First Season / Bride to Be

by Jane Ashford

  “Yes. They are here.” Her lips felt strange, almost stiff.

  “As I foretold,” he responded, taking her arm and guiding her into the drawing room. “I was right, you see.”

  This was too much. “My friend Christopher Hanford brought them back,” she retorted, “after searching for them for most of the night!”

  “Indeed?” Norbury’s chiseled mouth turned down. “How very, er, enterprising of him. What led him to take this task upon himself?”

  “He was worried about the children!” As you were not, her tone implied.

  “The children, of course,” he sneered. “How very touching.”

  Anabel gazed at him with new eyes. Had Norbury been sympathetic and understanding this morning, as he had not last night, her new viewpoint might have wavered. As it was, she wondered how she could have ever thought she wanted to marry him. Gazing at his fawn pantaloons, his superbly tailored blue coat, and his gleaming Hessians, worn with such assurance and so perfectly complementing his dark, hawklike face, she admitted to herself that his appearance certainly encouraged infatuation. Indeed, he had a power of personality that could overwhelm others’ wills. But now that she had discovered her true feelings about Christopher, Norbury’s spell was broken, and she knew she would not fall under it again.

  Norbury noted the unaccustomed disapproval in her eyes. He was furious at this latest development. Not only had the children’s ridiculous prank diverted Anabel from subjects infinitely more important, but now this Hanford was pushing himself forward and trying to ingratiate himself at Norbury’s expense. Sir Charles was fully aware of Christopher’s feelings for Anabel; the rivalry had added spice to his triumph, and Anabel’s ignorance of the contest had been quite amusing. But he sensed a change now. He could not have pointed to the evidence, but a new tone in her voice told him that her opinion of Hanford, and of himself, was altered. Cooler-headed, Norbury might have been conciliating, might even have pretended to admire Hanford’s initiative in finding the children, and thus have won back some of Anabel’s sympathy. But he was impatient and frustrated by her refusal to plan for the future. He had determined to marry—he wanted to marry—why was she thwarting him?

  “I am surprised that the heroic Mr. Hanford is not here,” he said contemptuously. “I should have expected him to dig in at the scene of his rescue.”

  Anabel had her lips pressed very tightly together. She was afraid to answer him for fear of what she might say; she knew it would be disjointed and overemotional. She needed to think carefully and prepare herself to confront him; he was certain to argue, and Anabel hated disputes. “The children are safe, that is all that matters,” she answered. “Thank you for calling to inquire about them.”

  “Of course.” He paused. “Shall we sit down?”

  “I was just on my way upstairs.” She indicated her crumpled gown with a gesture.

  “I shan’t stay long.”

  With a sigh, she sat. She was too tired to fight him just now.

  “As your worry over the children is so happily set to rest,” he continued, “perhaps we might return to another subject—that of our wedding date.”

  “And a much more important one?” she replied caustically.

  “I did not say so.” He raised one dark brow.

  “Your tone implied it.”

  “Nonsense. You are imagining things. Now, I looked over the calendar last night, and I have chosen three days that would be suitable.” He took a slip of paper from his coat pocket and held it out to her.

  Anabel was furious. While she had been sleepless, terrified about her children, Charles had been studying calendars! She did not take the paper. “I have not slept all night,” she said, rising. “I am exhausted. We can talk of this another time.”

  “Surely you can spare a moment.” He rose to face her. “You seem remarkably uninterested in this subject. I should think it would be foremost in your mind.”

  Anabel opened her mouth to tell him that she would never marry him, but a great wave of fatigue engulfed her. It was all too much. She could not form a rational sentence. She shook her head.

  Gazing at her, Norbury was forced to admit that she did look worn. Her pallor and drooping posture touched that emotion that had led him to offer for her in the beginning. In his way, he loved her, though this had not taught him to put others’ concerns before his own gratification. Slowly he returned the paper to his pocket. “I suppose we can talk tomorrow. One more day will make little difference. You should go to bed.”

  Anabel merely nodded, grateful to be spared more reproaches.

  “I will call in the morning again, and we can settle everything.”

  Yes, thought Anabel, that will be best. I will prepare myself and tell him then. She nodded again.

  Norbury summoned a smile and came toward her. When his arms slipped around her, Anabel did not protest. She could not find the energy. He pulled her close and kissed her gently. Anabel tested her sensations; she felt nothing, not even that boneless surrender he had once evoked in her.

  He sensed some change and tightened his hold, kissing her again, more passionately. Anabel remained passive for a moment, then drew back. She did not exactly push him away, but the effect was the same.

  “What is the matter?” he demanded, touched on one of his vainest points.

  “Nothing. I am tired.”

  “Indeed?” Her reaction made him angry again. Did she not realize that he had treated her with more consideration than he had any other woman in his history? He had suppressed his passions ruthlessly, and now she begrudged him even a kiss. He felt like shaking her or pushing her to the sofa and showing her precisely what she was rejecting. He was confident of his ability to change her stiffness to eager response.

  The image pleased him, and he smiled a little, thinking of the future. If she remained so cool, it would be an even greater pleasure to subdue her. He imagined Anabel pleading for his caresses, and his smile widened.

  She did not like his expression. Moving out of his arms, she walked toward the door. “I’m…I’m sorry. I am very tired,” she repeated.

  “Of course. I will take my leave.” Following, he took her hand and held it lingeringly to his lips, his pale green eyes holding hers. Then he turned and left the room.

  Anabel took a long breath, relieved. What had that strange look in his eyes meant? She had never seen it there before. Sighing, she rubbed her face. She was exhausted. Perhaps she should try to sleep after all. She moved toward the staircase and then paused, surprised to hear male voices from downstairs.

  “Ah. The conquering hero,” said Norbury in a scathing tone.

  “Sir Charles.” Anabel started. It was Christopher’s voice.

  “Come to enjoy Anabel’s gratitude?” Norbury laughed a little. “It is something, I suppose, though I myself prefer more palpable pleasures.” His voice implied a great deal. Anabel flushed.

  “I have no doubt of it,” answered Hanford, angry but controlled.

  “I fear you will find the lady rather tired. In fact, I do not believe she is receiving callers.”

  “Then I am sure she will tell me so,” answered Christopher. “As she has anytime these ten years.”

  “Ah, yes. You are an old friend. Your comfortable relationship is admirable. Anabel hardly thinks of you as a man, I believe.” This was a clear insult, and Anabel could imagine Norbury’s sardonic expression. She stepped forward to intervene.

  “You know very little of what Anabel thinks,” responded Christopher positively. He spoke without rancor, as if simply stating a truth, but the implications were as cutting as Norbury’s. “And now, if you will pardon me. I do not wish to detain you.”

  There was a slight sound from the staircase, as if one man had jostled the other, a scuffle, then silence. Anabel hurried onto the landing, her heart pounding.

  They were facing
each other halfway down the staircase, Christopher one step above. Their chests rose and fell rapidly, and both were glaring.

  “Christopher!” said Anabel.

  The tension broke. Norbury, though he looked furious, bowed very slightly and continued on his way. Hanford ran lightly up to her, a smile replacing his scowl. He had waited for this moment all night, anxious to see how she would receive him. “How are you? Is all well?”

  She led him into the drawing room, hearing the door close behind Norbury as they sat down. “Yes. The children are still asleep after their adventure.”

  “As you should be.” He was scanning her face. “You are tired.”

  “Only a little.” It was true that now Christopher was here, she felt much less exhausted.

  Their eyes met and held. They did not notice the lengthening silence. Each saw everything he needed to know, and Christopher’s hand moved irresistibly to take hers. “Anabel,” he murmured at last.

  She looked down. How could she have dreamed of preferring Sir Charles to Christopher? she wondered. It seemed so obvious to her now that she had been in love with Christopher for years. And Norbury’s polished elegance faded into insignificance beside his warm appeal. She looked sidelong at his ruddy hair and startlingly blue eyes, at the set of his shoulders in his blue coat and the curve of his leg in his yellow pantaloons. Everything about him spoke to her as Norbury could not, never had. Why had she not seen it? How could she have been so foolish?

  “I cannot help but speak,” said Christopher. “I vowed I would not, unless I had some sign from you. I love you, Anabel, with all my heart and soul.”

  She took a trembling breath.

  “I know you are promised to Norbury.” He waited, hoping she would interrupt. “I had thought…you have only to say one word, and I will be silent forever on this subject.” He bent to see her face. “Do you say it, Anabel?”

  “No.” She struggled to speak more clearly. “I have made a dreadful mistake, Christopher. I…I don’t know how I could have been so blind. I love you—I have for the longest time.”

  His heart pounding with elation, Hanford swept her into his arms. Again Anabel felt that leap of response and marveled at the difference. It was some time before they spoke again.

  At last they drew apart and smiled tenderly at each other. Christopher settled Anabel’s head against his shoulder. “What are you going to do?”

  “Break off the engagement. I would have today, but I was so tired. Tomorrow I will speak to him.”

  He nodded. “I had almost despaired of being so happy.”

  “I am sorry, Christopher. I—”

  He put a hand gently over her mouth, shaking his head. “We won’t talk of that. It is over now.”

  She nodded, and he took his hand away. “I want to go home very soon. Are you ready to leave London?”

  “Utterly. We can be married in our own parish church. Vicar Prentice will be delirious with joy.”

  Anabel turned to him, smiling. “Is that an offer, Mr. Hanford?”

  He looked surprised. “Hadn’t I offered already?”

  “You had not.”

  “Good God!” Disentangling himself, he sank to one knee before her. “Anabel, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  She put a hand to her breast and opened her eyes very wide. “Mr. Hanford! I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “The deuce you don’t!” He rose and pulled her close again, speaking with his lips brushing hers. “Say yes.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, and he kissed her slowly. Anabel drew her hands along his upper arms to his shoulders, filled with a great happiness. This was the way she should feel, she now knew, every fiber rejoicing in her love’s touch. After long searching, she had finally discovered that truth.

  Fifteen

  When Christopher had gone, promising to return for dinner that evening, Anabel went upstairs to her bedchamber. She no longer felt like sleeping, and she bathed and put on a primrose sprig muslin gown with fluttering green ribbons. She wanted to sing as her maid brushed out her soft brown hair and dressed it in ringlets around her face. When she was dressed, she walked up to the schoolroom floor, listening for sounds of the children. They were up; she heard them in the nursery and turned that way, opening the door to find them at breakfast. William and Nicholas were eating with great concentration; Susan was slipping a forbidden treat to Daisy, who crouched on the floor beside her feet. They all, except Daisy, who was merely avid, looked happy. Anabel smiled, then sobered and walked into the room to stand over them, crossing her arms on her breast. Nurse, seeing her pose, retreated into the next room. William grimaced and put down his spoon. Nicholas, becoming aware of her presence late, froze, his spoon poised over his bowl. Susan looked up blithely. “Hello, Mama. Would you like some porridge?”

  It taxed all Anabel’s faculties not to laugh. She was feeling so happy that she could scarcely bear to scold the children. But they had been very naughty. “No, thank you, Susan,” she replied, keeping her voice and expression stern. “I wish to talk to all of you.”

  The boys cringed.

  “You know you have behaved very badly, and you will have to be punished.”

  “I only went to see Uncle Christopher,” protested Susan. “We often do so at home.” She sounded accusatory.

  “Not alone. And not without telling me where you are going,” answered Anabel. “And London is not home. You cannot wander about here as you can in our park.”

  “I know,” replied the little girl with great feeling.

  Anabel’s lips twitched, and Nicholas saw it. “We are very sorry, Mama,” he said at once. “We will never do it again. We just thought we could find Susan before anyone noticed and bring her back.” He made a face at his sister. “We might have known we couldn’t think as she does.”

  “No one asked you to look for me,” retorted Susan. “I was perfectly fine.”

  “It does not matter what you thought,” interrupted Anabel. “You all were at fault, and you all knew you were being naughty. For the next week you will have lessons in the afternoon as well as in the morning, and at the end of that time I will hear you recite what you have learned.”

  The children groaned. Even Nicholas, who loved books, was not overfond of lessons.

  “You will go out only when accompanied by Miss Tate, for a walk in the park.”

  “But Uncle Christopher promised to take us riding again,” protested William.

  Anabel thrilled at the name, but she said, “I think you have caused enough trouble for Christopher. What if he had not come after you?”

  “We would be home by now,” muttered William, then subsided under his mother’s frown.

  “I want you to understand how serious the results of your misbehavior might have been,” she concluded. “You were very fortunate; you could have been hurt or lost. London is very large, and not all parts are safe. Do you see what I mean?”

  Slowly William nodded. Nicholas was quick to do so. Susan pouted for a moment. “I knew exactly where Uncle Christopher’s house was. I asked him before.” Under her mother’s eye, she scowled, then shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

  Anabel smiled. “Good. That is settled, then. And I may give you some good news.” All three looked up. “We are going home soon, perhaps in two weeks.”

  Their faces brightened. “Truly, Mama?” said William.

  “Truly. I think we have been in town long enough.”

  “Hurrah!” replied William, leaping up.

  “Did you hear that, Daisy?” said Susan, bending down. “We are going home. You will like it there.”

  But Nicholas was thoughtful. “Is that man coming with us? Norbury?”

  “No.” Anabel hesitated. She shouldn’t say anything until all was settled, but she couldn’t resist. “We won’t be seeing him anymore.”

&nb
sp; “Aren’t you going to marry him?” asked Nick.

  “No.”

  “But you said you were.”

  “I…changed my mind.” Anabel felt slightly awkward.

  “Hurrah!” shouted William again, jerking the back of his brother’s chair until he nearly dumped him on the floor. “Everything will be as it was again.”

  Anabel debated whether to tell them about Christopher, but decided she should wait until she had spoken to Norbury. They would tell the children together, with no fear this time of complaints.

  Nick and Susan had risen now, and the three of them were dancing around the room in a ring. Daisy, excited by this movement, streaked in and out between their feet, his claws scrabbling on the wooden floor. In one pass he managed to trip up both William and Nicholas, and the group collapsed in a confused heap, panting. Anabel laughed down at them, and they all grinned. “You had best finish your breakfast,” she said. “I expect Miss Tate is waiting for you in the schoolroom.”

  There was another general groan, but they untangled themselves and returned to the table. “I will see you at dinner,” finished Anabel, turning to go. “Uncle Christopher is coming, so you will dine downstairs with us.” She shut the door to a general cheer.

  “You see?” said Nick complacently when they were alone again. “I told you it would work.” He took a large bite of porridge.

  “What?” William, too, concentrated on his breakfast again.

  “My plan, of course.” The others stared at him. “Well, we are going home, are we not? And Mama is not to marry that Norbury.”

  “Yes, but your plan had nothing to do with it,” answered his brother.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all because I ran away,” said Susan, her small face smug. “You were too cowardly, but I knew Mama would listen then.”

  William snorted in disgust. “You are both ninnyhammers. It had nothing to do with either of you.” He ignored the clamor of protest this brought down upon him and ate his breakfast.

  “If you know so much,” said Nick finally, “what did make Mama change her mind?”