“Something quietly elegant. The apricot silk.”
Anne nodded. “Thank you, Sarah. You always know just the thing. And what will you be wearing?”
“Surely I am not invited?”
“Not formally, because Elspeth was unaware that you are here with me. But a respectable young lady doesn’t go anywhere without a companion. And besides, you are also my friend and I want you to meet Elspeth. I’ll send her a note telling her you are coming. You must wear the lilac wool. It makes your eyes look violet.”
Sarah blushed. “You were very generous with my own wardrobe, Anne.”
“Nonsense. We must both look our best.”
It was worth the hours of standing still while the dressmaker had tucked and hemmed, thought Anne when she saw the look of approval in Lord Faringdon’s eyes as Elspeth introduced them.
“I would like you to meet my dear friend, Anne Heriot, Charles.”
“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Heriot.”
“And I you, my lord.”
“And this is Val, Anne.”
The words might have been simple, but the pride and love in Elspeth’s voice brought home to Anne, as Sarah’s words had not, just what she would be missing in a marriage of convenience. But Elspeth was lucky. Most marriages were business arrangements, she reminded herself as she smiled at Valentine Aston.
“I have heard a lot about you, Miss Heriot. I understand you made Miss Page’s Academy more bearable for Elspeth.”
“As she did for me, Mr. Aston.”
“Please call me Val.”
“Then you must call me Anne.” Oh, dear, she thought wryly as she stole a glance at Val Aston’s hawk-like profile, I do hope none of my candidates is quite so good-looking or I will be hard-pressed to remain rational. She could well understand why Elspeth had overlooked the circumstances of her husband’s birth.
“How long will you be in London?” Lord Faringdon asked.
“Six weeks or so,” Anne replied. “I don’t want to risk icy weather on my journey home,” she added.
“We must see that you enjoy yourself while you are here. Elspeth was very happy to hear you had arrived,” Val told her warmly. “The social whirl is rather foreign to both of us.”
“Just where in Yorkshire are you from, Anne?” asked Charles.
“Heriot Hall, is just on the outskirts of Wetherby.”
“Why, that isn’t very far from us, is it, Val?” Elspeth asked.
“Perhaps fifteen or twenty miles. No more than a day’s ride.”
Elspeth turned to Anne. “I don’t think I told you, Anne, but Val will be taking over one of his father’s estates. We hope to be there by the beginning of December. I never realized that we would be neighbors.”
“For a while, at least,” said Anne with an answering smile.
“So you are still determined to buy yourself a husband?”
“Elspeth!” chided Val. He turned to Anne with an apologetic smile. “You must forgive her outspokenness. If you had ever met my father-in-law, Major Gordon, you would know where it came from.”
Anne laughed. “Tha must know it is not only the Scots who are plainspoken. In Yorkshire we don’t believe in gilding over plain metal. We all know that I am here to find a husband.”
“I gather, then, that this Little Season is to be given over to reconnaissance work,” Charles commented dryly. “Valentine might be able to help with that.”
“I already have a few eligible suitors picked out, and I will appreciate any advice you have for me as I get to know them,” Anne said matter-of-factly.
Sarah, who had been trying to make herself invisible, as she believed a good companion should, said without thinking, “Oh, Anne, you are incorrigible!” with a despairing sigh.
“But we are all friends here, Miss Wheeler,” said Charles.
“Oh, it is not so much Anne’s plain-speaking I mind, my lord. And Mrs. Aston opened the subject, after all. It is her willingness to settle for a business arrangement rather than… But I am speaking out of turn,” said Sarah, feeling terribly uncomfortable. It was one thing to speak frankly with Anne, who made it so easy to forget they were employer and employee. It was quite another to speak as an equal in a social setting, no matter that these were Anne’s friends.
“So you believe in romance, do you, Miss Wheeler?”
“I am not a Marianne Dashwood, if that is what you mean, my lord,” Sarah replied, thinking that she might as well be hung for a sheep as well as a lamb. “ ‘I know how full of briars is this working-day world,’ ” she added.
“And that ‘men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love’?” Charles counter-quoted.
Sarah smiled. “Yes, I know one does not die from love. But I do think it should play a part in marriage.”
“I would have to agree with you, Miss Wheeler,” Lord Faringdon said approvingly.
“Love and affection are luxuries,” Anne said flatly. “It would be lovely to have them, but they are not necessities.”
“I can see you are determined, Anne,” said Val. “But we will do our best to guide you to someone with whom there would be some possibility of affection.”
“And I would be happy with that,” Anne replied.
* * * *
Later in the evening, after their guests had left, the Astons and Lord Faringdon shared a glass of port in the parlor.
“What did you think of Anne, Val?” Elspeth asked.
“I can understand why you two became fast friends. She is as refreshingly blunt as you, my dear wife!”
“And you, Charles?”
“I would have to agree with Val. She is a very bright, attractive, and down-to-earth young woman.”
“By ‘down-to-earth,’ I hope you do not mean vulgar, Charles,” Elspeth said defensively.
“Not at all. ‘Gilding plain metal’ would be vulgar,” the earl said with a smile. “Anne Heriot is very comfortable with who she is and very realistic about her situation. I admire her, but whether she was a young lady of the ton or a farmer’s daughter, I would still wish her some affection in marriage.”
“It is not impossible that it can develop,” Val interjected. “After all, you came to love Helen very much, Charles,” he added.
“I did. But Anne Heriot will be starting with a greater disadvantage, for she is the one taking the initiative. It is unusual for a woman to do that. She will hold the purse strings and therefore some power in her marriage. She will not be the one who is vulnerable. And one must allow oneself to be vulnerable if one is to find love…or even everyday affection. I think Miss Wheeler knows that better than her employer.”
* * * *
Elspeth had decided the best way to introduce Anne to Society would be to invite a select group of friends to a musical evening. “There will be a supper beforehand for some of our intimates,” she told Anne. “That way, you can get to know a few influential people who may then invite you to their own entertainments.”
“You are sure they will be willing to include me, Elspeth?”
“I assure you, Anne, with the earl of Faringdon’s sponsorship, you will be welcome anywhere…” Elspeth hesitated. “Well, perhaps not to Almack’s, but then, I don’t expect to receive a voucher either! I hope you don’t mind?” she added apologetically.
“Mind? You are all very kind to be doing this much for me. And from what I hear of Almack’s, it is too dull for us anyway!”
* * * *
There were to be twelve at the Astons’ dinner, with another twenty invited for the music afterward. The duke and duchess of Hairston, old friends of Charles’s, were the first to arrive, with their oldest daughter, and then the Viscount Forbes and his new wife. Anne and Sarah were shown into the drawing room next, and Elspeth was just finishing up the introductions when there was a stir at the door. All eyes were turned to the newcomers, one a solidly good-looking young officer in uniform and the other a tall, dark man dressed all in black. Anne’s eyes slid over t
he lieutenant, for although he was a good-looking young man, there was nothing in his broad face and open countenance to spark her interest. There was something in the stance of his elegant companion, however, that held her attention. He stood there as though he expected all eyes to be on him, a fact that annoyed her. At the same time, she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. His long brown face with its melancholy look reminded her of a painting of a Spanish saint. Then, as Val approached with an outstretched hand, the stranger’s face was transformed. His smile was utterly charming, and his face went from looking ascetic to faunlike in an instant. It was rather„ disturbing, Anne decided, as she felt an involuntary shiver.
Val brought the two men over. “This is Elspeth’s old school friend, Miss Anne Heriot. Miss Heriot, may I present Lieutenant Brook and Jack Belden, Viscount Aldborough.”
Anne could have sworn she saw a look of recognition in Lord Aldborough’s eyes, though he gave her only a polite hello. So he may already have heard of her, she speculated as she watched Val introduce the two around. She had not yet mentioned her three candidates to Elspeth, so there was no reason to suspect the Astons of inviting him for her. It seemed that Val and he were old comrades from the Peninsula, so it was perfectly understandable that Jack Belden should be here.
Anne was seated between the duke and the lieutenant at dinner and facing Lord Aldborough, who spent the whole meal, as far as she could tell, regaling the ladies on either side of him with his exploits in the mountains of Spain. After dinner, when the rest of the guests arrived, she couldn’t help noticing that at least, three of the young ladies in the room made every attempt to draw him away from Lord Forbes’s side.
As the concert began, Anne told herself that if Lord Aldborough had not already been at the bottom of her list, he would have fallen there tonight, for there was nothing she despised more than a man who was so obviously aware of his own effect on the ladies, particularly young, susceptible ones like Lady Clarise, the Hairstons’ daughter. Thank God, she was neither that young nor that susceptible, she congratulated herself. If Lord Aldborough was looking to restore his fortune through her, then he was going to be sadly disappointed.
* * * *
Jack was very aware of Anne Heriot the whole evening, She was not at all what he’d expected, although exactly what that was he couldn’t have said. He supposed he thought that the daughter of a tradesman would be ignorant, loud, and overdressed. He might also have expected her to seek out his company, once she discovered who he was, given what he knew from his solicitor. Instead, she had ignored him.
She appeared to be one of the most self-possessed women he had ever met. He had watched her during supper. She had given her dinner companions equal attention and seemed not at all overawed by the fact that one of them was a most prominent nobleman.
It had been easy to observe her and at the same time appear to attend only to the duke’s daughter. Charming young ladies was like breathing for him—he did it utterly unconsciously. It would have been harder for him not to do it, which was one reason he did not consider himself a rake. He never set out to win a young woman’s affection. It just seemed to happen.
Yet now there was someone he needed desperately to attract, and he wasn’t at all sure how to do it. He could only hope that whatever drew the young women to him would draw Miss Heriot. Surely even a self-possessed young woman would have some vulnerability to his supposedly infallible charm, he told himself ironically.
He had an odd sinking feeling about the whole enterprise, however, which puzzled him, for it seemed to come not from fear of defeat but fear of success. Yet what was there to be apprehensive about? Miss Anne Heriot was more than he could have hoped for. She was a friend of Elspeth’s, and that meant a great deal, for Elspeth was one of the most sensible people he knew She was very well educated and very attractive, in a “nut-brown maid” sort of way.
It was her air of being in charge of herself and the situation that bothered him. If he was able to win her, there would be no doubt about who was in control. Jack sighed. Well, why shouldn’t she be? It was, after all, her fortune that could save his estate. He had no right to expect more from a marriage. Like love. In his situation, he would not be making a love match.
He had never thought much about love. Oh, he had basked in adoration of the young women over the years and had never lacked for bedmates, English or Spanish. But infatuation wasn’t love. The young ladies did not love the real Jack Belden; they loved some exotic creature that they imagined he was.
Anne Heriot did not look like she had a romantic bone in her body, which, he supposed, was a point in her favor. For if she chose Jack Belden, she would be choosing him for his title, which was at least something real!
Chapter Three
Elspeth had been right, thought Anne, as she sat at the breakfast table a few days later going through the modest stack of invitations. She was probably not being included in the most fashionable parties, but she was sure to meet all three men, either at the duke of Hairston’s ball or the Perrons’ supper dance. She sighed happily, which caused Sarah to look up from her book.
“Is anything wrong, Anne?”
“No, that was a sigh of satisfaction, Sarah. Thanks to Elspeth, we will be very busy for the next few weeks.”
Anne went back to opening her invitations, and after a few minutes, it was Sarah who gave a sigh as she closed her novel.
“A sad ending?”
“No, a happy one,” her companion told her with a smile. “But now I must scour the library for a new read. And your father’s library offers very little for a woman’s taste.”
“You don’t need to make do, Sarah. We will take ourselves to Hatchard’s this very morning.”
An hour later, the young women were walking down Bond Street.
“I can never get used to all this chaos,” Sarah said, as the sounds of the traffic and street vendors assailed her ears.
“I find it exciting,” Anne confessed. “Though I admit I would not want to live in London year ‘round.”
Just as they turned the corner, Sarah almost stumbled over a blind beggar. The man sitting there was dressed in a threadbare uniform jacket. He shook his tin cup as he heard them, calling out, “A penny for a poor soldier.” Sarah and Anne opened their reticules at the same time, and Sarah dropped in two pennies, while Anne gave him a shilling. Staring straight ahead, the beggar shook his cup next to his ear and said, “Thank you, ladies,” with a smile.
“It’s the least we can do for one of our veterans. But how did you know we were women?” Anne asked in a sharper tone.
“Yer lovely lavender water, ma’am. Sure, and it perfumes the street. And doesn’t the street need it,” he added with a grin.
“Come, Sarah. We wish you well, Private.”
“Private? And didn’t I make sergeant just before Talavera?”
Anne apologized, “I am sorry, Sergeant, but I didn’t notice your stripes.”
“Ye can’t see what’s not there, ma’am. I sold ‘em weeks ago.”
“And that is a sad commentary on the state of our country, Sarah,” said Anne as they crossed the street. “A man gives his sight for his country and must then give up his insignia as well. I think it disgraceful.”
“And they are everywhere,” nodded Sarah in agreement.
* * * *
It was lovely to lose oneself among the book tables, thought Anne, feeling guilty at how easy it was to shut out the reality of abandoned war veterans as she paged through a book on modern methods of sheep farming. Sarah had wandered to the table where the latest romances were stacked and had already chosen one by the time Anne reached her side. “I have never read Miss Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Anne. I am looking forward to it.”
“Choose a second book, Sarah, for soon we will be too busy to shop for such practical pleasures. We will be spending all our time at the Pantheon bazaar!”
“A volume of poetry, then,” said Sarah with a gratef
ul glance at Anne, for she knew Anne would respect her independence enough to let her purchase the Austen herself, but would be generous enough to pay for the second book.
They were just out the door, carrying their wrapped parcels, when Sarah gasped. “My God, that dray is out of control, and the sweeping boy is right in his way!”
It seemed to Anne that time stopped for a split second. She saw the boy, his back to the wagon, she saw the left front hoof of the draft horse lifting…and then it all moved faster than it could have. All she could hear was the clatter of the wagon and the pounding of hooves as she ran toward the boy. She had almost reached him when she felt herself hit and was knocked to the sidewalk. As she lay dazed in the gutter, all she could think was, But the horse hadn’t quite reached us. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings and sort out the voices raining over her.
“My God, did you see that?”
“Anne, Anne, are you all right?”
And the one closest to her, whispering into her ear, “That was as brave a deed as ever I’ve seen in any battle, ma’am. Let me help ye up. I think ye’re only scratched and not harmed.”
Anne opened her eyes, and the world spun around for a few minutes and then slowly settled. Bending over her was the blind soldier. How had he gotten across the street? And how could she only be scratched if the horse and wagon had hit her? And the boy? “The boy!” she cried.
“Fine and dandy, miss. I’m just sorry I had to barrel into ye.”
Anne began to pull herself up. “Stay still, Anne. Surely she should stay still, Sergeant?” Sarah asked anxiously.
“No, no, I am fine.” And she was, miraculously, though she suspected she’d have a few bruises and be very stiff the next morning. She grabbed the sergeant’s outstretched hands and let him pull her up.
“So it was you who hit me and not the wagon,” she asked, still a little confused.
“Aye, ma’am.”
“Thank you for saving both our lives. Where is the boy?” she asked, looking around.
“Run off, the ungrateful little bug…er…brat, ma’am. His broom got broke in the fall, and I think he’s more scared of his master than he was of that horse.”
Jack of Hearts Page 3