After a moment, Anne turned her head to look at him, seeming reluctant to pull her gaze from the darkened streets outside. She was smiling, however, and he thought that in the quality of that smile he could see the effects of the wine she had consumed. It was relaxed, perhaps even contemplative.
Had she been thinking about Doyle Travener as she gazed out the window? His flattering attentions throughout the evening could be cause for contemplation, Ian supposed. And cause enough to turn the head of someone as impressionable as Anne.
"Truthfully, far more than I had expected to," she said. "Everyone was very kind. Did you enjoy your evening? It looked as if you were debating some very serious topics with Lady Laud."
Did that mean she had watched him? Ian wondered. As he had watched her? For some reason, all his self-strictures to the contrary, Ian felt a sense of satisfaction that she had.
"Not so, I assure you," he said. "One has an obligation not to bore one's dinner partner, after all. Lady Laud and I were usually discussing the next course and the possibilities it might offer for our enjoyment."
Anne laughed. "I wish you would tell Elizabeth that. She believes ladies must profess to have no interest in what they are served at parties and to display no appetite. Do you suppose we can send to the kitchens for something to eat when we get home?"
"We shall forage for it instead, if you like. I confess to being out of practice, but then Dare's kitchens are probably better stocked than the whole of Portugal."
She laughed again, and hearing her laughter, some part of the weight that had settled over Ian's heart when he had realized what a difficult task he had set for himself lifted.
"What about you and Mr. Travener?" he asked. For some reason, he didn't seem to be able to leave the topic alone, as painful as it would be to hear her opinion of another man. "Were the subjects you debated equally weighty?"
"Mr. Travener doesn't strike me as being given to weighty subjects," Anne said. "I heard all about his prime goers and his tailor. Some praise of and complaints about his valet's skills. Oh, and there was mention of a boot-blacking recipe. I should have written it down for you. My apologies."
"I have Dare's. It calls for champagne."
"How decadent. Do you use it?"
"No, but I'm sure Mr. Travener would," Ian said, laughing.
"He asked for permission to call on me."
Ian hadn't been expecting the request, but he should have been. And he supposed he should also become accustomed to the stab of jealousy it had engendered.
Anne was no longer smiling, her eyes on his face. In the darkness, he couldn't read what was in them.
"Did you give it to him?"
"I told him he must ask you. Wasn't that right?"
"Exactly what you should have done. It's one of my responsibilities. Of course, you should have some say in those decisions, provided the gentleman in question is a gentleman."
"How will you know whether they are or not?"
"English society is a very small, enclosed world. Everyone knows everyone else. Actually, half of us are related to the other half. The ones I don't know, Dare will. Or if he doesn't, someone of my acquaintance will."
"And if no one does?" she asked with a smile.
"That in itself would be strong grounds for suspicion that the person isn't who or what he claims to be."
"I see," Anne said, seeming to consider the information. "So will you give Mr. Travener permission to call?"
"Do you want me to?"
Ian waited for her answer with a sense of dread. And he knew this was only the first of what would be many such requests. He must find some way to reconcile his growing feelings for Anne Darlington with the reality of their situation.
"He's very good company," she said. "Especially after a glass of wine." The last was added with a gleam in her eyes.
"Enough wine, and anyone may seem good company. Do I take that as an affirmative?"
"Do you approve of him? You seem...evasive."
"I know nothing to his detriment," Ian said carefully. "The fact that Lady Laud invited him gives him credibility."
"Then yes, I think I should like you to give him permission to call. If he does apply to you for it. He may simply have been being kind. I confessed to him how nervous I was."
"I doubt Travener's attentions have much to do with kindness. You are a very beautiful woman, Anne. And especially beautiful tonight. Your honesty in confiding that you were nervous was undoubtedly intriguing. I shouldn't be too honest, however. The ton has rather strict standards of behavior. It won't do to be seen as being too daring or too different."
"Unless you are very different," she said. "Be eccentric to the extreme, and you may become the mode."
"Generally you'll find those eccentrics have other advantages that overshadow their uniqueness, causing people to look beyond it."
"I know. Birth and a great deal of money."
"Elizabeth has taught you well."
"She tried, but I think that much would be obvious, even if she hadn't. Some people can get away with things others would be ostracized for."
"The trick is in knowing whether you can get away with them or not," he suggested, softening that truth with a smile.
"And I couldn't," she said flatly. "At least your lectures are more subtle than Elizabeth's."
"Contrary to what my brother will tell you, I never lecture."
"Your lessons, if you prefer. I have delivered enough of those, usually couched as yours in terms of suggestions, stories, or analogies, to recognize one when I hear it."
"Did you enjoy teaching?"
"I wasn't a teacher. Not yet, at any rate. I heard lessons and tutored the younger girls, and yes, I enjoyed it very much."
"And you miss it," he said, recognizing that from her voice.
Fenton School was a different world from the one she had entered under his guardianship. She had abruptly been taken away from everything she had ever known and then, in only a few short weeks, thrust into an alien and rather frightening environment.
And he had been the instrument of that change, even if Mrs. Kemp had been the instigator. He wondered if either of them had ever stopped to consider whether or not Anne really wanted to make that transition.
"I miss the girls," she said. "It seems I have a strongly maternal nature. I had thought..."
The words trailed. Although Ian waited, his eyes on her face, which was turned down as she watched her fingers worry the kid gloves she had removed, she didn't finish the sentence.
"I really would like to know," he said softly.
Her eyes came up, looking distant, even a little puzzled, as if she had forgotten what they'd been talking about.
"Your maternal nature," he prodded, smiling at her.
"I had thought I should have to satisfy it by caring for the poor, orphaned Sally Eddingtons of the world."
Although he didn't recognize the name, he understood the implication. Apparently Anne had once thought to devote her life to the girls at Fenton School, and now...
"And now?" he questioned aloud, realizing that he was dreading her response so much because he knew what it would be.
She hesitated, drawing a deep breath before she said, "I wonder if perhaps I won't."
Because she understood for the first time that she could have a husband and children of her own? That realization had no doubt come about because a very eligible gentleman had paid her a great deal of flattering attention. Suddenly Ian remembered Elizabeth's warning. The first rogue who flirts with Anne is liable to turn her head and steal her heart.
"Not if you find someone whom you wish to marry," he said. Thankfully, his voice didn't reveal his tangled emotions.
"And that is, after all, the purpose of all this," Anne said. "The marriage mart. That's what Elizabeth calls it. As if husbands and wives are bought and sold."
Which wasn't far from the truth. It wasn't so blatant as that, but most marriages within the ton had far more to do with settlements and suitability than w
ith love. It was well and good for him and Elizabeth to be cynical enough to understand that. He wasn't sure that cynicism was appropriate for someone like Anne. Someone who was embarking on her first Season.
"It doesn't have to be that way," he said. "There are love matches within the ton. Elizabeth and Dare's is one. Not all marriages depend on negotiations and financial agreements."
"But most do," she said, holding his eyes.
Although it hadn't really been phrased as a question, he answered it. "Among our class, yes."
"Is that why you never married?"
Which made it sound as if she thought he had missed his chance. And he had, of course. For a few moments, in thinking about Anne's marriage, it seemed he had forgotten his reality.
"I never found a woman with whom I wished to spend the rest of my life."
The words echoed with painful irony in his head. That might have been true a month ago, but he knew it no longer was.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because I was too busy doing other things, I suppose. University. The army."
He expected her to ask why he hadn't found someone in the time since he'd been home from Iberia. When she didn't, he realized, a little amused, that he had been right. She considered him long past falling in love.
"Do you regret that?" she asked instead.
"The army or that I never married?"
"Both, I suppose. They seem to go hand in hand."
And they did, far more than she could possibly know.
"I don't regret joining the army. The cause was just, and I felt an obligation to serve my country."
"No matter the cost," she said softly.
No matter the cost. Until the last few weeks, during which Anne Darlington had lived in his home, Ian had not regretted any aspect of his life. Not even that, except in a distant, almost academic way. Now, however—
"Ian?" she questioned.
He looked up again and into her eyes, knowing that even if he did have regrets, they had come far too late. Expressing them would do no more good than revealing any of the other things he had kept to himself all these months.
"I have nothing to regret," he said, and hoped he would be the only one who would ever know how great a lie that was.
Chapter Seven
"And so, I had hoped to be allowed to call on Miss Darlington, with your kind permission, of course." Doyle Travener let the sentence trail, and his blue eyes waited anxiously.
Ian had been unable to think of a single reason to refuse this request, although he had spent most of a relatively sleepless night trying to come up with one. As far as he could ascertain, other than the fact that Travener was both handsome and charming, there was no legitimate reason not to give him permission to court Anne. As much as he might like to turn down the ex-lieutenant's request on the grounds of his personal jealousy, he could not in all honor do so, especially since Anne seemed to enjoy Travener's company.
Ian would have to investigate his background and financial status, of course, especially if Anne seemed to be developing a tendre for him. The fact that his godmother had included him on her guest list, however, even if that had been done on the recommendation of a friend, went a long way in establishing Travener's credentials. No one within the ton would think of making such an endorsement to Lady Laud if he were not acceptable. It simply wasn't done.
"I shall speak to my ward," Ian said finally. "If she's agreeable—" There was a flash of relief in the blue eyes. "As I see you believe she will be," he continued, forcing his lips into a smile that felt stiff and unnatural.
"I'm immensely flattered that Miss Darlington has already indicated she would not be averse to my company."
"I'm sure she won't be then," Ian said.
After his and Anne's discussion on the way home from the dinner party, he was sure of that, damn it. The first of many. This, then, was the kind of purgatory he had opened himself up to by falling in love with his ward.
"I understand from Lady Laud that she will be Miss Darlington's chaperone during the Season. I should be delighted to offer my escort to the ladies on any occasion on which you find yourself unable to accompany them," Travener said gallantly. And then he spoiled it by adding, "Considering the sacrifices you have made on behalf of this nation, Major Sinclair, I feel that is the least I can do."
"You would consider your escort a form of duty, I take it," Ian said, his smile genuine this time.
He couldn't decide if what the young ex-lieutenant had just said was the most blatant flattery or a sincere expression of his patriotism. Perhaps the fact that Travener's own service had been cut short by family crisis had produced a sense of guilt.
Ian could understand if it had, considering his own guilt-ridden response when he had realized he'd survived that ghastly fiasco of Darlington's making, while so many of his friends had not. In his experience, survivors' guilt was a common phenomenon among soldiers.
"If so, sir, a very pleasant duty, I confess," Travener said, his mouth relaxing into an answering grin. "Actually, your ward confided that you had recently been quite unwell, so I thought you might welcome—"
Travener paused uncertainly. Unsure what his eyes had revealed, Ian fought to control the surge of rage that much more personal offer had engendered.
"What I meant to say is that if there is anything I can do to make all this easier for you—" Travener began again, obviously attempting—and failing—to fix his misstep.
"I quite understand what you meant to say, Lieutenant," Ian interrupted. Both the tone and the form of address were those he might have used to a subordinate who had crossed one of the invisible lines of military protocol.
"I meant no offense, sir," Travener said.
"And I took none," Ian lied. He knew that his reaction had far more to do with what he felt for Anne than it did with the awkwardly phrased words Doyle had just stammered.
"Then...I wonder if Miss Darlington is at home, and if I might see her," Travener said, wisely moving away from a topic that seemed fraught with danger. "I had hoped to secure your permission to take her for a ride. I have my carriage outside."
With, no doubt, his "prime goers" hitched to it and ready for a run, Ian thought, remembering Anne's mocking description of Doyle's conversation last night. She hadn't sounded as if she had found either it or the man to be fascinating. And Ian felt an unbecoming, if welcome, satisfaction.
"Even if she isn't free for a drive, I'm sure she would enjoy seeing you again," Ian said. "I'll send for her. She told me that you were very kind to her."
He pushed up from his chair and crossed the room to the door, limping heavily. Last night had been more taxing than he had realized until he had tried to crawl out of bed this morning. Of course, his primary concern during the dinner party had been Anne and not the undeniable strain of that unaccustomed outing. It wasn't until today that he'd realized what a price he would pay for all the standing he had done last night.
After he had dispatched Dare's butler to ask Anne to join them, he turned and found Travener's eyes on him. Ian wondered if his guest had watched that journey to the door, and if so, whether he was about to be treated to more flattery or even worse, to more unwanted sympathy.
Luckily, however, this time Travener held his tongue about Ian's "sacrifices." They spent a few minutes conversing in idle pleasantries about Lady Laud's party before Anne opened the door.
Her morning gown was the color of the sea where the waters are deep and cold. That muted shade of gray-green set off the pale porcelain of her skin and seemed to soften the red in her curls, which had been dressed very simply today.
"Mr. Travener," she said, with a note of what appeared to be genuine delight in her voice. "How very kind of you to call."
Doyle jumped up from his chair and met her halfway across the room. He eagerly took her outstretched hand, bringing it almost to his lips.
"I told you that I should," he said. "If your guardian gave me permission. As he very graciously has, I'm ple
ased to say."
"Indeed you did tell me. Has Mr. Sinclair been sharing boot-blacking recipes with you?" Anne asked. "He has a very good one from his brother, I understand. I told him you might be interested in acquiring it."
When Anne's eyes touched on Ian's, he realized they were sparkling with amusement. It was exactly as if the two of them shared a private joke—a joke at earnest Mr. Travener's expense.
There was no doubt Anne's teasing was deliberate. And no doubt Travener was aware he was being teased, Ian realized, watching the slow rise of pink above Travener's stiff white collar.
"We haven't become quite that well acquainted yet," Ian said, feeling a brief sympathy for Anne's gentleman caller.
She held his eyes for a fraction of a second before she turned back to give Travener a friendly smile, her natural kindness destroying any isolation he might feel. She gently freed her fingers from his grasp, however, and the blush spread upward into the visitor's cheeks.
"Mr. Travener has his carriage outside," Ian said. "I believe he would like to take you for a drive."
"The grays?" Anne asked.
"You remembered," Travener said happily.
"Of course," she said. "I remember everything you told me."
"Then..."
"With your permission," Anne said, looking at Ian.
He wanted to say no. Actually, he had been hoping Anne would say it for him. And yet there was no reason why she should. This was why he had brought her to London—so that she could meet someone exactly like Doyle Travener.
This was part of the responsibility he had accepted when he had agreed to be her guardian. He had known that intellectually, of course, but it did not make the reality of sending Anne off on someone else's arm easier to bear.
"Of course," he said.
She smiled at him before she turned her gaze back to her visitor. "I'm afraid it must be a short drive, Mr. Travener. I'm accompanying Lady Laud to a musicale later this afternoon."
"I shall be grateful for whatever time you can spare."
"I'll get my wrap," Anne said. "Perhaps you can convince Mr. Sinclair to accompany us. A quick turn about the park in this glorious sunshine would do us all good."
Wilson, Gayle Page 9