Lois Menzel

by Ruled by Passion

  “Are you feeling better?” Crilley asked.

  “Yes. Thank you. I cannot imagine why I should feel faint. If I could but sit a moment, I am sure I will be better directly.”

  “Perhaps we danced too much. You are fatigued. Shall I take you home?”

  “Maybe that would be best.” Looking up, Anne seemed to realize for the first time that they were alone. “Where are Lord and Lady Sumner?”

  “I suppose they walked on,” he answered. “Come. I will take you to my coach and have you home in no time.”

  As he began to draw her to her feet, Anne resisted. “I cannot go alone with you, my lord. We must wait for your friends.” She put her hands up, holding her head between them. “I feel so odd; could it have been something I ate? … Or the wine?”

  She had commented on the bitterness of the wine at supper. The other three had laughed, saying that Vauxhall masquerades were infamous for their mediocre wine.

  “You are astute, Miss Waverly. Perhaps your wine did have an ingredient that ours lacked. You are looking not at all well. Perhaps you would allow me to support you? Try to relax.”

  When Tenbury heard no response from Anne, his role as passive chaperone ended. As he moved quickly to the path, his shadow fell across the soft beam of light penetrating the arbor from a lantern hung along the tree-lined pathway.

  Crilley looked up to see a black-clad figure confronting him. He came to his feet instinctively, trying to hide Anne’s drooping figure behind him.

  “So sorry to disappoint you Crilley, but I fear you will detain Miss Waverly no longer tonight. She is not, as you assumed, without a protector.”

  Then from the darkness of the shadow, a powerful fist emerged to meet Lord Crilley’s jaw. He staggered for a moment under its impact and then his knees buckled. Tenbury quickly caught him under the arms to keep him from falling backward over Anne, then deposited him on the ground beside the bench. Tenbury stripped the mask from his face and seated himself beside Anne, taking her hands in his and waiting until she looked at him. “It was perhaps unwise to come here with him,” he said. “If you will come with me now, I will take you home.”

  Even though Anne’s thoughts were muddled, Tenbury’s offer to escort her home seemed more acceptable than Lord Crilley’s similar suggestion a few moments ago. Despite her last meeting with Tenbury, and the bitterness of her words then, she never doubted she would be safe with him. As she rose shakily to her feet, he took her arm. She walked unsteadily for a few steps, leaning heavily on him for support. Clearly losing patience with their slow progress, Tenbury bent to lift her in his arms. Her instinctive objection died on her lips, for she had no will to utter it. To be spared the effort of walking was a sublime relief, for her feet seemed leaden and her limbs numb. She gratefully relaxed against him. Reaching her arms about his neck and nestling her head into his shoulder, she closed her eyes.

  Tenbury deserted the lighted pathways, making his way carefully through the darkest portions of the gardens to the edge of the carriage drive. There, in the relative quiet along the road, he whistled three times, then waited. Within a few moments his coach approached slowly down the drive. When it was close, he stepped from the shadow of the trees into the moonlight. As the coachman pulled to a stop beside him, the footman hurried to help his master put the lady safely inside. “To Miss Waverly’s house in Charles Street,” Tenbury said briefly, pulling the door shut from the inside as the coach moved off into the streets of Lambeth.

  One small lantern burned within the coach, casting a flickering sallow light over its interior. Anne was leaning back in the corner while Tenbury sat beside her, her limp wrist in his hand. Her pulse was slow and steady. He suspected she had been drugged but had no way of knowing what Crilley had given her or how long its effects would last.

  “You foolish girl,” he said aloud. “Don’t you know you are no match for them?”

  His words penetrated the haze, and Anne’s eyelids fluttered open. “I did not know you were in London,” she said.

  “I arrived earlier today.”

  She nodded but was unequal to conversation. “I am so tired,” she said.

  “Rest then. You will be home soon.”

  She closed her eyes and did not speak again. Tenbury continued to hold her hand in his, even though he had determined that her heartbeat was regular, for he was discovering that each time he held her, he was less willing to let her go.

  By the time the coach arrived in Charles Street, Anne had fallen asleep. Tenbury went to the front door and knocked, asking once again for Miss Waverly’s maid. When Cassie appeared, he explained as briefly as possible. “I cannot carry her in the front door and risk being seen. Go through the house and unbolt the rear entrance. I will bring her up from the mews.”

  When he was gone, Cassie hurried to do his bidding, while the coach made its way round to the stables.

  Tenbury carried Anne unseen through the walled garden behind the house and up the servants’ stairs to her bedchamber. “I believe she has been drugged, and she may sleep for some time,” he told the maid. “I don’t know what she will remember when she wakes. Tell her what she needs to know, to set her mind at ease. Keep this to yourself; the fewer people who know about it, the better.”

  Sometime during the night, Anne passed from the artificial sleep caused by the drug she had been given into a natural slumber. She awoke just after nine o’clock with a slight headache.

  She turned her head to see Cassie busy laying out her morning gown. She had a vague memory of a nightmare—had she just wakened from one? Then she remembered the masquerade. She could recall being afraid … She could not remember coming home.

  “Cassie?”

  “Good morning, miss. You had planned to call upon Lady Tenbury this morning. Should you like the primrose or the coral?”

  “Cassie. What happened last night? I do not remember coming home.”

  “It was late, miss, and you were weary.”

  “No. It was more than that. I was walking in the garden with Lord Crilley, and I felt faint. I actually thought I had been … I cannot remember what happened. How did I get home? When did I get home?”

  “Please don’t distress yourself, miss. You were home just after one o’clock. A friend saw you with Lord Crilley and stepped in to help when he realized the danger you were in. He brought you home safely.”

  “It was Lord Tenbury,” Anne replied, vague memory returning.

  “Does it matter, miss? You are safe; that is all that should concern us.”

  “I did not know he was in town.”

  “His lordship came to the house not long after you had gone,” Cassie supplied. “He asked if it were true that you had attended a masquerade. When I said you had, he asked what color you were wearing. Then he left. He brought you home asleep, carried you in from the stables through the back door so no one would see. That is all I know.”

  Anne shuddered to think of herself in the power of Lord Crilley, or indeed any man. She realized she had been a fool to go alone with a party of people she barely knew. Tenbury obviously realized it, too. Otherwise he would not have followed her there. Why, of all men, must she find herself indebted to him?

  Anne felt she could not trust Tenbury’s motives. She had learned that lesson well and would not forget it. But she also knew that regardless of what his motives had been on the previous evening, he had rendered her an invaluable service.

  She dressed carefully in the primrose morning dress and called upon Lady Tenbury as planned. The earl was not present when she arrived, and Lady Tenbury did not mention him. As Anne rose to leave, however, she found the courage to ask if he was home.

  “I believe he is,” Lady Tenbury replied. “Shall I have Kimble send for him?” She rang the bell before Anne had time to object to this summons.

  “I had hoped to speak with his lordship privately, my lady,” Anne offered.

  “And so you shall, my dear. I have an engagement and must hurry to be ready in time.
I hope to see you again soon.”

  When Lady Tenbury was gone, Anne had only a few moments to wait before the earl appeared. He hesitated a moment in the doorway when he saw her, then came into the room and securely closed the door.

  “Miss Waverly. I am surprised to see you here.”

  “Did you think I would not appreciate your assistance last evening?”

  “To be honest, I was not certain how you would feel. I thought you might have the headache today and prefer to keep to your bed.”

  “I have come to thank you, my lord, though words alone seem inadequate. Why did you come after me?”

  “Arelia heard at the Margate’s ball that you had gone with Crilley, and she shared the information with me. All of London knows Crilley hasn’t a feather to fly with, and the anonymity offered by masquerades provides an atmosphere for treachery.”

  She dropped her eyes to the reticule she clutched in her lap. “I did not realize.”

  “Of course not. How could you?”

  “I could have asked.”

  “True. And in future perhaps you will.”

  “Cassie said you followed us to the gardens. How did you find me?”

  “I recognized you in the booth at dinner and followed when you walked with Crilley. When he took you off alone, I became uneasy and listened to your conversation. Had he behaved as a gentleman, I would not have interfered. But when you complained of feeling ill, and he as much as admitted drugging you, I knew I must confront him. I wanted him to realize he had made a mistake in thinking you unprotected. Since I was masked, I doubt he knew who I was. I don’t believe he will approach you again.”

  “Why did he do it?”

  “I cannot say, precisely.”

  “As nearly as you can say, then.”

  “He may have felt the drug would render you more compliant to his lovemaking. If Lord and Lady Sumner were to return and find you locked in a compromising embrace, it would then behoove Crilley to make you an offer, which you, to protect your reputation, would accept. In the event you refused the offer, I suspect the Sumners would have seen to it that the story was quickly spread. If there was a flaw in Crilley’s plan, it was that he over-drugged you and very nearly rendered you unconscious.”

  Her eyes, which had been fixed painfully on his throughout this conversation, widened with horror at this plainspeaking, then suddenly filled with tears.

  He stepped close, taking her shoulders in his hands. “I am not speaking so to frighten you, but it would serve no purpose to protect you from the truth. You were in grave danger last night. You must guard continuously against similar situations. You must be very, very careful. London can be an exhilarating place, but for a single, wealthy woman, a woman with no family to protect her, it can be fraught with peril. I am not suggesting you retreat to the country, but I do urge you to carefully consider your actions. It is possible that there are ulterior motives behind the things people say and do.”

  His hands dropped as she turned away and sat on a nearby chair, staring at nothing in particular. “As there were ulterior motives behind all you said and did last summer,” she said. Since she was not looking at him, she did not see the flicker of pain and regret that passed over his face. “How horrible it is to be unable to take people at their word,” she continued, “to be unable to trust anyone.”

  “I know, but I am afraid it is necessary.”

  “This is what the duke meant when he said great wealth can be a curse.”

  “I am sure that is what he meant, and I am even more certain that he was correct.”

  Chapter 16

  Anne’s near disaster with Lord Crilley had one good consequence. She believed now that besides those merely curious about her wealth, there could be others who meant to do her harm.

  She took Lord Tenbury’s warning to heart and moved about the city with greater care. When she needed to go out alone, she took the coach and two strong, young footmen with her. At all other times she insisted Sophy Boone join her. In the evenings she attended parties only with people she knew and trusted: Arelia, Lady Tenbury, Jack Saunders, and several of their closest friends.

  Anne was discovering, as she had at Tenton Castle, that all she had read and learned over the years had a much larger application than she had been afforded in debate and discussion with her father.

  The provocative, stimulating conversations she had shared with Arelia and Dennis were only the beginning. London, the world for that matter, offered hundreds of new thoughts and experiences only waiting for her to take part.

  After the night at Vauxhall Gardens, she took care to avoid Lord Crilley, while he made no attempt to approach her.

  Blake and Farringdon were still to be found among her admirers, usually claiming a dance when they were present at the same function. Anne found Lord Blake too obvious in his attentions. When he discovered she liked poetry, she suspected he dashed home to memorize a piece to share with her at their next meeting. When she mentioned once in passing that she admired yellow roses, a huge bouquet was delivered to her house the following morning. She thought he might be—as the Duke of Chadwicke had warned her—the man who would ultimately pay compliments to the color of her eyes.

  Lord Farringdon she found fascinating, despite Arelia’s warning that he was a dissolute gambler. He never paid her outrageous compliments, but engaged her instead in lively and intriguing conversation. He had a singular sense of humor and was a remarkably fluid dancer. She found as the days passed that she looked forward to meeting him.

  Tenbury viewed Anne’s cautious behavior with approval and was able to relax his vigilance somewhat. If there were those few who could not see past her wealth, there were a great many others who were slowly coming to know the real Anne Waverly. Her freshness and innocence colored every word she spoke. This was no jaded heiress, but a simple woman from the country with honest values, an optimistic outlook, and a superior understanding. Her unusual education made her conversant with so many topics that she could speak knowledgeably on nearly any subject her varied companions raised.

  After their conversation on the morning following the masquerade, Tenbury hoped he would see some softening in Anne’s position toward him. He was to be disappointed, for although she was unfailingly polite whenever they met, she gave no sign that she had forgotten his behavior of the summer, or that she wanted to pursue a relationship with him.

  With Jack, however, she showed no similar reserve. She met him at a ball several days after his return to town. Tenbury witnessed the warm smile she generously bestowed on his brother and had to admit to a pang of jealousy.

  “Have you saved a dance for me?” Jack asked Anne.

  “I did not know you would be here,” she complained, “but as it happens I am free for the next.”

  He offered his arm and they walked off together. “It seems ages since I last saw you,” she said. “Tell me about the races. I have never been, but I think I should enjoy it above all things.”

  They were soon beyond Tenbury’s hearing, but he continued to watch them as they joined the other dancers in a waltz.

  Two weeks later, while Tenbury stood in conversation with Arelia at the edge of yet another crowded room, she pointed out that Jack and Anne were dancing for the second time that evening.

  “I have never known Jack to take such interest in a woman,” she said. “He shows a decided preference for Anne’s company, and he has grown very particular in his attentions. She is older than he, of course, but I cannot think it would matter if she returned his regard. Do you think he has formed a serious attachment, Nate?”

  When Tenbury realized she was waiting for an answer, he replied offhandedly, “I am sorry, Arelia, but I really have not thought much about it. If you will excuse me, I see someone I must speak with.” He left her and made his way across the room. He did not stop to speak with anyone but called for his coach. Within fifteen minutes he was home, seated before the fire in the library with a large brandy in his hand.

&nb
sp; He had lied outright to his sister-in-law. Lately it seemed that the relationship between his brother and Anne was never far from his mind. They rode together, they drove together, they danced and talked and laughed together. And while their relationship continued to bloom, Tenbury’s efforts to reinstate himself in Anne’s good graces had failed utterly. Once when he asked her to drive with him, she excused herself, claiming another engagement; the one time he asked her to dance, she pled fatigue.

  Always he clung to the memory of their kiss at the pool that moonlit night. She had kissed him; she had responded to him; she had returned his embrace. And yet, no sooner did that incident comfort him than he remembered the evening he interrupted Jack and Anne kissing in the library. They had offered excuses he had never truly believed. No doubt they had been strongly attracted to each other even then.

  Arelia’s mother lived in Bedfont. Confined to a wheeled chair by a severe bone disorder, she had invited her daughter and Miss Waverly for tea. On Monday, two days prior to the planned expedition to Bedfont, Anne shared luncheon with Lady Tenbury at Tenbury House, then stayed afterward talking with Jack in the library.

  Just after one-thirty, Arelia joined them, an open letter in her hand. “I have received this message from Tenton,” she said. “It seems there has been some new problem with Tom. Mr. Pearce thinks I should come immediately to the Castle.”

  “What does he say?” Anne asked.

  Arelia read: “‘I fear Tom has discovered some new mischief. I am uncertain how you would have me deal with it. I would not ask you to undertake the journey from London if I did not consider the matter grave …’ Do you think I should ask Tenbury to go?”