by Leenie Brown
Anne tipped her head and studied Mr. Conrad. “Alistair is very good.”
“He is,” Jack agreed.
“Mr. Conrad knows it,” she added.
“I imagine he does. It is no secret. But how do you know he knows?”
“His feet are shifting.”
“He is just getting set to begin,” Jack countered.
“No,” Anne replied. “One does not shift his feet when he assumes the ready position unless he is uncertain of his abilities.”
Jack chuckled. “Alistair has taught you well.”
Pride filled Anne’s chest. “He has. He is very good.”
“He is,” Jack agreed once more as the match before them began.
Anne perched on the edge of her chair and watched in rapt silence. The excitement of the event caused her heart to race and her muscles to long to be used. She wished to only watch Alistair as he lunged and dodged, for he did cut a fine figure; however, knowing that she would face the same opponent next, she forced herself to study the way Conrad’s foot lifted and his weight shifted a moment before he attacked. It was no wonder Alistair could beat him so handily. Conrad performed the figures in the book she had read just as they were drawn and with only a modicum of finesse.
When the match had concluded, and as expected, Alistair had landed the most touches, he extended his hand to Conrad. Then, he turned to her and made a sweeping bow.
She stood and replied to his gesture with a small curtsey and a nod of her head.
“Your turn, my dear,” he said, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips to the sounds of cheers. Angelo’s had never been quite so raucous as it was at the moment. He held her sparkling eyes with his. He loved how vibrantly those eyes shone when there was a battle to be won. It mattered not if it was a game of chess, a joust, or a scheme to free herself from her mother’s plans for her. Her determination and enthusiasm was palpable. “Squawking crows,” he said to her before moving aside and allowing her to take her place.
“Do you wish for a moment of refreshment before we begin?” she asked Mr. Conrad when he bowed to her. “I should hate to have these observers think I had only outdone you because you were fatigued.”
A ripple of laughter circled the room.
“Is that Anne?” Darcy asked as he came to take a place next to Alistair.
“It is. Fitzwilliam arranged it,” Alistair replied.
“Why?” Bingley asked.
“Conrad lied to her,” Jack answered.
“And Fitzwilliam had once upon a time mentioned to Anne that ladies were allowed at Angelo’s,” Alistair added.
“So she called him out,” Jack added proudly. “And since she can beat Al, it should be an interesting pairing.”
“Anne knows how to fence?” Darcy asked in surprise.
“As you can see,” Alistair muttered with a nod toward where Anne was just engaging Conrad. He sucked in a breath and held it. Anne had beaten him several times, but she had never gone against anyone else. He was proud of her for even wishing to attempt it, but he had to admit that he was also nervous that she would get injured or worse, lose.
His fears were soon allayed as Anne neatly dodged a few thrusts and landed several hits. A victory was well within her reach.
“Ow!”
He caught his breath once more as Anne failed to successfully dodge a lunge, and for a moment, he worried that she would get injured. However, his concern was quickly turned to amusement as he recognized Anne’s small growl of annoyance and knew that with that hit, Conrad had sealed his fate.
“She disarmed him,” Jack said with no small amount of awe.
Alistair nodded. “Yes, yes, she did, just as I taught her.”
“You taught her to fence?” Darcy asked.
Alistair nodded as he stood and joined the others, who were clapping enthusiastically.
Anne tipped her head and curtsied quickly before retrieving Conrad’s foil. “You will not lie to me in the future nor will you say anything against my husband.” She held his foil out to him but did not release it until she had received his agreement. Leaving him, she returned to where Alistair and the other stood.
“Do you wish for a match?” she asked.
“He wishes for a kiss,” someone called from the wall to her left.
“Do you?”
Alistair smiled and shrugged.
Anne raised a brow. “Then earn it,” she said, slicing the air with her foil, once again sending a ripple of laughter around the room.
Alistair shook his head and, picking up his mask, followed her to the mat. “Win or lose, I will claim my prize.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Pratt,” Anne teased, “a prize is only awarded to a winner. Therefore, when I win, I shall claim my prize.”
Alistair had thought Angelo’s raucous when Anne had kissed his cheek and then taken her turn against Conrad, but that was nothing compared to the cheer that greeted Anne’s comments as well as the one that accompanied her win. And he was certain that Angelo’s had never before and would never again hear a roar like the one that arose when Anne tossed aside her mask and foil and, pressing herself and her lips firmly against Alistair, claimed her prize.
~*~*~
Two days later, as Anne stood before her mirror, she carefully positioned her sleeve and gloves so that her mother would not see the bruise on her arm. It was not a large bruise, but Anne knew that it was large enough to cause her mother to inquire after it. She had sworn her cousin and his friend Mr. Bingley as well as Jack to silence about the joust at Angelo’s, and she had been careful to keep the paper from her mother’s notice both yesterday and today. She knew that her appearance at Angelo’s would not go unmentioned, especially after the display she had put on following her defeat of Alistair. Her cheeks flushed. It was rather exhilarating to behave so brazenly, but it was not something she planned to repeat or publish any further than it had already been circulated.
“Anne Catherine de Bourgh!” Lady Catherine said as she threw open the door to her daughter’s room.
Anne cringed at the tone of her mother’s voice.
“Lady Metcalfe has just made me aware of a rather shocking story.”
Drat! She had forgotten that Alistair’s mother might see the paper and share the story with her mother.
“What were you thinking? Going to a gentleman’s club and behaving like a…” she waved the paper she held in the air as she sought for the right word, though none seemed to come to her.
As Anne stood before her mirror, a smile spread across her face. She could not remember a single time in her life when her mother had been at a loss for words until now. There was a strange feeling of satisfaction that accompanied the knowledge.
“It was inappropriate,” Anne offered. “And I shall not do it again. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a wedding to attend.”
“Inappropriate does not begin to describe what you did, young lady,” Anne’s mother, having found her voice again, continued as she followed her daughter down the stairs.
“Edward told me that Angelo’s accepts ladies,” Anne said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “So going to the club was actually not all that inappropriate.”
Lady Catherine gasped. “Whether they accept ladies or not, you should not have been there!”
Anne shrugged. “I disagree.”
Lady Margaret chuckled as she joined them. “It is not the first scandalous story this family has had in the paper, is it, Genevieve?”
“Mother,” Lord Matlock cautioned. “Not today. I could find no better wife, and I was quite happy to have captured her.”
Lady Margaret patted his arm and whispered. “I know, but a mother must roar.”
“Not today,” he replied before turning to his niece. “Anne, you are a vision. Are you ready to go claim your husband at the church?”
Her husband. Pleasant prickles raced up her limbs and settling in her stomach. “I am,” she said with a smile.
Lord Matlock extended his arm to Anne as he addres
sed her mother. “Catherine, are you ready to give your daughter away and in so doing, claim a son?”
“Must I?” she replied.
“I am afraid you must,” he assured his sister. “There is no breaking this engagement after that piece in the paper.”
Lady Catherine’s shoulders drooped. “I thought I had one more year before this day would come.”
Anne blinked as she saw Lady Margaret wrap her arm around her daughter’s. “Trust me, Catherine. Even with another year to prepare yourself, you would still face this day with a mix of joy and sorrow. However, you must lift your chin, set your smile, and enjoy this day. Lead on, Henry.”
And so, Anne exited her childhood home for the last time as Miss de Bourgh and climbed into her uncle’s carriage to be taken to the church to become Mrs. Pratt.
~*~*~
At the church, Alistair waited with Jack at his side. The day had finally arrived. He would no longer be sent to house parties or expected to attend soirees while his heart, his Anne, stayed at Rosings unable to openly stand at his side.
“They have arrived,” Darcy said as he approached the front of the church.
Darcy, Georgiana, and Elizabeth had arrived ahead of the others from Rosings. Anne had insisted that Elizabeth be the one to stand up with her at her wedding since it was Elizabeth’s willingness to marry Darcy that had given Anne her freedom to marry where she chose. It was a pile of rubbish, as far as Alistair was concerned. Anne would have married where she chose even if Darcy were still unattached. His Anne was a determined sort of lady.
Finally, the doors to the church opened and Anne, on her uncle’s arm, joined Alistair before Mr. Collins and the ceremony began. It was not a long ceremony — they never were, even when the parson was as given to rambling as Mr. Collins was.
Having taken their vows and placed their names in the register, Anne and Alistair climbed into her curricle to return to Rosings for the wedding breakfast. A feast had been arranged in the dining room and Miss Jenkinson along with her niece, Miss Pope, had been engaged to play several dances on the piano and violin.
Just before the dancing was to begin, Alistair drew Anne aside and out to the garden.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“I have never been better,” she replied. “I rested as much as I could yesterday, just as you suggested.”
“Then, you are ready to make your debut at a ball?”
“Oh, I am. I so very much am,” she cried. “Thank you for insisting on dancing. I know my mother would not have agreed to it if you had not been so unrelenting.”
He drew her into his embrace. “You may dance as many dances as you wish as long as you promise you will not make yourself ill in doing so. I do not wish to spend my wedding night alone.”
Anne blushed. “I shall only dance two sets. Both with you.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her lightly. “There will be other balls. I promise.” He kissed her once more. “Now, Mrs. Pratt, shall we return to our guests?”
She shook her head and pressed her lips against his once more for a longer, more intimate kiss than the two he had given her. Then, with a whispered “I love you,” she allowed him to lead her into the ballroom and into a future that would be filled with laughter and dancing, rides in the park and walks in the grove, as well as the arrival of children and the occasional family row. And while her happily ever after might not be the sort she would find in her book of fairy tales, it would be everything Anne had ever dreamed it would be. For how can such a life be anything less than fulfilling and blessed when a lady’s heart and that of her gentleman have become so very entangled with love.
Enticing Miss Darcy
Jack is determined to win Georgiana, but first, she’ll need to learn to trust her heart.
Chapter 1
Jack Ralston straightened the sleeves of his jacket and affected a relaxed pose, leaning against one of the two pillars which flanked one entrance to the Winsleys’ ballroom. Debutantes and their chaperones picked their way along the edges, not wishing to ruin the chalk drawing on the floor before the dancing began. The room was about half-filled if Jack were guessing correctly.
The Winsleys always drew a large crowd. Lady Winsley, a particular friend of Jack’s mother, was perhaps the foremost hostess in the ton this year. No one else’s soirees had graced the pages of the Times with more flowery descriptions than the ones that had been hosted here in this house. First, there had been an elegant dinner party with many notable members of the ton in attendance. Then, there had been an evening of Shakespeare — complete with costumes and masks. And just two weeks ago, there had been a musicale. Each and every event had been lauded. Tonight would likely be no different. Jack only hoped that tonight he would be more successful than he had been at each of the previous soirees held in this home.
Not once had he been able to capture the interest of the enticing Miss Darcy for longer than a few moments. He could not understand it. He had spent nearly a year attempting to win her approval — he paused to reflect on when he had met her — yes, it would be a year next month — and he thought he had had it. She always welcomed him with a lovely smile when they met and never shied away from conversing with him as he had seen her do with others she met while visiting this or that venue with her grandmother, Lady Margaret, and sister, Mrs. Darcy.
However, as soon as she had been presented at her first official soiree, he had become just one of her entourage of companions, relegated to the uncomfortable position of trusted friend. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Friends!
He pulled out his watch. She would be here soon. She always arrived about a quarter of an hour early. He blew out a breath. Friends was, at least, a start. But it was nowhere near what he wished to be.
“Jack!”
With a smile, Jack swung away from his scrutiny of the ballroom and toward the voice the he had come to know well. “Mrs. Pratt,” he said, giving her a bow.
Anne waved his words away. “It is Anne,” she chided, releasing her grip on her husband, Alistair’s, arm and leaning forward to give Jack a hug. It was not so easily accomplished these days with her ever-growing belly in the way.
“I should think a ball would not be good for you in your condition,” Jack said with a wink. “Your husband is not shirking his duties and allowing you to run amuck and harm his heir, now is he?”
“No, he is not,” Alistair replied. “She is not to dance.”
Anne scrunched up her nose, clearly not pleased with the pronouncement and yet unwilling to defy it. But that was how it was with Anne and Alistair. She would push, and he would push back. And, more often than not, Anne would capitulate. Alistair was nearly the only one to whom the daughter of Lady Catherine would defer.
“My condolences,” Jack said with a smile which was readily returned. “Will we be playing cards this evening?”
Anne’s smile spread, and the familiar twinkle of mischief sparkled in her eyes as she shook her head. “I have read no announcement in the paper.”
Alistair sighed. “My wife has decided you need help — again.”
Jack laughed. “I do not wish to find myself the main topic of conversation tomorrow morning as I did the last time you helped.”
Anne shook her head and gave him a scolding look as if he should not be concerned about such a thing. “Who was to know that that lonely looking tabby would jump from your arms and attack Mrs. Hollingsworth? It truly looked as if it was in need of assistance, and it would have been a very impressive act of kindness had the cat cooperated.”
“The good news is that Lady Winsley’s cats are much better behaved than most strays,” Alistair said dryly.
The incident had happened on a walk in Hunsford during the summer. The Darcys had been visiting Lady Catherine, and Jack had, at Anne’s invitation, been visiting the Pratts. Such a visit would allow Jack ample time to be in company with Georgiana, Anne had assured him. After all, had not both she and her cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, found the
groves at Rosings to be the ideal place to court their loves?
Jack should have known, with such logic and the information that Darcy had been soundly refused by Elizabeth while in Kent, that it was not the best-laid plan. However, he could not resist the opportunity to spend a full three weeks with Georgiana Darcy.
They had met on several walks, and they had had many wonderful discussions. In fact, it was on one of these not-so-chance meetings when Anne had spotted the tabby tangled in some bramble, and while Darcy spoke to Mrs. Hollingsworth, who was out for a drive, Anne had whispered to Jack that helping a poor defenseless creature would appear quite romantic to any lady. Therefore, without much thought, Jack sprung into action.
He had pulled the cat from the bushes and was petting it gently as they walked over to where Georgiana stood near Mrs. Hollingsworth’s curricle. All had been going as planned — the cat was safe, Georgiana was smiling, and then, Mrs. Hollingsworth’s pug had started barking. The cat hissed, and instead of leaping from Jack’s arms and running away as any cat with a modicum of sense would, this feline leapt toward the dog and onto Mrs. Hollingsworth’s lap. The resulting cry of surprise and the flicking of the ribbons had sent the horses trotting down the lane.
“That incident has been the source of many minutes of conversation, has it not?” Anne asked hopefully.
Jack shook his head. “Not in a pleasant sort of way,” he assured her. “I would rather not be the source of a good laugh.”
“But every lady likes to laugh,” Anne insisted.
“Not every gentleman wishes to be laughed at,” Jack replied. “He would like his wit to be the source of a few giggles but not his pride.”
“She shall not forget you,” said Anne.
“Ah, but will she think of him as he wishes her to think of him?” Alistair asked.
Anne’s lips pursed and her brows drew together. “Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But I will maintain that it is good to be memorable and pleasantly so. A small folly is a far better thing for which to be remembered than some nefarious scheme or hateful gossip. “
