“I must admit your proposal has taken me quite by surprise, Ainsley,” Haverstock replied.
“I daresay you long ago accepted that Lady Lydia would not marry, despite all her superior qualities. I remember well Mary telling me what a shame Lady Lydia was not blessed with beauty for she would make some gentleman a fine wife.”
“Your wife was extremely wise.”
“Oh, that she was. But so is Lydia. She always was so much smarter than the other girls. I like that.”
And you need that. “Of course, it would give me great pleasure if my sister would entertain your suit, but that truly lies out of my hands. I give you permission to call on her, but any decision will have to be my sister’s.”
The slim man nervously smoothed a hand over his wavy hair. “Yes, yes, of course.”
Haverstock stood. “We will look forward to seeing you at dinner, then.”
As Haverstock gazed after the departing Ainsley, he wondered if Lydia would favor the man’s suit. Would a woman who had been raised as the daughter of a marquess settle for marriage to a country squire? Would she give serious consideration to Ainsley’s proposal, in light of the fact he had overlooked her eligibility the first time he selected a bride?
~ ~ ~
“BEFORE YOU KNOW IT, Mr. Ainsley, your girls will be having their season in London,” the dowager said.
The squire, who sat across from the dowager Lady Haverstock at the long dining table, gave a funny little laugh. “I daresay you’re right. Time does march on.”
“How old is Meg now?” asked Lydia.
He finished chewing his peas before answering. “Twelve.”
Anna had been watching Ainsley’s behavior toward Lydia with interest. Before they had come down to dinner, Haverstock had asked Anna to see to it Lydia sat next to the squire, but her husband would divulge no more information.
In fact, Charles had been quite abrupt with her. When she asked him if she should wear the Haverstock Jewels, he had acted indecisive before nodding, and when she asked him to clasp the jewels about her neck he had done so with considerable coolness. His behavior was in marked contrast to what it had been just this morning when he pulled her back into bed every time she tried to rise. He had murmured endearments and nuzzled soft kisses to places that made her blush now.
But tonight he treated her with no more familiarity than he would a charwoman. Her loving partner of the past two nights was as far removed from the cool host opposite her as day to night.
Once more she had angered him, and once more she knew not why. He was understandably upset over his friend’s murder, but she sensed that for some odd reason his anger was directed at her.
If only she could push aside her hurt feelings and act as gay as Kate and Mr. Reeves. Instead she forced down her food and barely kept up the civilities of polite conversation. She longed for the solitude of her room where she could nurse her grief. Such a horrid day it had been. First, she learned poor Mr. Chassay had been murdered, and it had all been her fault. Then sweet Jimmy had been sacked. Now, her husband gave every indication of loathing her.
She must learn where Jimmy was and at least give him a character and some money to tide him over. He had been such a dear, doing her bidding as if he’d been in her service all his life. A jolting thought caused her to nearly spill her wine. Could Jimmy’s allegiance to her have something to do with Charles booting the poor lad? For some reason, Charles had acted resentful of Jimmy. He had even acted as if he were jealous of the gap-toothed youth.
A knot twisted in her already upset stomach. Sweet heaven! What if Charles learned Jimmy had been following him? Had he learned that she and Jimmy were responsible for the death of Pierre Chassay?
If that were the case, Charles had every reason to treat her with the utmost hatred.
She must find Jimmy.
As she watched Lydia and the squire, Anna became convinced the man had come to London to win Lydia’s hand. He deferred to Lydia with his every comment.
Obviously unaware of his intentions, Lydia treated him as she would any neighbor. There was no flirtation, no coyness in her manner, only sincere friendship and solicitations for his children. Lydia would be the ideal wife for the widower.
But Squire Ainsley was in no way the man for Lydia, Anna realized as she watched the good-natured fellow. The topic of Lydia’s new horse seemed the only one over which the two shared an interest. The only subject on which he could converse at length was farming, a subject which caused Lydia to turn her attention to Anna while he regaled her brother with the merits of his new reaper. Anna could only imagine the poor man’s disapproval of Lydia’s witty criticisms of lesser mortals. The two would never suit.
Anna turned her attention to her mother-in-law. “You must be overjoyed that James is coming home, Mother.”
A wistful smile swept across the dowager’s face. “That I am. Sons are a woman’s greatest blessing.”
~ ~ ~
ACTING UPON HER mother-in-law’s mellow mood, Anna begged the woman to be her partner at whist after dinner. Not liking to lose, the dowager accepted Anna’s offer. Lydia readily made a third, against her brother’s suggestion that she entertain the squire.
“I would far rather play cards,” Lydia said, “but I welcome the squire as my partner.”
The sun-darkened skin crinkled around Ainsley’s hazel eyes as he chuckled. “I thank you for the invitation, Lady Lydia, but I’ve never been able to master the game. I would be most happy to watch you and your brother. Perhaps I can learn.”
~ ~ ~
HAVERSTOCK MUTTERED under his breath as he took a seat at the card table. A very poor host indeed he was to John Ainsley, claiming Lydia for his own partner and depriving Ainsley of a chance to speak privately with her.
He dealt the cards and was surprised that Ainsley still stood behind Lydia’s chair, studying how she arranged her hand. Ainsley was a good man. He would treat Lydia well. And most importantly, tonight he had completely ignored a table full of beauties—two of them quite eligible—to direct his every attention on Lydia.
Lydia deserved that kind of devotion. By God, he hoped the man succeeded in his suit. Even though Haverstock would dreadfully miss Lydia. He had been closer to her than he had ever been to any woman. Until Anna.
Just as he was discovering his complete satisfaction with the married state, he realized his bride was a French spy.
A quick glance at his hand revealed that he would be able to control trump. It wasn’t matrimony he had come to enjoy. It was Anna. Not just her great beauty. The sound of her sweet voice, her gentle yet passionate lovemaking that had completely enslaved him. And most of all, he had rather liked the heady feeling of possession Anna solicited in him. He enjoyed worrying about her and feeling protective toward her.
Now, he had to forget any affection he held for the harpy. Because of her, Pierre Chassay was dead.
He felt the brush of Anna’s leg against his, and involuntarily in took a deep breath. He would have to avoid being close to her. Her very touch weakened him.
Anna and his mother won the first hand, which increased his mother’s good humor.
Ainsley still stood directly behind Lydia’s chair.
“Have you been to Hyde Park?” Anna asked the squire.
The corner of Haverstock’s mouth lifted to a smile. So his wife was going to do her best to promote a courtship between Lydia and Ainsley.
“No, I haven’t yet, though I would beg to claim Lady Lydia to ride with me tomorrow afternoon.” He smiled down at the top of her black hair.
Lydia did not even look up. “I’m afraid I’ve promised to chaperon Anna and Morgie tomorrow.”
“What she means,” Haverstock explained, “is that my friend Ralph Morgan has kindly agreed to take my wife to the park because I am much too busy. Lydia accompanies them for propriety. However, I find that I am able to take Anna myself tomorrow, so you are free to ride with John, Lydia.”
Now, Lydia bestowed a smile on
her old neighbor.
Haverstock tossed out the wrong card and silently cursed himself. Not only was he playing foolishly, now when he least wanted her company, he had promised to take Anna to the park.
~ ~ ~
ALLOWING HER HUSBAND to assist her onto the gig, Anna hoped he did not notice the dark half moons under her eyes. She had lain awake all night, longing to take the few steps that would bring her to his room, to his strong arms. Not only was her heart bruised, but she physically ached to be held in her husband’s solid embrace. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to earn his affection. Except go to his room like a beggar.
They followed the rig Ainsley had profusely made excuses for. “I know it’s not as grand as you’re used to,” he had said apologetically while Lydia had assured him of its suitability.
During the silent ride Anna watched the grim set to her husband’s face.
She was unable to chide him for his coolness toward her. If her suspicions about why Jimmy was sacked were correct, she had truly earned her husband’s loathing.
This morning she had endeavored to learn Jimmy’s address, but the head groom had informed her Jimmy had gone to his cousin’s in Kent. Apparently, Jimmy had an open offer of employment at the establishment where his cousin was employed. However, the head groom had no idea the name of the establishment. Anna was thankful she had pressed a handful of coins on Jimmy, supposedly for tolls, the day before he received the ax.
“You know,” Anna said to her husband, “Lydia and the squire will not suit.”
He turned surprised eyes on her. “My wife is not only an expert at cards, dancing, and fashion, but she is also clairvoyant.”
Anna laughed. “One does not have to be clairvoyant to see what’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“Then you must know John Ainsley would make Lydia a worthy husband,” Haverstock said.
“Oh, I will not deny that. And I am sure he would be pleased with her performance as his wife.”
Haverstock turned on to the most heavily traveled lane. “But?”
“I think he would bore Lydia excessively. Think on it.”
Her husband apparently took her advice, for he remained silent for several minutes.
“Before we married,” Anna said, trying to topple the wall that had erected between them, “did you bring young ladies here?”
He did not answer for a moment. “I suppose I did.”
“I shall be very jealous,” she said, her lips forming a pout.
“Would that I had married one of them and saved myself from an almond-eyed vixen,” he muttered ruefully.
Anna felt as if her heart had been torn from her chest.
She watched as Ainsley turned his curricle on to a little traveled lane and knew that was where he had chosen to propose to Lydia.
“To mimic my sister Lydia,” Anna said flippantly, “shall we take wagers on Lydia’s answer?”
“Five quid says she accepts,” he said.
“It’s a bet!”
TWENTY-ONE
LYDIA CAME EARLY to Anna’s room the next afternoon.
“Morgie won’t be here for half an hour,” Anna said, motioning for Lydia to sit beside her. “Let’s talk.”
“I confess I desire private conversation with you,” Lydia confided.
“You’ve asked Mr. Ainsley for time to consider his offer?”
Lydia’s black eyes clouded. “You know?”
“Of course,” Anna said, smiling. “Being ever-so-proper, the amiable Mr. Ainsley first solicited your brother’s permission to call upon you. And besides, anyone with eyes in their head could see how besotted Mr. Ainsley was over you at dinner the other night.”
“Then I must have very poor eyes, indeed,” Lydia said in a low voice. “He quite surprised me with his offer.”
“Have you decided when you will give him an answer?”
Lydia nodded. “I will tell him tonight.”
“Then—-then, you’ve decided?”
“Oh, yes. I shall have to accept. You see, it’s my first proposal. I shan’t be able to wait thirty more years for another, and I should very much like to be married, to be mistress of my own home, to have children.”
“You are on good terms with the squire’s children?”
“Very good. I am flattered that he would entrust their care to me, for he’s a very devoted father.”
“He will make a dutiful husband.”
“To be sure,” Lydia said, her eyelids downcast, her voice scratchy.
“Of course, you’re not in love with him.”
“Perhaps that will come,” Lydia said, trying to sound cheerful. “And even if it doesn’t, I will have far more than I ever thought to have.” She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. “What does Charles think of the offer?”
“He thinks Mr. Ainsley’s judgment most superior, and he is determined the man will treat you like a princess.”
Lydia threw back her head and laughed. “Bless Charles!”
Anna took Lydia’s hand. “There is no one else, is there, Lydia?”
“Why, of course not.” She did not sound convincing.
“You’ve never fancied yourself in love?”
“If you know me as well as you think you do, dear sister, then you know I am much too practical to go about swooning over unattainable men. My eyes are good enough that I know the woman who faces me in the looking glass is not close to being tolerably attractive.”
Anna could not argue with Lydia’s assessment of her appearance. “It is true that your stature is somewhat larger than the accepted mode, but you have many fine features.”
“Pray, enlighten me.”
“Your hair is a rich black, like a rook in sunshine. If you took more pains with its styling, I believe you could look like a Grecian goddess.”
Lydia laughed out loud.
“Do take me seriously. You also have very fine eyes. I ought to know. They’re exactly like Charles’. One look into his eyes, and I’m his slave.” Only to Lydia could Anna be completely honest.
“What a fine notion! Do you think Ainsley will be my slave?”
“I can not imagine the two of you being anything more than amiable. Can you see yourself sharing your innermost thoughts with the squire?”
“Goodness no! The man is far too polite. How wicked he would think me if he heard my sharp-tongued musings on half the people to whom I am acquainted.”
Anna appraised Lydia’s figure, what could be seen of it in the brown serge gown that did a thorough job of covering it. “It is my opinion, he admires your body.”
Lydia blushed crimson. Though low cut dresses were in vogue, she avoided wearing them, tending to dress like someone’s maiden aunt or gentlewoman’s companion.
“You do possess a bosom any woman would covet. You should divulge more of it.”
“I should feel like a doxy!”
“No one will ever take you for a doxy, Lydia.”
“If I’m going to be betrothed, I suppose I am going to have to allow you to help me select a suitable trousseau.”
“With pleasure. Now, before we go to the East End, I would like you to allow Colette to arrange your hair fashionably.”
~ ~ ~
ANNA KNEW CHARLES would not come to her chamber when he came home. He would go to his dressing room and don fresh clothing for the Taylors’ ball, avoiding any private conversation with her.
When she heard him talking with Manors in the adjoining chamber, she quietly opened the door, greeted both gentlemen, then walked up and placed five pounds in her husband’s hand. “It seems you won the wager, my lord.”
Wearing a freshly ironed shirt and gray breeches, Haverstock looked from his hand to his wife’s face, realization dawning. “So our loss will be Ainsley’s gain.”
Anna nodded.
His mouth set in a grim line, he said, “I will make the announcement at dinner.”
Before dinner, Lydia met with Ainsley in her brother’s library, freei
ng Haverstock to announce the nuptials over the dining table where the newly betrothed couple stood somewhat awkwardly while the family toasted them.
Even in his enthusiastic toast, Haverstock’s face bore no sign of happiness. Indeed, none of the family showed signs of elation over Lydia’s engagement. Cynthia burst into tears. “What are we going to do without Lydia?” she asked, her voice muffled with sobs. “This is so sudden.”
Anna suspected Captain Smythe’s failure to make Cynthia an offer brought on her tears as much as attachment to Lydia.
“Wouldn’t it have been nice to have had a double wedding?” Kate asked, placing a bejeweled hand on Mr. Reeves’ arm. “But we’ll be wed before your bans are posted.”
Now two of Charles’s sisters were embarking on misalliances, Anna thought with sadness. She shot a glance to the end of the table where her own husband sat, and her heart constricted. It wasn’t just his size that gave Haverstock commanding presence. Everything in his dark good looks—the stern cut of his square jaw, the wisdom in his black eyes, the strength of his magnificent body—exuded authority. Anna realized she had no right to judge anyone’s choice of husbands. She certainly had not married for love. And for all she knew, her husband still could be a French spy. More the pity. For now she would probably love him were he a homicidal maniac—though she could not seriously imagine him doing anything that was not honorable.
If only she could prove that Sir Henry—and not her husband—was the French spy.
But the truth was no more attainable than Charles’s love, she lamented.
Anna noticed the dowager’s disposition had taken a marked turn for the better in the past two days. Was it because James was coming home? A contented smile softened her black eyes at the announcement Lydia would be taken down off the shelf.
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