Her sister ignored their irate mother and looked momentarily to her husband who remained at the door as a manner of sentry. A look passed between husband and wife. Again, an almost painful envy coursed through Anne at the shared connection. He gave an imperceptible nod.
Katherine’s brown eyes formed wide circles in her face. “No,” she breathed. “Not—”
“Don’t,” Anne implored, not needing, and certainly not wanting the words uttered into existence.
“You’d have her wed vile Mr. Ekstrom,” Katherine hissed.
“I’d see her married and protected while you’d see her ruined,” her mother spat.
The two women stood, locked in a silent battle of the wills. Mother had once sought to wed Katherine to their cousin. With her quick wit and bold courage, she’d instead put an offer of marriage to the Duke of Bainbridge, thus saving herself from Mother’s maneuverings. However, Anne was long past saving. She knew that. Her guardian would know that. And if Rutland had his way, everyone in polite Society would soon know it, too.
Katherine broke the impasse. “I’ll see you a spinster before I ever see you wed that vile toad,” she said to Anne, never taking her eyes from their mother.
The countess narrowed her eyes. “I shall speak to your uncle first thing in the morning, Anne. After his shameful lack of regard for my marital aspirations for Katherine,” Katherine’s eyebrows dipped. “I’m sure he’ll at least have sense enough to see to the necessity of a union between yourself and Mr. Ekstrom.”
The bottom fell out from Anne’s stomach as her mother’s words somehow made this hell all the more real. She managed a jerky nod.
“Splendid.” Mother gave a pleased nod. “The matter is settled. I’ll meet with my brother tomorrow morning and he’ll see to the arrangements with Bertrand.” She swept out of the room as though she’d spoken on mundane matters such as the London weather and her latest modiste, and not Anne’s grim future.
Katherine glowered at Anne. “I forbid you from wedding him.”
What her sister failed to realize was that it didn’t really matter who Anne wed. Mr. Ekstrom may as well have been the Duke of Crawford who may as well have been Prinny himself. None of them were Harry. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Always regarded as selfish and self-serving, Anne would relinquish Harry, and in doing so, lose the only man she would ever love.
“We shall simply find you a husband.” She motioned to Jasper who still remained by his post at the doorway. “After all, I found one.”
A broken laugh bubbled past Anne’s lips. She took Katherine’s hands and gave them a firm squeeze. “Oh, Kat, don’t you see you can’t fix this. You were right through the years. I was headstrong and unwise and now I’ll pay the price.” The ultimate price, marriage to Bertrand Ekstrom. The threat that had dangled first over Katherine and then Anne, would be realized.
Her sister shook her head back and forth. “I cannot believe that,” she said, with a fool’s optimism. Anne marveled at the great shift that had occurred. Long considered the fanciful, foolishly whimsical twin, Anne had somehow altered roles with her practical, logic-driven sister. Katherine appealed to Jasper. “Surely there is something we can do?”
He looked to his wife and said tersely, “Stanhope.”
Anne was remarkably low on options. Ruin. Harry. Vile Bertie Ekstrom. Options that would salvage her reputation, that was. Her throat worked. She could not wed Harry. Would not. Not under duress. Not because he’d been forced into a union with a wife who would merely suffice. In time, he would grow to hate her and she’d become an empty, bitter shell of a woman just as her mother had been…and still was, even long after Father had died. All the while she’d sit from the sidelines as Harry longed for another, loved another he could not have. No, that she could not do. She took a steadying breath. “The decision is mine, Katherine.”
An almost pitying look wreathed the harsh, angular planes of her brother-in-law’s face. She cocked her head at the crack in Jasper’s hard veneer. But for the clear love he carried for his wife and sweet son, Maxwell, she’d never bore witness to a single show of emotion from the austere duke. Until now. “Rutland,” she whispered aloud.
Katherine and Jasper stared at her questioningly.
Anne pressed her fingers against her temples and rubbed her fingers in slow, circular motions. “I need to speak with Lord Rutland.” Any man who’d stood to the side and watched on as though his heart too was publicly breaking was not wholly a monster.
“No,” Katherine said, her lips a flat line of disapproval. “Enough of your schemes, Anne.”
Only, she’d witnessed Rutland’s despair. “I must speak to him.” She scrambled forward in her seat. “Rutland will—”
“Rutland is a despicable bounder,” her sister said bluntly. “Tell her,” she said to her husband. Her eyes narrowed at his silence. “Tell her, Jasper.”
“I believe, perhaps, it might be beneficial to speak to Rutland,” he said quietly. He still clearly believed Harry to be a worthless cur, and likely saw the imagined perils in Anne wedding one such as the Earl of Stanhope.
“Thank you, Jasper,” Anne said softly.
Katherine leaned over and took Anne’s hand in her own. “I’m disappointed Harry would meet you as he did and compromise your reputation, but Anne, you’ve been ruined. Ruined before one, may as well be ruined before all. Surely you must see the folly in choosing one such as Mr. Ekstrom over Harry?”
Anne pressed her eyes tight, remembering his laugh, his teasing, the moment he’d placed the delicate wire-framed spectacles upon her nose in Hyde Park. Until the day she drew her last breath, Harry would hold every last sliver of her now broken heart. She loved him enough to set him free.
“Anne?” her sister prodded.
“He…” She didn’t know how much Katherine knew of Harry’s past and would not betray the pieces she had of him. “He loved another, and I’ll not come between that.” She pulled her hand free and shoved to her feet. She would not become their mother. Of course, she could not say as much. Katherine knew nothing of Father’s infidelity, so in this, Anne would protect her.
“This is madness.” Katherine stood. “Madness.”
“Do you believe Harry loves me?”
Her sister fell stonily silent, her lack of response more resounding than any answer.
A sad smile tugged at her lips. “No, I did not believe so, either.”
Katherine held her palms up. “I don’t know if Harry is capable of loving anyone.” Katherine was wrong. As much as her sister knew of Harry, she clearly didn’t know of the love he’d carried for Margaret. She crossed over to Anne. “I trust he’ll marry you,” she said quietly.
How could her sister with such a beautiful love with Jasper believe Anne could ever, would ever enter into a union that had been orchestrated by the vile Lord Rutland? “I’ll not have him that way.” She’d have him in a loving marriage or not at all.
“You’d rather wed that toad, Bertrand Ekstrom?” Katherine glanced to her husband. “Say something, Jasper.”
His response was lost to Anne as she wandered to the window. She peeled back the curtain. In spite of the warmth of the night, a chill stole through her.
Katherine’s face reflected in the crystal panes. Her brown eyebrows stitched in a single, suspicious line. “What are you thinking, Anne?”
She touched her forehead to the cool windowpane as her mother’s previous threats of and for a marriage to Mr. Ekstrom and the inevitability of her ruin blended into one perfectly horrific resolution. A lone carriage rumbled down the darkened street. “I can’t marry him.”
“Bah, of course you can!”
Anne shook her head. “No.” She turned back around. “I can’t.” Harry would do the honorable thing and wed her. But it would never be for the right reasons. Ultimately, in protecting her and denying himself the one woman he truly loved, he would bind himself to Anne—forever. That was the kind of gentleman he was.
Katherine t
ook a step toward her. Fire lit her eyes. “As infuriated as I am with Harry for helping you in your foolish plan to win the heart of a duke, I know him well-enough to say he would never,” she took another step closer. “ever allow you to wed Bertrand Ekstrom. Never,” she added for final measure.
Anne captured her lower lip between her teeth. No, her sister was as usual—correct. She began to pace. In the morning, Harry intended to meet her guardian.
“What are you thinking?” her sister asked.
Anne ignored her and continued her frantic pace. Perceived by all of polite society as an unrepentant rogue, in actuality Harry possessed more honor, integrity, and respectability than all of the peerage combined. Even as he didn’t love her, he would marry her. No, he wouldn’t stand idly by while she wed Mr. Ekstrom. Perhaps ten days ago Harry would have flatly rejected marriage to Anne. Then, he’d viewed her as a young lady who…
She drew to a slow halt and blinked.
“What is it?” her sister prodded, her tone sharper.
Anne shook her head slowly. If he still saw her as nothing more than a title-grasping miss, then he’d not do this thing, and cost himself his every happiness.
A knowing glint flashed in Katherine’s eyes, a sudden understanding, that only came from a sister who’d been dragged along years of foolish schemes. ‘What are you planning?’
“He won’t be happy with me,” she said in an entreating tone, willing her sister to see. She sucked in a shuddery breath. “He loved her.”
Her brother-in-law averted his gaze, silent through the sisters’ exchange.
Katherine cocked her head at the sudden shift in conversation. “Loved who?”
“Lady Margaret Monteith.”
Understanding lit her sister’s brown eyes. After all, the ton was well-aware of the scandalous, young widow’s reentrance into Society. But then she gave her head a quick shake. “That doesn’t matter.”
A pained laugh escaped her. Her sister was all things loyal. “I don’t want him to marry me because he’s been forced to. He will resent me for denying him his true love and I will resent him for loving another.” And in that, she would become her mother. She had to set him free and the only way to do so was making him hate her. Again. Her heart twisted with a bitter pain. Considering the loathing he’d carried for her this past year that should prove rather an easy task to accomplish.
Katherine jabbed a finger in her direction. “Anne Arlette Adamson, by God I’ve seen that look in your eyes more times than has ever been good for either of us.”
Anne looked down. All her life, she’d been rash. She’d moved through life without ever truly considering the consequences of her actions. Rutland’s discovery and subsequent threat had shown her belatedly the dangers of such recklessness. She picked her head up. “There will be no more schemes,” she said softly, assuring her twin. After this.
Anne looked to Jasper. He stood, laconic as usual, hands clasped behind his back.
“Jasper, there is a favor I would put to you.”
He inclined his head. “You need but ask.”
“I need you to arrange one additional meeting tomorrow.”
He quirked a black eyebrow.
She drew in a steadying breath. “Following my meeting with the Marquess of Rutland,” Her throat closed up. “I’d like to see Lord Stanhope. Alone.”
Chapter 22
Seated in the corner of the 8th Duke of Bainbridge’s spacious office, Anne glanced for surely the hundredth time at the long-case clock across the room.
“He’s not due ’round for another fifteen minutes,” Jasper called from his place at the mahogany desk, head bent over his ledgers.
She played with the precious pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. “I know that,” she felt inclined to point out.
He dipped his pen into the inkwell “Do you?” he asked, taciturn as usual. He continued to work away.
She very well knew the time Lord Rutland was scheduled to meet with Jasper. Just as she knew the time of his then meeting with Harry. She’d lain awake until the morning sun peeked across the horizon going over exactly what she’d say, drawing on every last negative perception everyone and anyone had ever possessed of Lady Anne Arlette Adamson.
As she’d stared down at her untouched breakfast plate she’d convinced herself she could carry through with her plans, because she loved Harry, even when he could not love her, loved enough for the both of them. Loved him enough to do that which was truly selfless.
She tapped her feet on the hardwood floor. Jasper picked his head up and gave her a pointed look. She continued to beat the hasty, staccato rhythm upon the floor. “Do you believe I can reason with him?” She toyed with the spectacles in her hands, running her finger over the delicate frame.
“I believe if you cannot, I can,” he said, in the low, hoarse voice that had terrified her since their first meeting. In other words, he’d find some way to silence Rutland.
A knock sounded at the door. Anne dropped her spectacles. They fell with a soft clink upon the hardwood floor. She surged to her feet as the butler opened the door. “Your Grace, the Marquess of Rutland to see you.”
In walked the man who’d see her ruined, bold as if he owned the office, really quite an impressive feat considering her brother-in-law had every last single lord and lady in London quaking in his presence.
Jasper remained seated, in a blatant statement of disrespect.
The butler closed the door quietly behind Rutland. “Bainbridge.” he said, a cruel edge to that terse greeting. “A pleasure, and of course a surprise. To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected meeting?” Though, he, Jasper, and Anne all knew there was nothing surprising about this meeting. Well, with the exception of her forgotten figure in the corner.
She took a step forward. “My lord.”
Lord Rutland’s tall, well-muscled frame went taut and he turned stiffly to face Anne. “My lady,” he said, the two-word greeting faintly mocking.
She ticked her chin up a notch. “I’d speak with you.” she said before her courage deserted her and she begged Jasper to handle the loathsome fiend for her. But with all she’d planned for the day, this was certainly the least difficult task she’d undertake.
Jasper stood. “I’ll be right outside the room,” he murmured. He fixed a frosty glare on Rutland that would have had most other men quaking. Instead, the sinister lord inclined his head with icy amusement in his dark eyes. Jasper closed the door with a soft click. She suspected he hovered at the other side, prepared to storm the room and take Rutland apart if she simply whispered it.
Anne smoothed her palms over the front of her skirt. She eyed the impassive gentleman. He’d earned a reputation amongst the ton as a black-hearted fiend, whose presence was accepted amongst fashionable Society for his old, distinguished title. “My sisters believed my efforts in speaking with you today were futile.” Surely a man who’d loved so passionately was still capable of some good?
He spoke on a lethal whisper. “And what do you believe, Lady Anne?”
She managed a weak smile. “You wouldn’t be here if I felt that was the case, my lord.” She took a step toward him, and another, and another. He remained rooted to his spot, his expression a blank mask. “I’ve thought a good deal about…” Her cheeks warmed. “About your discovery. That is my meeting with Lord Stanhope.” She furrowed her brow. “Er, well, them both really.” He quirked a chestnut eyebrow, that very human gesture transforming him from monster, into someone quite…human.
Anne started at the sudden revelation that for all his coldness and legendary escapades, he really was quite a handsome gentleman. Good, human was indeed preferable to the fire-breathing, jagged toothed dragon she’d made him out to be these past days.
She imagined he hadn’t always been the merciless man who’d threaten to destroy a lady’s reputation; imagined he’d been so very different before Lady Margaret.
One of those familiar hard smiles played at his lips.
She
flushed at having been discovered studying him so.
“My lady?” he whispered, an invitation in his words.
Anne wrinkled her nose. Did he truly imagine she would desire him? Oh, the arrogance of men. “I have not called you here for…” She clamped her lips shut, not finishing that bold supposition.
The first flash of amusement flared briefly in his eyes. “Then why am I here?” he asked, that flinty look in place once more.
“Er, yes, well, right.” What could she ever say to a jaded, broken man like Lord Rutland to make him see? She took another breath. “I’ve thought of nothing else since our,” she averted her gaze, “meeting, last evening.”
“Is that what we are to call it?” he mocked, calling her attention back once more.
She gritted her teeth, not rising to his baiting.
He folded his arms across his chest. “And?”
“You’d have me wed Harry for what purpose? So you’ll be free to your Lady Margaret?” A muscle jumped at the corner of his eye, the sole indication she’d been correct in her supposition. “I thought about it a good deal last evening.”
“Undoubtedly,” he said, coolly mocking.
She carried on as though he’d not spoken. “You’d force me to wed Lord Stanhope and there is nothing that would bring me greater happiness than having him as my husband. And I thought about that well into the morning hours. I thought about how very happy I could be.” She held his gaze. “Only, do you know what I realized, my lord?”
“What was that?” the response came as though dragged from him.
“I don’t doubt he’d do the honorable thing and marry me if for no other reason than to save me.” So, in this, she would save him, even at the expense of her own name. “I realized even as I love him, if I allowed you to force us into marriage, the time would come, now or in the future, when he’d grow to resent me. Perhaps even hate me.” She closed her eyes a moment. That she could not bear. “I would forever remind him of the woman he could not have.” She folded her arms across her chest and rubbed warmth back into her limbs. She’d rather have no marriage than the bleak, empty existence her own mother had known. “I’ll not marry him,” she whispered. “Not like this.” And so, not ever.
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