Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  “You didn’t have a come-out?”

  “No. My stepmother was increasing with my twin brothers when I should have come to London.” It was a good excuse, and one she’d given so many times it slipped from her tongue with ease. It was true—to a point. If she’d insisted, Papa would have had some female relative bring her out. His sister, Lady Farrington, had offered. But Anne hadn’t wanted to go to Town, and Papa hadn’t pressed the matter. “And once the babies were born, I was needed to help with them and Evie.”

  “I see.” The duke’s gaze was thoughtful. “Are you looking forward to taking your bows now?”

  “Oh, I plan to stay very much in the background, your grace. This is my sister’s come-out, not mine.”

  The duke grinned at her. “Pardon me for bringing it to your attention, Lady Anne, but you will never be successful at fading into the background. Your beauty and your betrothal to the King of Hearts here will make you the center of much interest.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flamed yet again. She felt Mr. Parker-Roth’s hand cover hers under the table and give her fingers a comforting squeeze.

  The duke looked puzzled. “Have I spoken out of turn? I do apologize, but the news of your betrothal was all over White’s this afternoon. I didn’t think it a secret.” He shrugged, smiling. “The truth is, if it was supposed to be a secret, it’s not any longer.”

  “Exactly.” Mr. Parker-Roth looked down at her, giving her hand another surreptitious squeeze. “We’d planned to wait until Anne’s father came home to make a formal announcement, but that was before Lady Dunlee spotted us. There’s no point now in waiting as everyone does know. I’ll send a notice to the papers when I get home tonight.”

  The papers! Anne’s heart clenched, and black specks danced before her eyes. To have this pretend engagement appear in black and white in every breakfast room in Mayfair, by every cup of chocolate or coffee or tea . . . The scandal would be tremendous when they called it off, even if they waited until the Season was over.

  No. A heavy chill settled in her stomach. Not the end of the Season. She was forgetting Brentwood. Once he read the announcement, he’d reveal her secret.

  Oh, dear God, she’d become a joke. Her name would be bandied about in all the gentlemen’s clubs. Lewd prints would appear in the shop windows. Everyone would turn from her in disgust. Everyone—especially Mr. Parker-Roth.

  She tried to swallow her panic. It would be a relief not to hide her . . . situation any longer. She’d go home and live quietly. Papa wouldn’t throw her out—would he? No, of course he wouldn’t. He needed her to run the estate.

  She just wished there was some way to save Evie’s Season.

  Mr. Parker-Roth was knocking his knife against his glass to get everyone’s attention. He stood, pulling her up beside him. Her knees barely supported her weight.

  “Friends, I have an announcement to make.” He grinned. “Perhaps it’s not much of an announcement as the duke just told us the rumor has already reached White’s, but nevertheless I wish to tell you myself that Lady Anne has agreed to make me the happiest of men.”

  “A toast,” the Marquis of Knightsdale said, getting to his feet. All the other men rose as well. The marquis held up his glass. “To Parker-Roth and Lady Anne—may they find the happiness together we all have found”—he gestured to the married couples at the table—“and, to Lady Anne especially, welcome to my extended—very extended—family.”

  “Here, here!” Lord Kenderly raised his glass as well, and they all drank.

  “A kiss, a kiss,” Lord Westbrooke said as soon as he’d swallowed his mouthful of wine. “Give your lady a kiss, Parker-Roth.”

  “Robbie!” Lady Westbrooke yanked on her husband’s coat. “Behave yourself.”

  “Now, Lizzie, I’m only giving the man an excuse to do exactly what he wants to do.” The earl grinned.

  “But think of poor Lady Anne’s blushes.”

  Lord Westbrooke shrugged. “She can’t get any redder than she is, can she?”

  “Robbie!”

  “I think your husband has an excellent notion, Lady Westbrooke,” Mr. Parker-Roth said.

  Everyone laughed, but Anne looked at Mr. Parker-Roth in horror. He wouldn’t—would he?

  He would. He bent his head and kissed her very gently on the mouth. It was a soft, incredibly sweet touch, and it took her breath away.

  Someone—some laughing male—shouted, “Huzza!” and everyone clapped enthusiastically. Mr. Parker-Roth smiled at her, and then she was allowed to collapse, gratefully, back into her seat.

  She looked down at her plate so she wouldn’t have to meet anyone’s eyes. If only she were really betrothed to this man—

  But she wasn’t.

  Lord Kenderly stood. “To save poor Lady Anne further blushes, I will make an announcement of my own, one I know I can trust you all to keep in confidence.”

  “Aha!” Lord Westbrooke was grinning again. “So you wasted no time, did you?”

  “Nor did you, Robbie, if I recall correctly,” Lord Knightsdale said.

  The duke leaned forward and looked first at Lord Westbrooke and then at Lord Knightsdale. “Could we allow Kenderly to actually make his announcement? Perhaps he merely wishes to tell us he is anticipating a bumper crop of corn this harvest.”

  “Right,” Lord Westbrooke said. “And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

  Lord Kenderly held up his hands, laughing. “Gentlemen, peace. Westbrooke is correct in his assumption ; Lady Kenderly is indeed in the family way.”

  Everyone clapped again, and the parents at the table—which seemed to be most everyone—proceeded to offer a quantity of good-natured advice.

  Anne forced herself to smile. All the women—except Clorinda and Evie—were about her age, and they all had, or were expecting, children. If she were really betrothed to Mr. Parker-Roth—well, it sounded alarmingly like she was betrothed to him, but more to the point, if she were really going to marry the man—she could be a mother this time next year.

  Oh, God. Pain lanced through her, leaving behind an empty ache. She wanted a baby. She wanted a husband and a family and a home that was her own, not her father’s or her stepmother’s, but she’d thrown all that away when she’d let Brentwood under her skirts.

  Damn it, she’d been only seventeen. She’d made one mistake—a large one, yes, but only one. She shouldn’t have to pay for it the rest of her life.

  She pretended to laugh at something Lord Westbrooke said.

  But life wasn’t fair; she knew that. She’d thought she’d come to terms with that truth long ago. People made mistakes, and sometimes those mistakes did change their lives. A mother looked the other way and her child ran out to be crushed under a cart’s wheels. A man on a horse rushed a gate and came home on a hurdle, dead of a broken neck.

  A foolish girl fancied herself in love and broke society’s cardinal rule.

  It could have been worse. They could have been seen. She could have been forced to marry Brentwood. Living with him, sharing his bed, day after day, year after year, would be a far worse life than the one she had now.

  She heard Mr. Parker-Roth laugh, felt his touch under the table, and wished . . .

  No. She would not wish for what couldn’t be.

  “It’s very crowded, isn’t it?” There was a note of trepidation in Evie’s voice.

  Stephen was standing in Kenderly’s ballroom with Anne and Evie at his side. Clorinda, ceding her chaperone duties completely to Anne, had secluded herself with Lord Ramsey behind a bank of potted palms to continue their discussion of great tits, black-tailed god-wits, and other feathered subjects.

  “All the better,” Anne said. “You’ll meet so many eligible men tonight, Evie. I’m sure you won’t sit out a single set.” Anne sounded confident, but the look she gave him was worried.

  “Your sister is quite right, Evie.” He had little doubt the girl would take. She was beautiful and an earl’s daughter, even though the earl was Crazy Crane. Perhaps most
importantly tonight, however, she was a favored guest of Lord and Lady Kenderly. “You’ll be a great success.”

  Evie’s wide smile made her even more beautiful. “You really think so?”

  “I do indeed. We just have to find you your first partner, and then the men will be lining up behind him. Your feet will ache from dancing by the end of the night.” He looked around the room. It should be easy enough to find a suitable man. There were plenty here to choose from, and more were still pouring into Damian’s ballroom. Jo should be very pleased. Her first society gathering was going to be a shocking squeeze.

  Davenport had chatted with Evie during dinner—he’d be an adequate choice. Where had the fellow got to? Ah, there he was, poor man. Lydia Fitzwilliam had already sunk her claws into him. Well, no matter. There were others—

  Damn. Emma was coming their way, Knightsdale in tow. It had been a great piece of luck one of her children had taken sick—not that he wished the youngster ill, of course, but not having to face Emma before dinner had been a blessing. He’d known it was too much to hope she’d leave them alone all evening—she’d thrown Anne so many pointed looks across the dining room table, she likely upset the poor girl’s digestion. Anne had looked a bit peaked by the end of the meal.

  “Hallo, Emma; Knightsdale,” he said.

  Emma barely glanced at him, though Knightsdale gave him a commiserating look.

  “Lady Evangeline, Lady Anne,” Emma said, “I’m so sorry we didn’t have an opportunity to chat before dinner.” Emma addressed both Crane’s daughters, but her attention was solely on Anne.

  “And I was so sorry to hear one of your children is ill,” Anne said. “I do hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Ah, Anne had made a wise move in mentioning Emma’s boys. Surely that must cause her to rise in Emma’s estimation.

  “Oh, no. A mother is always concerned, of course, but Henry—that’s our second son—is a hardy little fellow and usually weathers these things better than Charlie, his older brother.”

  “That’s a blessing,” Anne said, nodding. “I’ve noticed the same thing with my twin brothers—illnesses always affect one more than the other.”

  “Really?” Emma’s eyes brightened. Perhaps she would refrain from discussing anything more alarming than the croup. Stephen began to relax. “You’ve had charge of your siblings’ care?”

  “Oh, yes,” Evie said, managing to squeeze in a few words. “Mama and Papa are often gone, so Anne has looked after us. She’s the best of sisters.”

  Emma beamed at Anne. “I’m happy to hear it. I raised my sister as well, you know, and I’ve found the experience helped when I had my own sons, though of course each baby is different, which I’m sure you’ll discover, Lady Anne, once you marry Stephen and start a family. And speaking of Stephen”—Stephen snapped back to attention. Oh, damn, here it comes.—“I must say your betrothal came as a complete surprise.”

  Emma turned her gaze to him. “Why didn’t you tell us you were considering marriage when we saw you at Jack’s christening?”

  Stephen looked to Knightsdale for help, but the marquis merely raised an eyebrow. Clearly, Knightsdale smelled a rat. “It wasn’t a settled thing then.”

  “It wasn’t?” Emma looked at Anne, who just shook her head. “But you must have had some inkling. That was only a few weeks ago.”

  “Well, I might have had an inkling, but I wasn’t about to share an inkling of marriage with my mother.” Of course, he hadn’t known Anne existed a few weeks—a few days—ago, but he wasn’t about to tell Emma that.

  “Well, no, I suppose not. But surely you wrote to inform them once it became more than an inkling? We just got a letter from Meg and there wasn’t even a whisper of your betrothal in it.”

  Right. He should post a letter to Mama immediately. “Even if I had, there wouldn’t be room for that with all the baby news.” He chuckled. “I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, but I do think my brother has finally discovered something that’s of more interest to him than his beloved plants.”

  Emma was not buying his theory. “Oh, I know Meg would have squeezed in a mention of something this extraordinary. Even a new baby can’t completely distract from the betrothal of one’s brother-in-law, especially a brother-in-law known far and wide as the King of Hearts.” She smiled at Evie. “But I imagine you knew all about the engagement, Lady Evangeline. Women are so much more forthcoming than men.”

  Evie shook her head. “Oh, no, Anne hadn’t breathed a word about it to me, though I suppose it’s possible she’d mentioned it to Papa and Mama. I only found out about it when we reached London. It was quite a shock.” She paused and seemed to think perhaps her last comment hadn’t struck the proper note. “A pleasant shock, of course. I am very happy for Anne. She’d never shown any interest in the gentlemen at home, but now I expect that was because of her attachment to Mr. Parker-Roth. They have been in love for years, you know.”

  Emma’s eyebrows disappeared into her coiffure, and Anne’s face rivaled her hair and dress for brightest hue. Stephen hoped no one was taking note of them, but he knew better than to bank on that. It was time to bring this uncomfortable conversation to a close.

  “And now we are finally betrothed,” he said, lifting Anne’s hand and kissing it. “I couldn’t be happier. I hope you will both wish us well.”

  “Of course,” Knightsdale said. Emma looked as if she’d like to argue, but thank God she kept her tongue between her teeth. The marquis had taken her arm, so perhaps he was exerting a little pressure. “Have you set a date for the nuptials?”

  “We thought we’d wait until the Season was over and Lord and Lady Crane have returned,” Stephen said. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

  It took Anne a moment to realize “my love” referred to her. She nodded somewhat weakly.

  “Hmm.” Knightsdale studied her. She managed to lift her chin and meet his eyes, making his forbidding expression soften somewhat.

  “Lady Dunlee has been spreading a rather alarming tale, you know.” Emma’s eyes shifted between Stephen and Anne as if she couldn’t decide which to blame. “She said”—her eyes slid over to take in Evie, and she pressed her lips together. “She said she witnessed an inappropriate degree of warmth between you and Lady Anne, Stephen, on a public square.”

  Knightsdale covered his wife’s hand. “I don’t believe Parker-Roth’s behavior is really our concern, Emma.” The gaze he directed at Stephen, however, clearly delivered the message that if any of Stephen’s actions cut up Emma’s peace, Stephen would pay the price.

  Stephen looked back at him, but it took some effort. He was used to standing up to strong men—plant hunters had to deal with difficult and dangerous fellows routinely—but the marquis was especially intimidating. This particular expression was one he must have cultivated as a captain in the army, before his brother’s death catapulted him into the marquisate.

  “It is our concern. He’s Meg’s brother-in-law.”

  “Yes, but I hazard to guess Meg would not thank you for meddling, my dear.” Knightsdale let his eyes linger another moment on Stephen. “Parker-Roth is fully aware of his responsibilities, I’m sure.”

  “Of course,” Stephen said. “You can rest easy, Emma.” He smiled somewhat bitterly. “I really am not a care-for-nobody, you know.”

  Emma flushed. “No, of course you aren’t. I didn’t mean to suggest . . . well, I suppose I may have suggested, but I didn’t . . . that is, I apologize if I gave offense.” Emma smiled at Anne. “You are quite fortunate in your choice, Lady Anne. I do not wish to give you a false impression.”

  “No, ah, you didn’t.” Anne glanced up at Stephen and smiled. “Er, thank you.”

  “And to make our family gathering complete,” Knightsdale said, “I do believe I see Nicholas approaching.”

  “Nicholas?” Stephen turned and grinned as he saw his brother wending his way through the crowd. Splendid. He could foist Evie off on Nick once the music s
tarted. “My valet must have directed him here.” He stepped forward to intercept him.

  “Hallo, Stephen,” Nick said. “Have you heard the wild tales circulating about you? Lady Dunlee apparently saw you kiss—ow! You trod on my foot, you oaf !”

  “Exactly,” Stephen hissed. “And I’ll stomp on it again if you don’t show some sense. Open your eyes, you nodcock.”

  “What? I don’t—oh.” Nick finally looked over Stephen’s shoulder.

  “Yes, oh.” Stephen turned and drew his brother into the circle. “Lady Anne, Lady Evangeline, may I present my scapegrace younger brother, Nicholas?”

  Nick nodded at Lady Anne, and then stared at Evie. At least his eyes didn’t start from his head. He even managed a credible bow. “My pleasure, ladies. Knightsdale, Emma, good to see you again.”

  “Lady Anne is my betrothed, Nick; her sister, Lady Evangeline—Evie—is making her come-out.”

  Nick managed to tear his eyes from Evie to goggle at Stephen. “I’m sorry.” Nick laughed and shook his head. “I thought you said Lady Anne was your betrothed.”

  “I did.”

  Nick’s jaw dropped, damn it. Stephen heard Knightsdale muffle his laughter.

  “So it’s a surprise to you, too, Nicholas?” Emma asked.

  Nick transferred his gaze to Emma. “Rather.” He moved his foot as if he feared Stephen would stomp on it again and swiveled his eyes to Anne. “But I’m delighted to welcome you as a new sister, Lady Anne”—his eyes went back to Evie—“and to become better acquainted with your family.”

  The orchestra was finally tuning its instruments. The dancing would start in a moment.

  “Nick,” Stephen said, “I believe Lady Evangeline is in need of a partner.”

  “What a coincidence,” Nick said. “So am I.” He bowed to Evie. “Would you care to stand up with me for the opening set, Lady Evangeline?”

  Evie laughed shyly. “I would be honored to, sir.”

  “And I would ask you to join me, Lady Anne,” Knightsdale said, “but I suspect Stephen here would take issue with that.”

  “Precisely, Knightsdale. Very astute of you.” He laid Anne’s hand on his arm. He was eager to partner her—and very uneager to partner Emma, which would be his fate if Knightsdale made off with Anne. He did not wish to spend the set dancing around Emma’s questions as well as the ballroom.