“The answer to my prayers?” He scoffed. “I don’t see how.”
“Think about it, Archie. Anabel will soon be twenty-one and you’re worried she’ll never find a husband.” She cast him a knowing smile. “Mr. Grant is wealthy, successful—”
“He’s American.”
“With connections to a fine English family.” She shrugged. “He really is a perfect match for Anabel.”
His eyes narrowed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“They are obviously in love.” She paused to let her point sink in. “And you do want her married, don’t you?”
He heaved a resigned sigh. “Only to a man of her own choosing.”
Effie grinned. “Why, Archibald Snelling, you have learned something. It’s fairly apparent to me that Mr. Grant is of her own choosing.” She leaned forward and met Archie’s gaze firmly. “Have you seen the way she looks at him? And just as importantly, have you seen the way he looks at her? When a man looks at a woman like that, it’s fairly certain he will treat her well.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“He really is quite a catch.” She settled back in her chair. “I wouldn’t think you’d want him to get away.”
“Perhaps not,” he said slowly.
She sighed forlornly. “It could be her last chance.”
“We should probably do something about this.” Determination mixed with utter helplessness shone on his face and Effie resisted the urge to feel sorry for him. After all, when one considered the situation in its entirety, the blame for starting all this could be laid squarely at Archie’s feet. “Don’t you agree?”
“Without question.” She nodded firmly. “I think we need to do everything we can to make certain she forgives him when she finds out who he really is.”
“Just how do you propose we do that?”
“Let me think.” She sipped her drink and drew her brows together as if she were truly trying to think of something and not just marking time. “Didn’t you mention to me that you hoped to announce Anabel’s engagement to Mr. Reed at your Christmas Eve Ball?”
He nodded. “Not now of course.”
“Still, it was a good idea.” She smiled. “But I believe I have a better one.”
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS REALLY quite remarkable how when one was trying not to be alone with a man, one had to make a concerted effort, as opportunities to be alone were plentiful. But when one wanted—no—needed to come to terms with some extraordinarily difficult problems that desperately had to be faced and some sort of clever strategy was called for, there was no possibility of so much as a moment alone. Try as she might, Anabel had not managed even a private minute with Wesley since the Egyptian Society Gala three days ago. One would think the man was avoiding being alone with her, although she couldn’t imagine why. Still, he had been rather pensive since they’d declared their feelings. There was definitely something on his mind. Anabel staunchly refused to consider he might have changed his mind—or come to his senses—about his feelings for her. But with no opportunity to be alone, there was no way to ask what was troubling him. Nor was there any possibility of sharing stolen moments of passion—which really was a pity—and more importantly, no chance to discuss what they were going to do about, well, everything.
Guests had already begun arriving for her family’s Christmas Eve ball. Wesley hadn’t yet appeared, but then she didn’t expect him to arrive before the other guests. Her mother had begun the ball shortly after she and Father had married, and even after her death, Father continued the tradition as a quiet tribute to the woman he loved. Perhaps if Father had kept in mind that he had married for love, he wouldn’t have been quite so eager to marry her off and this debacle never would have happened. Although then she never would have met Wesley, so perhaps things did indeed turn out as they should. Fate was certainly clever.
But how on earth were they going to explain to Father—and everyone else—that he was not the son of Reginald Everheart but merely an actor. An actor his oldest daughter intended to marry. Even though Father did seem to like Wesley, the revelation about his true identity would be not taken well. He had a rather dim opinion of actors. Theater folk and all. Then there was everyone else Wesley had met. Surely there was some way to explain all of it, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing came to mind. There was the complete truth of course. But that would require confessing her plan to avoid marriage to Douglas, and she would prefer that secret remain buried.
Anabel did need to talk to someone about all this. She couldn’t confide in her sisters. They would be too busy laughing to be of any use. Aunt Lillian would be here tonight and perhaps she could help. She was finally back in London and had sent a note this morning. It was annoyingly brief and made no sense whatsoever. Aunt Lillian had apologized that all had not gone as planned but assured Anabel tonight, while later than they had originally intended, all would be well. Anabel had no idea what she meant by any of that. Their plan had gone quite well. Far better than anticipated really.
Mrs. Higginbotham might be of assistance. She was an old friend of Father’s, although Anabel had barely known her until she and her friends had volunteered as chaperones. All three ladies were really quite delightful and all three would be here tonight.
Wesley arrived, along with a rush of other guests that needed to be properly welcomed. He kissed her hand and gazed into her eyes and asked her to save her dances for him. Exactly like the man in love he really was. She sent him on his way with a promise to join him as soon as her duties as hostess and eldest daughter ceased.
When Anabel was finally finished with what seemed an endless stream of excited arrivals, she slipped into the ballroom and searched the crowd for him. The gathering seemed somehow bigger this year. At last she spotted Wesley and, even from across the room, his gaze met hers. He smiled and started to circle the room toward her.
“It does seem to be going nicely, but then it always does.” Aunt Lillian stepped up beside her. “It amazes me how your father manages an event like this every year, but then he hires people to do it for him, doesn’t he?”
“Aunt Lillian!” Anabel threw her arms around the older woman. Tall, blonde and elegant, Aunt Lillian was some ten years younger than Father and looked younger than that. “I didn’t see you arrive. I’m so glad you’re finally back. Things have gotten horribly convoluted.”
“I feared as much and I am dreadfully sorry but there was a problem in the country that I needed to oversee. I will spare you all the ghastly details, suffice it to say it involved a nasty combination of fire and water.” She shuddered. “I cannot tell you how annoyed I am at how this has all unfolded, and had I been here, I assure you it would have gone much more smoothly.”
“It would have?” What on earth was she talking about?
“It’s understandable, I suppose. When one is offered an excellent part, all other obligations vanish in the face of possible theatrical acclaim.”
Anabel shook her head in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about your actor, dear, and why he has failed to appear.” Lillian huffed and then smiled. “Although I do expect him tonight and everything should proceed as planned, if a bit abbreviated.” She paused. “Douglas hasn’t proposed to you yet, has he?”
“Well, no, but—”
“And you do still wish to avoid marriage to him, don’t you?”
“Of course, but—”
“Excellent.” Aunt Lillian beamed.
“I believe this is my dance.” Wesley appeared beside her and took her hand.
Anabel smiled. “I believe it is.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me.” Aunt Lillian cast Wesley a flirtatious smile.
Anabel frowned. “But you already know him.”
“Wesley Everheart.” He smiled and the dimples at the corners of his mo
uth flashed. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Aunt Lillian’s eyes widened.
“Wesley, this is my Aunt Lillian, Lady Farstead.”
Wesley paled.
“I have no idea who—” Aunt Lilian began.
“Anabel, Wesley,” Father said behind her. “A moment, if you please. In the library.”
“Of course, Father.” Anabel turned to follow her father.
“Wait, Anabel, this is not—”
“Now,” Father snapped.
“We should go,” Wesley said quickly, took her arm and briskly steered her after her father.
“Anabel, we must talk.” Aunt Lillian’s voice rose in what sounded oddly like panic.
“I’m sure I’ll be back in a minute,” she said over her shoulder. Good Lord, Aunt Lillian looked positively stricken. Regardless, Anabel had no choice. Whatever her aunt was worried about could surely wait.
A minute later they gathered in the library, joined by Mrs. Higginbotham, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and Lady Blodgett.
“I thought your friends should join us for this as they are embroiled in it.” Father said.
This did not bode well.
“Anabel, as you know, I had intended to announce your engagement to Douglas tonight,” Father began.
“Douglas never asked me to marry him, Father,” Anabel said sweetly.
“I’m aware of that, but another gentleman has proposed,” Father nodded at Wesley. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Absolutely not, sir.” Wesley took her hand and her heart fluttered.
Father looked at her. “And this is the man that you want? Regardless of how this match came about?”
She wasn’t the least bit blameless in this charade, but it did appear Father was offering her a way out. “Yes, Father, he is. And it doesn’t matter how we came to this point—it only matters that we did.”
“Very well then. I had planned to announce an engagement tonight and announce an engagement I shall.” Father beamed.
Good God, no! She couldn’t let him announce her engagement to Wesley Everheart! They had enough to explain already. She searched franticly for some reason to put this announcement off. “I’d really rather be wearing something else for an engagement announcement. I have a blue gown that—”
“Nonsense, your gown is lovely,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.
“No, dear.” Father took her free hand. “There’s no better time to do this than at your mother’s ball.”
She struggled to get out so much as a single word, but apparently guilt and remorse struck one speechless.
“I shall be delighted to announce the betrothal of my daughter, Anabel, to Mr. Wesley—”
“Father stop!”
“—Grant.”
“Father, I can explain all of this. It really is rather amusing, if you look at it properly, of course, but my intent was—” At once his words hit her. “Grant?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?” Wesley said.
“That is your name, isn’t it?”
Wesley glanced at her and then met her father’s gaze. “Yes, sir, it is.”
“I would ask why you were using another name, but as Mrs. Higginbotham has come up with some plausible reasons, I think it’s best not to pursue the question further. She has as well vouched for your character and your family. I have taken the liberty as well of speaking to your uncle.”
“You did?” Wesley said weakly.
Father nodded. “Therefore, you have my blessing.”
Anabel wasn’t quite sure she had heard him correctly. “Thank you, Father.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I never imagined you’d accept my marrying an actor.”
“And I wouldn’t.” Father scoffed. “But I approve of you marrying the president of a well-respected company. Even if he is American.”
“Father.” Poor dear was obviously confused. She drew a deep breath. “Wesley is an actor.”
Father frowned. “No, he’s not.”
“What do you mean he’s not an actor?” This made no sense whatsoever.
“I mean he’s not an actor.” Father repeated. “Why would you think he was?”
“Because he is.” Anabel huffed and gestured at Wesley. “Go on, tell him you’re an actor.”
“I...” Wesley began, but apparently the right words were difficult to find. Understandable of course.
She sighed. “I knew it would come to this eventually.” Anabel cast the man she loved a supportive smile. “It’s time. Wesley, tell him the truth.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOR A LONG MOMENT, her words hung in the air as if everyone in the room was holding their breath.
This wasn’t how Wes wanted her to learn the truth. But he hadn’t been able to come up with any good way to divulge his deception—aside from the lingering idea about waiting until after they were married, which had a great deal of merit, even if it was rather stupid.
“The truth.” Wesley chose his words with care. “Well, my name is indeed Wesley Grant and not Everheart.”
Anabel smiled encouragingly.
“And I’m not an actor.” His gaze met hers. “I’ve been trying to tell you, but I just couldn’t seem to manage it.”
Bewilderment furrowed her brow. “But you were hired by Aunt Lillian.”
“Why would Lillian hire an actor?” Sir Archibald asked Mrs. Higginbotham.
“Hush, Archie,” the older woman murmured.
“I don’t know who your aunt hired, but it wasn’t me.” Wes shook his head. “I’m not an actor.”
“Why does she think he’s an actor?” Sir Archibald frowned.
“Do be quiet, Sir Archibald,” Lady Blodgett said with a huff in her voice.
Anabel shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Wes braced himself. “The night we met at the Explorers Club, you heard my American accent and assumed I was the actor you were expecting.”
“I don’t understand any of this either,” Sir Archibald muttered.
Anabel stared at Wes. “Why didn’t you stop me the moment you realized I had mistaken you for someone else?”
“You were pretty.”
She stared at him as if that was a bad thing.
“Very pretty.” Given the look on her face, that was apparently not the right answer either. “And you needed help. How could I not want to rescue a beautiful damsel so clearly in distress?”
Her expression softened but only a shade. Still, it was encouraging.
“Why, I might well have fallen in love with you that very night.”
“Too much, I think,” one of the older ladies murmured.
Anabel crossed her arms over her chest. “You fell in love with me the night we met?”
“I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I have no doubt of it.” He nodded eagerly. This was going better than expected—she was at least listening to him. “Oh, certainly you were a bit cranky and sanctimonious and somewhat judgmental—”
She glared.
“But determined and delightful nonetheless.” He met her gaze firmly. “And if I had told you the truth from the beginning, I wouldn’t have had the joy of spending the last two weeks with you. So I’m not the least bit sorry I pretended to be someone I wasn’t.”
“Is there more?” Anabel asked coolly.
Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore winced.
This was going to be awkward, but at this point honesty was probably the only choice. At least the only choice Wesley could think of. “You should also know that I came to London to meet your father and the other gentlemen on the board of the Explorers Club.”
She studied him thoughtfully as if she were putting together all the myriad pieces of a puzzle. “Father said you’re the president of a company. Your family’s company, I assume?”
/> He nodded.
“You said the travel chronometer was developed by the president of the company.”
“It was.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And that’s you?”
“Yes.” He ventured a grin. “You like it, don’t you?”
“It is a rather extraordinary instrument but that’s beside the point.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “You used me to get to my father!”
“I did not!” He shook his head. “I would never do such a thing. But you did use me to avoid marriage.”
“That’s different. I paid you!”
Sir Archibald choked. “You what?” He glanced at Mrs. Higginbotham. “I’ve heard nothing about this.”
“Then be quiet, Archie, and you may learn something,” Mrs. Higginbotham said sharply and threw Wes an encouraging look.
“No.” Wes shook his head. “You didn’t. Your aunt paid someone but it wasn’t me.”
“I thought you were struggling and penniless!” Anabel snapped.
“Then you didn’t have any faith in my acting abilities, did you?”
“Of course not.” She scoffed. “I had never heard of you, so it was obvious to me you weren’t especially successful. I thought you were probably a dreadful actor.”
“I made you fall in love with me.”
Her brow arched up. “You said you weren’t acting.”
“I wasn’t! The only reason everyone believed I am in love with you is because it’s true!” He threw his hands up in the air. “And yes, I am the head of the Grant Watch and Clock Company, a company started by my grandfather. And the best thing that has ever happened to me on this Christmas or any Christmas was meeting you and becoming entangled in your—”
Without warning, the door flew open and Anabel’s aunt stood in the entry like some kind of avenging Christmas angel.
“Wait!” she cried, squaring her shoulders and flinging her arm out to point an accusing finger at Wesley. “This man is not Earnest Everheart!”
Sir Archibald frowned and glanced at Mrs. Higginbotham. “Who?”
The Dance Before Christmas Page 9
