And it was really all that mattered.
Anthony stood before the tall, oval cheval glass and gave his cravat a final adjustment. His eyes slid to the left and found Sneed’s reflection behind him.
“If you have dressed to impress,” the tall man commented dryly, “then you’ve succeeded admirably.”
“Why, thank you, Sneed.”
“Shall I bring the coach ‘round?”
“Do you think it’s time to go?”
“You know exactly what I think.”
“Fetch the carriage anyway.”
“I live to serve.”
Anthony wasn’t able to suppress his smile, but managed to contain his chuckle. He didn’t want to give Sneed any more encouragement than was necessary. He watched the dark-clad man leave the room and returned to his reflection in the mirror.
Sneed was right. At least he hoped he was. Anthony regarded the tight black trousers of the finest material, perfectly fitted linen shirt, maroon and black cravat, and slate gray jacket. He adjusted the cravat one more time and ran his fingers through his shining hair. It was unfashionably long, he knew, and he should probably pull it back. But Harmony seemed to like it down, to brush off his shoulders with that sweet, small smile on her lips. Anthony smiled himself, in anticipation of it.
He wanted everything to be just right. He couldn’t lose her, not again. There was not another woman like her. There was no one else who could lead this life. His life. Although, he had to admit, there were women who had thought they would enjoy his lifestyle. It did seem glamorous at first. But the glamour inevitably faded. It was the long periods of virtual seclusion, the “hiding out,” he supposed. The endless charade.
He loved it; he lived it. It suited him. But women found it was not all they had thought it would be. Besides, Anthony mused, it was the lifestyle that attracted them in the first place, not necessarily the man.
With Harmony it was different; he knew it. He had known from the first moment. Although he was sorry that what he had done had damaged his potential relationship with her, he wasn’t sorry he had spent the time and gotten to know her so well. He wouldn’t have discovered how special she was, how incredibly spirited and individualistic. She was perfect for him. Perfect. Furthermore, he simply didn’t think he could ever live without her.
He would have to move swiftly, however. Time was of the essence.
With a last glance in the mirror, Anthony strode from his room.
Harmony had considered sitting in the parlor while she waited for Anthony to arrive. She would have relished Agatha’s disapproving glances at her neckline, knowing all the while her sister dared say nothing about it. Almost anything at all was permissible in order to snag a wealthy and aristocratic husband.
On second thought, however, she hadn’t wanted to ruin her good mood. She looked forward to seeing Anthony. Despite all that had come between them so far, she wondered if she had, indeed, met the man she was destined to marry. Was this the man who, in spite of everything, she was going to fall in love with?
It was possible; Harmony couldn’t deny it. The mere thought of seeing him again sent a shiver through her. When Mrs. Rutledge announced he had arrived, Harmony doubted she could stand and walk because her knees suddenly felt so weak. Short of breath although she maintained a sedate pace, she walked to the foyer.
“You look lovely. Absolutely lovely.”
“Thank you,” Harmony breathed. He looked absolutely lovely himself. She had to bite her tongue to keep from saying so. At her side, she heard Agatha clear her throat.
“You’ll be home at a respectable hour, I trust?”
“Of course,” Anthony replied smoothly. He had barely glanced Agatha’s way. He could hardly tear his gaze from Harmony’s face. “My friends are very important and highly placed people. They have busy lives and are not inclined to spend an entire night indulging in an entertainment.”
If Agatha had caught the subtle rebuke, she seemed not to notice. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“Oh, yes, certainly,” she tittered. “Don’t worry about time. Don’t worry about anything at all. Enjoy your evening.”
Without further ado, Anthony crooked his arm and Harmony glided to his side. She walked on air all the way to the coach.
The days had lengthened. Light lingered and the perfumed dusk of England’s summer evening fell softly. The world glowed with pink radiance as the sun finally set below the distant horizon. The interior of the coach became a rose-tinted, secluded island of magic.
“You smell wonderful.” Anthony took a deep breath. “What is that perfume?”
“Gardenia.”
“My favorite flower.”
“Mine as well.”
“Really?”
Harmony nodded. Why did she feel so shy? “Our ranch was too far north to grow flowers like that. But once, when we visited New York, my father bought some gardenias from a flower shop and gave them to my mother and me. I loved them.”
“Too far north,” Anthony mused aloud, still heady from the scent of Harmony’s perfume. “Where exactly was your parents’ ranch?”
Harmony forgot her shyness. She came alive as she described her former home and her family. The warmth and love of her parents; the great, wide plains of tall grass and the grazing herds, overlooked by the sentinel peaks of the distant mountains. Anthony listened with rapt attention and interrupted only to ask an occasional question. Like their day spent by the river, the time together was comfortable, easy. The rosy daylight faded and darkness fell. The countryside was left behind as well and they entered London’s outer sprawl.
“We’ll be there in just a few more minutes,” Anthony announced.
Harmony returned abruptly to reality and experienced a tingle of nerves. “I … I hadn’t realized the time had gone by so fast.”
“Are you nervous?”
“A little.” Harmony clasped her hands in her lap. “But I’m truly looking forward to meeting your friends.”
Anthony was glad for the darkness that embraced them in the coach. He feared she might otherwise see the guilt etched into his features.
“They look forward to meeting you as well,” he said at length. Anthony cleared his throat. “Although I’m a bit concerned about my friend, Edward Applegate. His health hasn’t been all that good recently.”
“Isn’t that whose home we’re going to?”
Anthony nodded, afraid to say too much. “He and his wife were kind enough to arrange this small dinner party so you could meet a few of my closest friends.”
“How very thoughtful and generous,” Harmony murmured.
Anthony remained silent. He was about to deceive her again and, while it had seemed a good idea at the time, he was currently having second thoughts. She valued honesty highly, as she should. And almost all of his relationship with her so far was based on a series of lies. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but he had made a bad beginning and then had had to run with it. One thing had led to another, and now here he was.
It had occurred to Anthony, more than once, that he took a greater risk with deception than with the truth. But now he was afraid—afraid of losing her. Everything was working at the moment; she was coming around. She might, indeed, even love him, he dared to hope. He simply couldn’t take the chance of overwhelming her with the entire truth.
One thing was absolutely true, however. He loved her. He would do whatever he must, whatever he had to do, to win her. And he had to do it soon, before his house of cards came tumbling down. He would go through with the plans for the evening, which had been oh-so carefully and painstakingly arranged.
“What a beautiful area,” Harmony commented.
“It’s known as Mayfair,” Anthony replied. “And yes, you’re right. It’s beautiful. One of the nicest parts of London, as a matter of fact.”
Harmony leaned forward in her seat for a better view out of the window. It was certainly different from the sights she had seen when she had first arrived in London.
Even the area where their hotel had been located was not nearly as nice as this. She stared admiringly at the rows of stately homes, with their elegant front doors and pretty front walks. Gaslights flickered over well-dressed couples strolling through the summer evening, and smartly appointed coaches pulled by high-stepping teams passed by briskly.
Was this Anthony’s world? Harmony wondered.
Was it something she might someday become a part of? The thought was oddly thrilling.
“Here we are,” Anthony said as the coach pulled to a halt. While they waited for Sneed to climb from his box, he gazed at the lovely profile of the woman beside him. Before he could stop himself, Anthony reached out to caress Harmony’s cheek.
The touch took her by surprise. She turned her head sharply, and Anthony withdrew his hand. But she did not want the physical communication between them to end. She captured his fingers and placed the palm of his hand once more to her cheek. She closed her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight, to meet your friends.”
“Harmony, I …”
The coach door opened and Sneed was there. The moment had passed.
Hating himself, Anthony stepped to the ground.
Chapter Sixteen
The parlor of the Applegate townhome was similar to the sitting room in a luxury hotel her parents had once taken her to in New York. The furnishings were tastefully understated; paintings hung between the tall, narrow windows were obviously true works of art. Harmony was impressed.
“Your home is lovely,” she told Mrs. Applegate when introductions had been completed. Like the room Harmony had entered, Nora Applegate was the quintessence of elegance. A tall, slender, and graceful woman with snow white hair, she appeared the embodiment of “class.”
“How kind of you to say, my dear,” Nora Applegate said in reply to Harmony’s compliment. She took Harmony’s hand. “I’m so pleased Anthony has brought you here to meet us. He said you are special. It appears he was correct.”
Harmony felt herself blush.
“I’m just so sorry,” Mrs. Applegate continued, “that Edward is unwell and cannot join us.”
“Oh? What’s wrong?” Anthony asked quickly.
“I’m not sure.” Nora’s perfectly smooth brow creased slightly. “He believes it’s similar to an indisposition he suffered once while in India.”
“Nothing serious, I hope,” Anthony remarked with concern.
“Not at all. Although it has caused a change in our plans for the evening. But please … where are my manners? Let me introduce you to the rest of my guests.”
Harmony was immediately charmed by the couple introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Jeremiah Turner, with whom she exchanged brief pleasantries. She was a bit surprised they were not titled, although unsure whether her surprise was because she assumed Anthony’s friends would all be lords and ladies of some sort, or whether she simply assumed everyone in England was titled. Regardless, she was delighted to meet Anthony’s friends. Jeremiah seemed so jovial and jolly with his impressive muttonchop whiskers and round, rosy cheeks. His wife was his opposite, as thin as he was ample, her complexion porcelain and her demeanor serene.
The second couple, Mr. and Mrs. Randall Hall, were well-dressed and well-spoken, if less outgoing than the Turners. Introductions complete, Anthony at her side, Harmony returned her attention to her hostess.
The alert and socially correct mistress of the house stepped right back into her role.
“As I said, due to my husband’s indisposition, there’s been a slight change in plans. Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable while I explain.”
Harmony let Anthony guide her, with a gentle hand on her elbow, to a velvet covered settee. He sat beside her, while the other two couples and Mrs. Applegate sat to their left and across from them. A maid appeared with a laden silver tray and set it in front of Mrs. Applegate.
“I have sherry and a nice champagne,” she said. “Harmony?”
Harmony chose a glass of champagne, as did Anthony. He caught her gaze and lifted a silent toast to her as drinks were passed out all around.
“Once again, let me apologize for my husband’s absence,” Nora began. “He asked me to apologize to all of you, but you in particular, Harmony. He was so looking forward to meeting you tonight.”
“As was I to meet him,” Harmony replied politely. “Please convey my wishes for a speedy recovery.”
“Mine as well,” Anthony added.
“Most certainly.” Nora Applegate sipped her sherry. “Thank you.”
“In light of Edward’s illness, we’ve taken the liberty of changing your plans for the evening,” said
Jeremiah Turner. His gray muttonchops quivered with the apparent effort to restrain his broad smile.
“My husband owns a restaurant,” his wife continued. Her pride was apparent and she laid a pale, slender hand on his forearm.
“The finest restaurant in London, I might add,” Randall Hall commented.
“Thank you, Randall.” Jeremiah Turner beamed at the other man. “I hope you will think so as well, Miss Simmons, at the end of your evening. I’ve arranged one of the private dining rooms for you and Anthony.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Anthony said. “But absolutely not necessary. We—”
“Now, you know I won’t take no for an answer, Anthony, my boy. Go ahead, take your beautiful young lady, and enjoy yourselves.”
Harmony didn’t know what to say, and was glad Anthony did the talking for both of them. His friends had turned out to be nicer even than she had imagined they might be. They were warm and generous, obviously prosperous and genteel. She glanced at Anthony from the corner of her eye.
The caliber of his friends spoke volumes. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hard on him. Perhaps he was exactly what he said he was … an impetuous gamesman who had seen no harm in his little charade as a bandit. He had not, after all, hurt or compromised her in any way. Harmony relaxed in the glow of the softly lit room, and in the warmth of Anthony’s friends. Before she knew it, her champagne glass was empty and it was time to leave.
Amidst the farewells, Harmony found the courage to ask, “Will you all be joining us? It would make for such a merry evening.”
Were there meaningful, if enigmatic, glances exchanged between the room’s occupants? Jeremiah Turner even cleared his throat, fisted hand pressed to his lips. Harmony looked sideways and up at Anthony.
His face was expressionless, although she had thought he might echo her inquiry, or assure her either they were all, indeed, dining together, or had made other arrangements. It was Mr. Turner, instead, who replied.
“You are most considerate, Miss Simmons, but please rest assured that as soon as I learned of Mr. Applegate’s indisposition, I made arrangements to have dinners delivered to our residences. All will be provided for. And again, thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
“Thank you so much for coming,” Nora Applegate said as the group moved as one into the foyer. “It was a pleasure to meet you. And let me add that I also commend your polite consideration. Perhaps some other time we may all get together to dine. Tonight, however, do enjoy your private evening at Mr. Turner’s most excellent establishment.”
“Yes, do enjoy the food,” Jeremiah chimed in. “And make sure you eat plenty of it!”
Something was going on. Harmony just knew it. But even as she sensed it, she chided herself. Everyone had been so pleasant and genuine, and she was, after all, getting to spend the evening alone with Anthony. She should relax and enjoy it.
“I hope you don’t mind this change in plans,” he said, guiding Harmony down the front path, arm linked through hers.
“Of course I don’t,” Harmony replied promptly. “I’m merely sorry for Mr. Applegate’s illness. I do hope it’s truly not serious.”
Anthony looked away for a moment and cleared his throat. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Nora wouldn’t have had us over at all if her hu
sband was in any real trouble.”
“What about you?” Harmony paused on the carriage step. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind? Mind having a romantic dinner alone with the most beautiful and charming woman in the world?”
“Oh, Anthony …”
“Go on. Get in. Let me take you to dinner and I’ll show you how much I mind.”
Aglow from the company and the glass of champagne, Harmony allowed herself to appreciate her surroundings. The parts of London she was currently seeing were beautiful. Romantic as well, bathed in the light from the streetlamps, sidewalks lined with trees fully leafed in their summer foliage. Romantic—or so she imagined—couples strolling side by side. She did not mind when Anthony reached across the space between them and took her hand.
“May I ask what you’re thinking?” he queried softly.
Harmony hesitated. She wanted to say something nice to him. She had begun to feel guilty about some of the things she had said to him the day by the river.
“I … I want you to know that when I told you I wanted to meet someone suitable, I … I mean … well, I guess I already have.”
She couldn’t look at him, although she could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of her face. The grip on her hand tightened.
When she didn’t turn his way, Anthony allowed his eyes to close for an instant. Was his plan working? Would it continue to go as smoothly as it had so far? He could only pray. He had no time to lose, and could not bear to lose Harmony.
The edifice of London’s finest restaurant was modest. It appeared as nothing more than an elite town house such as they had just visited in Mayfair. When the door opened, however, Harmony stepped into another world.
The main room was paneled in gleaming wood of a cherry hue. A crystal, teardrop chandelier flickered with the light of dozens of candles, and silver candlesticks graced each white-clad tabletop, along with a single rose in a crystal vase. A low murmur of voices rose above the clink of flatware against porcelain. It momentarily hushed when the couple, escorted by the restaurant host, walked through the room.
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