by Kerryn Reid
They dined again with his parents. His mother had also invited Miss Maxwell, and for some unknown reason she had accepted. Lindale and Fuller might come too, depending on what happened at White Oaks today.
While their new nursery maid stayed with the baby, Putnam came along to be with Anna when Lewis could not. While he changed for dinner, the two women inspected the room across the hall from his, the room that in seven short days would be Anna’s. No, ours. Grinning, he hurried through his final preparations.
He crossed the hall to join them and found his mother there too. “There might be other pictures around the house that you would prefer,” she told Anna. Her tone was cool, but not unfriendly. “And Lewis did a lovely one of you. It’s only a drawing, but nicely framed? If he were willing?”
“May I see it?” Anna asked him, a tender smile playing about her lips that lit up the blue of her eyes. He could not have denied her anything.
“Of course. But it’s at the vicarage.” She made a moue of disappointment. More than anything he wanted to lock the other two women from the room and kiss her until their knees buckled. Given his way, they would have skipped dinner entirely.
Miss Maxwell was already in the drawing room, and Lindale too. She sat near the fireplace, he stood resting an arm on the mantelpiece. Lewis felt a bubble of tension in the room, but he always did. That damnable portrait.
His mother rushed forward. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”
Miss Maxwell rose to shake her hand. “I arrived a bit early.”
Lindale bowed. “As did I. In fact, we—er—met outside. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Aubrey. Sorry to say, Captain Fuller is unable to join us for dinner.”
Though he had forewarned her, Lewis saw his mother’s eyes widen at the sight of Lindale’s birthmark. “A shame,” she said. “But we’re happy to have you, Mr. Lindale. Do I have the name right? Lewis tells me you are Lord Malbury’s son?”
He looked annoyed at the reference, but confirmed it.
“Allow me to introduce Miss Elaine Maxwell. Her father owns one of the largest properties in Wrackwater Bridge. And this is my daughter, soon to be. Miss Anna Spain.”
Lindale bowed low and kissed Anna’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, Miss Spain.”
Lewis’s father joined them and Lindale was introduced again. Afterward he cornered Lewis. “Did you have to mention my family?”
“Yes,” Lewis replied. “They’re terribly awed by titles. I want them on their best behavior.”
Lindale grunted. “I suppose we all do.”
“What happened outside with Miss Maxwell?”
“Nothing at all.” Lindale scowled. “She slipped, and I made a grab for her. My hand went someplace it shouldn’t, but it was completely unintentional. Should have let her fall on her sweet bottom.”
Lewis grinned. “Gave you an earful, did she?”
“Lord yes. I was apologizing for the fourth time as you came in. Don’t know what she expects me to do.”
“Grovel, man. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good woman, but she doesn’t take nonsense from anyone. Even if it is unintentional.”
“It was, I tell you.”
Dinner was announced, but Lewis held him back. “Does Fuller’s absence mean he’s part of the family?”
“Oh, now you’re stealing my dinner-table gossip. Guess I won’t mention that Gideon’s been permanently banned from the house. Unless my exalted status gives me leave to say what I like about him?”
“Oh, no. No faulting their perfect boy.” As they all dipped into the turtle soup, Lindale made his revelation.
“There’s big news from White Oaks today.”
Lewis grinned at Anna across the table and resisted the urge to spit his soup back into the bowl. From Miss Maxwell’s expression, she’d had the same thought. It tasted ghastly.
Given the appropriate encouragement, Lindale continued. “Miss Wedbury is to be married.”
Who? When? Where? The questions flew. Lewis listened appreciatively. Lindale knew how to build up his audience. An undiscovered thespian. Or perhaps a playwright, or an author of Gothic tales.
“The lucky man is Captain Neil Fuller of the King’s Guard. Hails from Bristol. Your hometown as well, Miss Spain?”
“Yes,” she said, sparkling with joy. “Oh, I’m so happy for them!”
“Oh dear,” said Lewis’s mother under her breath, glancing sidelong at his father.
“A soldier?” Father glared at Lindale and then at Anna. “She was supposed to marry Gideon. A pity Sir John and his lady took the pledge less seriously than we did.”
“Did it go so far as a pledge, my dear?”
Lewis could not recall when he’d heard his mother question her husband about anything. It was a timid effort, yet he sneered.
“I certainly took it as such. Your mind is so feeble, there’s no telling what you thought.”
Lindale lifted one sardonic eyebrow at Lewis. Mother stared down at that bowl of dreadful soup and clasped a hand around her necklace.
“Take this slop away,” demanded Mr. Aubrey. One thing Lewis could agree with.
There followed some general discussion of Lewis and Anna’s wedding plans, and then Anna asked Miss Maxwell about her orphans.
The lady replied hesitantly at first, but with further encouragement from Anna and a question from Lewis, she spoke more freely, even eloquently. Lindale, indifferent at first, was coaxed out of his boredom and leaned forward, his gaze fastened on her. Finally, he made a comment of his own.
“You’re passionate about this, Miss Maxwell.”
She flushed a little as she stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I am. Is there anything wrong with that?”
He threw up his hands. “Heavens no. Did I imply there was?”
“What are your fine passions, Mr. Lindale? Drinking, gaming, and women, no doubt, like all your sort. You might run a dozen orphans down in the street and never even—”
Her jaw snapped shut and she seemed to engage in some sort of battle with herself. What in hell’s name was the woman thinking? Though she had always been plainspoken, Lewis had never seen her rude. But neither had he known she supported orphans until Anna told him, or heard her eloquence on any subject at all. They’d been neighbors forever, only five years apart in age, yet he hardly knew her.
When she spoke again, her voice was taut as a stretched wire. “My apologies. I’ve been boring you all far too long.”
Anna protested, but Miss Maxwell shook her head and said no more.
The front door slammed and footsteps hurried across the hall. Father rose. “That’ll be Gideon. I’ll bring him in to greet everyone.”
A thunderous clash of metal on marble made everyone jump. Already on his feet, Father reached the doorway first. Lewis followed, the butler behind him.
The curses began. Oh yes, it was Gideon.
“Shut your mouth,” Father hissed. “We have guests.”
“Your guests can go to hell. Why the devil do you keep that brainless pile of armor blocking the stairs? Never any goddamned knights in this family, though that milksop brother of mine fancies himself the soul of chivalry. Is he in the dining room, by chance?” He aimed for the doorway. “Yes, I see you, you hypocritical zero.”
He shoved Lewis into the room and stood blocking the doorway, their father hidden behind him in the hall. “Shall I tell Mama and Papa, Little Lew? Who else is here? Ah, Lindale the shit-faced. Ready to answer your knight’s call, I see. And dear Elaine. Have I shocked you yet, you frigid bitch?”
“That’s enough!” Lewis stepped forward to push him back into the hall. But Gideon brought his hands up between them and threw Lewis’s arms wide. He followed with a mighty sweep that knocked Lewis against the open door. Anna leaped to her feet but Lindale pressed her down with a hand on her shoulder.
“Shall I tell them, Lewis? Tell them how you mucked up my marriage plans? I never told anyone about Anna the Fair, but you had to spill your guts t
o the cursed Wedburys. Cassie’s mine. What right does that pretty soldier have to see what’s under her—”
Ooof! Lewis tackled him with Lindale in support. The three of them bounced off the doorjamb, loosening their grip. Gideon freed himself and straightened his coat. “Break it off, you jackasses. I’m done.”
He turned to go. Finding his father in his path, he jabbed an elbow into his chest. “Out of my way, old man.” He stalked away and took the stairs two at a time.
Father huddled on the floor, struggling to recover his breath. His hair and clothing askew, he looked a wreck. Lewis spared him not another thought.
Mother sat in hysterics, Anna and Miss Maxwell hanging over her as she too fought for breath. Lindale stood watching them, a glass of brandy in each hand. The butler posed beside him wringing his hands. Useless.
“Call her maid,” Lewis ordered. “And Miss Spain’s too.”
Lewis took one glass from Lindale and carried it to the table. The brandy brought some color to his mother’s cheeks and her maid took her off to her room.
Outside, Lewis handed Anna and Putnam into the carriage for the freezing drive back to the vicarage. Before climbing up after them, he watched Miss Maxwell rebuff Lindale’s assistance into her own vehicle. “I’ve a footman for that. I hardly think I need you.”
Lindale stood there as her carriage rattled off. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” he muttered.
Lewis gave him a clap on the shoulder. “Those things she said tonight… She’s not usually like that. Don’t let it bother you.”
After Doris fell asleep at her breast that night, Anna sent Putnam to bed. When she was alone, she reached under her bed for the leather case she had carried for Lewis the other day. She had never seen an artist’s portfolio, but as soon as he’d said his drawing was at the vicarage, she knew this was it.
Was it wrong that she should open it without his knowledge? Perhaps. But he’d shown no hesitation when she’d asked to see the drawing his mother mentioned, and she could not wait another minute. Gideon had scared her tonight, out of control, ruthless. What if he attacked Lewis when he returned to the house? What if he…
She could hardly finish the thought, yet she could not erase it. She’d begged Lewis to stay at the inn tonight, but he’d laughed at her fears as he kissed her goodnight, the horses waiting in the street. “I’ll be careful, sweetheart.”
Slowly, she untied the ribbons that fastened the sides and then lifted the top a few inches. The smell of leather wafted out, leather and parchment and lead. She opened it wide.
She saw herself, only different. The Anna on paper was beautiful, happy, free. Her hair fell loose about her shoulders, though Lewis had never seen it that way. When had he drawn it? Surely not since he’d found her in Leeds; he could not possibly have managed such an expression. His imagination had created the transcendent, angelic girl on the page.
Carefully, she lifted it and laid it face down on the lid.
Another Anna lay underneath, but this one she recognized. A profile, watching the rain run down the windowpane. London, after Gideon.
And another. Dismay, heartbreak. Yes, she knew that Anna too.
Another stranger, making her gasp. Sultry eyes and parted lips, a tousled lock of hair fallen across one eye. She bit her cheek and picked up the next one.
There were many more. Green Park. Dancing with some shadowy gentleman. Flirting with a fan. Smiles genuine and artificial. Some were quick sketches, several to a page, while some he had labored over, shaded, fleshed out. Some were delicate, some furious jagged scrawls pressed deep into the parchment so the lines showed as raised patterns on the reverse side. Some innocent, some that made her heart pound. Another sultry one but with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, his hand at her jaw, his thumb caressing the corner of her mouth… She hoped the hand was his. Some of the drawings brought her joy and some brought pain, just as they must have done for him. She felt him in every line, his tenderness and his passion.
Dear God, how long had he wanted her? How long had he loved her?
She drew a deep, shaky breath. Was there nothing but Anna?
No, there were others. London. Cassie, Jack, and every member of the Redfern family but Barbara. Other people she didn’t know. Broad landscapes of the moors and tiny, detailed flowers. Horses and dogs and hares and sheep. She smiled at one of a tiny lamb nursing from its mother, surrounded by grass and wildflowers. Amazing the feelings he could evoke with only black lead and white paper.
She put it all away very neatly and hid it at the back of her wardrobe. God forbid anyone else should see what she had seen.
She was still awake when Putnam brought the baby for her night feeding, three hours later.
Chapter 46
Lewis came the next morning while she was nursing Doris. Putnam would have made him wait, but Anna had to be sure he’d suffered no injury.
He grinned at the sight of her covered from chin to toe and gave her a long, wonderful kiss. Cupping his cheek in her free hand to keep him close, she inspected him for damage. There was none.
“You had no trouble with Gideon?” she asked.
“No trouble at all, my dear. I was cautious when I got home, as I promised you. Checked for all his old tricks. Then I went along to his room and he was gone. Packed in a hurry so he wasn’t very thorough, but he’s gone.”
When Putnam had her back turned, he folded down the corner of the blanket to see the baby. Doris latched on harder and rolled her eyes at him in annoyance at the interruption. He laughed, soft and sweet. “All right, little one, I’ll leave you to your important business.”
With sudden, urgent anxiety Anna said, “She won’t change, will she? It would be dismaying if she looked like Gideon.”
“No, she’s like you. Like an angel.”
Like an angel. That was his drawing, the one on top. She thought of all the others and her stomach churned. I’ll have to tell him I peeked.
When he left a little later, he carried her note of congratulation to Cassie. An hour later, Cassie herself arrived, glowing in one her prettiest walking dresses. The modiste was there too for the final fitting of Anna’s wedding gown.
“I can only stay a minute, Neil’s downstairs waiting for me, but… Oh, Anna, is that your gown for the wedding? It is perfect! What a ravishing shade of blue! Or is it green? It’s lovely with your hair. All those little pintucks, and the velvet trimmings… Madame Gervaise, you’ve outdone yourself.” She leaned close and murmured, “Has Lewis seen it yet?”
Anna shook her head. “No. It’s a secret.”
Cassie nodded once, decisively. “As it should be. Men like to keep secrets, we should have some too.”
“Tell me about your plans, Cassie.”
“We haven’t any, not yet. But I’ll come back later, or tomorrow, and we can talk woman stuff. On Thursday, Mama and I will be here early to help you dress. The day after tomorrow, Anna, can you believe it? I must run!”
Men like to keep secrets. That portfolio was one that Lewis kept well hidden. Would he be dreadfully upset?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The modiste had altered and refurbished several of Anna’s old gowns, so there were all those to inspect. She’d also brought a shift specially made to conform to the wide neckline of the wedding gown.
“It shows off your beautiful shoulders and collarbones, mademoiselle,” said Madame Gervaise. Not “mademoiselle” much longer.
Gloves and stockings followed, and shoes that matched the trim of the gown, a teal so dark it appeared almost black. These items Anna was expecting, though holding them still brought a tremulous thrill.
Then came a silk nightdress in soft blue, so gossamer it revealed more than it hid, with a dressing gown in a darker shade. It would never keep her warm, but did a reasonable job of covering her.
“This isn’t mine,” Anna told madame.
“Monsieur Aubrey ordered it, mademoiselle. He has excellent taste.” Putnam looked appalled.
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But Mrs. Redfern patted Anna’s blushing cheek and sighed. “Just open the dressing gown a couple of inches and let him imagine the rest. Soon enough it will all come off and you won’t care anymore.”
Lewis and Mr. Lindale ate supper at the vicarage, and then Mr. Lindale returned to the inn. But Lewis came upstairs with her, his eyes bright and full of life. Such a change from a few short weeks ago! While Putnam came in and out, organizing the new things, they sat and talked of the day, the wedding, of this and that. Anna was half asleep when he lifted her legs aside and jumped up.
“Where is my portfolio? I want to show you that drawing Mother mentioned yesterday.”
Anna rose slowly, wide awake now. “It’s…in the wardrobe.” Chewing on her cheek, she touched her fingers to the side table to keep herself steady.
He pulled open the doors, pushed aside her gowns and found it at the back, pulled it out and headed for the bed. “I’m pleased with it. Don’t know that it’s worth framing, but I hope you like it.”
“Oh, I do! I mean… I saw it. I… I looked at them.”
He stood still, staring at her, his eyes deep and dark. The lids fluttered a little, then his gaze dropped to the portfolio in his hands. He seemed so young, so vulnerable—Little Lew facing his brother’s ridicule, his parents’ disdain. She would never know all that he had suffered, before her and because of her, but she knew how deeply it had cut him. Because of the drawings.
She didn’t go near him. “I love the angel—that’s the one your mother saw? I love them all, even the ones that distress me.” He raised his gaze to hers. She took one half-step forward.
“They’re part of you, Lewis, and there’s a piece of you in each one of them—more than there is of me, I think. And it seems I love every piece of you. The boy you were before I ever knew you, and the man you’ve become. Oh, I saw your honor from the start, how you put everyone else’s cares before your own. Your gentleness too—I think the first thing I loved about you was your voice, soothing your horses at Green Park that day.”