Wilson, Gayle

by Anne's Perfect Husband

  Chapter Six

  The countess had decided that Anne's first foray into society would take place at a small, intimate dinner party given by Lady Laud, who was Ian's godmother. Since Elizabeth could not chaperone Anne through the upcoming Season's nearly endless round of entertainments, Ian was hopeful that his godmother might be willing to assume that role. Both her husband's position with the government and Lady Laud's own reputation would add to Anne's stature in the eyes of the ton, if the old woman agreed.

  And that, Elizabeth had declared, would depend on the impression Anne made tonight. It was simply another pressure added to all the others Anne was already very well aware of.

  Thankfully, the countess had chosen one of the most becoming of Anne's elegant new gowns for the occasion. The color of rich cream, its only decoration was a few ecru silk roses scattered about the hem. There was another smaller rose sewn discreetly at the neckline, its petals touching Anne's skin just above the swell of her breasts.

  She wore a matching rose in her hair, whose color for the first time seemed to complement her clothing rather than war with it. Elizabeth herself had arranged her coiffure, sweeping her curls high on the top of her head and allowing the fine tendrils that always escaped any arrangement to float around her face.

  Considering that her expectations had been so very low, Anne had been enormously pleased with the reflection in her cheval glass. And more than pleased with the approval she was now seeing in her guardian's eyes.

  Ian, striking in full evening regalia, was standing in the foyer below, looking up as she paused on the first landing of the grand staircase of the London town house. And despite her nervousness, Anne was certain of one thing: she could not have wished for a more handsome escort.

  Of course, she reminded herself, Ian was her guardian and not really her escort. There was nothing, however, which said she couldn't pretend. Her lips lifted into a reminiscing smile as she remembered long hours of her adolescence spent imagining just such a moment as this. And no one, not even her guardian, would ever know what she was imagining tonight.

  The harmless fantasy would help her through the evening that lay ahead. She had told herself again and again that she must guard her tongue and remember all the silly rules Elizabeth had so patiently explained. After all the trouble and expense the two of them had gone to on her behalf, it would be a shame not to live up to the standards of the ton on her very first outing.

  "What do you think?" Elizabeth asked her brother-in-law. She had pitched the question so that Anne could hear it as she stood above them, waiting breathlessly for his approval.

  "I think," Ian said, smiling up at Anne, "that I shall be the most envied man in London."

  He held out his hand, and Anne descended the last set of steps to place her fingers in his. As soon as she touched them, there was again that unaccustomed jolt in the pit of her stomach.

  If she hadn't already known its cause, she might legitimately have put the feeling down to sheer excitement tonight. After all, this was the moment they had been working toward—the beginning of the long Season that stretched ahead.

  Ian's eyes were smiling at her again. And seeing the undisguised admiration in them, Anne began to relax. Whatever apprehension she felt about the success of the evening, her guardian apparently harbored none.

  During the last few difficult weeks his unfailing confidence had bolstered hers. And it was rather badly in need of bolstering tonight. Ian tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, placing warm fingers over her cold ones, which were vibrating slightly with nerves.

  "You're trembling," he said, sounding surprised by that discovery. "There's nothing to be afraid of, I promise you."

  And as long as he was holding her hand, Anne told herself, truly there would not be.

  ***

  I should have warned her. He had supposed Elizabeth would have explained how the seating would be arranged at such an affair. There was no doubt, however, that Anne had not realized she would not be beside him at dinner.

  "Major Sinclair," Doyle Travener said, bowing slightly in response to their hostess's introduction. "I regret, sir, that I have never had the honor of meeting you before. Your reputation among His Majesty's forces can hardly be exaggerated."

  The handsome young man who was to take Anne in to dinner had, according to Lady Laud, only recently returned from his own service on the Iberian Peninsula. His sun-darkened skin and fair hair were a becoming contrast to a pair of fine blue eyes, which appeared to be full of genuine respect.

  "You seem to be doing so quite nicely, I think," Ian said with a trace of embarrassment.

  He smiled at the young ex-lieutenant to soften the effect of that admonition. He had not forgotten the pleasure he'd found in the easy camaraderie of his fellow soldiers. Travener's obvious robust physical condition, however, made him feel every one of his thirty-two years. And, Ian admitted, it made him even more aware of the difference between his age and Anne's.

  "I assure you, sir, I could not exaggerate it," Travener said earnestly before he turned to include Anne in the conversation. "Your guardian was very highly thought of by both his men and his fellow officers, Miss Darlington."

  "Of whom my father was one," Anne said. "Colonel George Darlington. Did you know him, Mr. Travener?"

  "I don't believe I had that privilege. My misfortune."

  Travener's blue eyes had met Ian's briefly before he made that disclaimer. Ian couldn't be sure if the look was meant to convey that he had known Darlington or that he knew of him. Whatever it had indicated, Ian was relieved at the ex-soldier's graceful denial of a personal acquaintance.

  Perhaps Travener felt that was simply the best way to avoid any further discussion of Anne's father. Since that was something Ian devoutly wished to avoid as well, he didn't question Travener's comment. After all, it was possible that by the time Travener had arrived on the Peninsula, talk of the infamous incident in which Ian had been wounded had died.

  The conversation eventually moved from military matters into other directions more appropriate for the intent of the evening. Although there had been that brief flare of consternation in Anne's eyes when she had understood she wouldn't be seated beside Ian at table, she was soon chatting, seemingly at ease, with her dinner companion. And Travener certainly seemed adept enough in the duties required of him, one of which was to find some topic on which he and Anne could comfortably converse.

  Doyle was also the nearest to Anne's age of any of the men here, Ian realized when they had all been seated. It had been a very thoughtful gesture on the part of his godmother, therefore, to pair Anne with Travener, despite Ian's trepidation at having her so far away from him.

  Throughout the first two courses, he found himself watching his ward. Since he was also trying to keep up his end of the conversation, the mental exercise was nerve-racking, especially since he had been out of circulation for so long. Travener, however, seemed to be making an effort to entertain Anne, just as he should, and eventually Ian began to relax.

  "She's charming," Lady Laud said, inclining her head slightly toward the other end of the table where Anne was seated. "It's really too bad about her father," she added, her eyes coming back to Ian's, a knowing arch to her brow. "You must hope that never becomes public knowledge."

  Laud was in the War Office and would naturally be aware of what had happened in Portugal. Ian did not expect that incident should ever become an item of gossip within the ton, however. As he had told Dare, most of the men who had been involved had been killed, either on that day or during subsequent battles. And the others were still engaged with Wellington.

  "I see no reason why it should," he said truthfully.

  "How strange that Darlington should have chosen you, of all people," Lady Laud continued, her black eyes again assessing the girl at the end of the table.

  "The decision was made some years ago, I believe," Ian said. The solicitor had told him nothing to that effect, but he felt it would be better not to feed that
particular speculation, not even with someone as friendly as his godmother. "It happened long before...the other."

  He had himself wondered often enough about George Darlington's motives. Try as he might, Ian had been unable to come up with any logical reason for what the man had done. He had even thought, more cynically than was his nature, that naming him as Anne's guardian might have been Darlington's idea of some macabre joke. If so, it was one that had been made at his daughter's expense as well as at Ian's.

  "How well do you know Travener?" he asked, the question casual, his eyes locked on the interplay between Anne and her dinner companion.

  "Very little, actually. I can't remember who recommended him, but he's proven to be an exemplary extra man, something any hostess is in need of during the Season," Lady Laud said with a laugh. "He's only recently come up to town. Sold out due to some family crisis. I can ask Laud if you wish."

  "Don't bother," Ian said, not wishing to appear overly curious. "He told me he'd been in Portugal. I was simply trying to place him, but he must have arrived there after I left."

  Unconsciously, his gaze settled on Anne again. At that moment Travener leaned close to point to one of the myriad wineglasses, confusingly arrayed before each place.

  Anne's fingers touched the glass her partner had indicated. She turned toward Travener, raising her brows, obviously questioning the correctness of her choice. With his nod of agreement, she lifted the wine and brought it to her lips.

  There was a surge of anxiety in Ian's chest. This wasn't something they had discussed. Anne was not a child and no longer a schoolgirl, of course, but he doubted she had had much experience with spirits. Not at Fenton School.

  Anne's eyes met her partner's over the top of the goblet as her lips closed around its rim. Knowing her as he did, Ian believed the look to be perfectly innocent. Seeing her gaze into Travener's eyes with such a practiced gesture of flirtation, however, caused a flood of heat to scald its way through his body.

  Jealousy, he recognized with a sense of shock. And as he continued to watch them, he examined that emotion with the same intellectual detachment he had brought to bear on all the others he had experienced since his return from Iberia.

  What he had felt was not protectiveness, not as his concern about the wine had been. Nor was it fear that Anne might be flirting with the wrong man, one of the scoundrels from whom it would be his duty to guard her. What he had experienced as he watched Anne's eyes make contact with Travener's had been pure raw envy that he himself was not the recipient of that look.

  His gaze fell, pretending to consider his fingers wrapped around the stem of his own wineglass. Jealousy. And that was almost as troubling as the wave of sexual desire which had roared through his body the night that Anne, kneeling in the snow beside him, had innocently pressed her body against his.

  He could not afford either of those emotions. He could never allow himself to consider Anne in that light. And despite what he had told his sister-in-law, the reason had less to do with the fact that she was his ward and far more to do with the threat inherent in the souvenir of a Peninsula battle he carried within his chest. A threat he would not be living with now if it had not been for the actions of Anne's father.

  My heart is not a stake in this game, he had said to Elizabeth. And it could never be, in spite of what he had felt watching Anne interact with a handsome and eligible bachelor. Something he would have to do for the next several months, Ian realized bitterly. At least until the day he stood beside her at the altar and gave her forever into the keeping of another man.

  ***

  "But you didn't know Mr. Sinclair," Anne clarified, "other than by reputation?"

  "I was in Portugal only a short time before my father died. I was forced to sell out and return to England."

  "I'm very sorry to hear of your father's death. It must have been terrible to have received that news when you were so far from home," Anne said.

  She tried to imagine what Doyle Travener might have felt. Her feelings about her own father's death were not a reliable guide, since they had never been close.

  "I confess it was...unexpected. He had appeared to be in the best of health when I embarked."

  Travener's voice caught on the last word, and his eyes fell to the handle of the knife his long, dark fingers were toying with. Her heart touched by his obvious grief, Anne unthinkingly laid her fingers over his, squeezing them slightly.

  His eyes came up very quickly to meet hers. It was only then that she realized what she had just done might be misinterpreted, if not by Mr. Travener, then by others who had witnessed her gesture.

  She removed her hand, fighting the very natural urge to look around to see if anyone had noticed. Her small faux pas was not really important, she told herself. Not in light of Mr. Travener's loss. She smiled into those beautiful blue eyes and was relieved when his quick smile answered hers.

  "You are very kind, Miss Darlington," he said.

  "It's obvious you were close to your father," she said. He, at least, understood what had prompted her unthinking gesture.

  "Indeed we were. And I had missed him very much while I was away. That is my one regret, that I was away from him during his last months. Of course, with your father away in service, you must understand those feelings without being reminded of them. Do you miss your father a great deal?"

  "My father is also dead, Mr. Travener. He died more than five months ago."

  "Forgive me, Miss Darlington. When you asked about him before..."

  "You thought he was still in Portugal."

  "Forgive me," he said again, his eyes darkened with remorse. "I would never wish to cause you pain."

  "There's nothing to forgive. Unlike you, I had not seen my father in several years. We were...not close," she said.

  "But still..." He hesitated, and then his voice softened as he added, "It seems we have a great deal in common. More than just our ages."

  His gaze swept the table before it came back to her face. There was a decided gleam of amusement in the depths of his eyes. Very attractive eyes, Anne acknowledged with a touch of surprise. They were not hazel, of course, but they were attractive. And right now they were alive with mischief.

  Her own eyes made the same quick appraisal of their table mates and then returned to his. Although she fought against revealing it, she suspected hers were equally alight with amusement. Because he was right, of course.

  "There is my guardian," she said, her gaze finding Ian, who was seated beside their hostess at the other end of the table.

  His head was tilted toward Lady Laud, who seemed to be regaling him with some lengthy anecdote. Anne had glanced at him several times before now and had found him always engaged in conversation, quite properly of course, with his hostess or another of the guests seated around him.

  "I confess I was thinking of Major Sinclair as a contemporary of your father's. I take it he is not."

  Anne's eyes came back to Travener, unconsciously examining his features. It was obvious that whatever time he had spent on the Peninsula, his experiences there had not marked him in the same way they had marked Ian.

  "He seems older because of what he has endured," she said softly.

  "He was severely wounded, I believe," Travener acknowledged. "I'm afraid I don't remember the details."

  "And you will never hear them from him."

  "You admire him a great deal."

  She did, of course, but she hadn't realized she had made her feelings so obvious. "I owe him a great deal," she said, her gaze again unconsciously finding her guardian. "I should not be here tonight if it were not for Mr. Sinclair."

  "Indeed?" Travener asked, bringing her eyes back to him.

  "No matter what Mr. Sinclair says, I don't believe my father made provision for my Season. I think the idea to bring me out was my guardian's, as were the funds expended to accomplish it."

  It was only when she had voiced the last that she realized this was hardly a suitable topic of conversatio
n with a gentleman. Not only was it none of Mr. Travener's business where the money for her Season had come from, it was highly improper of her to have brought it up in the first place.

  "Forgive me," she said. "You can't possibly be interested in those arrangements. I'm still a trifle nervous about keeping up my end of any conversation. And I am deeply grateful to my guardian for his many kindnesses. I believe those two things led me to make confidences that would have been better not made."

  "I was afraid that what I heard in your voice when you spoke of Major Sinclair might be...something more than gratitude."

  "Afraid?" she questioned, a hint of coolness in her tone.

  "You see, I was hoping for permission to call on you."

  Despite Travener's attentiveness tonight, she was surprised. And she was also flattered, of course. In spite of Elizabeth and Ian's compliments, she had never expected to attract the attention of a handsome gentleman on her first outing. Actually, she had never expected to attract any gentleman's attention, but if someone like Doyle Travener could find her attractive...

  Again her eyes sought her guardian. Ian was smiling at something the lady on his left was whispering to him behind her fan. Anne's gaze lingered there until Travener's next question brought her attention back to him.

  "Do I have your permission, Miss Darlington?"

  Permission to call on her. Did she want him to? Perhaps if Ian realized Mr. Travener was dancing attendance on her, he himself would begin to regard her less paternally. Another fantasy, she supposed, but still...

  "I believe you must properly apply to my guardian for permission, Mr. Travener."

  "But I may tell him that you, yourself, do not object?"

  "If my guardian approves, I should be delighted to receive you."

  "Then I suppose I must do my utmost to make myself acceptable to Major Sinclair," Travener said with a smile.

  ***

  "Did you enjoy yourself?" Ian asked on the way home.