Was she truly contemplating turning her back on the city, wealth and the position in the political world she’d dreamed of since childhood to run after a man who might not even want her?
And what of Papa? With his recovery still uncertain, he’d steeled himself to send her to London anyway, so she might fulfil her dream. Would he turn from her in disgust if she threw away every advantage her family and Lady Parnell had worked to give her to choose a man who wished only to be a simple country gentleman?
Her stubborn heart insisted what they’d shared had been more than flirtation, more than obliging lust. Insisted, before she made the irrevocable decision to choose esteem over love and satisfaction over passion, she must find out for certain how Greville Anders felt about her.
By now, her head was throbbing. In the midst of the turmoil, she knew only one thing for certain. Some time tonight, she would tell Lady Parnell that she wanted to go home.
After greeting her hostess in the parlour before their dinner guests arrived, Amanda fell silent, not sure how to tell Lady Parnell she wished to leave at the height of the Season without seeming ungrateful for all that lady had done for her.
‘You seem pensive, my dear.’
‘Lord Trowbridge told me he intends to make a formal offer,’ she blurted out.
‘Wonderful!’ Lady Parnell exclaimed. ‘I’m so happy for you! It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? Oh, your dear mama would be so pleased!’
‘Except…I’m not so sure it’s still what I want,’ she admitted. ‘Oh, I have enjoyed London, especially the political evenings here and at Lady Ravensfell’s and Lady Holland’s. They were stimulating, exciting and I loved every minute.’
‘That’s a foretaste of what your life would be, if you married Trowbridge. His character and understanding are excellent, and it’s clear he cares for you. My dear, you can hardly do better than an earl’s son. Why the hesitation?’
‘It’s just…my heart is not totally engaged. He seemed to say that love would come later, a deepening of mutual respect and affection. Can that be true?’
Lady Parnell frowned, clearly not pleased by Amanda’s unexpected indecision. ‘Not everyone experiences falling in love. My own marriage was arranged by my family, but I came to esteem my husband very much, and miss him still. Besides, quite frankly, “love” may be well and good, but there are much more important considerations in wedlock. Money. Property. Family connections.’
Amanda knew so little of the world. Would mutual respect and admiration last longer, be more likely to make her happy, than the extremes of passionate emotion Greville evoked in her?
‘Is there…someone else?’
Startled out of her musing, Amanda jerked her head up to find Lady Parnell’s thoughtful gaze resting on her.
‘The fact that you are not falling for the charms of Lucien Trowbridge makes me wonder if you left a beau in the country, someone who still holds a claim upon your heart.’
After a moment’s hesitation, Amanda confessed, ‘Yes, there is someone.’ Ah, how good it felt to finally admit that! ‘I hoped to meet a gentleman in London I could like just as well, but I haven’t.’ She gave a pained laugh. ‘To make it worse, I don’t even know if he really wants me. Or if Papa would approve the match if he did.’
Lady Parnell’s frown deepened. ‘Is he that ineligible?’
‘He’s a gentleman’s son, but cannot boast the wealth or title of Lord Trowbridge. Nor has he any aspirations to play a role in the political arena.’
Lady Parnell shook her head. ‘Be very careful, my dear. I’ve seen a handful of misses make the mistake of believing passion a sufficient substitute for a substantial income and a secure future. I assure you, it is not.’
She took a restless turn about the room, while Amanda stood silent, anguished at having displeased the lady whose approval meant so much to her.
Lady Parnell stopped and turned back to her. ‘Amanda, if you turn down Trowbridge, society will be astounded. The Ravensfells will not take a refusal of their son’s suit kindly, and their influence is substantial. There’s no guarantee you would ever receive so advantageous an offer again, or one that would gain you entrée into the political world you enjoy. Meaning no disrespect to your father, who is a most estimable gentleman, I none the less sometimes think your mama regretted settling for a simple country gentleman.’
Not trusting herself to speak, Amanda merely nodded. Then, with a shuddering breath, she said, ‘Would it inconvenience you terribly if I went home to Ashton Grove to talk with Papa?’
‘It’s only natural you want to consult him on so important a decision. I’m sure he will advise you to be sensible. Very well, my dear, make your plans. Enough of this, now. Our guests will be arriving any minute.’
‘I’m sorry to have disappointed you,’ Amanda said softly, feeling tears sting her eyes.
Lady Parnell sighed and gave her a quick hug. ‘You know I only want the best for you. I just hope you’ll temper emotion with prudence. And remember—such opportunities as you have been blessed with occur only once in a lifetime.’
Before Amanda could add more than a thank you, Kindle entered to usher in their first dinner guest, and social duties left her no more time to worry over her future.
As soon as their guests departed, though, she would set Betsy to packing. Greville Anders would be returning to Ashton Grove, and before she distressed Papa by announcing a choice that might pain and disappoint him, she must see Mr Anders again.
In the morning three days later, home again in her own chamber, Amanda stood gazing at her reflection in the glass, nervously smoothing her gown before going in to speak with Papa.
To her great disappointment, when she arrived late the previous evening, she’d discovered Greville Anders was not in residence. He’d gone to visit his sister, Sands told her, and hadn’t yet returned.
So she would have to talk with Papa without seeing him first. Smoothing the lace of her gown one more time, she began to pace, wondering just what she should tell him. If she confessed her partiality for Greville, how would Papa react? With disappointment…anger…disgust?
Her thoughts still swung wildly back and forth between putting her feelings aside and meeting everyone’s expectations by accepting Trowbridge, and abandoning the secure future he represented to offer herself to Greville Anders.
Her practical side said she was a fool even to contemplate doing something so risky—what if Papa disapproved and threatened to disown her for throwing away her grand prospects? She didn’t think she could bear to forfeit his love and support. But if he didn’t approve, what was she to do about her passion for Greville Anders?
She simply didn’t know…and the prospect of having to make a choice between them was devastating.
On the other hand, she didn’t want to finish her days a successful hostess and esteemed wife…whose heart ached with longing for the man she’d never stopped loving.
Oh, if only Greville were here! She just knew that if she could see him again, confess her feelings and watch his face, she’d be able to tell if her powerful, tempestuous emotions were returned. Or discover she’d been building a castle of dreams about his love that was completely devoid of reality.
In that case, she could always go back to London and accept Trowbridge’s offer.
A sudden, powerful conviction seized her, freezing her in mid-step. For the first time, with brilliant clarity, she realised that accepting Trowbridge—accepting any other man—was no longer possible. Regardless of how he felt about her, she loved Greville Anders and no one else would do.
She didn’t want to settle for mutual respect and tepid affection, or insult Trowbridge by living a lie, pledging her hand to him while her heart belonged to another.
Along with that surety came the knowledge that she had no choice but to take the risk of confessing everything to Papa.
If she was about to put her whole future in the balance, she might as well get straight to it. Her heartbeat ac
celerating like a bird taking flight, she headed for her father’s study.
He gave a delighted smile as she entered and came over to embrace her. ‘Sands told me you’d arrived home last night! How good to see you, my child!’
‘I suppose you can guess why I came home.’
‘To see if Althea was taking proper care not to let me slip out of the house in defiance of doctor’s orders? To discover whether Cook was nipping at the sherry or the underbutler nabbing the silver?’ he teased. ‘Althea is doing a wonderful job, by the way.’
‘I knew she would. And, yes, I did want to check on you and all those things. Oh, how I’ve missed you, Papa!’ she exclaimed, giving him another hug.
‘I must confess, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Is…is everything going well in London?’
‘Oh, yes, Papa! I’ve loved becoming better acquainted with Lady Parnell. The parties and dancing and theatre, the shops and entertainments have been marvellous.’
‘The handsome escorts, too, if London gentlemen have eyes in their heads. But if nothing is amiss, I’m guessing you’ve come about one in particular. Am I right, puss?’
Amanda nodded. ‘Lord Trowbridge told me he intends to ask you for my hand. Unless I tell him not to.’
Her father raised an eyebrow. ‘And why would you do that? Is Trowbridge not exactly the sort of husband you’ve been seeking?’
‘His character and position are everything admirable. Except…he doesn’t really love me.’ When her father started to protest, she halted him with a wave. ‘No, he admitted as much. He believes admiration and affection to be a better basis for marriage. But…there is someone else who has engaged my heart, more deeply than I ever thought possible.’
She gave her head an agitated shake. ‘Oh, Papa, I’ve tried and tried to talk myself out of it, but in the end, I can no longer deny how I feel. I hate to break the promise I made to Mama and disappoint you and Lady Parnell, but somehow, against all my better judgement, I…I’ve fallen in love with Greville Anders.’
There, she’d said it. Now she held her breath, watching her father anxiously.
‘I see,’ he said non-committally.
At least he hadn’t leapt to his feet in anger, or called Sands to have her expelled from the house. But then, she should have known her gentle father would not chastise, but instead seek to understand before reacting to her confession.
‘I suspected there was some…partiality between you,’ he said at length. ‘Does he return your feelings?’
Her laughter had an hysterical edge. ‘I’m such a fool, Papa, I don’t even know! I think he returns my feelings and kept silent to let me have my Season, unimpeded by any other commitments. But even not knowing what he wishes, I can’t marry Trowbridge. Or Lord Melcombe or any of the other gentleman Lady Parnell expects to offer for me. I must marry the man I love…or no one.’
‘Anders is a gentleman, too, and will make excellent estate manager. But will being a mere country gentleman’s wife make you happy? Since you were a little girl, you’ve thought of nothing but becoming a grand society hostess. Are you sure you can abandon that vision?’
‘I can’t blame you for doubting it. I’ve enjoyed the Season, but more and more lately, aside from the dinners at which political matters are debated, the endless rounds of parties and pleasures and entertainments, shopping and gossiping, just seems so…trivial. It is like existing on a never-ending diet of sweetmeats.’
She laughed ruefully. ‘After all that time spent thinking I couldn’t wait to leave the country and live in London, I found I missed it. The rustle of wind in the trees and across the grass, the soft low of cattle in the fields, the scent of meadow-fresh air untainted by smoke and street refuse. I missed the rhythm of country life, people tending fields and flocks, their days spent in hard, useful, necessary labour. Missed tending to them and the household, activities focused on more than just gratifying my own desires. When I arrived home yesterday, nothing had ever looked more beautiful to me than the fields and manor at Ashton Grove. I guess I’m a countrywoman at heart after all.’
‘You are sure this is what you want?’ he said again. ‘If you abandon your Season now, you will most likely forfeit for ever any chance of making a great society match.’
‘Lady Parnell already warned me as much.’ She smiled tremulously. ‘I never thought I would choose woods and fields and cottages over the excitement of the city, but it seems I have.’ She came over to kneel before him, looking up anxiously into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry I’ve turned out to be such a disappointment. You…you won’t cast me off, will you?’
He leaned forwards to envelop her in a hug. ‘How could you even ask such a thing? Surely you know your happiness is always, ever what counts most with me.’ He chuckled. ‘How could you imagine I would be disappointed for you to eschew London in favour of the country, when I’m sure to spend more time with my eventual grandchildren if I don’t have to visit the city to see them?’
Sobering, he continued, ‘Greville Anders is a good man of sound principles. He may not be titled, or as rich as Trowbridge, but he’s a gentleman, with connections to some of the highest families in the land. If you want him and he asks for your hand, I’ll not deny him permission.’
An enormous feeling of relief flooding her, she squeezed her father’s hand. ‘Thank you, Papa.’
‘So, how do we proceed now? Do you wish me to speak with Mr Anders when he returns?’
‘N-no. If I end up making a fool of myself, I’d rather he not know I’d discussed my feelings with anyone else.’
Papa gazed down at her, tenderness in his smile. ‘If my daughter loves him, ’tis Anders who’d be the fool not to love her back. And Mr Anders, Puss, does not strike me as foolish.’
She exhaled a shaky breath. ‘Well, if he doesn’t want me, I can stay here and keep house for you, can’t I?’
Papa chuckled. ‘Oh, I don’t foresee so dull a future.’
The very notion of becoming Greville’s wife, waking with him at her side, greeting him with a kiss every day when he returned from his tasks—and spending every night in his bed—brought an upswell of joy within her. ‘I think I would love becoming mistress of a small estate somewhere.’
‘Just make sure you’re the wife of the master, not just his mistress,’ Papa warned, a twinkle in eye.
‘Papa!’ she protested, blushing as she recalled what she let Greville Anders do to and for her. What she couldn’t wait to do again.
‘Come talk with me after you’ve spoken with Mr Anders. And don’t worry so much about his reaction. I may be a dried-up old man, but even I noticed how he’s moped about since you left, looking like his last friend had abandoned him. I’m betting his reaction to discovering you are willing to turn your back on London will be everything you hope.’
‘Oh, I hope so, too, Papa!’ she cried, throwing her arms around him again and hugging so tightly that he protested he was hardly able to draw breath. But with Papa’s blessing on her choice, her happiness was complete.
As long as Greville Anders loved her.
How long was she going to have to wait to find out?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Late that evening, mud-spattered and weary, Greville rode in from Blenhem Hill. He’d pushed his tired mount on until they reached Ashton, not wanting to spend another night on the road, so he might be ready to resume his duties first thing in morning.
His excessive fatigue might have one benefit; perhaps tonight he wouldn’t dream of Amanda Neville, waking with delight that turned to bleak desolation as he discovered the image of her in his arms, her passionate panting breaths filling his ears and exulting his heart, was only an illusion.
After walking up from the stables, he encountered Sands in the hall. Stopping short, the butler said, ‘Welcome back, Mr Anders! I wish you’d sent word that you’d be arriving tonight; I could have had some supper waiting. Shall I have Cook prepare you a tray?’
‘I’d be most grateful. Pl
ease, don’t disturb Lord Bronning or Miss Althea to inform them I’ve returned; I expect they’ve both already retired. I’ll greet them tomorrow.’
Sands hesitated, as if he were about to add something, then nodded. ‘Very well. Shall I send the tray to your chamber?’
‘Yes, please. And make it just a cold collation. Before I retire, I wish to review the accounts, so I may discuss them with Lord Bronning first thing tomorrow.’
Sands bowed. ‘Very well, Mr Anders.’
Greville thought longingly of a hot meal, a warm bath and a soft bed. He could scarcely wait to wash off the grit of the road, but Lord Bronning was an early riser, and he wanted to greet his host already in possession of the latest details on the status of the estate.
The allure of sleep did prompt him to quicken his step. Half-an-hour’s inspection of Lord Bronning’s well-organised ledgers should be sufficient to bring him up to date, and then he’d rest.
Greville checked in surprise at the threshold of the estate office. It must be fatigue, for he didn’t recall asking Sands to illumine the candles, but golden light was spilling out into the hallway. He was through the door and halfway across the room before he realised it wasn’t empty.
Sitting at his desk, her face angled pensively towards the window, was Amanda Neville.
Greville blinked once, then twice. Memories of her had ridden on his shoulder, whispered in his ear all the way back from Blenhem. After discussing details of purchasing the estate with Greaves, he’d argued with himself over whether to go immediately to London before returning to Ashton Grove. Asking her, this time point-blank and directly, whether the emotion he knew they shared was strong enough for her to consider giving up London and her dreams of a life there.
Had having her fill his heart and mind for so many hours made him conjure up her very image?
Before he could decide whether his wits had been addled by some pleasant madness, she looked up, saw him and gasped.
In one graceful movement, she leapt up from the chair, flew across room and into his arms.
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