“As I would you.”
“Then complete your task and go back to London.”
His steadfast friendship, or rather his wife’s, with the woman in question did not give MacLerie the right to order him about and David bristled at being made to feel like an errand boy.
“I have commitments to honor and when I have fulfilled those obligations, I will return home.”
“Just so,” MacLerie said, stepping away and waiting obviously for David’s departure from there in his position on the sidewalk.
David could tell their conversation was at an end, so he nodded and walked toward his carriage. As the coach soon clattered down the cobblestones, away from New Town, David knew that it would be a long night. He only wondered if it would be so for Goodfellow, whoever he was.
Anna stumbled back and leaned against the wall for support. Her lungs refused to draw a breath as the words she’d heard echoed through her head. Listening to the hushed conversation outside the door through the hole used by the doormen and footmen to hear their approaching masters, she’d heard enough of the shocking words to know the danger that truly existed for her.
Lord Treybourne!
David Archer was Lord Treybourne.
The man she was coming to like and who had just kissed her so intimately was the very man she hated above all others. How could she have been such an empty-headed ninny?
Her head began to spin as she considered every word he’d said and every deed he’d committed since their meeting. Lies, lies and more lies. Anna lifted her hand to her forehead and dabbed at the perspiration now gathering there. Snippets of conversation flashed through her memory and she realized that, worse than being attracted to this man, she had endangered exactly what she’d hoped to protect by revealing so much to him.
The footsteps on the stairs told her that the servant was returning to his post and she knew that Lord MacLerie would come back inside in another moment or two. She needed to pull herself together and get home where she could consider all the ramifications of her lapse in judgment. Anna stepped out of the alcove and passed the footman on her way to the stairs. Only by placing one foot before the other could she continue up to the drawing room where the others waited.
Oh, no! She realized that not only would she face the discerning gaze of her friend, but she would also have to look Nathaniel in the eyes and not let on that she knew the truth now. Her heart pounded in her chest and the pain of his betrayal twisted like a blade, making it difficult to breathe. Why would he have done such a thing? He’d apologized when they let out their lie about Mr. Archer being Lord Treybourne’s man and she’d accepted it as truth. Making her even more the fool.
And now? What did she do now?
She reached the door, but shook her head at the footman stationed there. Anna needed another moment to gather her wits. She would go in, make her farewells and escape to her own room, where she could mull this over and decide what to do.
What to do? Tears threatened, so she cleared her throat and nodded to the footman who opened the door. The sooner started, the sooner finished and then there would be time to sort through all of her missteps and even to mourn her foolishness and naiveté. The thought occurred just as she caught Clarinda’s gaze.
And the sooner to plan her own revenge for his dishonorable actions. Goodfellow would come in handy in that regard.
Robert returned inside to offer his farewells to the rest of the guests. With a look, he told Nathaniel to wait up for him. Clarinda was all aflutter after the party and she chatted on and on about how the dinner went and how the guests were pleased and about all those details about which women cared so much. It was only his mouth kissing hers and a strenuous and always pleasurable bout of marital intimacy that finally stopped her long enough for the fatigue to catch up with her.
He waited for her to fall asleep in his arms and when she did, he slid from the bed. Robert tugged on the dressing gown and tied it as he walked down to the study. Nathaniel sat nursing a glass of whisky, his current favorite drink. From his appearance, Robert did not think it was the first such glass.
“Is my sister asleep?”
“Sleeping like a weel-fed bairn,” he replied, allowing his accent to leak through. He seemed to fall back into it while on his estates in the Highlands and lose it when here in the city or in England. An attempt at civility, he supposed, in the face of such prejudice against native Scots.
“So you spoke to him?”
“Yes, and I warned him off.”
“Do you think it will work? Did he say when he was leaving?”
Robert walked to the sideboard and poured his own glass. “He is frustrated over not being able to find Goodfellow. Once this issue is out, he will go back to London to write his reply.” He drank some down and then looked at Nathaniel. “The bigger concern must be An— Goodfellow’s essay. Will it be toned down and less inflammatory?”
“I doubt it,” Nathaniel admitted. “She understands the need, but was incensed by the last one. She said a man of honor would not back down from the insults.”
“That, Nathaniel, is the problem. The lass has more honor than most of the nobility in Scotland and England combined. It is difficult to believe she does not hail from the Highlands.”
He thought back on Treybourne’s leaving this evening and realized that something else was happening as well. “I have often thought that Anna would be led by her sense of honor until her heart was engaged.”
“You think they are involved?” Nathaniel shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of a formidable adversary for Anna’s heart. Robert hesitated to reveal the complete threat as he saw it.
“I think that there are some tender feelings between them….” He stopped and thought about the scene he’d witnessed in the entryway as Treybourne was leaving. Robert did not ever remember seeing such an expression on Anna’s face before. He should have intervened, but it was only a kiss on her wrist. Then, after he saw the effect it had on her, Robert wished he had stopped it.
“If there is something between them, why does Treybourne not make an offer of marriage for her? Although gentry, her father was a baronet, a respectable title. With the wealth of his grandfather’s estates and those held in trust for the titles he will inherit from his father, he does not need to marry for money.”
“She would refuse him as soon as he revealed his identity, of course,” Nathaniel argued.
Robert thought about it more and shook his head. “I think, that with the correct amount of remorse and apology, Treybourne could make his case. So, what is it then that keeps him from doing so? Why did he need to come here under a false identity?”
Nathaniel considered his words and nodded again. “He has something to hide. Something that will keep them apart.”
“He sent investigators here to find Goodfellow. I think we should do the same and discover what else Dursby’s heir is hiding.”
“Do you have someone in mind?” Nathaniel asked. “There is some need for haste with the way this is going.”
“My father has a man-of-business in London who I trust with something this personal. I will send word tomorrow and see what he can find.”
“Anna—” Nathaniel began.
“We need not hurt her with anything we find. If he is the man of honor that you believe him to be, he will not take advantage of her. We need not besmirch his reputation to her or anyone as long as he does what he said he would and leaves when finished.”
Nathaniel poured another two fingers of whisky in both glasses and handed his to him. Robert drank it down, deciding that it was the last one. He stood and looked at his brother by marriage.
“Will Treybourne discover the truth here?”
“Robbie, we have done everything we can to make that impossible. The arrangements have withstood other inquiries.”
The words did not reassure him. The whisky now swirling in his gut did not help, either.
Chapter Fourteen
The w
ords would not come out, but the tears did.
Her candles had long since burned down to stubs and still she struggled to accept the truth of Lord Treybourne’s presence and betrayal and to find Goodfellow’s next message. Anna picked up the slate and rubbed the second passage into oblivion. Again.
Paper was too precious a cost to waste on her drafts, especially when any one essay went through three or four or five versions before she was happy with the tone and the content. This one had passed five versions about the time when she should have retired for the night. Admittedly, there were other reasons this night for her inability to concentrate on her task.
His face invaded her thoughts once more. The memory of the intensity of his blue gaze as he lifted her hand to his mouth and the heat as he touched his lips to her wrist sent shivers through her body even now. His words had sounded so sincere, passionate even, as he stared into her eyes at that moment.
Damn the man!
Regret at her lack of control, over her use of inappropriate words and her stupidity in not having seen through the deception filled her.
A part of her wished she’d not learned the truth until after Goodfellow’s message was complete. The task was difficult enough without adding the emotional upheaval in which she found herself. Try as she might to convince herself to the contrary, she had let her enemy too close and now feared all of the possible outcomes.
Now, as she tried to sort through her confusion and hurt, Anna was afraid to sleep before she organized her thoughts and used what Mr. Archer, or Lord Treybourne, had told her about himself and his position. Considering the way he spoke of “Lord Treybourne” as a separate person, she wondered where the truth of his words began and ended. Pulling her robe tighter around her, she turned the remaining lamp up a bit so she could see how bad, or possibly good, her last efforts were.
The slate hit the desk with a thump. It was bad.
None of the specifics fit her arguments. The tone and attitude was wrong. When Nathaniel had returned from the country and his meeting with his father, they had discussed at length the need to appease Mr. Archer. Not exactly that, for she agreed that the essay needed to be centered on the topic and not the person. After all Mr. Archer had allowed, the cad! She thought in retrospect that Goodfellow could certainly answer the insult. Despite the truth of his identity, it was still the answer to their shared problem and she tried to seize on the idea now.
Again.
But, the words would not come.
Anna lifted the teapot and discovered it empty. It was too late to brew more, or to even heat the necessary water, so she poured some water from her bedside pitcher and sipped that. The sleeve of her robe slid down her arm, exposing her wrists. She feared that this was the cause of her inability to write.
Overstimulation of the inappropriate kind, considering the truth she now knew.
Overstimulation of the most exciting and appealing type, regardless of the truth. Lord Treybourne was the most handsome man she’d met and with all honesty she could admit that it was true even when she thought him to be only Mr. Archer.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, seeking clarity, and all she could see there was his gaze as he lifted her hand to his mouth. The heat of his lips and their teasingly soft touch against her pulse came alive and she peered at her wrist to see if some mark remained. Instead her pulse quickened and more shudders tore through her, leaving her breathless and in awe that such a small thing could cause such a large disturbance in her.
Scandalous sensations that made her toes curl.
Scandalous sensations brought on by the very man she loathed and one who was behaving in the most awful way possible for someone of good breeding and noble rank. Just like all those years ago…
Shaking herself, she gulped down the remaining water in her cup, hoping it would help to cool down from the improper emotions racing through her body.
The worst part was that she recognized these erratic and pleasurable feelings as the reason why so many good, God-fearing women fell into sin. Many of the girls in her school reported that they participated in their own downfall and, after experiencing the passion of just two of the diabolical kisses of her adversary, Anna could well understand why.
The truly startling revelation to her, for the short time that his deception had lasted, had been that for once she might understand the appeal of marriage. For so long she’d opposed even the thought of that institution, but she’d let down her guard with this one and the idea had crept inside her heart, even as he had.
The thought of marriage to someone like “Mr. Archer,” who believed in what she believed, who seemed to like her sister, who worked for a living and did not live off the work of others, who stirred feelings within her that she’d long denied even existed… Well, marriage to him would be different.
Anna laughed softly and with derision at her contemptible lack of awareness and at the sad way she was willing to change her whole perspective because of a few kisses.
A few kisses by a man who lied at every encounter between them.
Exhaustion covered her and threatened to send her sprawling to the surface of the desk. Anna looked at the too-empty slate on the desk before her. Morning raced at her and Lord Treybourne and his latest essay must be answered. Then she would worry about the weaknesses in her defenses concerning men like him. Surely she could come with a plan that would allow her, at some advantageous point, to reveal his identity and spurn his questionable efforts to gain some measure of personal involvement with her.
Her conscience flared and reminded her that he had not truly taken any steps toward her—no offer had been made nor any words of affection exchanged. Indeed, even recognizing that no offer could be made or accepted in their current circumstances did not put an end to the confusing and haunting feelings of passion stirring within her at just the thought of his nearness or his touch or his kiss.
Whatever the connection between them, it was at an end. She and the causes and people she supported could not afford the risk of such a relationship with a man capable of destroying everything. And Anna could not allow herself to lose control over her words, thoughts or her actions. Not now when her goals were in sight.
She picked up the slate and leaned back in her chair, reading the words aloud. Originally, she planned to accept “Mr. Archer’s” offer of a truce, but with his perfidy known to her, Anna found it difficult to be so agreeable. No, she shook her head, she would not be so soft now. The phrasing still did not convey her thoughts and, more importantly, did not make Mr. Goodfellow’s points.
Still, thoughts of the man and his appeal clamored within her. Anna realized that what they had shared could be the first steps in an honorable relationship or a seduction. But, now that she knew the truth behind the façade, she wondered which was his aim. The Mr. Archer she thought she knew would not be of a mind to seduce an “innocent” young woman.
And Lord Treybourne’s true purpose? Well, she had little to go by other than his words and his essays. Could she believe that he was there only to find Goodfellow? Why did he feel it necessary to hide behind a false personality?
This was far too confusing and she needed to write this essay now. She would put off all other thoughts and uncertainty until it was finished and published. She would have to face Nathaniel over this, too, and feared the repercussions of such a confrontation. Their friendship was long-standing and Anna felt certain that Nathaniel’s cooperation in any subterfuge was his attempt to protect her. Lord MacLerie could be forgiven, for the same excuse could be claimed by him as well.
Anna placed the slate on the desk and rolled her shoulders to loosen the growing tension there. Taking in and letting out a few deep breaths, she thought back to the conversations from dinner tonight and tried to pick out a few snippets of Lord Treybourne’s words that could be used…against him.
The clock below the stairs chimed softly, announcing that the hour of four in the morning had been reached and reminding her of her continui
ng failure. Holding her head in her hands, Anna searched for something that “Mr. Archer” had said tonight. Something about rules of rhetoric, a topic lacking in hers or any other woman of quality’s education for it was thought to be both unnecessary and inadvisable to teach women.
His words teased her for a while longer until she finally grasped the missing element of her argument. Then, first with chalk and slate and then in a finer hand with pen on paper, the essay flowed out from her, making her points and making infinite sense while treading the fine line between goading and appeasing. Her other concerns faded into the night as she wrote…and wrote.
It was nearly noon when Anna declared it satisfactory to her and had it sent over to the Gazette office their usual way—two different boys with it changing hands in the Old Town before landing on Nathaniel’s desk at the office. Exhausted by the overnight writing session and all the strain and worry from these last days of preparation, Anna fell into bed and slept.
Nathaniel’s reaction would arrive on her doorstep soon enough, but more important to her in that last moment of wakefulness was, what would “Mr. Archer” think of it?
He opened the wrapping and spread the page out before him on the desk. Taking a deep breath, he read from beginning to end without pause as was his usual custom. Then he read each paragraph separately and evaluated the tone and phrasing. Last, he took each point made and assessed its clarity of purpose.
Astounding! She was truly an incredible woman, able to produce something like this, an essay of substance, and yet she followed his instructions over the lengths to which she could go to make her points. Stunning!
Nathaniel read it once more before handing it to Lesher for typesetting within the issue. As Trey had said, some retaliation would be expected, but Anna had used just a touch of sarcasm and enough emotion without the essay sounding too soft after the attack leveled by his lordship. After thinking on it, he scratched out the word “scurrilous.” Other than that, it was perfect.
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