Ever My Love: The Lore of the Lucius Ring (The Legend of the Theodosia Sword Book 2)

by Kathryn Le Veque

Fanny did not usually converse so sensibly. “True. But we’re still hideously tall.”

  “I do wish we were shorter, but the duke is a very tall man.”

  “And so is Mr. Douglass.”

  “Mr. Douglass is not a duke.”

  “But he’s as wealthy as a duke.”

  Fanny shrugged. “Which is why I allow him to court me. It does add to my consequence that the wealthiest man in all of Scotland adores me.” Fanny’s gaze fanned across the chamber. “Where is that cat of yours?”

  Annie frowned. “She’s been banished to the dungeon, and it’s all your fault.”

  “Pray tell, how is it my fault?”

  “She was so upset when you stole my amethyst bracelet that she disturbed your dressing table, and Mama sent her away as punishment.” Annie flicked off the bed coverings, sprang from the bed, and went to sit before her dressing table. “I believe I’ll have Eliza start arranging my hair now. I hope to look my best for the duke.”

  “What will you wear?” Fanny asked.

  “I’ve decided on my powdery blue.”

  Fanny only barely managed a deflated, “Oh.” Then she left the room.

  * * *

  Shortly after returning to her bedchamber from Mama’s sitting room, where the Childe ladies gathered every day at noon, Annie looked for her pale blue dress, but it wasn’t there. Moments later Eliza entered her room. “Where did you put my blue dress?”

  Brows lowered, Eliza flicked her gaze to her mistress’s bed. “I laid it out on yer bed as soon as I ironed it so as not to wrinkle it.”

  “When?”

  “Better than ’alf an hour ago.”

  Annie’s heartbeat pounded with fury as she raced to the corridor. “I really will kill her this time!”

  Throwing open the door to Fanny’s bedchamber, she eyed Monique. “Where is my sister?”

  “Your sister has gone down to greet Monsieur Douglass.”

  “What was she wearing?” Surely The Thief wouldn’t have taken her blue gown.

  Monique cowered. “The light blue,” she whispered. “She assured me she had your permission to wear it.”

  “She’s not only a thief. She’s a liar!” And a cheat, Annie thought, storming back to her own bedchamber. Obviously, Fanny had decided that cheating was permissible in order to win the Duke of Axminster.

  Annie vowed to get even.

  But what would she wear? The duke would be arriving at any moment. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes. Her first inclination was to forfeit seeing Him today. She had so wished to look lovely—especially after last night. Then she knew her absence would only enable Fanny to gain a stronghold in his affections.

  Sad to say, she was not even certain her sister would not try to malign her in order to elevate her own standing with the duke. Such suspicions were most uncharitable, especially since they were likely unwarranted. The twins might say wretched things to one another but never outside their family circle.

  But, then, the stakes had never before been so high.

  There was nothing for it. Annie would be forced to wear the same lavender dress she’d worn the previous night. None of her other dress could achieve the effect she sought.

  After Eliza freshened it and helped Annie dress, she went downstairs where the day’s callers were assembling.

  When Annie entered the drawing room, a half a dozen gentlemen rose from their elegant French chairs. She only had eyes for one of them. The Duke of Axminster had indeed come! During her sleepless night, she had given a great deal of consideration to the manner in which she should greet him. Should she be coy? Or bold and confident like Fanny? Should she feign disinterest? In the end, she decided she would greet him as she would a close friend.

  It was no easy task to appear to be unaffected by his presence when she curtsied before him, and he came to draw her (trembling, she was sure) hand into his. Again, there was amusement in his black eyes when he spoke. “Since Lady Fannia preceded you, I don’t have to ask which twin you are. Permit me to say you look even lovelier than you did last night, Lady Annia.”

  She wondered if he had also told Fanny she was lovely. “It is very kind of you to say so, your grace. Permit me to say how gratified we are to have you once again as our guest.”

  After she sat down, Mr. Douglass continued reading the sonnet he’d composed in Fanny’s honor. Fanny couldn’t have looked more queenly had she a huge diamond crown circling her powdered tresses.

  Annie thought Mr. Douglass was very dear. He was even taller than the duke and possessed of a fine athletic body, pleasing masculine face, and wore a white wig over his thick red hair. Like the duke, he dressed with excellent taste.

  He would make Fanny a good husband. Her sister thrived under adulation.

  “I declare, Mr. Douglass, that is the finest piece you’ve written yet,” Fanny praised when he finished. She took the copy of the poem while furtively looking in the direction of the Duke of Axminster.

  “I daresay,” Mr. Douglass said, “you’ll just add it to your collection.”

  “I am fortunate, indeed, to have so many . . . . admirers,” Fanny said, peering modestly into her lap.

  A patch of silence followed. Since that never happened, it must be attributed to the presence of so high-ranking a peer. It was as if none of those gathered knew how to comport themselves in his midst.

  “Your grace,” Annie finally said, “will have to try to convert Mr. Douglass. He serves as a Tory in the House of Commons.”

  The two men’s eyes locked.

  “Is that so?” the duke responded, still eying his political opponent.

  Mr. Douglass reluctantly nodded. “Like my father before me, your grace.”

  “You must come to Brook’s with me, then. With strength in numbers, we may be able to enlighten you.”

  Fanny favored Mr. Douglass with a smile. “Papa would approve.”

  “Even for Lady Fannia it would be difficult for me to abandon everything I’ve always believed,” Mr. Douglass said.

  Annie was surprised he could stand up to Fanny. “As much as I should like to see the number of Whigs swell,” Annie said to Mr. Douglass, “I admire your loyalty.”

  “Loyalty is a most admirable trait, do you not think, your grace?” Fanny asked.

  He smiled upon her. “It is indeed. In fact, I am a Whig because of my allegiance to my own father.”

  Fanny nodded. “Allegiance to one’s own family is most admirable.”

  “It would be exceedingly difficult to admire one who abused his or her sibling, would it not?” Annie asked, factiously eying her twin.

  Colour rose into Fanny’s cheeks, but the duke did not have the opportunity to observe because Lady Tolworth came into the chamber, and all the gentlemen rose.

  She gave the duke the attentions his rank commanded, allowed the other gentlemen to pay her homage, then she took a seat in the middle of the room’s largest sofa, a long French piece covered in emerald silk.

  Fanny then spoke once more to the duke. “Pray, you grace, did you not know which twin I was straight away today? After all, Annie and I looked vastly different last night.”

  “I will own,” he said, smiling at her, “Had I to guess, I would have guessed correctly.”

  Fanny nodded. “Just because we’re considered identical twins doesn’t necessarily mean we must look exactly alike.”

  “I know mothers of twins never mix up their offspring,” Lady Tolworth said, “but even were I not their mother, I would always know one from the other. They are so vastly different.”

  “Indeed they are,” the duke responded, “though I would be incapable of thinking one lovelier than the other. You have two delightfully pretty daughters, Lady Tolworth.”

  Delightfully pretty? Annie felt as if she actually did possess a rounded bosom.

  Each of the other gentlemen agreed.

  “Your grace,” Mr. Douglass said after all the accolades to their beauty had died down, “when your father was still ali
ve, I had the honor of attending a fete at your home in Richmond.”

  The duke cocked his head and regarded Mr. Douglass a moment before responding. “We have met before?”

  Mr. Douglass shook his head. “No. I’m a few years older than you. I believe you were still at university when I went to Ripley Hall.”

  “Ah, that explains it. Did you find Ripley Hall to your liking?”

  “Very much. How much of my esteem was due to the loveliness of the day or how much to the magnificence of the house would be difficult to calculate.”

  Nodding, the duke chuckled. “You came from London by river?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then I perfectly understand your sentiment, Mr. Douglass. There are few things I would rather do on a pretty summer day than float down the River Thames to Ripley. I shall have to invite everyone in this chamber to a picnic there so all of you may judge for yourself.”

  “I should love it above all things,” Fanny exclaimed.

  He eyed Annie.

  “I should love it, too, but I think your grace may remember what I enjoy above all other things.”

  A grin creased his sculpted cheeks as he regarded her. “Sitting in the galleries of Parliament listening to a great orator?”

  She met his earnest gaze and nodded. She felt such a deep connection with this man.

  “To no avail I have beseeched my Annie to care more for the feminine pursuits instead of being the very stamp of her dear father,” Lady Tolworth said with a shrug, “but alas, she is what she is.”

  “She is delightful,” he told her mother.

  As if overflowing with well-being, she bubbled inside. “I daresay my mother and sister find nothing delightful in politics,” Annie said.

  “Do you know, Lord Crest,” Fanny said to the youthful viscount who sat near their mother, “the duke dislikes balls and assemblies. I cannot credit it for I find them so vastly fun.”

  “As do I when I have the honor of standing up with one of the lovely Childe twins,” Lord Crest replied.

  “Though,” said Mr. Swinnerton, another caller who would be pleased to secure either sisters’ affections, “there are a great many men who do not enjoy assemblies.”

  Mr. Douglass laughed. “When I was just out of university all I wanted to do was . . .” He stopped himself short.

  Annie was relatively certain he was about to admit to an interest in opera dancers and high-stakes play but thought better of it.

  “. . . spend time with fellows doing things we ought not,” Mr. Douglass finished.

  Everyone in the chamber laughed.

  “Pray, your grace,” Fanny asked, lowering her lashes coyly as she spoke, “is that why you avoid assemblies and balls?”

  “It’s impertinent of you to ask him that,” Annie chided.

  The duke looked from Annie to Fanny and spoke to the latter in a gentle voice. “Not to worry, my lady. I do spend more time with my long-standing male friends. I prefer to be with those with whom I have much in common.”

  Then he looked at Annie, no smile on his face this time. This time he looked as serious as a scholar.

  Her heartbeat roared in response.

  Soon thereafter he took his leave.

  * * *

  She wasn’t like any young woman he’d ever known—not just because she was the only woman he’d known who stamped a red cat’s paw on her cheek. He could not purge his thoughts from Lady Annia Childe. She lacked some of the feminine artistry of her lovely sister. In fact, he’d never known a lady who would dare wear the same dress on two consecutive days. Perhaps that’s one of the things he found so refreshing about her. She didn’t fill her pretty head with useless dribble about fashion and hairdressing. She read not only the greatest thinkers of the age, but she was well informed on issues of government.

  Lady Fannia might have a slight edge on appearance, but that mattered not. Both women were possessed of remarkable beauty.

  It was Lady Annia, though, whose mind attracted him. Her interests mirrored his own. He found himself wishing to speak to her about the day’s great political thinkers. He wanted her opinion on proposed legislation. He enjoyed being in her company—more so than with his male friends. In many respects, he thought of her as a friend. Certainly not one he wished to court.

  He hoped his attentions did not send a false message. He had no intentions of becoming suitor to either of the Childe sisters.

  Making her acquaintance had resulted in his most uncharacteristic behavior. Before he’d left Tolworth House the previous night he had surprised himself by announcing his intention to pay a morning call. He never paid morning calls.

  After he returned to Axminster House, he went to his library and penned a letter to Lady Tolworth asking her and her daughters to come to Ripley Thursday for a picnic. He would make the Axminster yacht available to them for the purpose.

  What manner of change had come over him?

  Chapter Three

  Thursdays were when Annie visited the lending library on Oxford Street. Fanny did not accompany her today but requested that her sister procure a copy of Voltaire. “I will read it,” Fanny had said. “I wish to be perceived as intelligent about the great writers.”

  Now was the time for Annie to get even over her sister’s betrayal. “If you wish to appear well-read, you might wish to toss out a little known fact about a famous literary work.”

  “Such as?”

  Annie shrugged. “You could casually mention that most people are unaware that Shakespeare originally thought to name Romeo and Juliet, Henry and Jane, but it was dismissed as being too evocative of Queen Elizabeth’s father.”

  “How amazing!”

  Later, as Annie and Eliza were returning to Tolworth House laden with books, Annie chuckled when she pictured Fanny bringing up the topic the next time she was in the presence of the Duke of Axminster. Her heartbeat skipped. When would that be?

  At the door to Mama’s sitting room, the butler informed Annie that her ladyship had gone out.

  Fanny’s bedchamber was also unoccupied. Annie walked over to set the copy of Voltaire upon her sister’s gilded writing table, and something curious caught her eye. It was a piece of high-quality parchment bearing the crest of the Duke of Axminster. Her pulse thudded. Had she been wrong? Could he prefer Fanny over her? Had Fanny received a communication from him? With a trembling hand, Annie picked up the note. It was not addressed to Fanny but to Mama.

  As she read, she felt as if she’d been knocked down by a swiftly moving coach and four. Tears gushed. Her pulse rocketed. Her stomach plummeted. Stunned, it took her a moment to gather her thoughts. The initial disappointment of not seeing Ripley Hall and him was pushed aside by the deeper sense of betrayal. Even her mother had betrayed her.

  Dazed, she stood there in her sister’s bedchamber. The room was a testament to the closeness of the sisters. It was not as nice as Annie’s present chamber. It had once been Annie’s chamber. Fanny offered her sister the sunlit corner room that had been hers when Annie had been gravely ill with lung fever. Fanny had been distraught.

  Now Annie was distraught.

  Being morose was against her nature. Of the two sisters, Annie had always been the pragmatic one. She needed to cast aside her melancholy and form a plan. Her first thoughts were of revenge, but as bitter as she was, Annie had no desire to get mired in ugly fighting.

  What, then, did she desire? Most of all, she wanted to be at Ripley Hall right now. She tentatively moved to Fanny’s gilded looking glass and peered at herself. She was dressed in the same manner as she would have been were she entertaining callers. Her soft, peach coloured muslin dress cinched her small waist, and its lace-trimmed square neckline almost made her appear womanly.

  Her appearance, then, was tolerable. What next? She must find some kind of a vessel to transport her down the River Thames to Ripley. She knew exactly where Ripley Hall was since it was near the Duke of Devonshire’s Chiswick, which she had visited several times.

>   She first asked that the family coach be sent around but was informed that Lady Tolworth and Lady Fannia had left in it. Then she requested a phaeton, and while it was being readied, she fetched Eliza to accompany her. She was not permitted to travel anywhere without a chaperone.

  Once they were in the phaeton, progress was slow, owing to the snarl of conveyances between their house in Mayfair and the river. More than once her horse came to a complete stop. “We may have been better off walking,” she hissed.

  “’Tis just a minor delay. Don’t fret. We’ll be there in a thrice.”

  Her hopes of finding a fine sailing vessel were dashed when she reached the docking area. Only one craft was there. It was a small yawl piled with a mountain of potatoes. Its only seat was occupied by the gray-haired man piloting the vessel.

  She handed over the reins of her horse to the stable lad who’d ridden on the phaeton’s tiger’s mount. “Wait to see if we’re successful in boarding. If we are, you may return.”

  She then approached the man in the yawl. “Sir. Are you by chance going to pass through Richmond?”

  “Aye.” One of his front teeth was missing.

  She reached into her reticule and retrieved a crown. “I’d be so grateful if you’d allow my maid and me to ride with you for the short trip to Richmond.” She knew they would have to sit upon the dirty potatoes. Perhaps he had a cloth upon which they could sit.

  He eyed the coin, then her. “You’d pay me a crown?”

  “Indeed.”

  His craggy face brightened. “Ye’re welcome to get in, but I ain’t got nothing for ye to sit on but the potatoes I’m taking up to Oxford.”

  “We’ll manage.” She hurried to the slip, and he assisted first her, then Eliza.

  * * *

  When he saw Lady Tolworth approach the terrace with just one daughter, Alex frowned. Even from this distance, he was certain this was the wrong twin. Everything in her confident, coquettish demeanor told him this sister was Lady Fannia. Where was Annie? In his mind, he was beginning to think of the smart twin by the name her family used.

  They were joined by the same gentlemen who’d sat in the Tolworth drawing room two days earlier, and all of them were smiling warmly at the Childe women. Regarding the females through narrowed eyes, he said, “I perceive you’ve come without Lady Annia?”