“Of course,” Jack said stiffly.
“Elspeth and I still think that you and Anne have a chance for a happy marriage, Jack.”
“You and your wife are damned romantics! And so am I, God help me, or this wouldn’t hurt so much,” he said, looking at his friend with such pain in his eyes that Val winced. “Anne would wander out into the garden with Windham and no doubt be happy to have one of his kisses, but then she handles a betrothal to me the way she would a bloody mill merger! Windham is probably well out of it, if he has any heart left to him.”
“Anne is not a cold woman, Jack.”
“Perhaps not, but she did her calculations early on and decided that because I’ve been rumored to have collected so many hearts, I have none of my own.”
“Did you ever try to prove her wrong?”
“Oh, she likes me better than she did, I’ll grant you that. But what chance have I had for more than mistletoe kisses when she’s been spending most of her time with Windham and Leighton?”
“Well, now you have your chance, Jack. And whether you win her heart before or after the wedding, I believe you finally will if you don’t let your wounded pride get in the way.”
* * * *
So the other horses are out of the race, and the dark horse has won, Jack told himself as he dressed to go riding. But if he had won, then why did the victory seem so meaningless?
Chapter Twenty
Jack had planned to visit Stebbins first thing that morning, but after Val’s news he decided to wait till later in the afternoon. If the Heriot solicitor was going to approach his, then he would give him time.
He and Val rode in the park and after a few brisk canters, his black mood lifted. By the time he set out for Stebbins’s office later that afternoon, he was more resigned to what had happened.
“Lord Aldborough, this is a fine coincidence!” said Stebbins as he ushered him into the office. “I was about to send a note over asking for you to meet with me tomorrow, I have very good news for you. Miss Heriot’s solicitor approached me this morning and wishes to write up a marriage contract.”
Jack let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. Ever since Val had spoken to him, he had wondered whether Anne might change her mind. But it seemed Val and Elspeth were right. She would rather marry a man whom she believed had a wayward heart than one whose heart had already been given.
“You don’t seem surprised, my lord. But I suppose you were aware that your wooing had proved successful,” Stebbins said with a knowing smile.
“Indeed,” Jack murmured.
“You will find the proposed settlements most fair…actually generous, my lord,” Stebbins told him, handing over the papers.
Jack scanned them quickly and breathed a deeper sigh of relief. The Heriot money would save Aldborough and offered an allowance to Lady Aldborough and her daughters. He smiled when he came to a clause about the management of the mills. “I see Miss Heriot wishes to keep control over her father’s business.”
Stebbins frowned. “Yes, that is the only sticking point I can see, my lord. It doesn’t seem appropriate to me, but evidently she is adamant on that point.”
“I am sure she is,” murmured Jack. “And so she should be. I have no difficulty with that provision.”
“She has provided quite generously for you also, my lord,” Stebbins pointed out.
“So I see.”
Stebbins cleared his throat. “In matters of this sort it is always preferable that a husband has some sort of independent income. Of course, under law, all that is hers is yours, but she was wise, I think, to write it this way. Independence on both sides bodes well for the future, don’t you think, my lord?”
Jack gave Stebbins a quizzical smile. “Do you go home at night and entertain yourself with romantic fantasies about the matches you’ve made, Stebbins?”
Stebbins chuckled. “Not at all. But from what I know of you and Miss Heriot, there could be worse fates for both of you.”
“Another romantic, God help me!”
“Hardly, my lord. But if Anne Heriot were my daughter, I’d rather she be married to you than to take on a spoiled stepdaughter or a man whose heart was given.”
“You are well informed, Stebbins,” Jack said dryly.
“I have to be to do my job well, my lord. Though Lord Windham may be heart-whole shortly. Blaine told me—and this is between you and me and the lamppost, my lord—that Miss Heriot intends to pay off Windham’s debts.”
“Why, they are considerable!”
“Your future wife is a very wealthy woman. And a very warmhearted one too. Evidently she was touched by Lord Windham’s predicament. It means he can offer for Lady Julia Lovett. But no one else knows, Windham will be told that a distant relative in the West Indies died suddenly and left him some money. He will still have to work hard to keep the estate going, but if Lady Julia is willing to take him, he’ll have a loving wife to help him.”
So Miss Anne Heriot has a more romantic heart than she herself would admit to, thought Jack when he left Stebbins. It was too bad he couldn’t praise her for her generosity or tease her about her romantic gesture.
Instead of hailing a hansom, he decided to walk. As he made his way through Covent Garden, he passed a flower stall and decided he would call on Miss Anne Heriot this very afternoon.
“I would like a bouquet of roses, please.”
“And wot color, gov?”
There were several bunches of pink roses, but somehow they didn’t seem strong enough for the occasion. And the deep red roses spoke more of passion than he would feel comfortable with. But there was one bouquet of ivory roses tinged with a deep pink. “I’ll take those,” he said, pointing.
“ ‘Ere you are, then, and I ‘opes yer lady loikes em,” said the woman with a broad wink.
“I’m sure she will.”
* * * *
Jack wasn’t so sure as he stood in the foyer of the Heriot town house while Peters announced him. He had not asked for permission to call. In fact, he would be lucky if Anne was even at home at this hour. She was often out driving with either Leighton or Windham. But of course she wouldn’t be with either man now. She was an engaged woman, he thought with deep irony.
Jack felt a surprising surge of anger. He had thought he’d gotten over his hurt, but goddamn it, here he was, standing like a fool, a bouquet of roses in his hand, intending to do what? Propose? Thank Anne Heriot most humbly for accepting his hand, which she’d never given him a chance to offer? If her father had been alive, he would have made sure there was at least a charade of a proposal. But not Miss Anne Heriot—she took care of the business herself and made sure to forestall any declarations, sincere or otherwise! Jack looked down at his flowers and was tempted to hurl them on the floor and leave. But then Peters was back and leading him down to the drawing room.
Anne and her companion were reading when Jack was shown in. Miss Wheeler took one look at the roses and, putting aside her book, excused herself quietly, giving Jack an encouraging smile as she passed him.
“Good afternoon, my lord. Won’t you sit down?”
“Actually, I was considering dropping to one knee before you, Miss Heriot,” he said sarcastically, “but perhaps it is more appropriate for me to humbly accept your offer.”
“You have seen your solicitor, then?” Anne kept her voice steady, but she had been wondering all day how and when Jack Belden would acknowledge their betrothal.
“I have just come from his office.”
“And was everything to your satisfaction, then?”
“You were most generous, Miss Heriot.”
“Not at all, especially since I keep control of the mills.”
“I have no objection to that, as I think you would have guessed from our conversations.”
“But you sound like you have some objection to raise.”
“If your father were alive, no doubt he would have arranged the practical details of this match. But I’d have been given an opportunit
y to speak to you alone about our marriage.”
“We are alone now, my lord,” Anne pointed out.
“Yes, and I’d sound the complete fool, wouldn’t I, if I asked you to marry me, now that you’ve already ‘proposed’ to me! You have left no room for sentiment, Miss Heriot, and you have taken my consent for granted.”
“You do wish to marry me, my lord? And I had not thought it was primarily for sentimental reasons.” The slight hint of irony in Anne’s voice infuriated Jack even further.
“Of course, I wish to marry you, damn it. But you’ve made it very clear to me that I was your last choice. It was a surprise to find myself the first and without even a hint from you.”
Anne’s hand tightened over the book she held. She had acted quickly, mainly because she had been so upset over Windham.
“Somehow I doubt that you would have treated Windham this way,” continued Jack. “I’m sure you would have given him some subtle hints that you would be open to a proposal—perhaps during your time in the garden last night.”
“What I did or did not do in the garden is none of your business, my lord,” Anne replied angrily. She always reacted defensively when accused of anything she knew herself to be guilty of. He was right—she had given Windham the opportunity to propose in a proper manner. She had been so upset by her disappointments, one right after the other, that in the end she had only wanted to settle the issue quickly. She hadn’t thought much about Jack Belden’s feelings at all, and she had treated him shabbily.
“Of course it is none of my business,” Jack replied stiffly. “But I think, given our conversations on various occasions, you might have dealt with me more personally and less practically.”
“Tha knows I am no romantic, my lord.” Anne was trying to be humorous, but even as she spoke, she knew her words were all wrong.
“I know it all too well,” said Jack, standing suddenly. “God knows why I ever brought these,” he said, and dropping the roses into the fire, he gave her a quick bow and left.
* * * *
Anne sat there speechless, watching the flames lick at the moist petals, retreat, and then finally, slowly, consume them.
“What was tha thinking of?” she whispered as the roses were reduced to ashes. Why had she approached Jack Belden through his solicitor, as though she were her father? It wasn’t a love match she would have been arranging with either of the other two men, but she would have given them a chance to approach her as a woman. Why hadn’t she given Jack Belden the same opportunity?
He was right. They had developed a sympathetic connection. But she’d chosen Windham over Jack because she felt him to be more trustworthy. She laughed. She had trusted Lord Windham because he was not a ladies’ man like Jack. Had she married him, she would have been placing her heart in the hands of someone far more dangerous to her happiness, one whose heart was already given.
As long as she was being honest with herself, she would have to admit Jack Belden had always stirred a stronger physical reaction than either of the others. Had he been her last choice because she thought she couldn’t trust him? Or because she couldn’t trust herself? Had it felt safer to deal with their marriage as only a business transaction because of what he made her feel?
He had been right to be angry with her. She laughed again. Tha is in a reet pickle, lass, she told herself. Betrothed at last and t’announcement in t’paper tomorrow and tha fiancé in a fury!
* * * *
Anne knew Jack was likely to be at the ball that night, and she was tempted to plead a headache and stay home. But that would look very odd the next morning, once people learned about the betrothal. Of course, it would look even odder if she and her soon-to-be fiancé were there but not speaking to one another!
But she was no coward. She would hope Jack had the generosity to appear and to be courteous. And if he didn’t ask her to dance, she would ask him herself!
* * * *
Jack himself had been tempted not to appear. If Miss Anne Heriot wished to approach marriage in the same way she would approach purchasing a mill, then let her be alone the night before their “business transaction” was made public. Let people wonder the next day why they had not attended the ball together.
But his temper, which was hot and quick, was also quick to cool, and after he got home and had a brandy, he realized he was as hurt as he was angry. He loved Anne Heriot, God help him, and while he had not expected her to treat him as a lover, he had hoped she could at least treat him as a friend.
Well, he wasn’t going to wallow in either anger or wounded affection. He would go to the ball and dance with his intended and take her into the garden himself if he had the chance. That would certainly confound the gossips, he thought with an ironic grin. And all those who were still wagering on Windham might well wish they had backed the long shot!
* * * *
When he saw Anne standing with Miss Wheeler and Captain Scott any remaining anger drained away. She looked absolutely lovely tonight in a pale gold gown, with a diamond pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat. He felt a surge of desire as his gaze was drawn to her breasts. He had wanted her even before he loved her, and now the two forces combined to leave him breathless at the thought that this woman was to be his wife.
He approached her casually and asked whether her card was full or if she had a waltz free.
Anne blushed. “I have saved a waltz just for you, my lord.”
Captain Scott looked over at her curiously. All the gossip he had heard had led him to believe that if Miss Heriot was going to save a waltz for anyone, it would be for Windham. Yet here was Aldborough acting as though he’d expected her to reserve a dance for him. The captain was not given to betting, but perhaps he would seek out Preston and lay a hundred guineas on Aldborough!
Luckily, their waltz was the next dance, for Anne did not think she could have waited too long. She needed to apologize, and the sooner she had the opportunity, the better she would feel.
As they moved off across the floor, however, Anne was unable to lift her eyes above Jack’s third shirt button, or say anything at all. Finally, tightening his hand around her waist, he broke the silence between them.
“I apologize for my behavior this afternoon, Miss Heriot.”
Anne finally lifted her head. “Oh, no, my lord, it is I who should apologize. You were right. I treated you thoughtlessly, and I cannot even offer you a reasonable excuse except to say I was upset about Lord Windham and wished to settle things quickly.” Anne stopped. “Oh, dear, I suppose I am making things even worse.”
“You made it clear all along where your preferences lay.”
“Yes, but we had begun to be friends, my lord, and I treated you like a stranger.”
“What’s done is done,” said Jack. “But I thought it best we appear interested in one another tonight, given that the announcement goes into the paper tomorrow,” he said with a smile. “Perhaps I might secure another dance?”
“I saved the next one,” Anne confessed, “for I, too, was worried about appearances.”
“Ah, yes, for appearance is all that counts with Society.”
“You should know better than I,” Anne said tartly. “After all, it was just the other evening I was in the garden with Windham, which I’m sure made some people jump to certain conclusions.”
“Ah, yes,” Jack said thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should make our own visit to the garden,” he suggested, as seriously as if he was considering military strategy, but his eyes twinkling.
“Is that a challenge, my lord?” asked Anne, her own eyes sparkling.
“Merely a suggestion.”
“I am feeling quite warm after such a vigorous turn about the floor. And it will be amusing to confound people’s expectations.”
* * * *
As they made their way through the crush to the French doors that opened out onto the garden, Anne fluttered her dance card in front of her face and made sure to complain audibly about the heat. When she presse
d her hand to her brow and reached over for Jack’s arm as though for support, Jack leaned down and whispered, “Doing it much too brown, Miss Heriot!”
The Worth garden had only one long path leading through a bed of roses, on which various couples were strolling. As Jack led her down toward the end, Anne found herself wishing they were in the other garden, with the opportunity for privacy. Of course, it didn’t matter, she told herself; it was enough for people to see them leave together. She was surprised to find that although the path narrowed as it moved away from the house, it did not end, but led to a small side garden surrounded by boxwood hedges, with a small stone bench in the middle.
“I think this should do for us,” Jack said. “If we sit here a few moments, people will be nodding their heads over our announcement tomorrow, saying, “I told you their behavior meant either marriage or scandal.”
The garden surrounding them was a circular herb garden, but there were four white rosebushes marking each quarter, and as she admired the roses, Anne remembered the ones Lord Aldborough had tossed into the fire and felt ashamed of herself all over again. “I am sorry, my lord. You brought me roses today, and I drove you to destroy them before I even had a chance to appreciate them.”
Jack looked down and felt his heart stop. This was the Anne Heriot he’d fallen in love with, the one who’d shared her dilemmas, the vulnerable Anne usually hidden under a practical exterior.
“I chose the flowers carefully,” Jack told her quietly. “Pink roses seemed too childlike and insipid for you. Yet red roses were not right either. But the white ones, with that tinge of red at their hearts, seemed just the thing.”
Anne sat very still and wondered at his subtle message. Red roses usually stood for passion. Pure white flowers were about the purity of love. His flowers combined both, and she wondered if he had been trying to convey his desire or hinting at her own.
“Miss Heriot…Anne,” Jack whispered, and she looked up at him, her question in her eyes. His mouth was open to say, “I love you,” but he stopped himself just in time and leaned down to capture hers, this being a more realistic goal than capturing her heart.
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