The dark-haired man smiled at her, and she met his gaze with one of curiosity.
His smile broadened.
That smile. It was a good thing she was sitting, for surely her knees would go weak from such a smile. His teeth were quite large and very white. Anne studied the newness of this feeling and to be honest, it was not quite the first time the impulse had beset her.
“Perhaps I should,” she said. Presently, Emily and Alexander joined them, still breathless from their own dance. Anne smiled at them, thinking she could never forget Edmund, but she was tired of waiting.
2
Emily drew Anne to her feet and looped her arm through her friend’s in a companionable way. She looked at Anne with so much happiness that Anne could not help but smile with her. She resolved that she would not ask Emily about her brother as she had in the past. She did not need Edmund to have a good time.
She would not even think of Edmund, she told herself. She resolved to let the past be in the past. Edmund was her past. She would be open to possibilities.
“Anne, why are you not dancing? Emily said. “I have never seen you hide so much in all of my born days. Usually you are in the thick of things.”
Anne waved a dismissive hand, feigning nonchalance. “No gentleman has yet caught my eye,” she said.
Lady Kentleworth, came up alongside Emily, ‘tut-tutting’ her displeasure, while Eliza made her escape with some of her school friends. “You are flushed and overheated. my dear,” Lady Kentleworth told her daughter with a tight smile. “Have I not taught you better?”
“You have always said that a lady should have a healthy glow, Mother,” Emily said with a smile, ignoring her mother’s censure. She looked up at Alexander. Emily was certainly glowing, Anne thought. She wished to find such a perfect love herself. How did one go about it?
“I think my duchess is exquisite,” Alexander said, defending Emily as he put a hand at the small of her back.
“Anne is not red-faced,” Lady Kentleworth said.
Anne was not happy at being called in as a comparison to take Emily to task.
“That is because Anne has not been dancing,” Emily countered ignoring her mother’s slight to her own person. Just when Anne would have thanked her, Lady Kentleworth fixed Anne with a glare. “If she has not been dancing, why can she not manage to keep her hair ribbons from falling eschew.”
Anne’s hand went to her hair. The ribbon felt like it was in the exact place the Lady Kentleworth’s maid had put it. She looked at Emily, hoping for absolution.
“Oh, pish-posh,” Emily said. She exchanged a glance with Anne and closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. Her mother’s caustic attitude and her father’s devotion to duty were the precise reasons that Emily and Edmund spent so much time in Northwickshire with their mother’s sister and her husband, rather than in London with their own parents. As sisters, Aunt Agnes and Emily’s mother had some resemblance in appearance, but in temperament they were like night and day.
Aunt Agnes was jolly and fun-loving. Emily’s mother was dour, straight-laced and precise.
“And you have danced quite enough with your husband, Emily. It is not done,” Lady Kentleworth continued straightening Emily’s dress, which did not need straightening. “It’s gauche, and a duchess should never be gauche.”
Anne was sure that Alexander would have asked Emily to dance again, but he turned to Anne instead. He was obviously planning to escape his mother-in-law by the offer, but just then, Anne glanced up and noticed the dark-haired man looking towards them.
Alexander noticed him too and in answer to Anne’s inquiring look, told the ladies he was Baron Amberleigh. “I have met him at Lords. In fact, he asked to be introduced to you, Anne, just before the last dance.”
“To me?” Anne said surprised. She looked from Alexander to Emily. Neither was forthcoming, but Emily’s eyes twinkled with the bedevilment Anne knew only too well. She looked so like her brother in that moment, Anne was undone. How was it that Edmund seemed to be here, even when he was not?
“I knew you would catch a gentleman’s eye this Season.” Emily said. “Was that not what you wanted, Anne? I must say, he is handsome, is he not? Distinguished.”
“Yes,” Anne agreed.
Emily’s mother suddenly was fully within her element as chaperone, asking Alexander all manner of questions about the man. Anne supposed she should feel obliged by the older woman’s concern. Anne knew she should be grateful that Lady Kentleworth was taking such good care of her and Eliza, but she only felt annoyed.
“What of his family?” Emily’s mother demanded, the questions coming one upon the other. “Miss Albright is a viscount’s daughter. She and her sister should only receive introduction to gentlemen of quality.”
Anne searched momentarily for her sister and noted Eliza across the room, still talking to her school friends. Traitor, Anne thought.
“He is a baron, Mother,” Emily said patiently. “Alexander has already said so.”
“I do not know him well,” Alexander admitted, “But he has done well for his barony since he took up the title and has bought several properties.”
“Where?” Emily’s mother demanded. “What properties?”
“North of London,” Alexander answered. “I am not sure of the exact location or the affluence of the man, but I know him by reputation. He is well received at Lords and at Whites.”
A slight frown deepened the wrinkle between Lady Kentleworth’s eyebrows. The truth was, even though Alexander was a duke, Anne knew that Emily’s mother did not wholly trust him due to the machinations of his late father. Still, Alexander was the Duke of Bramblewood, a peer of the realm, and no one could take that honor from him.
“Lord Amberleigh is headed this way. Come, I shall introduce you,” Alexander said.
“Thank you, Alex…” Anne caught herself and gave a small curtsey. “I mean, Your Grace.” She watched Alexander’s lips tilt up in a smile at her familiarity. They had been friends too long to stand on ceremony, but propriety must be observed in public. Alexander clasped Anne’s hand to bring her to her feet, and she turned to watch the stranger. Lord Amberleigh was very handsome in a rather dark and mysterious way.
The way he smiled as he came to shake Alexander’s hand told Anne she was in for trouble indeed, especially given the queer feeling that assaulted her heart when he looked at her. Alexander drew Anne forward for a formal introduction to the dark-haired stranger
“Please allow me to present Baron Amberleigh,” the duke said introducing the gentleman to the ladies. He introduced his mother-in-law, showing deference to her age, then Emily as his duchess. Finally he turned to Anne. “And Miss Albright, eldest daughter of the Viscount Aldbrick, and my wife’s dear friend.”
Lord Amberleigh bowed and Anne curtsied politely, but she eyed the handsome man from beneath her lashes, as Alexander completed the introduction. Anne lifted her eyes to meet Lord Amberleigh’s dark gaze and her stomach fluttered with nervousness. She wanted to make a good impression.
Where was that hard earned visage of cool disdain that she had learned at finishing school? Emily could cover her emotions at will. Anne never could quite manage it. She tried for a smile. That, at least was genuine.
Lord Amberleigh smiled back at her, a quick show of teeth, and then he was the distinguished gentleman again. She liked his smile.
“Miss Albright. It is truly a pleasure,” Lord Amberleigh said smoothly taking her hand. “Would you care to dance?”
Oh, that smile. Anne felt a quiver in the pit of her stomach as she nodded.
“Come then,” he said, and they hurried to join the set that was just beginning. The music started and as they spun Anne realized that she enjoyed the lively dance. The smiles and brushes of his hand against hers made her feel desired and the dance itself was divine. She liked dancing and was a graceful partner. She felt warm and joyous as she wove between the other dancers as she and Lord Amberleigh moved down the line.
She had been silly. She should have been dancing all evening. Her spirits would have lifted with the very movement. Each touch of Amberleigh’s hand in hers brought a flutter of excitement. As the dance ended, Lord Amberleigh took Anne’s hand and led her off of the dance floor. She had thought to return to her friends and her chaperone, but found herself on the other side of the ballroom.
Anne realized that Lord Amberleigh had very skillfully separated her from her friends. She found herself quite alone with him. Well, they were not really alone. The vast ballroom was well populated with members of the Ton. Although, she just did not know many of those around her. She was being silly again. She found herself on Lord Amberleigh’s arm as he offered to escort her about the periphery of the room.
“If you have not had a chance to explore,” he said. “I think you will be quite charmed by the décor. There are several paintings of note you might not have seen.”
“Oh, I’ve been here before,” she began, but then corrected herself. Possibilities. Remember possibilities. She changed the direction of the conversation at once. “Why yes. I should like that,” she replied, dipping her head modestly and then peering up at him.
He was smiling again.
Anne had of course, walked in the company of a gentleman before; she knew how to act. Although to walk with a handsome stranger seemed oddly thrilling tonight. She caught herself looking up at her escort through lowered lashes, wondering what manner of man he was
“Now here is this not a stunning portrait?”
Anne blinked in surprise. Apparently when Lord Amberleigh had suggested a look at the artwork, he had truly meant to look at the artwork. Typically, a suggestion of this sort was merely an excuse to walk together, not study paintings. She realized he was trying to impress her with his knowledge of the painters. That much was obvious. He kept speaking of the artists and the technique of the painting, commenting on the bold colors as if lecturing. She looked at the portrait, noting that it was different from the others, a study of a rather plain-faced woman seated outside at some distance from a large country estate. To her untrained eye, the painting seemed wholly unremarkable.
“Someone from the family of Lord Northrup, I presume,” Anne offered.
“His great aunt.” Lord Amberleigh said. “The aesthetic offers a softer style than the baroque we saw earlier. It is lighter and more natural. I prefer it. Don’t you?”
Anne nodded. She could see that it was painted with more subtle colors than some of the other paintings that emphasized bold dark forests and groups of people sitting bathed in sunlight, but she really had no opinion one way or the other.
“It is the estate to which I wish to draw you attention.”
Anne looked again. “It seems quite a congenial setting,” she said squinting at it. “The land looks somewhat like my home, in Northwickshire.” The hills were soft and rolling and the fluffy clouds in the picture reminded her of many a summer day, shared with her friends. She supposed her voice sounded wistful.
“I know,” Amberleigh said.
She glanced at him in surprise. “You know about my home?” Had Lord Amberleigh quizzed Alexander about her? He had not said so. She felt a frown furrow her brow.
“I have considered acquiring a rather sizable estate near there.”
Anne gasped, suddenly understanding. “The one in the painting?” Her eyes grew wide.
Amberleigh nodded. “A quaint, yet picturesque piece of property; so you can see why it is important for me to more thoroughly understand the area. I have heard tell that you are most familiar with the country and its charms,” Amberleigh said and there was that smile again.
“Not so familiar,” Anne said, not wanting to appear like some country girl. “My mother was adamant about my education.” Anne suddenly realized that she wanted this man to think well of her, although she couldn’t say why. “I grew up in Northwickshire,” she began again, unable to quell the wistful tone when she spoke of the district. She remembered the carefree days of her youth. Days spent in the company of Emily, Alexander, and Edmund. Always Edmund. She pushed the thought of him away and glanced back at the painting. “When compared to Town, the countryside has a lighter more natural experience, much as the artist has depicted it,” she commented.
“You prefer it?” Amberleigh asked breaking her reverie.
Anne recovered quickly. “I suppose I do. Do not misunderstand me, Lord Amberleigh. I enjoy my visits to Town greatly, only the crowds and pomp of London become tiresome when a lady is without diverting companionship.” She finished with a coy smile.
Lord Amberleigh returned it with one of his own devilish grins. “Perhaps I may be of some assistance in that regard.”
“Perhaps,” Anne answered enigmatically. “Of course, the North is most beautiful.”
“As are the ladies that hale from such fair county,” he replied smoothly as he plucked a single rose from a spray set on a nearby table and offered the flower to her with a courtly bow, and that oh-so-charming smile.
“Truly a single rose could hardly do you justice, Miss Albright. Still, please accept this as a token of our newly blossomed acquaintance.”
“Oh my!” Anne buried her nose in the bloom, inhaling the soft scent. The velvet like petals tickled her nose. “I thank you, my lord, though perhaps, the rose might be better offered as a token given by our hosts?” she asked somewhat mischievously, “especially, as it was taken from their décor.”
Amberleigh chuckled softly and waved off the comment. “Lord Northrup would hardly begrudge me a single rose, although an entire garden would not compare to your loveliness.” He held up the flower against Anne, gazing at her, his eyes dark and intent. “I do not have the words to compare you to a rose. I am no poet. Yet, I do appreciate beauty. I can clearly see you hold within yourself the same delicate lines of distinction…Nay…elegance as this exquisite flower. Consider it the first of many,” he said.
Lord Amberleigh’s words made Anne feel desired and she liked the feeling. Anne smiled and turned the rose carefully in her hand, until she realized that their hosts had trimmed the thorns from the stem. She brought the flower again to her nose. She did not ever remember being so flattered as she was by Amberleigh’s words.
She was not often compared to such a lovely and delicate thing as a rose. She had always been more forthright than a blushing flower, but she liked the sentiment. It made her feel feminine and delicate as she never had before. Anne felt her face heat, and thought she must be blushing as red as the rose itself. “You make a bold statement for a gentleman who has only just met me for the first time,” she said.
“Have we only just met?” Amberleigh asked, with a questioning note. “I feel as though I have known you for an age already.”
At this, Anne laughed aloud. So ludicrous and overly romantic was the statement that she could not help herself.
“You are a flatterer,” she retorted lightly, but she did preen a bit inside.
“Ah, but my flattery is truth,” he said offering her his arm. “Come. Let us return for some refreshment, and perhaps we can become better acquainted.”
Lord Amberleigh took her arm and guided her back through the throng, waiting until she was settled in a comfortable chair before disappearing in the general direction of the nearest server carrying a tray of beverages. Lord Amberleigh returned a moment later with a glass of punch. Anne was still holding the bloom up to inhale the soft aroma, trying to hide her blush behind the blossom.
He caught her hand, plucking the rose from her and laying it aside on the table. That his fingers lingered just above her glove did not escape her notice. “There,” he said. “Now I can gaze upon you lovely face.
Anne took the punch from him with a shy smile. “You tease, sir,” she flirted, affecting a pout.
“How can I not when you blush so prettily.
Oh my. She felt her cheeks heat once again under his scrutiny, and he chuckled at her embarrassment.
“When the next set is ca
lled, I would like to share your company in a second dance,” he said. Without waiting for her reply, he continued. “In the meantime, do tell me about your family and what it was like to grow up in Northwickshire. I know little of the place.”
Funny how the mention of Northwickshire would lead her thoughts back to Edmund. What would Edmund think of her, spending so long in the company of this man? Granted, they were only talking, but the verbal game left her invigorated. She enjoyed Lord Amberleigh’s willingness to play along with her flirtation. It was only in good fun.
The real question was how would any and all who saw it perceive this conversation? More importantly, how would it be perceived by Lord Amberleigh. He seemed very intense and Anne knew that to sit and converse for an extended period of time with the same gentleman at a ball would leave her as good as engaged to the handsome lord by the end of the night in the eyes of some, especially the gossips. She wondered if Edmund would find out about the time she spent with Lord Amberleigh. More importantly, would he care?
Edmund would hear of it. Anne was sure he would. How could he not? Good, she thought. Let him hear. Why should she care what Edmund thought? It would only be gossip, and if he should approach her about the matter, she would say: Surely, there is no harm in a conversation with a handsome gentleman. Yes. She would call Lord Amberleigh handsome.
Anne sat back in her chair, taking the rose in her hand to twirl it idly. Let the gossips talk, she thought. She was doing no harm. Let Edmund find out. She did not care. He was not here and not interested. She was a woman grown. She did not need his approval or his permission. She convinced herself that she was moving on from her childish attraction.
She looked with some trepidation into Amberleigh’s dark and inscrutable eyes. She gave him a brilliant smile. “Yes, Lord Amberleigh,” she said. “While we await the next set, I would very much like to tell you about my home.” She laid her hand quite forwardly on his. “What is it you would like to know?” she asked.
The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Page 3