They walked slowly across the unkempt lawn, her arm in his.
She was lost in contemplation of the scene they had just witnessed. “Was it not noble and tragic altogether?” she said, more to herself than to him.
He thought savagely that he might have saved himself a journey.
“Just like a novel, or a drama!” she continued. “Do you think they will be happy?”
“I think he is an honest fellow, and will do his best not to let it make a difference to him,” he said, impatiently. “Anastasia!” he began.
“Sir!” she interrupted, freeing her arm abruptly and facing him resolutely, “I have something to tell you that you will not like!”
“If you mean Louisa’s elopement, I know all about it.”
Her mouth fell open. “How did you ...?”
“Georgiana had to tell all, when you did not come back. Lady Dunford is probably still having hysterics.”
“Oh!”
“Georgiana also told me something else,” he continued, his eyes fixed searchingly on her face. “She told me that she was betrothed to Robin Carstares.”
“Yes, the day that you came to see me, and were so ... so very angry with me, Robin had just told me of it. But I could not tell you, for it was not my secret!”
“I thought . . “ he began, and the full moon sailed out from its cloudy hiding-place and showed him her face, tired and sad.
“When I chanced upon you that night at Derwent Place with Carstares I was sure it was a lover’s meeting. Was I wrong?”
“If you had stayed there you would have seen me turn from him in anger!” she protested. “Besides, why were you there again that night? You had already seen Louisa!”
“To see you, Anastasia! I could not get you out of my mind. . .” He put out his hand and turned her face up to his. “Why do you look so sad?”
“Sad? I am not sad!” She avoided his searching dark gaze.
“Yes you are! You have not that merry, impish smile that I remember. Can it be. . .? Anastasia, say that you have fallen in love with me, as I have with you!” he said urgently.
Her expression told him all he needed to know. As if drawn by a magnetic force their lips met in a long kiss that spoke more than words ever could.
He held her closely. “I love you, Anastasia. I never thought of love until I met you!”
“But can you really love me?” she said softly, her eyes like stars.
“Can you doubt it?”
A sigh quivered from her lips. “No .... no, I do not doubt it, for I feel just the same. One look was enough for me to know! But, Lord Silverfield....”
“George,” he interrupted.
“George!” she said, and blushed. “What about Louisa? If you do not marry her you will be ruined!”
“Damn Louisa!” he said cheerfully. “Tell me, my love, would you be happy living on a pittance in the country with me?”
“I could be happy with you anywhere! But you? Could you be happy in such circumstances after living so very differently? Without your horses, and dogs, and London, and all your friends!”
“What a fellow you must think me! You deserve that I should instantly offer hand and heart to the first heiress I meet! As if anything could be worth more to me than you!”
She apologised by kissing him, and they were engaged in exchanging like protestations of love, and nonsensical endearments for an appreciable time.
“I have a confession to make,” he said eventually.
“A confession?” she said doubtfully. “I think we have had enough of confessions and mysteries for one night!”
“Not this one! Listen — the day we argued at your Aunt’s house — and you very rightly slapped my face! — I had come meaning to ask you to marry me, whether I lost the inheritance or not...”
She made to interrupt him, but he put a finger to her lips. “No, hear me out! I thought that you had chosen Carstares instead, and so next day I proposed to Louisa in a fit of pique.”
“And panicked her into an elopement for which she is probably most grateful to you! But did you really mean to ask me to marry you, and give up everything for me?”
“Everything,” he said, holding her closer, “Could not compare with you, my heart’s delight! Besides, you have not heard the end of my confession!”
“Go on then. Sir! Who else did you propose to?”
“No-one. But I think the shock of actually having asked Sir James for Louisa must have jogged my brain into working, for I immediately afterwards went round and looked more closely at my Uncle’s will.”
“Your Uncle’s will?”
“Precisely. And it was just as I thought, my love – it says that I will inherit everything, provided that I marry the daughter of Sir James Derwent within twelve months!”
He embraced her in a hard and bear-like hug, so that she squeaked.
“And you are the daughter of Sir James Derwent! The late Sir James Derwent!”
“Do you mean . . . Can you mean — that I will do just as well?”
“I would not put it quite like that myself, my darling idiot!” he said, kissing her again, “But it will suffice!”
Copyright © 1984 by Patricia M. Ashley
Originally published by Robert Hale [London] (070901709X)
Electronically published in 2006 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part,
by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any
other means without permission of the publisher. For more
information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are
fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
The Other Miss Derwent Page 17