“Allow me.” Without waiting for her to invite him in, Lord Pershore entered the room and picked up some of the papers.
She picked up the rest and clutched them all to her chest. He hadn’t noticed his name on any of the papers, had he? “What are you doing here?” she demanded, glancing around.
He flushed. “You were taking a long time, and Lady Emily thought… I did not mean to startle you.”
Anna lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, too. Shall we?”
Amazingly, he offered her his arm, and she only hesitated a moment before taking it. They rejoined the others, and despite the brisk weather, everyone agreed with her suggestion that she read outside. She led them to her favorite rock, which she stood on and read the story by lantern light. Everyone enjoyed the tale and clapped when she finished, and Anna flushed with pride.
But then it all crumbled apart. The duke bid everyone farewell and left, and Emily and Lord Tipton, along with a chaperone, went off for a walk, leaving Anna alone with Lord Pershore, and her maid as chaperone.
Anna fiddled with her papers and clutched them to her chest. “I confess I overheard you talking earlier about gossips. You seem rather… predisposed toward not liking them. Which I understand,” she rushed to add. “Speaking about others behind their backs is not kindly at all…”
Oh, perhaps one day she should learn that the words out of her mouth were nowhere near as eloquent as the ones she quilled!
* * *
Why was Lady Anna bringing up this conversation? She seemed so flustered and rattled. Were his musings about her role in that particular nasty affair correct after all? Her story had been enjoyable and adventurous, and he had enjoyed hearing it immensely. It suggested that she took up the quill often. Why, she might even write for…
Jasper did his best to not scowl. “I think that those who would lie to sell papers should be hanged.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back on the rock.
He held out his hand to help her down. “I do not care for the likes of The Teatime Tattler especially. It grates me that—”
“Have you read Aunt Augusta’s column? She gives ladies and gentlemen hope and advice about love and more. I, myself, find it a kind read. Surely even you can find no fault with it.”
He scoffed. “Every week, Aunt Augusta repeats herself. ‘Love will find a way.’ ‘Love is worth the wait.’ She oversimplifies love.”
“So you think love is complicated?”
Belatedly, he realized their hands were still clasped, and he released his hold on her. “Matters of the heart are complicated, trying… very difficult.”
“It sounds like there might be a story there,” she said with a teasing smile.
He couldn’t tell her, wouldn’t, but for a brief moment, he did consider it. Why bother? It was trying to move on as it was, and he was having difficulty doing so. Talking about it would not help, and of all people, why should he tell her?
For once, though, conversation with her did not feel forced or awkward.
A sudden gust of wind blew a few papers from Lady Anna’s hand. Laughing, they chased each one down, and when they captured them all, Jasper held out a hand to secure them for her. They stood far too close together—their chaperone seemed to be missing—and he stared down at her. He couldn’t understand why she hid herself away from gatherings, like he did. If she went to all the balls and gatherings, she would be betrothed herself. She was a fine, beautiful lady and…
“You make me want to become a thief,” he murmured, not quite understanding why he felt this way.
“A thief? I make you want to steal what exactly?” She looked up at him from beneath her long eyelashes.
“A kiss.”
Her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink. From the excursion of retrieving her papers? Or from his words?
Her eyes fluttered close, and she lifted her chin. He started to close his eyes when he spied a word on one of the papers she held.
His name.
How curious. He stepped back and read a page he held. “I’m the villain of the tale? Not George?”
Lady Anna opened and closed her mouth. Words seemed to have failed her. Crossing his arms, Jasper waited for an explanation.
* * *
Mortified, Anna tried to think of something to say that did not sound completely horrible. He is going to think the worst of me, and I deserve it. Mother wanted me to give him a chance, and I hadn’t wanted to at first, and now…
She stared at the papers he held. “When I first met you, I…” she said slowly, attempting to explain the matter honestly, “I thought you appalling and terrible, and, well, I even wrote you a letter about how unsuitable you are, and why am I still talking? You could have stopped me at any time!” If she had a free hand, she would have covered her mouth.
To her astonishment, Lord Pershore laughed, the sound strangely settling her nerves. “Unsuitable for what?”
“I would rather not say.” Her cheeks felt so warm despite the brisk air.
“I wish to see such a letter.”
“Oh, no! I didn’t know you and—”
“You don’t know me entirely now.”
“Not yet,” she conceded, “but… I think… I think I might want to. Will you be going to the duchess’s house party?”
“I hadn’t decided yet, but I might be able to be persuaded to.”
Anna smiled shyly. She should have given him a chance right from the start, as her mother had wished. Perhaps first impressions weren’t always accurate.
They started to walk back toward the house, completely at ease with each other, when curiosity stirred her to ask, “Might you one day tell me your story?”
In an instant, he stiffened. “Perhaps.”
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked lightly.
He didn’t answer.
Was it because of her letter? Why had she mentioned it at all?
Or perhaps it was because he thought her prying and prone to gossip. If he were to discover that her mother was Aunt Augusta…
It did not surprise Anna that Lord Pershore left shortly thereafter, but it did surprise her that she missed him already.
Perhaps the house party would thaw her heart from Benjamin, and perhaps one day, Lord Pershore would steal that kiss.
Perhaps a Christmas kiss…
She found herself hoping that might be the case.
Chapter 12
Afterward, Anna retreated again into her isolation. She could not bear the thought of running into the duke. Repeatedly, she thought over their every interaction. He had been charming, always, but he had never showed her any bit of favoritism, she soon came to realize, and she had no one to blame but herself for being so torn about his engagement. It wasn’t as if he had confessed his love for her then either. While she did think it noble that he would go to such lengths for a friend, it also struck her as tragic. If she knew Benjamin at all, she knew he wasn’t ready for marriage. Not yet at least.
But the matter wasn’t up to her, and she could not wait until he was ready, as he was no longer her concern. Which left her without a suitor and without a gentleman she even wished to consider.
Emily had not been making any headway with Lord Tipton either. Charles Russel, the Earl of Tipton. An intelligent man, although a quiet one. He had a tendency to keep to himself, and he wasn’t one much for dancing either.
Anna had come close to finishing her story about the dastardly villainous Lord Pershore, but instead of working on that one, she opted to start a new one where Lord Tipton was madly in love with Emily and had to rescue her from the villain—yes, Lord Pershore again. Creating these stories were the only time her heart did not ache.
One day, near the end of November, she found her mother in the parlor, reading one of her stories.
“You should have asked first.” Anna suppressed the desire to snatch the pages from her mother.
“You have quite a talent.”
Anna flushed. “I am not that good a
t all,” she protested. “My stories are merely meant to entertain children—”
“Or a wider audience. You and I both read and enjoyed Sense and Sensibility. A lady wrote that. Why can’t you consider doing the same?”
Anna gaped at her. The thought had never occurred to her. “But… but that’s not done!” Even so, her mind was already churning, and a fierce desire came over her. It would be a dream for her to sell her stories. Why, she could give the monies to charity!
Her mother placed the pages down on the table, gracefully stood, and clasped Anna’s hands. “I see how you are suffering and also how much enjoyment you get out of your writing. It occupies your mind and keeps you from thinking about the duke and his upcoming marriage.”
Anna’s eyes widened. She shouldn’t be shocked, but she hadn’t confided Benjamin’s secret to her mother.
“I’ve been doing what I can to keep the circumstances hushed. I must say, that he is willing to do this for Florentina does say much and more about his character. Perhaps I misjudged him.”
“It is too late now,” Anna said stiffly.
“My dear…” Her mother squeezed Anna’s hands. “If he truly is the man for you, love will find a way, but I do wish you would go out more.”
“And find another gentleman?”
“Or merely see your friends.”
Anna lowered her head then nodded. “I take it you have an event in mind?”
“Actually…”
* * *
* * *
4th December, 1812
Anna fiddled with a dark curl that would not stay put. Her mother had conspired with the marchioness and now Lord Pershore, Lord Tipton, and the Duke of Barnet and his betrothed Florentina would all be coming over shortly, and her nerves would not settle.
“You are not listening to me at all, are you?” Emily sighed. She was sitting on Anna’s bed, while Anna stood by the window.
“I’m sorry. You were speaking about the house party.”
“Yes! It begins in two weeks’ time. I know your mother would be most pleased if you would come.”
“I don’t know if I even have the stomach for tonight’s meal,” Anna murmured.
“Very well then. You have no excuse for the activity on Christmas Eve.”
“I’m sure I can find one,” Anna said with a laugh. Why, this was almost becoming a game. It did strike her as odd that her mother had invited over the duke, but then again, perhaps she thought that if Anna spent time with him and his betrothed, she would be able to get over him that much quicker.
She could only hope that would be the case because the thought of him marrying another, and one he did not love, made her want to wallow in misery.
“And disappoint the poor children?” Emily smiled broadly. “We are all going to visit the local orphanage. You must come!”
“You have me there. I would like to come to the orphanage. But then—”
“You can’t come for just one day and return home, so you’ll have to stay through Christmas Day at least,” Emily mused, tapping a finger to her cheek. “Church and then dinner. And on Boxing Day, well, the duchess is organizing a visit to the local orphanage. That will be ever so much more enjoyable if you were to come with me.”
“Emily…”
“You can skip the costume party on the twenty-seventh if you must, but honestly, the charity ball isn’t until the evening on the thirty-first! I know you promised the orphans at the Home for the Motherless Children that you would have a new story for them on that day, but surely you’ll be done by then?”
A knock on her door saved Anna from answering.
Her mother opened the door. “It is time to receive the guests.” She beamed at them. “You both look lovely.”
Anna glanced at the papers on her desk. She would rather start writing a new story. Last night, she had dreamed she was trapped in a horrible marriage to a man she did not know, and after she woke, she had pulled out the letter she had written to Lord Pershore telling him what a horrible man he was. Rereading it hadn’t made her feel any better.
“Let’s try to have a good time.”
Emily smiled widely as she wrapped her arm around Anna’s. “I will. Lord Tipton won’t have much chance to run from me, not with so few guests.”
“I hope for your sake that things work out.”
Anna could not believe her mother had invited Benjamin and Florentina. Seeing Benjamin with Florentina would not be pleasant.
* * *
* * *
Jasper strolled up to the door when another carriage rolled up, and he paused to see who else had arrived. Benjamin Huxley, Duke of Barnet. Jasper grimaced. He did not like the gentleman from their few encounters. Gossip swirled around the man as if it were a coat, the latest of which suggested his betrothed was pregnant, not that Jasper made it a habit to listen to rumors.
He waited for the lady to make an appearance, but only Barnet approached.
“Where is—”
“Florentina is feeling poorly, so she will not be joining us.” Barnet adjusted his coat. “Let’s not keep our hosts waiting.”
“Indeed,” Jasper muttered, and he trailed behind the duke.
As he had known it would be, the entire affair was awkward. Lady Emily, daughter of the Earl of Seaton, was obviously in love with Charles Russel, the Earl of Tipton, but the man hardly spoke a word to anyone. And Lady Anna, the lady with more spark than a fire, hardly spoke as well. Barnet more than made up for their silence, filling the room with laughter and conversation.
Perhaps Lady Emily had grown tired of talking at Tipton rather than with him as she turned to Jasper. “You are going to go to the charity ball, aren’t you?”
“I suppose.” His mother would be rather cross with him if he did not.
“And the rest of the festivities?”
“I am not certain yet.”
Lady Emily shook her head. “You and Anna. I confess I do not understand it. She would rather read or write; and you? What would you rather do instead?”
Despite her questions, she did not seem prying, and it was almost refreshing to speak to someone who did not seem to have a hidden agenda. “Actually, I care a great deal for animals.”
“Horses?”
“All kinds. Horses, dogs, cats. Even this morning, I—”
“Do you hunt, Pershore?” Barnet asked, barging his way into the conversation.
“Yes,” Jasper admitted. “I’ll hunt. As long as the meat is eaten, I see no harm in it.”
“I agree. There’s nothing more fulfilling than eating the meat of an animal you bested.” Barnet laughed, but Jasper noted for the first time that the sound rang false. He was putting on an act. Curious, but Jasper did not wish to get involved.
However, when the gathering shifted from the dinner table to the parlor, Jasper found himself cornered by the duke, who handed him a full glass of whiskey.
“To celebrate your upcoming nuptials?” Jasper assumed.
Barnet drained his glass and refilled it. “If only…” He shook his head. “I assume word is spreading, like it or not.”
“That she is with child?” Jasper winced. Why had he said that? “I apologize—”
“Is that all that is being said?” Barnet smiled tightly. “Could be worse. I would rather everyone think that.”
“So she isn’t with child?”
“She is, but the child…”
Jasper tipped his glass into Barnet’s. “I understand. Gossips are such terrible people. They seek out information and never bother to first discover whether it be the truth, nor do they consider whether sharing such information is in the best interests of the parties involved.”
“Spoken like a man who has been scorned by gossips himself. Let us drink and forget our troubles.”
“Hear, hear.”
Perhaps Barnet wasn’t so bad after all.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jasper spotted Lady Anna. She was perceptibly trying to hide her eavesdropping, but her r
ed cheeks gave her away. Humph. Was she one of the gossips? She had taken a keen interest in his activities when he had longed for solitude during his visit at her house. Yes, he admitted he had behaved badly, but it had been his first visit in society after the disaster in Sweden, and he hadn’t been ready. That his mother had tried to force a lady on him right from the start…
So Lady Anna was beautiful. And he had heard about her charity work. She was supposedly learned and kind and considerate. Had his poor behavior aggravated her so that she had been that harsh toward him? Or had his actions brought out her true behavior and her mask had slipped?
Did he wish to solve the mystery of the beautiful lady?
Perhaps.
Chapter 13
17th December, 1812
Tomorrow night would be the start of the house party, but Jasper had no intention of going.
“Won’t you consider changing your mind?” his mother asked that afternoon. They were sitting in their parlor, or, rather, his parents were sitting while Jasper stood by the window.
“So many people,” he muttered.
“I know what happened wounded you terribly, but are you willing to give those who wronged you the pleasure of knowing they controlled so much of your life that you would deny yourself the opportunity for happiness?”
He held his tongue.
His mother stood and approached him, touching his shoulder. “I hear from Louisa that her daughter Anna hopes to see you. Won’t you reconsider?”
“I…” He shook his head. Sorting through his past hurt and endeavoring to determine how much he cared for Lady Anna was too much for him. Wouldn’t it be better to stay here, away, where he could never be the object of a scandal?
She sighed. “Very well then. You have been an obedient enough son when I’ve asked for you to go out on other occasions that I won’t demand this of you as well. Only, please do consider attending. Your father and I are.”
Holly and Hopeful Hearts Page 40
