“No,” he said hoarsely. “I consider the wager made void by your cousin’s overhearing our conversation. There is no honour in winning in such a manner. You may tell your ward that, and if she refuses to accept it, tell her you have already paid. She would not allow such a sacrifice to go for nothing.”
Without another glance at her, Lord Stanton picked up his coat and left the room.
Shakily Anne rearranged her clothing and sat up. What had happened? Had her behaviour given Lord Stanton reason to leave her in disgust? Now that she was willing to give him what he desired, did he, perversely, no longer want her? Misery that her love had led to his rejection almost made her dissolve into tears, when a light tap at the door recalled her to herself.
Hesitantly, Lady Brookfield entered. “Forgive me, my dear, but the half-hour is passed. I thought I would accompany you back to the party.” She paused as she took in Anne’s disheveled state and red eyes.
“Are you feeling quite the thing, Miss Southwell?”
Anne regained her composure with an effort. “I am quite all right, Lady Brookfield.”
“I see you have been overcome with the headache. Would you like me to notify Mrs. Halcott and order your carriage brought round?”
“Thank you, Lady Brookfield,” Anne answered tremulously. “I should be most grateful.”
This time it was Anne’s turn to be silent during the ride home in the carriage. Mrs. Halcott put it down to her headache, although it did not explain her red eyes, and agreed to leave her only after extracting a promise that Anne would retire immediately.
Anne stopped at Melissa’s bedchamber and requested to speak privately to her ward. Sanders looked at Anne curiously, but, seeing Anne’s drawn face and red-rimmed eyes, obeyed without a word. Anne took a chair at the bedside and colourlessly informed Melissa that Lord Stanton had called off the wager. Melissa, her perceptions heightened by her own love for Lieutenant Halcott, sensed there was a great deal more to the situation than Anne was telling her but let it pass.
“If you truly feel you have been released from the wager, then I shall not marry Viscount Woolbridge. It is fortunate that he has not yet approached you for permission to make an offer. Although,” she added in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, “I think Society is going to label me a heartless flirt.”
Anne tried to smile, but it was a sad effort, and Melissa did not attempt to keep her guardian when Anne said she wished to retire. But she asked Sanders to prepare a tisane for Anne and take it up.
This night Sanders tisane was not effective, for Anne lay awake a long time, unable to sleep, unable to cry. Her misery was too deep for tears. How could she have come to love Lord Stanton? He was a dissolute rake. She didn’t know how she had come to love him, but she did know that life without him would be totally unbearable. But somehow she would have to face it, because he had made it very clear that he didn’t want her. He had thrust her away and left her as though he found her distasteful. But why? Anne tossed fitfully in her bed. That was what she didn’t understand. Lord Stanton was a rakehell, after all, and she had only been giving him what a rakehell presumably wanted. It must be that she had betrayed her feelings for him.
Yes! That must be it. As a rake, he would not want love from her, not the kind she felt, at least. He had made it quite clear from the beginning what he wanted from her, and she had not played the game. Not only had she lost the man she loved, she had lost her pride. It was a nightmare.
If she could do what she wanted, she would return to Medford and bury herself for the rest of her life in the quiet village. It had eventually assuaged the pain from the deaths of her father and brother; surely it would also do that to the pain of loving someone who did not love her in return.
But there was Melissa. She could not remove her ward from London in the middle of the Season. Particularly not now that she must return the two thousand pounds. Melissa was her ward, her responsibility. She could not abdicate her role. Somehow she would have to put a good face on things and get through the remainder of the Season.
Lord Stanton headed directly to Lady Parnell’s when he left his sister’s house. Lady Parnell, her husband still out of town, made Lord Stanton welcome, reclining artfully on a roll-backed sofa in her bedchamber, allowing her silk nightdress to fall open invitingly.
“You have not come to see me recently,” she reproached him, as he helped himself to a glass of brandy from a decanter on a table. “Have you forgotten your old friends?”
“How could I do that?” Lord Stanton drawled, looking at her meaningfully. Lady Parnell was beautiful, slender and with satin-smooth skin. He quickly downed his brandy, and sat beside her on the sofa, pulling the pins from her silver-blonde hair. As it fell to her shoulders, she raised her hand to his head, lowering it to hers, and kissed him softly on the lips. But for some reason, tonight her beauty did not have the power to stir him. As Lady Parnell began to untie his neckcloth, he pulled away.
“Not tonight, my dear. I have just remembered a pressing engagement.”
The expression on Lady Parnell’s face changed from one of enticement to one of vexation. She knew the signs. There was someone else. Lord Stanton had tired of her. Her displeasure showed as he kissed her hand and left the room.
Lady Parnell remained on the sofa, a frown on her face. She knew what to expect—in a few days she would receive a beautiful piece of jewellery, a farewell gift. She felt some regret, then shrugged. There was always another ready to take his place.
Lord Stanton returned to his townhouse where he ordered a bottle of port brought to his study. He poured himself a full glass and leaned back in a comfortable wingback chair, trying to make sense out of his contradictory feelings. Anne Southwell had thoroughly bewitched him. He had had the opportunity to have what he so ardently desired since first seeing her at Longworth, and he had not taken it. What was wrong with him?
Instead, that insane desire he had had to protect her the day he heard Sedgewick maligning her had returned, and he had been unable to take her as his mistress. Yet he would not, could not, encumber himself with a wife. He would avoid Miss Southwell until he was no longer so besotted. He sat in his study until he had finished the bottle of port and then staggered upstairs. Lewis helped Lord Stanton undress and put him into his bed, wondering what had upset him so. It was very unlike the marquess to drink himself into a stupor.
Early the next morning Lord Stanton was awakened by his valet, who informed him that his sister had called and refused to leave until she spoke to him. He groaned. What a devil of a head he had. Grumpily, Lord Stanton told his valet to inform his sister he was indisposed. Lewis did not have a chance to carry out his orders, however, before the door to his bedchamber opened and his sister invaded the room uninvited.
“I will not leave until you speak to me, Henry,” she declared, pulling a straight-backed chair up to the bed and seating herself upon it. “Now, what did you do to Miss Southwell last night? The poor girl looked as though you had tried to ravish her. Did you?”
Lord Stanton raised himself up on one elbow and looked at his sister balefully. How dared she look so fresh and alert? “I assure you, Miss Southwell was unharmed.”
“Then what is going on?”
“None of your affair,” he growled, “but you may rest assured that I shall be staying away from Miss Southwell in the future.”
Lady Brookfield took in her brother’s disheveled appearance thoughtfully. He looked burnt to the socket, which was not like Harry. There was something going on here—and she thought she knew what it was, if he did not. She had never before seen her brother so upset over a woman. Perhaps her brother was finally going to get his comeuppance. His interest in Miss Southwell went beyond mere desire; of that she was certain.
“Well, say your piece and have done with it,” her brother said impatiently.
To his surprise, his sister did not subject him to a dressing down, but suddenly smiled and stood up.
“Later,” she said as
she left the room. “Meanwhile I recommend a raw egg mixed with beer and milk. It always works for Brookfield.”
Chapter Eleven
After the fateful night of Lady Brookfield’s rout, Anne found it easier than she had expected to put on a cheerful face. She felt like an actress playing a part. All she had to do was say the right lines and make the proper facial expressions.
Melissa did not seem to notice anything amiss. She was preoccupied with trying to reinstate Lieutenant Halcott and replace Lord Woolbridge in her affections without doing it too obviously. Melissa continued to be seen in the company of the viscount, but she gradually saw him less and the lieutenant more. Anne felt sorry for the viscount. He must see that the Incomparable Miss Amberly again preferred Lieutenant Halcott to himself, but had to wonder what accounted for his fall from grace. Anne observed that Lord Woolbridge did not return his attentions to Lady Conliffe, though. Perhaps he had heard of her involvement in spreading the rumours about Melissa and Anne, or perhaps he felt wooing Toasts of the Town had proved more trouble than it was worth.
Melissa was the first to notice that Viscount Woolbridge appeared to be showing some interest in Lady Amelia. They had been much in each other’s company most of the Season, since Amelia was Melissa’s closest friend, but Lord Woolbridge had always been so busy making sheep’s eyes at Melissa that he had not noticed her quiet friend. Now he suddenly seemed to become aware of her. Melissa commented on it to Anne, and the next time both the viscount and Amelia were at Half Moon Street, Anne watched them closely. It did appear to be true. Viscount Woolbridge no longer focused all his attention on Melissa but sat next to Lady Amelia and seemed to be quite taken with her quiet charms.
But while this state of affairs pleased Anne, it had the opposite effect on Lady Conliffe. Her determination to destroy Miss Amberly and Miss Southwell in the eyes of Society gained renewed strength. The inquiries she had made in Bath and Brighton had proved fruitless, but the servant she sent to Medford came back with some very interesting information. She put on her gloves to make morning calls with anticipation. She would have her revenge at last.
Anne did not see Lord Stanton at any functions after the night at his sister’s, although she did hear gossip of escapades he was getting into with the Carlton House set. Anne told herself she did not care where the marquess spent his time, as long as it was away from her. She felt that after her betrayal of her feelings and his rejection of them that she could only conceal her anguish if she did not see him. Only if she did not see him could she hide her heartbreak.
One person, however, was not deceived by Anne’s acting. The same morning Lady Conliffe’s servant returned from Medford, Lieutenant Halcott and Captain Leslie arrived together at Half Moon Street. The lieutenant asked Melissa to accompany him on a walk, but to Anne’s surprise, the captain did not invite her to go on a walk as well.
After the other two left, Captain Leslie stood looking out the window for a moment, running his fingers through his sun-bleached hair. Finally, he seated himself next to Anne on the sofa and gently took her hand. He looked at her affectionately, his appreciation of the charming picture she presented in her purple-trimmed lavender round dress evident in his eyes.
“Miss Southwell, I am going to presume upon our friendship again and ask what it is that is disturbing you lately. I can see your heart is not in things.”
“Forgive me, Captain Leslie,” Anne replied, smiling at him and answering lightly. “It is only a temporary indisposition. I hope I have not been casting a pall on everyone’s pleasure.”
“No, Miss Southwell, you dissimulate well. I only notice because of my affection for you. Please confide in me. You know that I only await your word to have the right to take all your problems upon myself.”
Anne knew that she could not continue to allow Captain Leslie to hope after her realisation of her feelings for Lord Stanton. She had been remiss not to have informed him sooner. She drew her hand away and spoke.
“Captain Leslie, I shall never forget the honour you did me to make me an offer. But I must ask you not to renew your suit. I have come to know, only recently, that I cannot accept.”
She looked at him steadily, hating herself for the pain she knew she must be causing him.
Captain Leslie smiled sadly at Anne. “I have known, somehow, that you had come to that decision. There is someone else, isn’t there?”
“Yes, there is,” Anne answered truthfully.
“Does he return your affections?”
“No. But it would not be fair to you to give you only half my heart.”
“I would tell you it didn’t matter, but I know you would never give yourself at all where you could not give yourself completely.” He was silent a moment, then added, “I hope to remain your friend, Miss Southwell. If you should ever require assistance, please call upon me.”
“Thank you, Captain Leslie. I should have been sorry to lose your friendship and support.”
Anne smiled at him again, tentatively, wishing she could give the captain what he desired. He lifted her hand again and placed a light kiss upon it.
“Goodbye, Miss Southwell,” he said, standing.
Anne had the feeling the word held a different meaning this time than it ever had before. “Goodbye,” she said, knowing that the next time she saw him it would be very different between them. The easy affection that had characterised their relationship would no longer be there.
She remained seated on the sofa after Captain Leslie had left, feeling quite cast down. She wished she had never left Medford. She seemed to be causing nothing but sorrow for those persons she cared the most about. She sighed. At least Melissa was happy again. It would not be long before Lieutenant Halcott applied for her hand.
Anne suddenly remembered that she had not yet returned the two thousand pounds and went to the desk to write out a bank draft. The thought of Lord Stanton plunged her into deeper misery. Why couldn’t she have loved a good man like Captain Leslie? Why did she ever have to meet Lord Stanton? It would have been better if she had never known the kind of love she felt for Lord Stanton. Much better not to know what one was missing then to have a taste, only to have it snatched away.
She was still seated at the desk when Melissa returned from her walk with Lieutenant Halcott.
“It’s the oddest thing, Anne,” she said, drawing off her lilac gloves and taking a seat near Anne, “but Lady Fanning did not acknowledge my nod when we passed her near Hookam’s. Then when we passed Miss Spencer and Miss Armstrong in the street, they turned to look at a window, pretending they hadn’t seen us.”
“I am sure you are imagining things, Melissa,” Anne said reassuringly. “They probably truly didn’t see you.”
“Perhaps, but I have a strange feeling something is wrong. Maybe we should not go to Lady Roberts’s musicale tonight.”
“Nonsense. We have been looking forward to it. Lady Roberts has promised some very talented musicians.”
“If you are certain,” said Melissa, thoughtfully taking off her gypsy hat and swinging it by the ribbons.
“I am certain,” said Anne getting up from the desk and ringing for Benton. She would have the bank draft delivered to Lord Stanton immediately. “You are overly sensitive because of our previous troubles,” she reassured Melissa.
As soon as they entered Lady Roberts’s town house that night, however, Anne knew that Melissa had been correct. There was something dreadfully wrong. Their hostess welcomed Mrs. Halcott with restraint, but said nothing whatsoever to Anne and Melissa. Conversations seemed to die as they walked through the room, and when they sat down for the performance, chairs near them emptied and remained so.
Melissa’s face was white with mortification, and Anne felt her heart begin to beat rapidly with anger. What now! What social solecism could they possibly have committed? She could fee! Mrs. Halcott tense beside her, but that lady gallantly behaved as though nothing were wrong. Anne and Melissa tried to emulate her, focusing their attention on th
e performance and applauding when it was over, but they could not have said who performed or what they sang.
When the entertainment ended, Mrs. Halcott took Anne and Melissa with her as she went to speak to a few of her closest friends. These women did not let the captain’s wife down, and acknowledged her protégées, albeit reluctantly. The minutes seemed an eternity to Anne and Melissa, but Mrs. Halcott made them stay a full hour after the singing had ended. Then, when others began to leave, she allowed them to do so, as well.
Once they were safely in the carriage on their way home, Mrs. Halcott finally spoke, her bosom heaving indignantly. “I must get to the bottom of this immediately. I cannot understand what has happened that you should be cut so completely. Twice we have proven rumours wrong; I cannot credit they have begun again a third time.”
Anne and Melissa echoed Mrs. Halcott’s bewilderment. When the carriage stopped at their townhouse, Mrs. Halcott left them with a parting promise. “I shall find out what is behind this and return to tell you. Wait up for me please.”
Anne and Melissa gave their pelisses to Sanders and waited soberly in the drawing room for Mrs. Halcott’s return. They searched their memories for some possible infringement of the rules, but could come up with none.
“Do you suppose it is the rumours of our finances or the one about you again?” asked Melissa.
Anne shook her head. “No, even at their height we were not cut as devastatingly as we were tonight. It must be something else, something even worse, but I cannot imagine what.”
Two hours later Mrs. Halcott returned, looking tired and defeated. Anne and Melissa waited anxiously for her to tell them what she had discovered.
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