Lord Freddie's First Love

by Patricia Bray

  He felt himself pulled in two directions. A part of him was the Viscount Frederick. This was the part that was the conscientious host, watching over his guests and ensuring that everything went smoothly.

  And there was a part of him that he thought of as Freddie. That part knew at every instant precisely where Anne was and what she was doing. That part longed to spend the evening with her, be damned to what propriety said.

  After the set he escorted Miss Flockhart to the sidelines. He saw his mother conversing with the Sommersbys. He tried not to let her catch his eye, but his mother signaled, and he realized he could not ignore her.

  Reluctantly he went over to where she stood. “Yes, Mother. You wished for something?”

  “The Sommersbys were just complimenting me on the musicians. They came from London, did they not?”

  He gave his mother a sharp look, certain that she was up to something.

  “Yes, we hired them from London. Mr. Sotheby is their leader, I believe,” he said. A fact which his mother knew only too well, as she had made the arrangements for this evening. Freddie’s sole contribution had been the special entertainment planned for later on.

  “Good evening, Lord Frederick,” Miss Sommersby said, as she joined their circle. “I must compliment you on a splendid entertainment.”

  “Thank you,” he replied.

  The musicians struck up a waltz. He waited a moment and then realized that no partner was coming to claim Miss Sommersby.

  “George,” his mother said, using the name that he hated. “I am certain Miss Sommersby would be honored to partner you for this dance.”

  He shook his head firmly. “Alas, but I am promised to another,” he lied. “If you will excuse me?”

  As he crossed the room he could feel his mother’s gaze boring holes in his back. But he would not let her maneuver him into showing Miss Sommersby any particular attention.

  In a moment he reached the alcove where Anne was standing in conversation with Elizabeth and her husband, David. “Miss Webster, I believe you promised me a waltz, and I am here to collect on your promise.”

  She hesitated. “I did not come to dance,” she said at last.

  “Nonsense. It is a ball after all. And you can hardly refuse your host.”

  With that, he took her hand in his and, in a mood that would brook no resistance, led her onto the dance floor.

  “I warn you, I am sadly out of practice. I take no responsibility for any injury you may suffer,” Anne said.

  He placed his arms around her. “I am willing to suffer the consequences,” he said.

  The musicians struck up a waltz, and they began to dance.

  He could not have planned this better. No country dance, but the oh-so-slightly-scandalous waltz, that gave a gentleman the excuse to put his arms around a lady and to partner only her for the duration of the dance.

  He could not help smiling. For the first time this evening he was actually enjoying himself.

  Anne’s face bore a look of intense concentration for the first measures, as she concentrated on her steps. But then she relaxed as her feet remembered them, and she gave herself over to the rhythm of the music.

  At last she raised her eyes to his face. “Poor Freddie,” she said. “I take it you used me as an excuse to avoid Miss Sommersby?”

  “No,” he said. “Well, yes actually, but it wasn’t the way it sounds.”

  “Do not worry, I will not take offense. I am happy to oblige you.”

  He looked into her eyes, willing her to believe him. “You should give yourself more credit. I could have asked any woman to dance. But I have been waiting to dance with you all evening.”

  It was the simple truth. He had been stunned by her appearance. He had grown used to her being in the dull grays and blacks of mourning, seeing her still as his childhood friend. The violet silk gown had not so much transformed her as it had reminded him that she was a beautiful and desirable woman. No wonder the rumors had circulated concerning his attentions to her. Seeing her outer beauty, who would believe that a man felt no more than friendship for her?

  “I take it you approve of my appearance? You do not think the gown is too young for me?” He heard the uncertainty in her voice.

  “You look beautiful,” he assured her. “Even now, Miss Sommersby and her friends are gnashing their teeth with envy.”

  She laughed. “If only it were true.”

  But it was. Miss Sommersby was still a girl, on the verge of womanhood. She was lovely, but unfinished. Anne had the grace and beauty of a woman. Her face was yet unlined, but in it one could read the strength of her character. Seeing the two women tonight made it clear how different they were, how much Miss Sommersby suffered in comparison with her rival. He could only marvel that he had not seen this before.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, conscious that he had been admiring her for far too long.

  “Yes. I must admit that you were right. I am grateful that you convinced me to attend. I only hope my newly repaired reputation can survive the sight of us waltzing.” She frowned as she looked around the room, but with the exception of his mother, no one seemed to be paying them any particular attention.

  He felt a pang of nervousness. He had not meant to risk her reputation, but he would not have given up this waltz for the world. “If anyone asks, say that I simply collected an old debt. Remember, you had promised me your first waltz in London.”

  Seven years ago, Anne had been nervous at the prospect of her first London Season. Her mother had died the year before, and her sister was married and living with her husband in Canada. She had only a distant cousin to advise her, someone Anne had never met before. Sensing Anne’s unease, Freddie had tried to cheer her up by promising to claim her first dance.

  But he had never seen Anne during her Season. News of Lieutenant Carson’s death had reached him soon after his arrival in London, and Freddie had left the country to bring his sister home. There was nothing else he could have done. But now he could not help wondering how much different their lives would have been if he had had a chance to court Anne properly. Would they have fallen in love, or would they have remained mere friends? Perhaps it had taken losing her and then finding her after all these years to make him realize what he had lost?

  The music came to an end. Around them gentlemen bowed to their partners and ladies curtseyed, but he did not release Anne. He was not ready to let her go.

  She seemed to sense the conflict inside him. She squeezed his hand in hers and then stepped back, forcing him to drop his arms.

  The orchestra leader tapped his baton on the music stand, signaling for attention.

  “Wait,” Freddie said, realizing what was to come next.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, in honor of Miss Priscilla Pennington’s birthday, her brother, Viscount Frederick, has arranged a special entertainment for the guests. Those who wish to view it should proceed through these doors onto the south lawn.”

  The announcement brought a hum of conversation and a shriek of delight from Priscilla. The minx must have guessed what he had planned for her. He had kept the secret as best he could, but he had run out of explanations for the sudden increase in the groundskeeping staff or ways to describe just what it was they were doing on the south lawn.

  He linked Anne’s arm through his. “Come with me,” he said. “You will enjoy this.”

  He and Anne joined the stream of guests who were eager to see this promised entertainment. Passing through the French doors, they descended the marble staircase onto the lawn, which was bordered on either side by shrubbery. Chinese lanterns had been placed about on the shrubbery and on poles set into the lawn. The lanterns had the curious effect of illuminating the central space, but served to cast the areas on the side into even deeper shadows.

  At the bottom of the steps, he drew her off to the side of the terrace. His guests streamed past him, following the lantern-lit paths to the open space before them.

  “What is this?”
she asked.

  “Be patient.” He smiled. He had intended this as a treat for Priscilla, but it would give him even more pleasure to share this with Anne.

  He watched as the guests assembled. Some of the ladies had paused to put on their shawls, but the night was so warm that they were not really needed. Chairs had been placed in a semicircle on the lawn, and a few of the older guests, his mother among them, claimed the seats for their own.

  A man materialized from the shadows. “Everything is ready. Just give the word.”

  Freddie looked around. There was no one coming down the steps, and the last of the stragglers had found places for themselves. He saw Priscilla in the center of the crowd, flanked by Elizabeth and David.

  Freddie nodded. “You may begin.”

  The man, who looked like a groundskeeper, disappeared back into the shadows.

  A few moments later, there was a loud crack as if of cannon shot, and then a red star blossomed high above them in the sky.

  The crowd gasped in delight.

  Anne’s face was turned up to the sky, her eyes shining and her mouth open wide with delight. “Fireworks! How lovely.”

  They were pretty, he supposed, but he found it more enjoyable to watch Anne’s reaction.

  There was another boom, and a yellow flower appeared, followed by a white star and then a red fountain that threw off long streamers that nearly reached to the ground. As each rocket was set off, the explosion vibrated the very ground, while the fireworks painted the sky in fantastic patterns.

  “What a marvelous present for your sister,” Anne said, still not taking her eyes from the spectacle.

  “It was nothing,” he said. “Priscilla has been begging me for the last year to take her to Vauxhall Gardens, to see the illuminations. But Vauxhall is not the safest of places for an impressionable girl. So instead I brought the fireworks to her.” It had cost a small fortune to persuade the illuminators to leave London and put on this display. But it would make Priscilla happy and would ensure that her ball was the most talked-about event of the summer.

  “You are the best of brothers,” Anne said.

  The word “brother” scraped against his nerve endings. He did not want her to admire him for his kindness. He did not want her to see him as simply a good brother. He did not even want to be her friend.

  “Come,” he said, taking her by the arm. He pulled her away from the steps, into the shrubbery where the shadows were thickest.

  Letting go of her arm, he turned to face her. He cupped her face between his hands. Time seemed to stop for a moment, and then he bent his head down and his lips brushed hers. Her lips were soft and warm beneath his. He drew his head back for a moment, saw the surprise in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks.

  He dropped his hands down and took her hands in his. He raised them to his lips, kissing first the left and then the right. He then placed her hands on his shoulders and drew her into his embrace.

  His heart was racing as he bent his lips down to hers again. This time she returned his kiss, eagerly pressing her lips against his own. He opened his mouth and let his tongue trace the outline of her mouth. She parted her lips, and his tongue passed inside, tasting her sweetness.

  Every nerve of his body tingled. He tightened his embrace, rejoicing in the feel of her softness as her body was pressed against his. As he lifted his head from hers, he realized her breathing was as ragged as his own. He brushed his lips against hers, then continued down, kissing her jaw and her neck, the soft hollow of her throat, and he felt the pounding of her pulse.

  He knew this was madness. He should stop at once. They were sure to be discovered. And he would stop. Just one more kiss, he promised himself. And then another…

  From a distance he heard the sounds of applause. The part of him that was Viscount Frederick, realized the fireworks must have come to an end, and without that distraction, he and Anne were now in grave danger of being discovered.

  “Freddie.” Anne breathed out his name.

  Reluctantly his hands ceased their exploration. He drew her to him in a fierce embrace and then, reluctantly, stepped back and let her go. “We will talk. Tomorrow.”

  “Yes.” She tugged the shoulders of her gown into place.

  “I am afraid that is not enough,” he said. “You have the look of a woman who has been thoroughly kissed.”

  Indeed her lips were swollen, and her face was flushed with the beginnings of desire. It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and kiss her again.

  And as for himself, his skintight breeches left no doubt as to the depths of the passion she had aroused in him.

  “You go in first, then I will follow in a moment,” Anne said.

  He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Come with me, and we will go in by the side door.” With luck they could avoid those who were no doubt looking for him, to congratulate him on the brilliant spectacle he had provided.

  But even if they were seen together, by tomorrow it would not matter. After tonight, he had no doubt that Anne felt the same passion for him that he felt for her. He would propose again for form’s sake, but this time he was certain her answer would be yes.

  Twelve

  The day after the ball, Anne could not remember how she had returned home or whom she had spoken with after she had parted from Freddie. When he had kissed her, the relationship between them had changed forever. His touch had awakened feelings in her that she had never known. And, to be honest, it had not been just that he had kissed her. She had returned his kisses, matching his enthusiasm with her own. For the first time in her life, she had felt what it was to desire a man and to be desired in return.

  It was wonderful. It was glorious. It was a disaster. She knew that when Freddie called on her, he would expect her to agree to marry him. She blushed as she remembered that she had given him little reason to doubt her feelings.

  Yet there was more than their own happiness to consider. There was Ian’s future as well. Last night, the guests had seemed prepared to accept Anne into their society. But how long would their acceptance last? Would it extend to young Ian? Or was she letting her newly discovered passion overwhelm her common sense?

  Just then there was a knock on the door to her sitting room. “Enter,” she called.

  The door opened, revealing the butler Mr. Boswell. “A Captain Montgomery wishes an audience with you,” he said.

  She searched her mind, but could not remember if there had been a Captain Montgomery among the guests at last night’s ball. “Did he say anything else?”

  “He said the nature of his errand was confidential,” Mr. Boswell said with a disapproving sniff. Clearly he felt the stranger’s reluctance to confide in him was a slur upon his integrity.

  “I will meet him in the library,” Anne decided.

  Descending the stairs, she puzzled over the identity of her caller. Perhaps he was here because of some business with her father.

  As she entered the library, she saw a man standing in front of the fireplace, his attention fixed on the portrait of her mother. He wore the dress coat of a naval captain, and his close-cropped hair was the most brilliant shade of red that she had ever seen.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  The captain turned, and she realized that she did not know him, although his appearance was vaguely familiar. “A remarkable likeness,” he said. “I had almost forgotten how beautiful Sarah was.”

  His words struck a chill in her heart. It was not what he said, but the tone of his voice. He sounded as if he had known Sarah very well indeed. Anne took a breath, reminding herself that she must not jump to conclusions. It could be nothing. And yet…

  “Actually it is a portrait of my mother, done during her first Season. But they were much alike, as you can see for yourself.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, giving no hint of her inner trepidation.

  “Of course.” Captain Montgomery shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. “Miss Webster, I presume?”

 
; “Yes.”

  “Captain Alistair Montgomery, at your service,” he said with a stiff bow. “I am grateful to you for seeing me. I have a confidential matter that I need to discuss with you.”

  “Yes?” she asked, her curiosity aroused.

  Captain Montgomery looked around, his glance taking in the open door, the housemaid busily polishing the woodwork outside and the footman who had taken it upon himself to trim the candles in the hall. “Is there somewhere we could be private?”

  It was an impertinent request. Yet he did not have the look of a lecher. Rather he looked like a man who had steeled himself to deliver ill tidings.

  “Does this concern Sarah?”

  He nodded.

  Anne went over to the door. “Tess, Adam, I am certain you are needed elsewhere,” she said. Then she closed the door.

  “Pray, have a seat,” she invited.

  Two chairs flanked the fireplace. She walked over and sat down in one, indicating that the captain was to sit in the other. As he did so, she gathered her composure. She had the most dreadful suspicion that she knew what he was going to tell her.

  Captain Montgomery perched on his seat awkwardly, as if he would rather be anywhere else other than here. He steepled his hands before him and stared at them in apparent fascination.

  The silence stretched between them. “Go on,” she said when she could bear it no longer.

  “I know what I have to tell you may shock you, but I ask you to hear me out before you pass judgment.”

  Anne nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

  “Nearly seven years ago, when I was a young lieutenant my ship was sent to Lower Canada. I was dispatched on special duty to the provincial capital. There I met your sister.” He paused for a moment his eyes unfocused as if he were remembering that occasion. “She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and yet she seemed dreadfully unhappy. Her husband, Colonel Fitzwilliam, had been away for months. And even when he was there, he was not given to warm feelings or shows of affection.”