An Affair to Remember

by Karen Hawkins

  “Miss Thraxton,” Desford called, coming onstage wearing one of Anthony’s best coats, the arms rolled up. “I’ve come to sweep you away!”

  “Oh, Lord Greyley,” the fake “Anna” simpered. “This is highly improper.”

  Anthony sat stunned as Desford walked up to “Miss Thraxton” and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. But worse was her reaction—she turned and kissed him back, blushing adorably.

  “What the hell?” Sir Melton said loudly, sending a glare at Anthony. Lady Melton, meanwhile, sat as if mesmerized, her mouth opening and closing, though no sound came out.

  “Children!” Lady Putney stood and scurried to the stage, but Sir Phineas blocked the way with his cane.

  He took her arm and said quietly, “I fear it’s too late, my dear Lady Putney. The truth is out.” She struggled as if to free herself, but Sir Phineas led her to a chair and pushed her into it.

  Despite the rustle in the audience, the actors plunged on. “Anthony” began chasing “Anna” about a table until Richard walked in.

  Desford skid to a halt and glowered at the new arrival. “It’s Rupert! Why have you come?”

  Elizabeth clasped her hands together and said in her best stage voice, “He has come to steal me away, for I love no one but him.”

  Charlotte bound to her feet. “What?”

  Anthony covered his eyes. He didn’t know whether to laugh or shout or just leave, but he had the feeling that the entire world was careening madly out of control.

  Lady Melton lurched out of her chair and went to enfold Charlotte in a protective embrace. “My dear, dear child!” Over Charlotte’s curls, Lady Melton glared at Anthony. “We won’t stand for this, Greyley.”

  Anthony sighed and hauled himself to his feet. “I’m sorry about the play. I didn’t know—”

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” Lady Putney said. “If anyone is to blame for this, it is that woman, Anna Thraxton. She’s the one who—”

  “No!” Charlotte broke free from her mother’s embrace, her deep blue eyes brimming with anger. “I will not believe it of Anna.”

  Everyone was in a turmoil. Everyone except one person. Anthony caught Sir Phineas’s calm gaze where he sat watching the whole as if the play had moved from the stage to the audience.

  The old weasel, Anthony thought with grim amusement. He’d known all along.

  Lady Putney sighed. “My dearest Charlotte, I warned you about the children, did I not? They are completely unmanageable, which you will discover when you wed Greyley. Fortunately I am more than willing to take them to live with me at—”

  “No,” came a voice from the stage. Desford stepped forward, his hands fisted at his sides. “We don’t wish to live with you.”

  Lady Putney’s face grew red, though she tried to smile. “Now Desford, I’m sure that Miss Melton doesn’t want to hear—”

  “I don’t like Miss Melton, either,” the boy continued in a dogged voice. “It’s because of her that Miss Thraxton left.”

  Anthony’s attention riveted on the small boy. “Left?”

  “Of course you ask about her,” Lady Melton huffed.

  “Mother,” Charlotte said, “be quiet.”

  “Where,” Anthony asked ominously, “is Miss Thraxton?”

  Desford glared. “She left. Because of you.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “She didn’t want to stay and watch you marry Miss Melton.”

  “How do you know that?” Anthony asked. Desford’s gaze flickered to Sir Phineas.

  The old man cleared his throat. “I, ah, may have told them that during one of my many conversations. I can’t remember.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Selena piped up, taking her finger out of her mouth. “She’s coming back. I know she will.”

  “She’d better,” Anthony muttered, his heart a stone in the center of his chest. He glanced at Lily, who’d come out from behind the curtains. “Take the children back to the nursery.”

  It took Lily twice as long as it would have taken Anna, but she managed to herd the children out without too much incident.

  As soon as they were gone, Anthony said, “I’m going after her.”

  “Good for you,” Sir Phineas said with an air of great satisfaction. “If you leave now, you will catch them before they reach London.”

  Anthony frowned. “Them?”

  “Yes, ‘them.’” Lady Putney gave a shrill laugh. “Miss Thraxton eloped with Rupert this morning.”

  “You’re lying,” Charlotte snapped.

  “I saw them,” Lady Putney said, “They were riding together in my son’s phaeton. That hussy even had her portmanteau strapped behind.”

  Charlotte stamped her foot. “That bounder! That cheat! Just this morning he told me that he loved me!” She paused, her face quivering. “And I sent him away.”

  “I should hope you did,” her father huffed. “Rupert Elliot has no prospects.”

  “I know. He has been painfully honest. Or he was,” Charlotte said, a tear running down her cheek. She looked sadly at her father. “I knew you had made some bad investments and you needed money. My marriage to Greyley was the only way to save us all.”

  Lady Melton’s brow creased. “Bad investments? Where did you hear that?”

  Charlotte stared at Lady Putney.

  “Did you say such a thing?” Sir Melton demanded.

  Lady Putney gave an ingratiating smile. “I-I merely repeated what I had heard from the town gossips—”

  “You said Mama had told you everything!”

  “No! You just misunderstood me, my dear.”

  Charlotte’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t misunderstand anything. You lied, didn’t you?”

  “Charlotte!” her mother said in a reproving tone. “I’m sure there is an explanation. Calling someone a liar is not very ladylike.”

  “Sometimes I don’t want to be a lady,” Charlotte said. As if in illustration, she twisted her handkerchief until it ripped in two, “If I ever see Rupert Elliot again, I’m going to strangle him!”

  “An understandable thought,” Sir Phineas said gently. “I daresay he deserves it. However, before you can strangle him, you must find him.” He met Anthony’s gaze. “You will need to hurry.”

  “I’ll go at once,” Anthony said. He bowed to Lord and Lady Melton. “If you will excuse me, I have an urgent errand to run.”

  Lady Melton murmured her outrage while Sir Melton ground his teeth. Charlotte, meanwhile, grabbed Anthony’s sleeve. “I am not leaving you to deal with Rupert. If anyone has the right to ring a peal over his head, it is I.” Charlotte’s willful face hardened into a fierce expression. “And I will, too.”

  Anthony was too impatient to argue. “I’ll order the carriage for you, but I’m riding ahead.” Without waiting to see her answer, he turned on his heel and left.

  Anna knew that she’d made a mistake riding with Rupert before they reached Bedfordton, only two miles from Greyley. Too distraught to pay attention as he should, Rupert feathered a corner too tightly and locked the wheel of the phaeton on a signpost. It had taken thirty minutes and the help of a passing wagon full of farm laborers on their way to Bristol to get the phaeton back on the road.

  Rupert, determined to make up lost time, set the horses to such a fast pace that Anna felt it necessary to mention the importance of safety. This did not sit well with Rupert, who prided himself on his handling of the ribbons, and after a brief exchange, he and Anna were soon embroiled in a full-fledged argument.

  Their attention was so focused on berating each other and relieving their pent-up emotions that they didn’t notice the huge bank of clouds gathering along the horizon until a rumble of thunder interrupted their sniping comments. Soon afterward the rain began to fall, huge fat drops that stung their faces and made it almost impossible to see. Within moments Anna and Rupert were soaked to the skin.

  Though the rain didn’t linger, it left the two in the worst of spirits. Rupert seemed determined to drown his feelings by imbibing freely
from a pocket flask he produced the second they reached the main road. As he drank, his speed increased. Anna, having learned how sensitive Rupert was to comments on safety, could only hang on and pray that they did not hit a hole in the road.

  But something worse than a hole in the road lay in wait. As they rounded a bend at breakneck speed, an old dray lay overturned in the center of the muddy road, a farmer and his wife standing to one side, a thickly muscled labor horse still harnessed to the mess.

  Rupert saw the dray the second he rounded the corner, and he desperately tried to guide his grays to one side. But the old farm horse took fright the second the phaeton came bowling past.

  The huge horse neighed loudly, then took off in an awkward gallop, the overturned cart dragging behind, the distraught farmer chasing it. Rupert struggled to hold his own team under control.

  Just as it seemed he’d succeeded, the farm horse turned sharply and the back of the dray cracked into the phaeton, splintering the rear wheel and sending the delicate carriage tumbling.

  Anna remembered nothing but a huge blur and a sharp pain, and then she was lying in a ditch, her skirts over her face, Rupert’s colorful curses filling her ears. She closed her eyes, and blessed blackness swept her away.

  Sometime later, the black receded and she struggled back to consciousness. Anna opened her eyes and found herself in the common room of an inn, Rupert hovering near, a bandage on his head spotted with blood. A relieved expression crossed his face. “Thank God! I was worried you would never wake up. Greyley would never forgive me.”

  “Damn Greyley,” Anna muttered. How like Rupert to be worried about her only for the sake of saving his own skin, though she doubted Anthony would care. He was far too busy with his precious Charlotte to give any thought to her. To Anna’s horror, tears rose to her eyes and she had to fight a depressing need to gulp back a sob.

  “Perhaps I should get the landlady,” Rupert said, backing away when he saw the tears, a wild expression in his eyes. “I daresay your head hurts and Mrs. Tuffins will know what to do.”

  “I don’t want Mrs. Tuffins,” Anna said, gathering herself. She pressed a hand to her head and found that she possessed a bandage that matched Rupert’s in size. After touching it gingerly, she unwound it, wondering at the state of her hair. “I just want to get back to London.”

  “We’ll get there,” he said grimly. “One way or another.”

  It was that “another” that bothered her. She ran a tentative hand over her forehead, glad to find nothing more alarming than a knot the size of a walnut over one eye.

  Heavens, but she must look a fright. Sighing at the thought, she pushed herself upright. Black spots swam before her eyes, but she grit her teeth and waited for them to subside.

  “Maybe you need a glass of water? Or some ale. There’s some excellent brandy here, too. I think it must be smuggled because even Greyley doesn’t have stock like this—”

  “Rupert,” Anna said through her teeth, “if you must prattle, could you please not mention Greyley?”

  “Lud, you’re touchy, aren’t you? There’s no need to get in a snit,” Rupert said in a sulky tone.

  Anna swallowed a retort. They were both in ill humor and right now all she wanted was a little quiet so that she could collect herself. But even as she sat on the old worn settee, her head against the high back, her eyes closed against the annoying throbbing behind her forehead, she was on the verge of a torrent of tears. It was as if all her emotions had gathered behind her eyes and were determined to leak out.

  She heard Rupert take a chair nearby. He sighed loudly, but Anna ignored him. After several more sighs, he said, “I’ve messed up everything.”

  A tear slipped from beneath Anna’s lashes and fell down her cheek. She wiped it away, fairly certain Rupert hadn’t seen, for he said in a dismal voice, “I should have listened to you and been more careful.”

  “How…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “How will we get to London now?”

  “I’ve asked to hire a curricle. It’s old and it will be uncomfortable, but the phaeton is a complete loss. One rear wheel was crumpled and the shaft was broken in two. It will take weeks to fix it.”

  Anne pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering. Good God, but this was untenable, she never cried. Yet another tear joined the first, closely joined by something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Anna gulped, miserable and embarrassed, but unable to stop.

  “Anna, don’t.” Rupert moved to the edge of the settee and pulled her head to his shoulder, all brotherly solicitude. “Damn my pride. I should never have driven so wildly.”

  Rupert’s shoulder wasn’t as broad as Greyley’s. Nor was he able to make her feel completely and totally surrounded, yet it was comforting to have a shoulder to cry on and Anna made the best of it, sobbing loudly against his coat and letting the tears fall. They finally subsided and Anna was left with nothing more than a hiccupping gulp. Still, she pressed her face against Rupert’s shoulder while he rested his head against hers, taking comfort in the embrace as much as she.

  Thus it was that Anthony, following the mangled trail of the runaways, found Rupert and Anna sitting in a little ivy-covered inn, enfolded in what appeared to be a lovers’ embrace.

  Anthony froze on the spot, his wet greatcoat dripping a steady stream of water onto the worn carpet, his heart thudding painfully. He’d arrived at the scene of the accident just as they were hauling the ruined phaeton away, and the sight had chilled him to the bone, especially when no one seemed to know the condition of the occupants, except that someone seemed to think the young lady had been injured, for she’d been carried from the scene.

  For the next twenty minutes as he galloped wildly for the nearest inn, Anthony had been haunted with visions of Anna pale and injured, calling his name, or worse, cursing him with her last breath. Which was why seeing her locked in Rupert’s embrace was something more than a rude shock.

  “What the hell is this?” Anthony roared.

  Rupert stumbled to his feet, his face pale. “Anthony! I didn’t think you’d—I mean, I never thought you—”

  “Obviously,” Anthony growled, all pretense at civility burned away in one hot second. “She’s mine, damn you!”

  “Yours?” Anna stood, forcing her weak knees to stiffen. “Since when?”

  “Stay out of this,” Anthony ordered, his attention on his opponent. He yanked off his greatcoat and threw it in the corner, then undid his coat.

  Rupert’s eyes gleamed and he yanked his cravat free and pulled off his coat.

  “What are you doing?” Anna pressed a hand to her stomach. It felt queasy and she guessed it had less to do with the bump on her head than it had to do with the two lumps who were getting ready to fight before her. “I can’t believe this. Anthony, please—”

  “Rupert, you are a dead man.” Anthony unbuttoned his waistcoat and yanked it off, his gaze locked on the younger man. “I hope you’re prepared for this, for I owe you a good trouncing.”

  Rupert’s waistcoat was already gone and he stood, fists poised, excitement and anger equally melded in his expression. “Are you through yammering yet, Greyley? Or are you going to fight?”

  Anna sank back onto the settee and closed her eyes. It was worse than trying to reason with the children, and she was just too tired to deal with it. Besides, what would be the use? The worst thing that could happen would be that one of them would end up with a black eye, and somehow, in the overall events of the day, that didn’t seem all that horrible.

  So Anna quietly sat while the two men circled each other warily. Anthony landed the first blow, and it almost lifted Rupert from his feet. He staggered back, recovering at just the right moment, then returned with amazing fury to land a punch to Anthony’s chin.

  Anthony shook it off, but his gaze narrowed and he was more careful after that. If it hadn’t been for Rupert’s evident anger, they would have been sorely mismatched. As it was, the younger, slighter man was giving as
good as he got.

  Anthony feinted to the right, then came around with a smashing left hook that sent Rupert head over heels into the table. Chairs tumbled over and Anna noticed Rupert was slow to rise.

  She took the opportunity to intervene. “That’s quite enough.”

  Anthony’s gaze met Anna’s. A frown passed over his face. “Anna! What happened to your forehead—”

  Rupert landed a punch on Anthony’s left jaw and Anthony, his attention riveted on Anna, stumbled backward, hit a low stool, and fell to the floor, hitting his head on the hard plank floor.

  “Ow!” Rupert hopped up and down, holding his fist in his other hand. “My thumb!”

  “Serves you right, you stubborn whelp,” Anthony muttered, climbing back to his feet, his gaze still fixed on Anna. Ignoring Rupert, he made his way to her side.

  He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his, drawing in a sharp breath when he saw her forehead. “Is that from the ride here?”

  “Yes, we had a little accident.”

  The door flew open and a small figure dressed in pale blue stood in the bright light.

  “Charlotte!” Rupert cried, tucking his bruised hand into his pocket as if to hide it.

  Charlotte caught sight of Rupert’s face and gasped. Besides a lump on his head, Rupert’s left eye was rapidly swelling shut and a bloody cut graced his chin.

  Stiff with outrage, Charlotte turned blazing eyes on Anthony. “What have you done to him?”

  Anna opened her mouth to explain, but Anthony’s hand closed painfully over her elbow. She noticed that his gaze was on Charlotte, his expression intent. A slow, lazy smile flitted across his face, and he shrugged. “Rupert insulted my honor. We were just settling the issue when you arrived.”

  Charlotte went to Rupert, who immediately placed an arm about her shoulders. He held her to him, a beatific expression on his face.

  Charlotte nestled there for only an instant before she leveled a look of blazing contempt on Anthony. “You are a beast! I never want to see you again!”