real name? Why? Why would you do such a thing?”

  He had the grace to look ashamed, at least.

  “I… I had reasons for hiding in Bath, my dear. I was so sick of being hunted and followed wherever I went that it seemed a good lark to pretend to be no one of consequence for a while, just amuse myself in the city for a few weeks, and then disappear back into my old life.”

  “Lady Seraphinia? The Devenishes?”

  He winced. “Have all known me from childhood.”

  She laughed, silent and bitter as she shook her head in disgust. Her father leant against the sofa behind her, no doubt glaring at Arthur as if his gaze would kill him. Her mother held onto her hand.

  “And me? Or Lily? Where we to just be disposed of? Once you left-” she paused as the truth hit her, hard, threatening to make her vomit. “Good God, this is your house!”

  “It’s what?” roared her father, and she had to grip tightly onto his wrist to prevent him moving.

  “It’s nothing sordid!” protested Arthur. “Anna had trouble finding a suitable property in Bath, and so I offered this to her.”

  “At an exceedingly reasonable rent,” she spat. Her traitorous eyes were filling with tears. “Oh, did you ever think of anyone but yourself? Did you think about how this must look to the outside world?”

  “But there’s nothing to look at,” said Arthur, looking desperate. “Please, Anna! I’m sorry if I’ve been thoughtless, but-”

  “Thoughtless?” said her mother, suddenly rising to her feet. Arthur blanched and stepped backwards as the tiny avenging angel approached him. “You think you have been thoughtless? After every unjustified indignity my daughter has suffered, from comments about her ‘unfortunate complexion’ to those wicked lies about the legitimacy of her birth, and now you compound those issues by knowingly setting her up in your home, making it look like she’s nothing more than your mistress?”

  Arthur, his back now against the wall, looked genuinely aghast as Anna watched her mother no doubt insult him in rapid Hindi.

  “Please,” he said when her mother paused for breath.

  But Anna, her head hurting as severely as her ankle, just shook her head.

  “Just leave.”

  *

  “Anna?” a voice whispered in the darkness. “Anna, are you awake?”

  “Come in, Lily,” replied Anna, sitting up slowly on her bed. She’d retired as soon as possible after Arthur left, her mother helping her to settle in her bedroom. Once the drapes were closed and the door shut, she’d indulged in a hearty fit of tears, until at some point she’d fallen into a restless sleep.

  Lily lit a candle and then brought it over to the bed. She set it carefully on the side table, still not looking at Anna as she climbed up onto the bed.

  “Governess decided to use your father’s foot to relieve herself,” said Lily, her expression serious. “I expect it’s because he was in a towering bad mood, and she thought he might be shouting at me. He wasn’t, before you ask. He never would, for he’s such a dear.”

  Anna winced. “How did he take it?”

  Lily cocked her head to one side and pondered the question. “Surprisingly well, all things considered. He was more upset to learn that Governess had not done the same to Mr Arthur.”

  “Lord Arthur,” corrected Anna. “Has my mother told you?”

  Lily hung her head. “Yes, but… oh, Anna, I have a terrible confession, and I hope you will forgive me.”

  She looked so sad that Anna was immediately alarmed. She shuffled down the bed, carefully moving her leg to avoid a shock of pain until she could put an arm about her stepdaughter.

  “I’ll forgive you anything, my darling. You know that. Tell me what’s wrong, for I’m sure we could make it right.”

  Even in the mediocre light of the candle, Anna could see the fat tears spilling from Lily’s face.

  “I already knew! I worked it all out a week ago, although I have only just had confirmation that he was Lord Arthur Weatherly. So many things didn’t add up, you see, and dear Charlotte – Mrs Rowlands – told me several times that the resemblance was uncanny, right down to his mannerisms. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I know I should have, and your Mama made that perfectly clear, even though she was so sweet about it that I became perfectly wretched.”

  “She is very good at that,” murmured Anna. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t want to ruin your good impression of him!” Lily practically wailed. “I know how silly it sounds now, of course – truly I do! – but I told him during our walk that he must tell you everything.”

  “You still like him, don’t you?” sighed Anna.

  Lily finally looked up at her, giving an ugly sniff as her crying began to make her nose stuffy.

  “I do. Tell me the truth, Anna, please. Do you still like him? After everything?”

  She was too exhausted to lie.

  “Yes. Yes, I do, very much, but surely you can see why he is an ineligible suitor now? I don’t know that I could trust his intentions to be honourable, and trust is an integral part of any relationship.”

  “But you didn’t want marriage before I had a Season, anyway,” said Lily, looking so naively hopeful that Anna felt as bad as one of Mrs Radcliffe’s villains.

  “I know, and I still mean that, but Lily, he lied to us. Worse, he made other people lie to us. Even the Duchess of Devenish.”

  The mention of the woman that Lily quite devotedly looked up made the girl’s shoulders droop.

  “Yes, and that’s going to be an awfully awkward conversation when I visit her tomorrow, isn’t it?”

  Her stepdaughter gave a world-weary sigh and then snuggled in closer under Anna’s arm. They sat like that for five minutes or so, neither of them speaking.

  “I just thought he would be perfect for you,” whispered Lily.

  Anna, who had been stroking her stepdaughter’s hair, paused. “Perfect for me?”

  Lily sat up. She fetched a handkerchief from up her sleeve and gave her nose a loud blow before answering.

  “Yes. That’s why I was quizzing you about your feelings for him, and teasing you so much. I know father was good to you, and that you were extremely fond of each other, but I like the way Mr – Lord Arthur made you laugh, and smile. It would have been a splendid match, I just know it.”

  “You thought Arthur and I would make a splendid match,” she said slowly.

  Lily rolled her eyes. “I did not know things would get this bad, though, did I? And besides, I am sure that Lady Seraphinia thought the same, for Charlotte told me so. She said that her grandmother had acted the same way toward her and Captai
n Rowlands before they married, so she was as sure as I was that you and Lord Arthur would end up wed.”

  Anna stared at her hands as it felt like the entire ocean roared inside of her ears for several minutes. She didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or both.

  And why had Lady Seraphinia sent that letter to her mother, if she believed they would make a good match? In fact, why had she sent it at all? The whole situation made no sense to her, and she found herself wanting to talk to someone desperately about it all.

  And then it occurred to her that she had the best person in the world staying with her in Sydney Place.

  “Lily, please be a darling and ask Mama to come to my room. I think I need the help of an expert when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Arthur discovered, much to his dismay, that the promise he had made never to become inebriated again had not lasted much beyond his argument with Anna and her family.

  He curled up in a ball, hands cradling his poor head, as the busy sounds of The Pelican threatened to overwhelm him with their sheer perkiness. Dash it all to pieces, did they not understand that his world had ended? That the only woman he could imagine spending his life with had rejected him, and to make matters worse, it was entirely his own fault?

  “Mr Arthur, Sir?” came a timid voice from beyond his bed curtains.

  “Go away, damn you,” he moaned. At least the poor condition of his head matched that of his heart, and he could take comfort in that.

  “Mr Arthur, someone is waiting for you,” said the voice, sounding even more nervous.

  “If it’s my lawyer, tell him that I damn him, too,” said Arthur. The last thing he could think about was the lease for the Sydney Place property. Why hadn’t he considered how it would look if the world learned he was in love with a woman living in his house?