Hazelhurst: A Regency Romance (Families of Dorset Book 4)

by Martha Keyes

  And her father's words? It behooves you, Anne, to take greater pains to please him if you don't wish to be further humiliated by reports of the company he does choose to keep in place of yours.

  She put her hands on her stomach, her insides swirling at the implications of it. The thought of him with another woman made her feel ill. Why did her heart insist on setting itself upon Tobias, despite her best intentions?

  She exhaled, long and slow, glancing once more at the small case he had left for her. She would come back for it later. For now, she had to regain her composure and be the hostess their families deserved.

  One thing was certain: she couldn't rely on Tobias to be there with her at a simple dinner with his own family; she could never rely on him not to break her heart.

  Anne put two fingers to her temples, rubbing them for a moment as she waited for her maid to bring her night shift and dressing gown. It had been a very long day, indeed, and Anne sighed with relief that she had successfully avoided any one-on-one interaction with Tobias after their encounter in the study. She had used the excuse of making arrangements for Isabel's and Charles's room, since their arrival had not been expected by the housekeeper or staff.

  She shrugged on the dressing gown and thanked her maid, dismissing her for the night and sitting down on the cushioned stool at her vanity table.

  Anne liked to brush her own hair out at night. Her mother had always done it when she was a child, and it had felt too special a moment to delegate to her maid.

  She ran the brush through her dark hair, softly combing out the tangles as she stared at her reflection, thinking on the events of the evening. Her own parents had driven back to their estate in Bere Regis, but the Cosgroves would remain for two or three days before making their way back to Surrey.

  The brush stilled in her hand. Anne had forgotten about the little case Tobias had left for her in the study. She had been too frustrated and too tired to deal with whatever it was he had brought for her.

  I thought you might add that to your collection.

  What collection could he have meant? She set the brush down, wrapping her dressing gown around her and taking her candle with her from the room. She was too curious to leave the mystery until the morning.

  She slipped into the study, grateful not to have encountered anyone on the way there, and let the candle's beams illuminate the otherwise dark room. Her eyes immediately found the case, glinting in exactly the spot Tobias had tossed it.

  She set down the candle and took the case in hand, holding it carefully in her fingers, then twisted the lid off and turned her hand so that the candlelight fell upon it.

  Her heartbeat stuttered. It was paint. Hussar blue. Just like the paint which they had covered the breakfast room in—and then laboriously cleaned of it.

  Her eyes burned, and her mouth trembled in the struggle between smiling and crying. She hadn't even known he was aware of her painting hobby —he had never seen her doing it, nor had she mentioned it to him.

  Isabel's words were ringing truer—there was more to Tobias than Anne knew; a kindness and thoughtfulness that exceeded her expectations.

  She closed the box, slowly, methodically.

  She had been terribly rude to Tobias—she hadn't wanted to hear his excuses or to confront her own disappointment in him. She hadn't wanted him to see the disappointment, either.

  She wasn't supposed to be disappointed. He was free to do as he wished, according to their agreement.

  She rubbed her thumb along the metal case, a little smile touching her lips.

  And yet he had gone out of his way to find this paint for her—a little gesture of camaraderie, at the least. She couldn't allow herself to hope for more, but neither could she leave the gesture thankless.

  9

  Tobias tugged his cravat free from his neck, tossing it onto the bed and rubbing his hand over the skin that could now breathe. He had sent his valet away for the evening after he had helped Tobias out of his coat, feeling a need to be alone with his thoughts.

  The trip into Weymouth had gone exactly to plan. Until the end.

  He had fulfilled all of his commissions and was headed back to the carriage by the time he had noticed the colorman's shop. He had stopped in his tracks, smiling for a moment at the memories it conjured.

  When they had been discussing what to do with the soiled cleaning towels he and Anne had used, he had learned from the housekeeper that Anne sometimes indulged in an hour or two of painting when he was away—setting up in the gardens or in the conservatory. It had made him wonder what else he didn't know about his wife. Surely there was a long list of things, for he hardly felt he knew her at all.

  He had glanced at his pocket watch, noting that he still had a few minutes before he needed to be on his way back to Hazelhurst if he wished to be home well in time to dress for dinner.

  And so he'd taken a step into the shop and asked the colorman if he happened to have any more of the blue requested by Lady Anne Cosgrove just a few days since.

  "Not enough to signify, " the colorman had said, "but it won't take above ten minutes for me to mix more for you."

  When Tobias clarified the purpose of the paint, the colorman said that the little he did have remaining would be enough. So it was that Tobias left for Hazelhurst a few minutes later, feeling that the prospect of a disagreeable dinner might perhaps be lightened a bit by Anne's reaction to his little gift.

  But Tobias was not meant to know such a thing for certain—to see what Anne might have thought of the paint. His small delay to look inside the colorman's shop was just enough to set off a chain of events that would lead to his arrival, not an hour early for dinner, as he had hoped, but rather two hours late.

  He pulled his shirt over his head, looking in the mirror at the area on his torso that was red and beginning to become more colorful with bruising. It could have been worse, certainly.

  A very light knock sounded on his door, and his head whipped around. Who in the world would that be?

  He took the nightshirt lying on his bed and pulled it over his head quickly, grabbing for the dressing gown and beginning to shrug it on over the hastily-donned nightshirt, which lay uneven on his shoulders, pulling to one side.

  Brow and mouth turned down in a frown, he opened the door the width of a few fingers, ready to give a quick and irritated dismissal to whatever servant had decided to disturb him at such an hour.

  But it was no servant. It was Anne.

  Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in waves that were only discernible from the dark corridor behind by the candle she held in her hand. A few stray strands fell down the front of her white dressing gown and shift.

  "Anne," he said, unable to keep the inflection of surprise from his voice. "Is everything well?"

  She nodded, a faint smile on her lips. "Yes. That is, I hope so." Her eyes shifted behind him into the dimly lit bedroom.

  He couldn't help but swallow. Did she want to come in?

  He shook his head and blinked rapidly. "I apologize," he said, opening the door wider.

  It was too dark to tell for certain, but he could have sworn her cheeks flushed with color. "I only wanted to speak with you for a moment."

  "Come in," he said, smiling in hopes that she wouldn't feel embarrassed—or notice how his heart was beating erratically. She only wished to talk.

  He hovered briefly at the door, wondering whether he should close it or leave it ajar. Neither felt quite right, but he settled for closing it. If she wished to be private with him, it would be rude to leave it open.

  She set down the candle on the dressing table and took a seat on one end of the small upholstered bench at the foot of his bed.

  Tobias wavered yet again. Should he sit down beside her? Surely it couldn't be right to stay standing. He had never felt so unsure of himself, dithering to and fro with every small decision. It was ridiculous.

  He sat slowly beside her, noticing for the first time that she held in her hands the case of
paint he had left in the study. She turned it around and around in her fingers, and both their eyes watched it catch the light.

  "I wanted first to apologize," she said, looking up at him as she closed the case in her palm. "I was uncivil and unkind earlier."

  He shook his head, but she continued. "I don't know what kept you in town, but I am sure you had reason for being late, and the last thing you needed was for me to punish you. Particularly when you were thoughtful enough to bring me this." She opened her palm and smiled at the case inside it. A lock of hair dropped down over her shoulder, covering the side of her face as she looked up at him.

  He had the strangest but most undeniable impulse to push it back. But, as if she had read his mind, she tucked it behind her ear.

  "I think I shall keep it closed," she said, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile, "as I don't think you and I can be trusted together with paint."

  He grinned and nodded. "A wise decision." He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

  Her smile faded slightly as their eyes met. "Why were you so late?" There was a touch of uncertainty in her tone, as if she wasn't sure she wished to know the answer.

  He let his head drop dramatically, wagging it from side to side. "It is quite a tale," he said. "I doubt if you'll believe it."

  "I shall try," she said, and he looked up to see the twinkle in her eye.

  "The fates aligned against me," he said, chuckling and sitting back against the foot of the bed. It dug into his back, and he pulled away from it again.

  Anne watched him and then stood, walking to the head of the bed and taking two pillows from under the coverlet. She set one behind Tobias and one behind herself, and they both leaned back.

  "Much better," he said, shifting from side to side until he found a comfortable spot. He breathed in deeply, letting out the air in a gush. "I had fulfilled all of my commissions, including the candles you charged me to return with"—he said significantly—"and I was well on my way to returning in plenty of time for dinner, for I didn't wish for you to have to entertain my parents alone, but—"

  "It wouldn't have mattered," Anne said. "They arrived two hours earlier than expected."

  Tobias stared at her, eyes wide, mouth agape. "I find it incredible that you didn't wring my neck upon seeing me!"

  "Yes, it surprised me, too," she said with a teasing smile.

  Tobias shook his head, still in awe. "And I thought my day was something from a nightmare."

  She swiped at his arm. "Your parents are hardly so awful as that, Tobias. But come now, I must hear the story."

  "As I was saying, I was well on my way, and we were only ten miles from home when a hare decided that that particular moment was the perfect time to cross the road. My horse Samson is no lover of small animals, you know, and he took violent exception to the creature. That would have been sorted out easily enough, but that the carriage is apparently in need of attention. Samson's reaction was so powerful that the traces broke, and the straps came loose, allowing him to dash off into trees beyond."

  "Good heavens," Anne said. "And what of you and the driver?"

  He chuckled, putting a hand to his bruised torso. "We both fared well enough, if not entirely unscathed."

  “You're hurt!" she said, her brows knitting as her hand shot out to his and then dropped.

  "It's nothing," he said. "Between my person and my temper, my temper was the more wounded of the two. And between the driver and myself, we spent forty minutes looking for Samson and then another hour and a half at the nearest village, where one of the villagers did his best to mend the carriage so that we could continue on home."

  Anne looked at him with a commiserating grimace. "And yet you were not in a bad temper when you arrived."

  He smiled wryly. "No, for it had the remainder of the journey home to abate, while my guilt and anxiety on your behalf overtook it entirely. And yet, I'm afraid it reignited upon encountering you and your father in the study." He clenched his fingers and forced a smile at her.

  She averted her eyes, looking back down to the case in her hands. "Well, you concealed it admirably, to say nothing of quelling my father's lecture very successfully."

  He stole a glance at her, feeling surprised in retrospect at his own audacity and boldness; remembering how it had felt to kiss her on the forehead and wrap an arm about her waist.

  "Does he often speak to you so?" Tobias couldn't help himself. Was this the treatment Anne had become accustomed to over her lifetime? If so, he could hardly wonder at her agreeing to marry him. Certainly anything would seem better than to be scolded and denigrated as her father had been doing.

  "He has a harsh personality," Anne said. "I am sure he inherited it from his own parents."

  She was defending him. But her heart was not in it. "That might provide some insight or occasion some sympathy for him, but surely it does little to mitigate the pain his words cause."

  Anne looked at him, and he watched as her eyes began to water, though her posture remained erect. "No, indeed,” she said. “Whatever wounds he carries from his own upbringing, it hardly seems fair that he should spread them so violently and constantly to innocent souls like my mother, for she is the one who has borne the brunt of it. And for so very long. If his words to me earlier spare my mother at all, then I would willingly repeat the experience a hundred times over."

  Tobias reached for her hand, grasping it in his own, wishing he could shield her from her father's ire, just as she wished to protect her mother from it. Would Lord Purbeck exhaust his temper on Tobias, or was he such a coward that he insisted upon making the women in his life his victims?

  Anne sighed, setting the paint case in her lap and brushing a tear away from her cheek. "I am sorry," she said with a feeble smile. "I must be more tired than I knew, for I am not wont to cry, generally."

  He shook his head rapidly. "Please, don't apologize. I am not glad for your pain, but I am glad to know more about you—you are my wife, after all." He turned his body, reclining on one elbow so that his weight was on the pillow behind him. "And besides," he said, "I doubt there is a being on the planet who would not be both fatigued and crying after so many hours entertaining such a group as you were charged with." He winked softly at her, and she smiled and sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned back.

  Suddenly becoming aware that he still held her hand in his, he debated what to do. To let go of it might seem rude, but with every second he retained hold of it, his heart quickened. This was not conducive to the distance they had promised each other.

  And yet...was distance really what he wanted? Might they not sit together as they were now, warm and friendly, without either one being in danger of...of...of what?

  He felt Anne shift slightly next to him, and before he well knew what was happening, her head was slumping over onto his shoulder, its weight and the sound of her steady breathing indicating that she was asleep.

  He knew a moment of panic. What was he to do? Waken her and, in all likelihood, embarrass her? No, he couldn't do that. Not after she had just opened herself up to him.

  Her breathing deepened and slowed even more. She was fast asleep. Apparently she had been very tired indeed. And little wonder. She was a gem for bearing with all four parents.

  He took in a breath and then, ever so gently, lowered his head so that it rested on hers, cushioned by her uncoiffed hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in its smell.

  He would rest his eyes for a bit, allowing her some of the rest she desperately needed. How he would extricate himself from the situation, he hadn't the faintest idea. But he was becoming far too tired to bother with the question.

  Far.

  Too.

  Tired….

  10

  Anne started slightly, her eyes fluttering open to the sputtering light of one candle. She turned her head to find the source of the light, her neck aching terribly as she did so. Her view was blocked, though, and she froze.

  Tobias slept beside her, his head lolled back, a
nd his mouth open slightly. It looked terribly uncomfortable.

  She looked down at her hand, still held in his, though his fingers were relaxed and his palm open enough that she could extricate her hand from his without waking him, if needed. She shut her eyes again, straining at the foggy memories of what had been happening.

  Had she fallen asleep while they were talking? Heat crept up into her cheeks. Crying always made her tired, and she had no trouble remembering that she had indeed cried in front of Tobias.

  She smiled weakly as she looked at him. He looked so peaceful, his breath coming in soft snores, his nightshirt hanging down underneath his loosely tied dressing gown so that she could see his bare chest rising and falling.

  She averted her eyes, pursing her lips and moving her hand from his open palm. Had he left it there out of pity? Out of indifference?

  She should have waited to speak with him until morning—this all could have been avoided. She would have been well-rested and composed instead of tired and emotion-laden from the long, difficult day.

  Picking up the case of paint which had fallen off of her lap, she stood slowly and warily, her jaw clenched tensely as she watched Tobias for any sign of movement or waking.

  His head rolled forward, and she froze in place, but he didn't waken.

  She bit her lip, allowing herself one last glance at her husband before she slipped through the door and went to her room.

  When Anne went down to the breakfast room the next morning, it was with apprehension. What had Tobias thought when he had awoken and found her gone? Had he been relieved? Disappointed?

  But her apprehension was for naught. The footman she met in the corridor informed her that Tobias had already gone out for the day.

  She had smiled and thanked the footman, stifling the feeling of disappointment that made her stomach sink.