A Dash of Darcy Companions Duo 2

by Leenie Brown

  Anne grabbed a small mirror and brush as well as a few ribbons from her trunk and scurried after her uncle. “It is not what it seems,” she said as they descended the stairs.

  “No one is to disturb us,” Lord Matlock said to the innkeeper, who nodded readily.

  “It seems,” said Lord Matlock, as he closed the door behind him, “that you are on your way to Scotland and could not wait until after you said your vows before the blacksmith.”

  Anne’s eyes grew wide, and she pulled herself up to her full height. “I am on my way to Warwickshire.” She lifted her chin and glared at her uncle.

  “You were in bed with a half-dressed gentleman — if he deserves to be called that,” Lord Matlock fumed.

  “I was fully clothed,” Anne countered.

  Her uncle shook his head. “Your stays were draped over your trunk.”

  Anne blushed. What else did one do when your uncle spoke about your undergarments? However, despite her mortification, she raised her brows and challenged him with a glare she hoped was equal to one of her mother’s. “Have you ever slept in stays? They are most uncomfortable.”

  Her uncle’s lips twitched but only briefly. “No, I have never slept in stays. However, I know that they are not easily removed by one’s self.”

  Anne walked over to a chair and blew out a breath as she rubbed her head. “I may have had help,” she said as she sat down, “I vaguely remember help. I think I was foxed.”

  Her uncle blinked and then looked at her closely. “You were drinking?”

  She nodded. “I had wine with my supper.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her head again. “Could you please lecture me less loudly, and would it be too much to ask for the window to be opened?”

  Lord Matlock crossed the room and opened a window near her. “Move your chair closer to the air,” he instructed before going to the door and asking for some tea and toast to be brought. Then, he drew a chair near her. “Now, tell me your tale. I will not lecture in anything louder than a whisper until that blackguard appears. Then, I will have to roar. It is required,” he added with a small smile. “Where is Pratt?” he asked softly.

  Her lips trembled. “In Warwickshire. I was on my way to meet him,” she whispered. “You know about Alistair?”

  Her uncle nodded. “You mentioned him to Miss Elizabeth, and Darcy knew that Pratt was at Stanton’s. I was on my way to Warwickshire when I happened upon this establishment and asked if they had seen you and Pratt. I expected to find you with him, not what’s his name.”

  “Mr. Conrad,” Anne supplied. “He is Alistair’s friend and was helping me find Warwickshire.” She sighed as tea and toast were placed before her. “It was foolish.”

  Her uncle nodded in agreement. “Darcy is marrying Miss Elizabeth. You would have been free to marry another.”

  She nodded. “I know, but I want to marry Alistair, and he is at a party with ladies who are trying to take him away from me.”

  “Why would you think that?” her uncle said in surprise.

  “Mother has always told me how horrid house parties are, and then, Mr. Conrad told me how someone he knew ended up married to a lady he did not wish to marry after attending a party last year. And then, he had a letter from his friend that said Alistair was being pursued by two ladies.” She lifted a shoulder and lowered it in a sad shrug. “I may already be too late.”

  “My dear niece,” her uncle’s voice was soft and understanding, “things are never as bad as your mother says. She has always had a flare for the dramatic. And as far as Mr. Conrad’s tale about his unhappily married friend is concerned, well, his story might be true, but that is one gentleman out of hundreds. It does not happen to us all. Even I could have avoided being forced to marry my wife if I had wished to do so.” He winked at her. “Truth be told, I did not wish to avoid marrying her. I had every intention of making her my bride. However, your grandmother did not like Genevieve all that much, so I had to be subversive to secure my love.” He placed a hand on his niece’s knee. “Much like you felt you had to scheme to avoid your mother’s plans.”

  Anne gave him a sad smile.

  “We shall sort out this Mr. Pratt,” he added. “Ladies may pursue, but that does not mean they will be successful. However,” he said, becoming more businesslike and serious, “you were found in bed with another gentleman. It matters not that you were fully clothed and only sleeping?” He raised a questioning brow.

  Anne’s face flushed bright red as she nodded as vigorously as her sore head would allow.

  “Your reputation is likely ruined. I doubt we can keep this completely quiet.” He leaned back in his chair. “If your Mr. Pratt will have you, then all will be well. However, if he refuses, then you will have to choose to either marry this Mr. Conrad or retire to Rosings with your mother.”

  Anne’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you think he will refuse me?”

  “You love him so much?”

  Anne nodded as the tears that had gathered began to spill down her cheeks.

  “And does he love you?”

  “He said he did.”

  “Then I dare say he will not desert you. A man will overlook many things when he is in love.” He took her cup from her and placed it on the table, then, he drew her up and into his embrace. “I cannot say all will be well because I do not know that it will be, but I can promise you I will do all that is in my power to make it so.” He released her and fished his handkerchief out of his pocket to dry her tears.

  The door opened behind them, and Edward shoved Conrad into the room.

  “I’ll try not to growl too loudly,” Lord Matlock said to Anne before turning to Conrad and ordering him to be seated on the other side of the room.

  “My niece assures me nothing of a permanent nature occurred last night,” he began. “However, her mind seems to be somewhat foggy, so I would like to hear confirmation from your mouth.”

  “She is correct,” Conrad answered quickly.

  Lord Matlock took a chair from next to the table and turning it around, straddled it as he sat facing Conrad. “How much wine did you allow her to drink?” His voice was low and dangerous.

  Conrad shook his head and shrugged. “A few glasses,” he replied.

  “And what was your intent in getting her drunk?”

  Conrad swallowed. “I did not intend to get her drunk.”

  “Come now,” Lord Matlock cajoled. “Do you believe him, Edward?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “And what do you think his intent was?” Lord Matlock asked his son.

  “To lower her inhibitions and make her more pliable.”

  “That is my hypothesis as well.” He glanced at Conrad. “What do you say we do with him?”

  “He shall have to marry Anne,” Edward replied just as the door to the room flew open.

  “The devil he will!” It took very few steps for Alistair to cross the room. The small moment of relief he had felt on learning that Conrad was indeed at this inn had vanished with Edward Fitzwilliam’s words. In its place surged nearly overwhelming anger. “You steaming pile of refuse.” He yanked Conrad out of his chair. “I ought to run you through, you piece of filth.” He pressed him against the wall. “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing,” Conrad said with a small smirk.

  Alistair leaned closer and lowered his voice while he placed his forearm across Conrad’s neck. “I swear, Conrad, if you laid so much as one finger on her, I will call you out no matter what the laws say.”

  “Anne,” Alistair called.

  “Yes,” she replied from beside him, causing him to start.

  “Did he harm you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he touch you in any way that was not proper?”

  “Will you still have me if he did?”

  Alistair growled and pressed his arm against Conrad’s throat more firmly.

  “Will you?” Anne asked.

  “Yes, no matter how he has touched you.”

&nbs
p; “He kissed me,” she said. “When he was helping me out of my stays.”

  “When he was what?” Alistair nearly shouted, turning to look at her.

  “I could not untie them myself,” Anne explained.

  “Is that all?”

  Anne grimaced as Conrad made a gasping sound as if breathing was becoming difficult.

  “His arm was across me when I woke.”

  “You shared a bed?”

  Anne nodded. “To sleep. Only to sleep. I swear it, Alistair.”

  Alistair pressed down once more on Conrad’s neck as he leaned close. “Angelo’s. I will meet you at Angelo’s in two day’s time.”

  “Before we go to Scotland?” Anne asked in a whisper.

  “We are not going to Scotland,” Alistair said as he released Conrad. “I will marry you properly, no matter how long it takes to convince your mother and mine to allow it.” He shook his head. “Of all the feather-brained things to do, Anne. Why would you run off with him?” He waved his hand at Conrad.

  Anne lifted her chin indignantly. “He is your friend and knew where Warwickshire was.”

  Ralston, who had been standing at the ready in case Alistair needed his assistance, snorted. “Conrad is no friend of Al’s.”

  Anne’s head swung towards Ralston.

  “Jack Ralston,” he said by way of introduction. “Alistair’s actual friend.”

  Anne folded her arms across her chest. “Who are Miss Northrup and Miss Hewitt?”

  Ralston smiled. “A couple of ladies who will be excessively jealous of you. Those two would not leave Al alone no matter how much he tried to dissuade them.”

  “You attempted to dissuade them?” Anne asked Alistair, who nodded. “But Mr. Conrad’s friend Mr. Grenville said you did not.”

  “Grenville?” Ralston repeated with a laugh. “Grenville was not at Stanton’s.”

  Anne’s brows furrowed. “He was not?” she asked Alistair.

  “No.”

  Anne lifted her hands in exasperation. “Then how did Mr. Conrad get a letter from him that told about Miss Hewitt and Miss Northrup?” Her eyes grew wide, and she gasped as the truth dawned on her.

  “You lied,” she said to Conrad. “Did your friend send you that letter?” she asked as she advanced on him.

  “No,” he said backing away. “I wrote that letter to make you distrust Pratt. He ruined my chances last year,” he spat. “He deserved to have his own ruined.”

  Anne took a step closer to him. The sound of her hand connecting with his cheek echoed through the room. “You lied to me, and you lied about Alistair. Why, I ought to run you through!”

  “Anne,” Alistair cautioned.

  Anne leaned forward, mere inches from where Conrad rubbed his smarting cheek. “Angelo’s. I will see you at Angelo’s.”

  “Anne,” Alistair cautioned again.

  “What?” she asked with wide eyes.

  “You cannot meet him at Angelo’s.”

  Anne looked passed him to her cousin. “Edward, did you or did you not mention that Angelo’s allows ladies to join?”

  Edward swallowed and looked apologetically at his father and Alistair. “I did, but it is not a good idea.”

  “Then I shall call him out to that,” she waved her hand, “field about which you told me.”

  “Duels are against the law,” Edward replied.

  Anne lifted her chin. “Then, it would be best if you allowed me to meet him at Angelo’s, would it not?”

  Lord Matlock chuckled. “You are every inch as determined as your mother with all the wit of your father.” He rose and clapped Alistair on the shoulder. “A force with which to be reckoned and one that could bring mighty change if directed properly. Are you certain you are up for such a challenge?”

  Alistair smiled. “I am.”

  “Well, then, let’s get you all back to London where I will help you obtain a license as quickly as possible,” said Lord Matlock. “And I will make certain you are allowed in Angelo’s, at least once,” he added. “If you need some instruction, Edward, Richard, or Darcy would be happy to assist you.”

  “She needs no instruction,” Alistair said with a grin. “Just please allow me to have first go at him? I should hate to be denied my chance to avenge my love’s honour if she has already dispatched the scoundrel.”

  “You fence?” her uncle asked.

  “Alistair taught me,” Anne said proudly. “We got bored with chess,” she added as an explanation, “and there is only so much one can talk about when she meets her beau in the grove.” She pressed her lips closed in response to Alistair’s clearing his throat.

  “Is that so?” Lord Matlock asked with a chuckle. “And Pratt is a good teacher?”

  Anne nodded but said nothing.

  “Al is hard to beat when it comes to sword play,” said Ralston proudly. “When I win, it is never done easily.”

  “Then I suggest you never spar with Anne,” Alistair said. “You remember the bruise on my arm last summer?”

  Ralston’s eyes grew wide.

  Alistair nodded. “Anne learns quickly. I find it challenging to beat her.”

  Anne’s face was once again flushed, but this time it was not from embarrassment or anger. This time it was from the pleasure one feels when the gentleman she loves praises her for her abilities, even if they are not proper accomplishments.

  “You will have to tell me how you do it,” Ralston said to Anne. “He has no tell.”

  Anne smiled. “Yes, he does.”

  “I do?” Alistair asked in surprise. “Our fencing master scolded me incessantly for not following patterns.”

  Anne wrapped her arms around Alistair’s and laid her throbbing head on his shoulder. “It is not found in a pattern,” she said. “It is –“

  “Do not tell him,” Alistair interrupted. “Fencing is one of the few sports at which I can outdo Jack.” He patted her hand. “But you can tell me later so that I might overcome such a weakness as having a tell.”

  “Only if you still allow me to win occasionally,” she said as she smiled up at him, her eyes capturing his perfect sapphire blue eyes. Those eyes that told her everything: the ones that lay his heart before her, that shone with pride when she won a game of chess, that flashed with passion when he debated a point in a discussion, and that flicked in the direction in which he was going to move immediately before he would lunge forward in a thrust.

  Chapter 9

  Anne snuggled into the corner of the carriage, a blanket wrapped around her and another folded to use as a pillow as she leaned against the wall of the vehicle. Her head throbbed, her stomach was only slightly settled from the toast and tea, and it felt as if someone were wiggling a feather inside her throat. Therefore, although she longed to sit and talk with Alistair and his interesting friend, sleep would be a welcome way to spend the trip to London. She would likely need to feel more lively and less like a wrung out old rag when facing her mother. She shook her head. If only there were some way to avoid her mother.

  “Are you comfortable?” Alistair asked.

  Anne smiled at him. “As comfortable as one can be sleeping in a carriage.”

  “You could put your feet up. I am certain Al would not be opposed to allowing them to rest on his legs,” Ralston suggested from the other side of the carriage.

  Anne raised a disapproving brow. “It would not be proper. I promise you, Mr. Ralston, that I do know how to behave appropriately.” Her lips twitched as she lifted her feet and placed them on Alistair’s legs. “However, I do not always choose to do as I should.”

  Ralston chuckled. “So it would seem, and please call me Jack. We shall nearly be related, after all. Alistair and I are as close as brothers.”

  “You do not mind?” Anne questioned Alistair as he placed a hand on her lower leg.

  He shook his head. “Not at all.”

  Anne turned back to Jack. “If I had a sister, you could marry her and then you would be brothers.” She straightened her b
lankets and gave a little cough.

  “Are you well?” There was concern in Alistair’s voice.

  “I am just in need of some rest,” Anne assured him as she settled back and closed her eyes. It was lovely to be travelling with Alistair. Sitting in a carriage with Mr. Conrad had not been so pleasant and relaxing as it was with Alistair and his friend. It was too bad she did not have a sister. Jack seemed to be a fine fellow to whom she would not be opposed to being related. Her eyes popped open. “I have a cousin.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Jack looked up from the paper he had acquired at the inn.

  “Georgiana Darcy,” Anne clarified. “She is nearly old enough to court. You could marry her, and then, you and Alistair could be cousins. It might not be as good as being brothers, but it would be something.”

  “That,” said Jack with a pleased smile, “is a very good idea. I think I shall take you up on it.”

  Alistair shook his head and rolled his eyes at his friend as Anne, seemingly satisfied and rather pleased with herself from the look on her face, closed her eyes once again. He had not considered what might happen once Anne and Jack met. Anne was full of ideas and desire to see them completed, and Jack was full of energy and all too eager to take on a task — any task that might prove profitable and diverting. Alistair ran his hand up and down Anne’s leg from knee to ankle and back. He suspected that from henceforth his life would be anything but dull.

  Anne slept for the entirety of the journey to town. She stirred slightly when they had stopped for the horses but had not woken. She had coughed three times, however, causing Alistair to become concerned that there was an issue brewing that would require more than a few hours of sleep in a carriage to cure. Anne’s constitution was not so robust as some, and when she became ill, it always started with a cough that would often settle for some time in her lungs.

  “How do you feel?” he asked as the carriage slowed and Anne stretched and yawn while waking.

  “I –” she squeaked, her hand flying to her throat. “My throat is sore.” It took a great deal of effort to force the whispered words out of her mouth. “My voice –“