Lady Blue

by Helen A Rosburg

  “I hope you know I would do anything to make you happy, my Lady Blue,” he said quietly.

  Something about the way he said that name made her insides seem all quivery, like aspic. To make matters worse, the sentiment he expressed brought a lump to her throat. She didn’t think she could respond.

  “You really want me to attend this party, don’t you?” Anthony asked finally.

  “Not if you don’t want to, Anthony. Or simply can’t be here.” Harmony kept her voice low in hopes it would remain steady. “It is my wish also, you know, to make you happy.”

  So simple, so honest, so forthright. Yet it affected him like a blow to the chest. In some ways it was more powerful even than the way she had surrendered to him last night.

  “You really do care about me, don’t you?” Anthony asked with wonder, his heart beating a peculiar rhythm he had never experienced before. He smoothed a strand of bright red hair from her temple. “You care about me.”

  So much so she couldn’t tell him. But she could show him.

  It was rare, in Anthony’s experience, that a woman initiated a kiss. And when it did happen, it was almost always for reasons less than pure. This kiss, however, in the purity and gift of its innocence, rocked him. When the soft touch of her lips withdrew, he trembled, much like it seemed his heart was doing.

  “Harmony,” Anthony murmured, and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “My God, Harmony … I love you so much.”

  She closed her eyes. Did she love him in return? Was it true?

  “I …”

  “Ssshh.” Anthony laid a finger to her lips. “Don’t say anything. Not yet. I want you to be absolutely certain.”

  In her heart she was certain. It was her mind that was the problem. Could she truly trust him yet? Could she?

  The answer to the question would have to wait a little longer. It was time to leave. Anthony had told her he had to take her home by midday to be on his way by early afternoon. They stood and brushed bits of grass from their clothing. Their timing was perfect, as Sneed appeared moments later.

  “I’m sorry to intrude, sir,” he said in his lazy, gentlemanly drawl. “But we must be off if you’re to remain on schedule.”

  “You should have been born a dog, Sneed,” Anthony remarked lightly. “You would have been so good at herding sheep.”

  Harmony laughed and took Anthony’s arm as they left the fragrant shade of the willow and walked back up the hill to the waiting coach.

  The return journey to Agatha’s house was passed largely in silence. There seemed little to say after what had already been said between them. Harmony was glad of the opportunity to collect her thoughts.

  The question of the party was still undecided. Anthony had not given her an answer one way or the other. In truth, she didn’t mind at all whatever his decision might be. She had been honest with him when she had told him she was not socially inclined. She had been raised in wealth. She knew how to behave, how to act, if she needed to. She was grateful for the luxuries wealth afforded. But it was not, as she had observed in so many others, a thing that made her feel better about herself, or more important. She was who she was and she was comfortable with that person. She did not need the trappings of a social event to amuse her. She didn’t need to be the center of attention.

  It would have been nice, of course, as she had imagined, to be seen on Anthony’s arm. She was proud of him, proud that he took an interest in her. But she had also been truthful with Anthony when she told him she wished for his happiness. If he did not want to go, or was unable, she would abide by his decision without the slightest regret or word of rebuke.

  With those thoughts in mind, Harmony descended from the coach and climbed the steps to Agatha’s front door. Anthony accompanied her, as usual, and Harmony expected Mrs. Rutledge, as usual, to open the front door. She was surprised, therefore, to see her sister.

  “Agatha!”

  “Yes, of course, Agatha,” her sister replied with an edge to her tone. A heartbeat later she smiled ingratiatingly at Anthony. “Lord Farmington, how nice to see you again.”

  “My pleasure entirely.”

  “Won’t you come in for awhile? Have a cup of tea, perhaps?”

  “Thank you, but I must be on my way. I have to go … home … to take care of some business.”

  “Harmony told me you would be away for awhile. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  In response, Anthony merely raised his brows.

  “Did Harmony inform you of Lady Margaret’s little get-together?” Agatha continued.

  “Yes, she did, as a matter of fact. I’m simply not sure I’ll be able to attend.”

  “Oh, but you must. You must!” Agatha tittered. “Lady Margaret is a scion of our community. It’s so important that you meet her. Especially since you are … friendly … with my sister. Lady Margaret is a great friend to me, you know. As well as many others who will attend.”

  “Just out of curiosity,” Anthony said, and tapped a finger to his chin. “Have you put together a guest list yet?”

  “Why … why, yes. Would you like to see it?”

  “I would actually. Yes. Just out of curiosity, as I said. I’d like to see if I recognize any names. Perhaps we have friends in common. It would be interesting to find out.”

  “Well, then, by all means, come in. Come in.”

  Bewildered, Harmony followed Anthony and Agatha into the morning room, where Agatha generally sat and answered her correspondence. It was the most cheerful room in the house. Most of the climbing ivy had been cleared from the mullioned window, the flowered drapes had been pulled aside to let in the sun, and the furniture was lighter. The seat of the chair in front of Agatha’s escritoire was even covered in a cheerful, floral petit-point.

  “Here you are.” Agatha opened a drawer in her delicate, French-made desk and withdrew a sheet of paper that she handed to Anthony. He scanned it and began a silent debate with himself.

  To attend the soirée, even though he was personally unknown to any of the names on the guest list, would be the biggest risk he had ever taken. His true identity might very well be unmasked. Was it worth it? To escort the most beautiful, charming, intelligent woman in the world? Spend more time with her? Have others regard them as a “couple"? Was there really any doubt?

  “Very impressive,” Anthony said at last with a slight nod. “There are, indeed, many important and prominent names on this list. None, alas, with whom I am personally friendly.” Agatha’s face fell, but Anthony smiled. “It will be a delight, therefore, to make their acquaintance.”

  “You … you mean …?”

  “I will be honored to attend Lady Margaret’s party. I shall make certain to return in ample time.”

  “Oh, Lord Farmington!”

  “But I really must take my leave now. Good day, Miss Simmons.”

  Still slightly puzzled, Harmony walked Anthony back to the door. At the threshold he took her hands and squeezed them.

  “I’ll count the hours I’m away, and think of you every moment,” Anthony said in a lowered voice. “Don’t forget me.”

  “How could I?” Harmony replied simply.

  Anthony squeezed her fingers one last time, turned, and was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Anthony climbed into the carriage without assistance from Sneed and they started off immediately. Sneed kept the horses to a sedate pace until they were well away from the house. Then, at the flick of his carriage whip over their backs, the team moved into a brisk trot. It was the moment Anthony had waited for.

  He tugged at his cravat, removed it, and threw it on the seat beside him. The morning coat followed, and Anthony loosened the top buttons of his shirt. Then he pulled up the window on the door of the coach.

  He was a slim man, lean and hard, with narrow hips. It served him well. Anthony turned his back to the window, leaned his upper body outside, and reached up to grab the luggage rails on the top of the coach. Once he had a firm
grip he flexed his arms and, like a practiced acrobat, pulled himself up and through the window. He swung his legs and hooked one over the rail. A moment later he was on top of the carriage. He ran forward and jumped down onto the bench seat beside Sneed.

  “What took you so long?” Sneed asked.

  “What’s the matter? Did you miss me?”

  “Every moment we’re not together,” he commented dryly.

  Anthony laughed. “That’s almost what I just said to Harmony.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Anthony did not reply, but reached for the reins. Sneed relinquished them willingly.

  Disdaining the use of the whip, Anthony manipulated the reins to coax more speed from the horses. Soon they were moving at an even faster pace. Fingers deft and nimble, he guided the horses expertly through the twists and turns of the narrow country road, branches from encroaching trees slapping at the sides of the coach. At last they came to a fork in the road and Anthony hauled on the lines. The carriage came to a halt.

  “This is where I leave you, old friend,” Anthony said as he climbed from the bench seat.

  “For how long this time?”

  “I’ll be back by next Friday.”

  “So soon?”

  “I have a party to attend.” Anthony watched

  Sneed’s jaw drop and ducked his head into the coach door before the man could say a word. He pulled a leather bag out from under the seat and extracted its contents. Then he stripped out of his clothing. Behind him, Sneed climbed down from the coachman’s box.

  “You have a ‘what’ to attend?”

  “You heard me,” Anthony replied without turning. He pulled on his tight buckskins. “I’m going to come back in time for a party.”

  “I see.” Sneed watched Anthony fold the clothes he had just removed, tuck them into the leather bag, and push it back under the seat. “And we have considered the risks involved, have we?”

  “We have.” Anthony exchanged his highly polished and fancy black boots for a more comfortable pair of brown doeskin. “I’ve also seen the guest list. I know no one.”

  “Well, isn’t that comforting?”

  Anthony chuckled. “I know some of the names, certainly. Local landed gentry, by in large. Nothing to worry about.”

  “You hope.”

  Anthony straightened, looked Sneed in the eye, and widened his smile. “Yes, I hope. If not, well, as I’ve said before, she’s worth every risk I take.”

  Sneed’s reply was the barest arch of his bushy brows and an unusual, not particularly polite, noise

  that seemed to come from somewhere in the nasal area.

  “I’d tell you to go on home for awhile,” Anthony continued. “But by the time you get up there, it’ll be time to come back.”

  “The accommodations at Maggie’s are adequate.”

  “So glad you approve.” Anthony took a few steps into the wood until he came to the chestnut mare Sneed had earlier tied to a tree. He patted her shoulder, untied her, and led her from the shelter of the wood. “I’ll see you some time next Friday, Sneed.”

  “Shall I meet you at Bluefield? Or will you go to Maggie’s?”

  “I’ll go to the manor first. I’ll need the proper clothes, you know.”

  “God forbid you should reveal the real you.”

  “Yes, God forbid,” Anthony repeated with a grin. “Thanks for everything, old friend. I’ll see you next week.” He whirled his mare, putting his heels to her sides, and in moments disappeared around the bend in the road.

  Lady Margaret fingered the pince-nez that hung from a golden chain around her neck. With her other hand she tapped a Sevres porcelain plate, rimmed in gilt. “I thought I’d use this set,” she said. “And this set

  of crystal.” Lady Margaret waved a languid hand over the china and crystal that had been set out for display on the long, mahogany table.

  “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful,” Agatha oozed. “Your taste is impeccable, Lady Margaret.”

  The ghost of a smile touched the older woman’s mouth. She picked up a cut-crystal goblet and put it down again.

  “Your guest list is most impressive as well,” Agatha pattered on. “I showed it to Lord Farmington, and he agreed.”

  “Did you, now?”

  “Oh, yes. He was interested in looking at the list to see if he might know any of your guests. He said that although he recognized several names, he knew none of them personally.”

  “Odd you should mention that. All the people I’ve talked to say the same about Lord Farmington. They seem to be familiar with the name, but can’t quite place the gentleman.”

  “I’m having a bit of trouble pinning him down myself,” Agatha admitted.

  “What do you mean?”

  Agatha told Lady Margaret of her inquiry at the Millswich library and their response to her.

  “Did you write to the county of origin, as they suggested?” Lady Margaret asked.

  “Yes, I did. At least … I think I did.”

  “What on earth do you mean, Agatha?” Lady Margaret demanded impatiently. Suddenly restless, she walked to the windows and began arranging the folds of the lavishly fringed gold damask drapes framing the tall, narrow windows.

  “I mean, I wrote to three counties, actually. Lord Farmington never exactly told me where he lives.”

  “How mysterious.”

  “Well, yes, it is. Somewhat.” Agatha smiled with sudden brightness. “I’m sure it will all be explained to our satisfaction very soon. And your party will be a brilliant success.”

  “Mmmmm. I hope so.” Thoughtful, Lady Margaret strolled from the ornate and formal dining room into the adjacent salon. “The season is over in London and many of the people I would have liked to invite have gone from the area to their summer homes in the country.” She stopped and looked around her, as if realizing where she was. “I’ll have the staff rearrange the furniture so there will be a bit more room. What do you think?”

  Agatha’s face fell, but she quickly concealed it. “We aren’t going to use the ballroom?”

  “I hardly think so,” Lady Margaret replied disparagingly. “The group is far too small, for one thing. For another, we still don’t know precisely who Lord Farmington is. Or how important. Do we?”

  “No, we don’t,” Agatha agreed under her breath. “But, believe you me, I am going to find out.”

  Mr. Henry, the constable, looked up from his cluttered desk. “What?” he asked tiredly.

  “There’s been another one,” the man in uniform replied.

  “Another what, Jones?”

  “Another robbery, sir.”

  Henry ran his hand over his bald head, as if rearranging something that had once been there. “Where?” he inquired at length.

  “The McGowans, sir.”

  “The who?”

  “The McGowans,” the man repeated. “They’re the new folks on the other side of the village.”

  “Oh, yes. Yes. Now I remember. An older couple, rather set in their ways, as I recall.”

  The officer stared down at his feet for a moment. “You could put it that way. Yes, sir.”

  “Well?”

  “Well ‘what,’ sir?”

  “The robbery, Jones!”

  “Oh. Yes, sir. Mrs. McGowan apparently kept her heirloom family pearls in a cookie jar in the pantry.

  They’re gone.”

  This time Henry ran both hands over his head. “Might they have been misplaced?” he asked slowly.

  “Definitely not, sir,” the man replied confidently. “Mrs. McGowan, well, let me put it this way, sir. The queen herself is not more proud of, nor fond of, the crown jewels of England. Or more likely to know where they are at any given moment.”

  “I see.” Henry rubbed his eyes. “Did the thief leave any clues?”

  “Not really, sir. There were hoofprints up to the house and away, and the McGowans don’t ride. They only use their horse with a cart or buggy. But there’s no telling whose
horse made the prints.”

  “Of course not,” Henry responded irritably. He pushed back from his desk and stood up. He crossed the room and stood before a map that had been pinned to the wall beside the single window. With a pen, he made a mark near the north end of the village. “Here, Jones?”

  “Yes, sir. Right about there.”

  Henry stepped back and surveyed the map. There were at least half a dozen other marks.

  “He’s making fools of us, Jones.”

  “We’re not the only ones, sir,” Jones replied. “There have been incidents in villages all around us.”

  Henry ignored him. “It started with Miss Simmons and her sapphire ring.”

  “But that was a simple bandit, sir, who struck right out in the open. You don’t think—”

  “I don’t know what to think!” Henry snapped. “I only know that the residents of the village we’re supposed to protect are having their valuables stolen right out from beneath our noses.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “'Yes, sir’ what, Jones?!”

  “Yes, sir, they are, sir. Being robbed right under our noses, I mean. But we’ll catch ‘im.” Jones grinned sheepishly. “It’s just a matter of time.”

  “A very short time, I hope,” Henry growled. “Because I haven’t got much time, Jones. The citizens are demanding a warm body behind bars, and I had better produce one. Soon. Or else.”

  “Or else what, sir?”

  “Oh, shut up, you idiot, and come with me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Harmony leaned over and clipped a dead blossom with her pruning shears. She straightened, a hand to the small of her back, and looked around her with a glow of pride. Slowly but surely, Agatha’s neglected garden was being transformed.

  As soon as Anthony left, Harmony had sunk into a pit of despair. She did not realize how much she was going to miss him until he had actually gone. Then the full weight of his absence fell upon her. Anthony was gone. The light, happiness, and … yes … the love he brought into her life was gone. She had not realized how large, how important, his presence had become in her world.