A Lady by Chance (Historical Regency Romance)

by Cheryl Bolen

  "So I'm not the only one who thought so," Anna said.

  "I hope my fool of a brother can see through her."

  Anna felt a tap at her shoulder. She turned and saw Mr. Churchdowne.

  "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Haverstock?"

  Anna gracefully rose.

  He knew that she didn't love him. He knew that she never had. He knew she was responsible for Pierre Chassay's death. And she was an enemy of his country. So why did it hurt so badly to see her in the arms of Sir Henry and Harry Churchdowne?

  Haverstock smirked at Jane. She had always fancied herself a marchioness. His marchioness. And she had always annoyed him. She was no more faint than he was. After giving her a suitable amount of time to cool off, he asked, "Do you feel up to standing up with me for the next set?" Something in his pride made him want to show Anna other women could be attracted to him.

  "Oh, I'm quite refreshed now, my lord," she said, setting a possessive hand on his arm as he led her to the dance floor.

  He swept by Anna, ignoring her while giving a curt nod to Churchdowne. He gave his full attention to acting as if Jane were the most important person in the room. He made a great deal of seriously looking into her eyes. He laughed and smiled at everything she said. He squeezed her hand. All the while he watched Anna from the corner of his eye.

  It was as if there were no one else on the dance floor except his beautiful wife. He watched her lovely body moving gracefully beneath the soft drape of her sky blue gown. And with a bitter rage, he watched Churchdowne's face as his earnest eyes caressed Anna.

  Damn that Churchdowne! Haverstock kept thinking. Did he have to hold Anna so close? And how dare he dance with Anna after the scene at White's. It might give Anna a bad name.

  "Since you've gone and married," Lady Jane said, "I have decided to marry, too."

  "And who is the fortunate man?"

  "I cannot tell you since I have not yet received the offer, but I expect it within the week. I will say that he outranks you."

  Haverstock raised a brow.

  "And he's quite old, so I may have to take pleasure with a younger man like you, Charles."

  Somehow, with all her faults, Haverstock could not imagine Anna speaking as Jane just did. Jane of the impeccable lineage, he thought disgustedly.

  Chapter 22

  Madame Devreaux ran her discerning eyes along the sizable length of Lydia and spoke to Anna. "I have not seen this sister before, no?"

  Anna shook her head. "This sister's tastes run to riding habits more than ball gowns, but now she will need a trousseau."

  Within minutes, the modiste's assistants scurried around Lydia, measuring her, holding lengths of various shades about her face. All the while Madame Devreaux exuded excitement.

  Anna realized the dressmaker extraordinaire was not just counting the generous sums she would receive for the commissions, but she was also being challenged creatively to transform Lydia from the ugly duckling into the beautiful swan.

  "Do you not agree, Madame Devreaux, that Lydia's breasts are one of her best assets and should not be covered?" Anna asked "To be sure," the woman said, leading Lydia into a dressing room. There, Lydia disrobed, and Madame Devreaux draped a bright white sarcenet from just over her bosom to the floor.

  Anna stood back and gazed. Lydia looked almost pretty. Certainly striking. "You are a positive genius, Madame. Lydia looks quite lovely."

  Lydia gave a skeptical glance into the glass. "Do you not think the bodice is too low?"

  "Not at all!" the modiste said. "We only see the top of what promises to be exquisite endowments. Your husband-to-be, he will be enraptured."

  Lydia's face clouded.

  Madame Devreaux had undoubtedly said the wrong thing, Anna thought. The idea of intimacy with the squire was not welcome to Lydia. Anna remembered with deep longing every torturing touch from her own husband. Despite the pain of losing him, she would do it all over again. Better the pain than going to her grave never having experienced their magical blending.

  Anna watched the young assistants work. "Tell me, Madame Devreaux, are your helpers good needlewomen?"

  "But of course. Only the best." The dressmaker wrote some measurements down on paper.

  "What kind of wage do they receive?"

  "I pay a generous wage," she defended, not mentioning a sum.

  "Have you need for another employee?"

  The woman nodded. "This season we have been so terribly busy. My poor girls, they work into the night. I could undoubtedly use another."

  "Sally!" Lydia exclaimed.

  Anna's eyes danced with delight. "Exactly."

  "You have someone?" the modiste asked.

  "She has no great experience," Anna said, "but her work is good, and she is an excellent learner. To compensate for her lack of experience, I propose to pay her wages during her apprentice period – without her knowledge, of course."

  Madame Devreaux smiled broadly. "Of course."

  "Oh, Anna, what a delightful plan," Lydia said. "I cannot wait to see her face when we tell her."

  "I say, Lyddie," Morgie said on the way to the East End that afternoon, "you look different."

  "It's her hair," Anna said.

  "Oh, yes. Quite becoming," he said.

  "Lydia is to acquire a new wardrobe for her trousseau," Anna announced.

  With shaking hands, Morgie reined his horse, pulling to a complete stop, then turned wide eyes on Lydia. "Your what?"

  "My trousseau," she answered. "Did you not know I am to be wed?"

  "I did not!" he snapped. "By all that's holy, I see you twice every day, and you don't even have the consideration to tell me something as momentous as your wedding plans. Just who in the bloody hell is it you're marrying?"

  Anna's gaze shifted from Morgie to Lydia, and her long-standing belief in their affection for each other was confirmed. A pity Morgie did not realize the depth of his feeling for Lydia.

  "Squire John Ainsley," Lydia said.

  Morgie took up the ribbons and began to canter, avoiding Lydia's gaze. "Never heard of the man."

  "He lives quite near Haymore. He's a widower," Lydia said.

  "I am sure you don't have to explain the man to me," Morgie said, his lips compressed.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the carriage. Unconsciously, Anna listened to the clopping of hooves, the cracking of whips, children at play. A fog horn on the Thames.

  Presently, Morgie said. "This is the second cannonball wedding betrothal I've heard of today. You'll never guess the other one."

  "Enlighten us," Lydia said dryly.

  "Blassingame has offered for Lady Jane Wyeth."

  "But the old duke must be eighty years old!" Lydia said.

  "He is but five and seventy," Morgie corrected.

  "Do you realize how this could affect Kate's plans?" Anna asked.

  Lydia's hand flew to her mouth. "Goodness! If the duke and Jane have a son, poor Mr. Reeves will have no prospects, and Kate will never be a duchess!"

  "Delicate subject, I know," Morgie stammered, "But the babe might not even have to be the duke's, if you know what I mean. Men of a certain age have difficulties with that sort of thing, I am told. He'd be pleased as punch to have everyone think him capable."

  Lydia blushed and purposefully looked away from Morgie's direction.

  A throbbing torment raged through Anna as she remembered her husband with Lady Jane the night before. Had they been planning to become lovers once Jane married the old duke? As much as she could picture Jane scheming behind her husband's back, Anna could never imagine Charles denying Kate her heart's desire.

  "Anna," Lydia said, "Kate's wedding's only two days off. I fear she will stop it if she learns the duke's plans."

  "That might not be a bad thing," Anna said.

  "But Kate deserves to be miserable. She's such a schemer. It's either her being miserable or poor Mr. Reeves – whose only mistake is falling in love with Kate." Lydia set her chin forward.
"I shall not tell her about Blassingame."

  Anna hated to see Kate locked in a loveless marriage, but it was of her own choosing. Whether or not Mr. Reeves became a duke really had nothing to do with winning Kate's love. That he would never be able to do. Perhaps Lydia was right to keep the news of Blassingame's plans from Kate.

  Morgie ran a skeptical eye over Lydia but said nothing.

  At the sewing school, Morgie stayed with his equipage, as he usually did. Anna, Lydia and Colette divided themselves among the students. Sally sat at the end of one of the tables with her two little girls, who wore patched dresses. She was putting the finishing touches on a new dress for her eldest girl.

  "I think the dress will be the very thing to show your new employer," Anna said.

  Sally's blue eyes lifted hopefully, a slow smile coming to her lean face. "You mean I'll 'ave a proper job?"

  Anna nodded.

  By now Lydia had come, all smiles.

  "You will be an assistant to Lady Haverstock's dressmaker," Lydia said. "The most fashionable women in London are patrons of Madame Devreaux."

  Sally reached down to her toddler, swept back the little one's blond ringlets and hugged her, tears brimming in her eyes. "I don't know what to say, me lady. I'm so excited."

  "During your apprentice, you will earn two shillings a week."

  The young mother's eyes nearly popped from their sockets. "Oh, I can't thank you enough!"

  "No thanks are needed. It is your own skill and determination that have won you the position," Anna said.

  A dreamy smile on her face, Sally said, "Some girls may have wanted to be a princess, but all I've ever wanted was to be a fine dressmaker."

  "That you are," Anna said.

  When they met Morgie outside, he introduced a skinny lad who could not have been over nine years old. His body was bruised, and his hair and tattered clothes were dirty. It actually surprised Anna that Morgie of the meticulous dress would allow himself so near the urchin. Most men of his station would not.

  "This is Andy," Morgie said, placing a hand on the boy's scrawny shoulders. "Got a fancy over horses."

  "Master Morgan's been letting me work with 'is 'orses," Andy said.

  "In fact," Morgie announced, "he's going to become my groom."

  Andy hopped on the back of the coach, the others got inside, and it took off.

  Lydia lifted approving eyes to Morgie. "How wonderful of you to take in the boy, Morgie."

  He shrugged off her praise. "He'll make a fine groom. Loves animals."

  "What of his parents? Isn't he awfully young to leave them?" Lydia asked.

  "Poor lad has no family," Morgie said. "I've been throwing coins at him from time to time for helping with my mounts, and I believe that has been his only means of survival."

  "That is so good of you," Lydia said, admiration in her eyes that swept over his pensive face. "I do not understand how a young child like that could not have a family."

  "Too many mouths to feed. No home. No known father and a faithless mother. Any number of reasons," Anna said lowly. "And though we cannot repair the problem, we can lift the load from a few to make their lives easier. Hopefully, others will do so also."

  "Mr. Hogart and Charlotte, I do believe, mean to do good works in their lives – that is if Charles will allow them to marry," Lydia said.

  "You must know Charles sets no store over rank and riches," Anna chided. "And besides, Mr. Hogart has failed to ask the question."

  "He's not going to," Lydia said. "He is much too gallant to ask Charlotte to share a life of poverty."

  "They will not have to be poor, I assure you," Anna said. "I will make a settlement on them. It would please me to see them continue his work."

  Lydia hugged Anna. "I will say it once more. We are so very fortunate to have you for a sister."

  "Pooh," Anna said.

  "When do I meet this squire of yours?" Morgie asked.

  "Come to Haverstock House tonight. We're staying home. I would love you as my whist partner, since the squire – I mean, John – does not play," Lydia said.

  "What kind of man doesn't play whist?" Morgie murmured crossly.

  In a small family ceremony at St. George's Hanover Square, a sobbing Kate became the wife of Mr. Reeves. Anna observed the ceremony from the front pew, her attention focused almost entirely on her very handsome husband standing beside the nervous bridegroom. Haverstock wore gray pantaloons with a rich black coat adorned with diamond buttons that matched his spurs. His very virility made Anna catch her breath.

  She remembered their own wedding. How differently she had felt toward him then. As her thoughts wandered thus, he caught her eye, and she smiled at him.

  But he turned his glance away quickly.

  The Duke of Blassingame attended, balancing his thin frame on a silver-handled cane. There was no sign of Lady Jane, and no announcement of their forthcoming nuptials had yet appeared in the newspapers. But Anna knew that Kate knew.

  Following the ceremony, a wedding breakfast was served at Haverstock House. By this time Kate had quit crying and graciously met with each guest, including the duke's five middle-aged daughters – his progeny from his now-deceased wife.

  But it was Lydia who drew the most praise on Kate's wedding day. For this was the first time she had worn one of the dresses fashioned by Madame Devreaux. The gown was of the palest violet, its neckline plunging extremely low, the soft gathering of the slender dress making her appear statuesque, almost slender.

  Colette had arranged her hair in the Grecian style, and a lavender ostrich plume swept from her black locks.

  Morgie could not take his eyes off her.

  Anna detected that he was intimidated by the woman with whom he had always enjoyed an easy intimacy. Under normal circumstances, he would be sitting beside Lydia at this moment, the two of them delivering tongue lashings over some of the pompous guests.

  But today, he stood alone, swallowing hard as he watched Squire Ainsley devote himself to Lydia.

  Anna walked up to Morgie. "Despite that he cannot play whist, how did you find Squire Ainsley?"

  "Dull witted."

  "But you must admit he is very amiable, and quite devoted to Lydia."

  "He will bore her to death."

  "But he does enjoy riding, and I am told his stable is well equipped. That should make Lydia happy."

  "It's not right, you know, asking her to come in as mother to six children who are not her own."

  "Lydia loves children."

  "Deserves her own."

  "The squire will most likely be happy to oblige in that."

  Morgie heaved an impatient sigh.

  Anna changed the subject. "How does little Andy do?"

  "Happy as a lark. My housekeeper bathed the lad and found some clean clothes that aren't too big on his skinny little frame. We'll have him fattened up in no time. Wonderfully good appetite he's got." He looked around. "Mary did not come?"

  "Did you not know she is about to present the dowager with her first grandchild?"

  "None of you ever tell me anything anymore," he snapped.

  "What do we never tell you?" Haverstock asked Morgie, walking up and slipping an arm around Anna's waist, causing her knees to feel cottony.

  "First, not a word about the squire fellow dancing attendance on Lyddie. Then, no one tells me Mary is increasing. And you always said I was like one of the family."

  "You must perceive that you are the only person here who is not related to the happy couple," Haverstock said, clasping a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Actually, I find you quite superior to most members of my family. Come, let us find the champagne."

  They left Anna alone. She wondered if she were one of the members of her husband's family whom he found lacking. Of course she was. If only she were more like Lady Jane, Anna thought.

  Chapter 23

  "These ladies bloody well need her," Morgie said crossly, flicking his ribbons on the way to the East End. "Don't know why Lyd
die has to gallivant 'round with that squire fellow this afternoon. He sees her every blasted night."

  Anna laid a gentle hand on his arm. "It's just for this one afternoon. The poor man has scarcely had a moment alone with his fiancé since their betrothal. Besides, I am particularly desirous of speaking to you today on a very private matter."

  He lowered his eyes. "Your most obedient servant, my lady."

  Though she knew they were quite alone, save the tiger at the rear, Anna glanced around the darkened, narrow street they traveled to assure herself no one could hear. No other carriage was near. Not even Colette had come today, so Anna's conversation would reach only Morgie's ears.

  "I know how close you are to Charles," she began. "He shares with you what he shares with no one else. I am aware – though not from him – that you accompanied him to France. What I do not know is if Charles is working for or against England."

  "How could you doubt him?" Morgie snapped, cracking his whip against the horse and casting a suspicious glance at Anna.

  "In my heart, I know he's good. However, a man I fear may be working against Britain persuaded me that Charles was a traitor."

  Morgie nearly collided with a passing hay cart. "Tis insanity, I vow! There's no finer man than Haverstock."

  "I very much want to believe that," Anna assured. "I want you, too, to believe that I have absolutely no sympathies for the French. That's part of what makes everything so terribly difficult for me. If I had to choose between my country or my husband, I don't know which I'd choose. For I care for Charles very much."

  Morgie's eyes softened and he lowered his voice. "You shouldn't have to choose. Haverstock's as English as the king."

  "Then I need you to help me prove it."

  "How do I do that?"

  "I'm not quite sure." Anna felt a refreshing burst of cool air off the Thames as Morgie's curricle plunged on to the wider Strand. "I thought perhaps you could help me trap the man I suspect."

  "And, pray, who is this man?"

  "Sir Henry Vinson."

  "Never cared for the worm."

  "Neither do I, if the truth be known."