Jack of Hearts

by Marjorie Farrell

  “And I would love to show it to you,” he said quietly. “Windham has been in my family for more than three hundred years, and each generation of Farrars has only grown more attached to it,” he added with a sweet smile.

  “It must be very hard for you to know it is at risk.”

  “Yes. Yet as much as I love it, I would not marry just anyone to save it, Miss Heriot. I wish you to believe that.” He hesitated and then continued. “I know I am speaking very frankly, but I feel you will not mind.”

  “I welcome it, Lord Richard, being a straightforward Yorkshire lass,” Anne reassured him with a smile.

  “I may need a rich wife, Miss Heriot, but I also want one who can be a friend and companion. I hadn’t really hoped to find a person like that until I met you,” he whispered, and leaning forward, dropped a kiss on her lips.

  His lips were warm, and when he felt her respond, his kiss became warmer as her mouth opened under his. Yet, somehow, at the heart of it, it was a cool kiss, Anne realized when he pulled away. And so, when he took her hand and said, “Miss Heriot, I am hoping…” she raised her hand to stop him. “I am afraid our absence will be noticed, my lord. I think I can guess what you are about to say and hope you will call on me this week?”

  He let go of her hand instantly. “You’re right, Miss Heriot. I should get you back. But I will call on you tomorrow, then?”

  “I will look forward to it.”

  As they walked back, Anne wondered at herself. She had come to this ball intending to get Lord Windham to the point of proposing. He had been about to do just that, yet she had stopped him. The only reason she could come up with, she realized as they reached the ballroom, was that his kiss, given in the most romantic of settings, had not warmed her to the center of her being the way Jack Belden’s very public Christmas kiss had. Well, it didn’t matter; she would have a chance to say “yes” very soon.

  * * * *

  For the next few hours, Anne did not have any time to think, since her dance card had filled early. She was almost relieved, therefore, when the young marquess of Hythe stumbled and spilled half a glass of punch on her dress.

  “Oh, I say, I am terribly sorry, Miss Heriot,” he stammered, his face red with embarrassment.

  “It is all right, my lord. My dress and the punch are almost the same color,” she said with a reassuring smile. “But you will excuse me? I wish to deal with the stain right away.”

  Anne quickly made for the ladies’ retiring room. She had hidden her distress from young Hythe, but the rose silk was one of her favorite gowns, and she hoped a quick sponging would rescue it. She was behind a screen cleaning her skirt when she heard two young ladies come into the outer room.

  “I do not think I can bear it, Maria,” said one, clearly on the verge of tears.

  “But you yourself are about to be betrothed, Julia. I thought you had finally put Richard out of your mind.”

  “I thought I had too, but it became very clear to me tonight that I have been deceiving myself. When I saw him go out into the garden with Miss Heriot…” Lady Julia Lovett gave a little sob.

  Anne had been about to announce her presence when she was frozen in place by the mention of her name.

  “He has to marry someone with money, Julia, you knew that,” her friend said sympathetically.

  “Of course. It is why he had Father break off our engagement and if he has to marry someone in trade, Miss Heriot is better than some of the other young women shopping for husbands. From what I have seen of her, I would like her myself.”

  “You know he doesn’t love her.”

  “Do I?” Lady Julia whispered brokenly. Anne, who had been standing as still as a deer caught in torchlight, told herself to take a breath. Tha must not faint, lass, and be discovered.

  “Don’t cry, Julia,” her companion said helplessly.

  “I’m trying not to, Maria. It is just that the reality of it all hit me tonight. And he hasn’t spoken to me except for polite conversations since last July,” she added despairingly.

  “I am sure he is avoiding you for your own sake, Julia.”

  Lady Julia sighed. “Yes, that would be quite like Richard. I just wish he didn’t have to be so bloody honorable!”

  “Julia!”

  “Oh, no one can hear me, Maria.”

  Anne could hear the rustle of their gowns as they rose. “I must go back out there. If he can be honorable, I suppose I can be too. And I am glad he took Miss Heriot out to the garden. I would have continued pretending that I didn’t care anymore. Now that I know how much I still do, I can never marry Lord Broome.”

  “Don’t make any rash decisions, Julia,” counseled her friend. “Tonight has upset you, but things will look better in the morning.”

  * * * *

  When Anne heard the door close behind them, she let out her breath in one long sigh. She had never heard of any engagement between Windham and Lady Julia. Why had no one told her? She stepped out from behind the screen and sat down on the loveseat. Lord Windham had loved Lady Julia, probably still loved her.

  He was as nice a man as she had believed, Anne thought with painful irony. He’d ended his betrothal to free Lady Julia when he had been ruined by his father’s recklessness. And he had made a complete break of it. Anne knew Lady Julia by sight, of course, but she would never have guessed from Windham’s behavior that he had ever known her intimately, much less been betrothed to her.

  An honorable man. And one she could never marry. She might not be expecting love in her marriage, but she’d be damned if she would enter into a union where the possibility was hopeless from the beginning. It was one thing to take the chance that her husband might not be able to give her his heart, but quite another to marry someone whose heart had already been given to someone else.

  An honorable man! If Lord Richard was such an honorable man, then why hadn’t he spoken of his betrothal, she thought angrily. Had he ever planned to tell her?

  Now, lass, be fair. He could hardly have announced it on your first meeting. Most likely he was planning to tell you tomorrow. Or at least, before the wedding.

  Anne looked down at her dress. The wet spot was dry enough for her to see that the gown was still slightly darker from the claret punch. She sighed. She supposed a lady wouldn’t have tried to save the dress, but gone home immediately. But she was a practical lass from Yorkshire, so of course she had to attempt to rescue it! If she weren’t so damned practical, she would never have overheard a conversation meant for no one’s ears, especially hers. She would have been dreaming of a betrothal-sealing kiss.

  Instead, there she sat, knowing there would be no betrothal. In one short week, it had become clear that if she was to marry this year, it would be Jack Belden or no one!

  When she returned to the ballroom, she sought out Elspeth immediately. “Would you walk me to the cloakroom, Elspeth? My gown is ruined. Please tell Sarah I have gone home, Val.”

  Elspeth gave her husband a puzzled look as Anne slipped her arm into hers and started for the cloakroom.

  “Why didn’t you tell me Windham was betrothed to Lady Julia Lovett last spring?” Anne demanded, her tone at odds with the smile on her face.

  Elspeth stopped and turned to her friend.

  “No, lass, keep on walking. We would not want to attract any attention!”

  “It was almost a year ago, Anne. I had hoped Windham was over his attachment. He has hardly spoken to Lady Julia since.”

  “But his avoiding her could have been because he still felt too much!”

  “I did consider that,” Elspeth confessed. “But I didn’t really think you would choose him anyway, Anne. I had hoped…”

  “I know what you hoped. You hoped I would fall in love with a confirmed rake!”

  “You are being unfair to Val and me, Anne. Jack is no rake, and we would never invite him into our home if he was.”

  “All right, I apologize,” Anne said reluctantly.

  “And until you met his daughte
r, the baron seemed as likely a choice for you. But how did you find out about Lady Julia?”

  “I overheard her talking to a friend. Evidently she was very upset by our tête-à-tête in the garden.”

  “I am so sorry you had to find out in that way,” said Elspeth.

  Anne sighed. “Yes, and I am sorry for jumping on you, Elspeth. Of course, I can never marry Windham now.”

  “But you weren’t looking for a love match, Anne.”

  “No, but neither do I want a marriage where love would have no chance of growing.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Anne gave her a painful smile. “I could go home and hope that someone else is ruined next year. I could marry my cousin…”

  “You would never do that!” protested Elspeth.

  “Or I can tell Joshua Blaine to contact Aldborough’s solicitor and have the contracts drawn up. That should make you happy.”

  “I don’t want you to marry Jack to make me happy, Anne, and you know it. I truly believe he has the potential to make you happy.”

  “I know, and I am being a witch with you, Elspeth,” Anne admitted. “I am not sure what I am going to do, only what I am not going to do: marry either the baron or Lord Windham.”

  * * * *

  When Windham was announced the next morning, Anne had Peters show him into the morning room. He was standing by the window when she came in, and he turned and greeted her with a welcoming smile.

  It was a genuine smile, which gave Anne an unexpected pang of regret. If she hadn’t overheard Lady Julia, she would have been very hopeful about a marriage with the young man in front of her. He was kind and affectionate, and she knew he enjoyed her company. Many a marriage started out with far less. But a simple moment of clumsiness had altered her life irrevocably.

  “Please sit down, Lord Richard,” she said as she settled herself on the sofa.

  “You left the ball early last night, Miss Heriot. I hope it was not because of illness?” The concern in his eyes was as real as his initial pleasure at seeing her.

  “It was only an accident with a glass of punch, my lord.”

  Windham cleared his throat. “Miss Heriot, I think you know what I am here for. I hold you in the highest esteem and am hoping you will agree to become my wife. I know this marriage would benefit both of us in some, er, practical ways, but I also believe a potential for lasting affection is present.”

  “I believe you’re right, my lord. Our liking for one another might have developed into affection. But not, I think, into love.”

  Windham’s face looked surprised. “I had not thought that was something you expected from marriage, Miss Heriot.”

  “Isn’t it something that you would be looking for, my lord?”

  “No, I would not be,” he told her reassuringly.

  “Yet I believe you had found it in your previous betrothal.”

  Windham’s face colored.

  “You see, before I left the ball last night, I chanced to overhear a conversation that revealed the fact you had planned to marry a woman with whom you shared passion as well as affection.”

  “That is true,” he admitted stiffly. “But it was before my father’s…demise and the subsequent bankruptcy. As an honorable man, I had to release her from the betrothal.”

  “Were you ever going to tell me about Lady Julia, my lord?”

  “I suppose so,” he said slowly. “But it was over almost a year ago, and she is about to be engaged to another.”

  “I think she is not,” Anne said softly.

  For one fleeting moment she could see the joy and relief in his eyes before it faded, and any lingering doubts she may have had about refusing him faded just as quickly.

  “It does not matter,” he told her, “for it is you I wish to marry, Miss Heriot.”

  “Or is it me that you must marry, my lord?” Anne sighed. “Until last night, I did not mind the practical foundation of our union. In fact, like you, I was sure a strong affection had every chance of developing between us. But that was when I thought you were heart-whole. Now that I know your heart is given to another, I am afraid I must refuse you.”

  “I assure you, I have hardly spoken to Lady Julia since breaking off our betrothal.”

  “I know that, my lord,” Anne said kindly. “You are a good man who has done the best he could under difficult circumstances.”

  “I will not demean either of us by begging, Miss Heriot,” Windham told her quietly. “But I assure you, I truly believe we could make a good marriage.”

  “I know you do, my lord. But I believe your love for Lady Julia would always be a barrier to happiness.” Anne stood up, and when Windham rose, she offered her hand. “I regret this, my lord, and I wish you well.”

  “And I you, Miss Heriot,” he responded, his voice strained. He bowed over her hand and was gone.

  * * * *

  Lady Julia Lovett was not the only one who had noticed Anne’s sojourn in the garden with Lord Richard. Over the course of the Season, Jack had become very aware of Anne and whom she talked with and danced with. After his conversation with Helen, he was not really surprised to see that Leighton had sought Anne out only once during the past few nights. He suspected that Lady Eliza was beginning to work on her papa, and if she was as spoiled as Helen thought, she would probably win. At any rate, if he had likened their competition to a horse race, he would have said that Windham had suddenly moved up on the inside rail and was a full length ahead of the baron. He, of course, was still in last place, he told himself with a rueful smile.

  But it was one thing to dismiss oneself with humorous images and quite another to imagine Windham and Anne in the garden. He awoke the next morning in one of the darkest moods he had endured for a long time. Windham had kissed Anne in the garden, Jack had no doubts about it. If he hadn’t proposed last night, then he was probably doing it right now. And he, Jack Belden, despite all his skill at reconnaissance and fighting, was absolutely helpless before this “enemy.”

  He usually dressed for breakfast, but this morning he only tied his dressing gown around him before going down. He sat at the table, looking bleakly at his unopened newspaper and fingering the pile of unopened invitations on the tray next to him. At least one good thing would come out of this, he told himself. He hated the social round, and now that his main reason for attending was gone, he would throw all future invitations into the fire. His solicitor would just have to get busy finding him some Cit’s daughter to marry—and sooner rather than later.

  But, oh, God, how he dreaded his future, and how he hated his helplessness. He had to marry, and the one woman he wanted to marry preferred a blond Adonis to his blue-deviled, long-faced self. And who could blame her? He was useless back in England. The war had given his life meaning. It was a terrible thing to admit, but there it was.

  He got up from the table and began to pace. He would visit Stebbins today and tell him to find a woman—any woman—and engage him to her. And then he would ride out of London tomorrow and not stop until he had outrun his dark mood or ridden off the north coast of Scotland—whichever came first.

  * * * *

  He was about to go upstairs when Val Aston was announced.

  “Good morning, Val. What brings you here today?”

  “I wanted to know if you wished to ride. You left the ball shortly after Miss Heriot, looking as if you were on your way to a funeral. I came to cheer you up.”

  Jack sighed and gave his friend an ironic grin. “I felt like I was going to my own funeral, Val. Although it is only marriage, somehow it feels like the same thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I am going to tell Stebbins to find me the richest man he can and engage me to his daughter! I have to make sure Helen and Lydia are taken care of.”

  Val sat himself down at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee, took a muffin and began to butter it.

  “You look like the proverbial Charlotte, eating bread and butter, Val,” Jac
k told him with plaintive humor. “Don’t I rate any sympathy as a disappointed lover?”

  “The thing is, Jack, I am not so sure you are going to be disappointed,” Val said casually, seemingly intent on evenly spreading cold butter without crumbling his muffin.

  “Oh, I saw Anne Heriot and Windham going off into the garden. If he didn’t propose last night, he will be doing it soon and she’ll accept him. My heart is broken and all you care about is your damned muffin!” Jack spoke humorously enough, but Val heard the underlying pain in his friend’s voice.

  “I think Windham intends to propose, but I don’t think Anne will accept him.”

  “She’s not going to take on that spoiled chit of Leighton’s?”

  “I rather think she plans to take on you, Jack!”

  “I don’t mind your teasing, Val, but this is going a bit too far.” Jack’s face grew warm. “I love her, you know,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.

  “I know you do,” Val said seriously. “I shouldn’t have joked about it. But it is true. Anne was planning to accept Windham’s proposal last night or whenever it came. But then she discovered that his heart had been given elsewhere.”

  “Do you mean to tell me she didn’t know about Lady Julia?”

  “No. She was angry with Elspeth for not telling her, but all in all, I think Elspeth was right in not speaking. Their betrothal ended almost a year ago.”

  “Would you forget Elspeth in a year?”

  “Not in ten thousand,” Val answered instantly.

  “Nor would I Anne Heriot. It wasn’t my place to mention Lady Julia, but I thought she’d known about it from the beginning.”

  “Well, she didn’t.”

  “But she wasn’t looking for passion, our Miss Practicality from Yorkshire,” Jack added with a grin.

  “No, but she won’t marry where there is no potential at all for love.” Val hesitated. “Evidently she is planning to visit her man of business today and have him…er…make you an offer.”

  Jack’s face reddened as though he had been slapped.

  “Yes, I know,” Val said softly. “A cool way to do it. That’s why I came over to poke my nose in. Elspeth and I thought you deserved a more personal announcement first. You will accept her?”