by Jo Beverley
Meredith hastily broke in. “Surely this is not necessary, your ladyship. Annabel will be quite happy to live at Stanton House, once she has grown used to the idea. In any event, I would not be able to support a household in Mayfair on my income. And you know we cannot touch Annabel’s fortune.”
Why wouldn’t they understand? Annabel needed more protection and guidance than Meredith could provide. She glanced at Lord Silverton, who looked as if he were trying not to laugh.
Meredith gritted her teeth and stubbornly carried on. “I believe Annabel should be with her grandparents. That is clearly the best solution to our problem.”
Lady Stanton wrinkled her nose in gentle dismay. “I’m sorry, my dear, but that is just not possible. You saw how strongly the general reacted to your visit this morning.” Annabel peered at her grandmother, who patted her hand reassuringly. “While I have no doubt my husband will accept Annabel into our family, he is not amenable to sudden changes in the household.”
She paused delicately. “It would be better, for the moment, if you were to set up your own establishment. There will be no difficulty in keeping you safe, I am sure. You cannot stay here if Annabel is to have a successful Season. And since we are speaking so frankly, my dear Miss Burnley,” Lady Stanton continued dryly, “you must know the Stantons are well able to support both you and your sister in the appropriate style.”
Meredith sighed. In all the excitement of the last hour, she had forgotten her ladyship’s intention to launch her into society.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said politely but firmly, “but as I said in the carriage, there is no reason for me to have a Season. I must reiterate that I do not wish it.”
Her ladyship cheerfully waved away her attempts at refusal and began to discuss townhouses in Mayfair with Lord Silverton and Robert. Annabel chimed in excitedly, and even Miss Noyes ventured to make a few hesitant suggestions. None of them even glanced at Meredith as they debated the merits of possible living arrangements and how soon they could move from Hans Town. She had the distinct and unpleasant impression she had somehow become invisible.
“Silverton.” Lady Stanton smiled at her nephew. “I would be most grateful if you could take this in hand and find the girls a suitable house.”
Meredith felt ready to shred her bonnet in frustration. Obviously she had lost the battle to settle Annabel at Stanton House, but to be further indebted to Lord Silverton didn’t bear thinking about. He was so dangerously attractive, the less she had to do with him, the better.
“Lady Stanton,” she exclaimed, “I am most grateful for all your kindness, but it isn’t necessary for his lordship to put himself out on our behalf. I will make suitable arrangements for Annabel and myself.”
Lady Stanton glanced at Lord Silverton, lifting one brow in a question. He briefly returned his aunt’s look before sweeping an imperious gaze over Meredith.
“There is no need to worry, Miss Burnley.” Meredith could swear she heard a faint note of mocking laughter in his voice. “My secretary, Mr. Chislett, will be the one to suffer the inconvenience, since he will conduct the search, not I.”
That silenced her, as she could think of no polite way to respond to such irritating condescension. Since Meredith had not the faintest idea how to go about renting a house in London, she grudgingly supposed she must bow to the inevitable and do it with as much good grace as she could muster. In any event, she didn’t have the energy to wage another battle today.
Lord Silverton must have read her thoughts, for his cynical mouth curved into a lazy and seductive smile that scattered her wits like buckshot. She felt as if she had just toppled off a cliff, a sensation she found both disconcerting and extremely annoying.
Meredith repressed a sudden and childish impulse to box Lord Silverton’s ears as she wondered how a man she had met only a few hours ago could so easily bring out the worst in her.
Chapter Four
Silverton lifted a hand in farewell to the Burnley sisters as they stood on the front stoop of Miss Noyes’s tiny house, their arms wrapped securely about each other. Annabel looked like a child beside the statuesque Meredith. She was slender and pretty, carrying herself with a sylphlike grace that would attract bachelors like flies to sugar water. Meredith would also attract her share of suitors, he knew, but for entirely different reasons.
The woman was, quite simply, the most physically captivating female he had met in years. Her extraordinary eyes and ivory complexion, her glossy black hair—all those things painted a most fetching portrait. But it was her superb figure that would stop a man in his tracks. She had a beautiful body, with generous breasts and rounded hips that flared luxuriously from a slim waist. Even more compelling, Meredith exuded a subtle yet powerful sensuality that promised a myriad of delights to the man lucky enough to bed her.
Yes, Silverton had thoroughly enjoyed studying Meredith’s lush beauty, even though he knew his attentions had made her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
The afternoon—for many reasons—had proven to be as diverting as he had hoped it would be. He had, of course, been truly touched by Aunt Georgina’s meeting with her granddaughter and delighted to see them united. And he was genuinely pleased to meet his newfound cousin Annabel.
But the real fun had come from teasing Meredith. Silverton had been unable to resist. Despite her masterful ways, her naïve assumptions had made it difficult for him not to laugh at her. To expect that Annabel could move directly to Stanton House, especially after the general’s reaction this morning…Well, in spite of all her self-assurance, Meredith was obviously a babe in the woods. The scandal of Elizabeth Stanton’s elopement had been enormous, and although the gossip had faded years ago, the ton had a very long memory. The appearance of the long-lost grandchild would cause a great deal of chatter, something General Stanton would surely loathe.
Aunt Georgina was right. The sisters needed a quiet house in Mayfair and a gradual introduction into society. Annabel’s debut would be difficult enough, but the obstacles facing Meredith were even greater.
His aunt’s insistence that Meredith also be launched on the marriage mart had startled him. Silverton honored her for doing it, especially since the general would no doubt react with fury to the idea. After all her sacrifices for Annabel, Meredith deserved more than a solitary life as a country spinster, and her respectable fortune should be able to attract the attention of at least a baronet or a knight. Her beautiful face and form would do the rest.
Silverton moved restlessly on the plush velvet cushions of Lady Stanton’s landau, frowning down at his hands as they suddenly clenched into fists. It struck him rather forcefully that he didn’t much like the notion of other men courting Meredith.
“Well, Stephen, what do you think?”
Silverton blinked. He had almost forgotten his aunt’s presence in the carriage.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Georgina,” he apologized with a smile. “What do I think about what?”
She glanced from the open carriage to Robert, who rode next to them on his bay mare. Aunt Georgina obviously didn’t want the lad to overhear their conversation.
“What do you think about your cousin Annabel, Stephen?”
“She seems a perfectly delightful girl. I’m very happy you have found each other.”
His aunt’s joyous smile practically blinded him. “Thank you, my dear. And thank you for coming with me today. I appreciate your assistance, especially since the general did not wish me to visit our granddaughter.”
“No thanks are necessary, my lady. You know that you have only to command me.” Silverton meant every word. Aunt Georgina had been the touchstone of his life for as long he could remember, and he would do almost anything for her.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Hmm,” she murmured. “I wonder…”
“I beg your pardon?” He straightened in his seat, startled by the intensity of her gaze. He had seen that look before, and it always meant trouble—trouble for him, anyway.
; “Annabel is very pretty, is she not?”
“Yes, my lady. Very pretty.”
“And she seems to have a very sweet character—loving, loyal, and kind.” Her voice was deceptively bland.
Silverton cautiously nodded his agreement, certain now that his aunt was up to something.
“And such a large portion, too—at least ten thousand a year that her mother inherited from my sister, Regina.”
He was familiar with the history of Annabel’s inheritance. Regina Compton was the oldest daughter of a very wealthy earl, and had never married. When she died at the age of forty-five, she left her entire fortune to her favorite niece, Elizabeth Stanton. Elizabeth’s financial independence had allowed her to defy General Stanton’s wishes and elope with Thomas Burnley, the handsome son of a wool merchant from Bristol. That fortune, after the death of both her parents, had eventually come to Annabel.
“Such a generous portion will make her vulnerable to fortune hunters,” Aunt Georgina mused, her eyes darting over the busy street as if she were searching for something.
He sighed. “My dear ma’am, what exactly are you trying to say?”
She fidgeted with her reticule. The small movement alarmed him; his aunt never fidgeted.
“The girl needs a husband, and soon.”
Prickles of warning rippled down his spine. “So I understand,” he replied slowly.
“And you, my dear nephew, are in need of a wife.”
Silverton bit back an oath. Surely his aunt could not be serious. Either that, or the shock of meeting Annabel had caused her to lose her wits. “I hope you aren’t proposing me as a candidate, my lady.”
She looked imperiously down her nose at him. “Stephen, that is exactly what I am suggesting. She is a delightful girl, as you said yourself, and would make you a perfectly lovely wife.”
“My dear aunt, she is just a child!”
“Who will soon grow into a beautiful young woman. You know as well as I, these types of alliances can greatly strengthen the bonds in a family like ours. The general and I are second cousins. As you know, our parents arranged the match, and it was of great benefit to both of us.”
Silverton’s amazement grew. “Good lord, Aunt Georgina, surely you are not comparing Annabel and me to you and my uncle. May I remind you, I’m thirty-four and she is barely seventeen. I’m almost old enough to be her father. Forgive me, but the idea is simply ludicrous, and I’m sure my cousin would agree.”
His aunt lifted her eyebrows in a polite but incredulous expression. “Really, Silverton, I have little doubt you could make Annabel love you, once you set your mind to it. In any event, it’s not the least unusual to see such a disparity in age between husband and wife, and you know it. I begin to wonder if there is some other reason, besides her age, why you don’t wish to consider my suggestion.”
Silverton was beginning to ask himself the same question, but he hardly felt inclined to discuss a possible explanation with his aunt.
The silence between them lengthened. Aunt Georgina continued to study him with an enigmatic expression. He sighed inwardly, knowing how determined she could be when she had the bit between her teeth.
“Stephen,” she eventually said, “you know very well it is long past time for you to start a family. I don’t believe that waiting any longer will make a whit of difference to you. No woman in your past has ever come up to scratch. At least,” she paused meaningfully, “none since Esme Newton.”
Silverton jerked his head back, astounded that his aunt would dare to broach that particular subject. He clenched his teeth against the quick surge of anger and wounded pride that flowed through him at the painful reminder of his youthful infatuation.
Several heartbeats later, he had himself under sufficient control to respond in a suitably bored voice to her insightful but unwelcome remarks. “My dear ma’am, surely you have not forgotten that even the lovely Esme failed to come up to scratch.” He met Aunt Georgina’s eyes with a steady but defiant gaze, silently daring her to contradict him.
She stared back with a veiled expression on her face, but her lips were compressed into a thin line.
“You are the Marquess of Silverton. You have a duty to your name and estate. This would be an excellent match and would heal the wounds that have festered in our family for many long years. Annabel needs a powerful man to protect her, and you need a wife who is worthy of you. The marriage would be of great benefit to the entire family.”
She sighed, worry lines reappearing on her brow and around her eyes. “And you know as well as I that we can only do so much to protect Annabel. Isaac Burnley is her legal guardian. He could make our lives very difficult if he chose to do so.”
Silverton had to acknowledge the truth of that, as well as the urgency of the situation. He nodded reluctantly, even though he hated every word she said.
Lady Stanton finally relented. “My dearest Stephen, you are not a boy like Robert. You are a man who must make his own decisions, ones that are appropriate and honorable. All I ask is for you to spend time with Annabel. Perhaps you will find courting her not as difficult as you think.”
Silverton grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “Of course I will consider it, Aunt Georgina. I never want to disappoint you, or my family.”
She smiled gratefully at him and turned the conversation, perhaps sensing that further discussion would only increase his resistance. Silverton lapsed into thought as he tried to imagine what it would be like to court Annabel, perhaps even wed her.
But another image—an incredibly compelling image—pushed its way into his mind, and he feared it would come to haunt him in the days ahead. Only one woman interested him now, and she was, both by his and the ton’s standards, completely unsuitable.
That woman, God help him, was Meredith Burnley.
Chapter Five
Meredith heard Annabel’s silvery laughter drift down the hallway a full minute before her sister entered the room. She marveled again at the girl’s seemingly miraculous recovery since reaching London. Meredith couldn’t begin to describe her own sense of relief, but she still puzzled over the extraordinary changes in her sister’s behavior.
Why had Annabel been so ill at Swallow Hill? Their uncle had maintained that she would never regain her health at home, and Meredith grudgingly admitted he was right. But she also had no doubt that committing the girl to a private asylum would have killed Annabel. Clearly Dr. Leeds was sadly mistaken, and Meredith had no regrets she had fled with her sister to London.
Annabel skipped into the breakfast room, waving several brightly colored fabric swatches in her hand. “Meredith, Miss Noyes wants you to come to the drawing room and pick out the new draperies for that room and the dining room. She says so many choices are likely to give her a spasm if someone doesn’t help her.” She laughed again.
Meredith’s chest constricted with an almost painful love. The girl looked so delicate and beautiful in a dainty primrose morning gown, her fashionable new haircut swept back off her neck with matching ribbons. She, in contrast, was wearing her oldest gown and had pulled her hair back into a simple knot at the nape of her neck in order to keep her hair out of her face as she worked.
There were times when her sister’s youth and beauty forcibly reminded Meredith of her own rapid advance into spinsterhood. Annabel meant the world to her, but never had she felt so keenly the differences between them.
She put down her basket of linens and forced herself to smile. “Yes, darling. Tell Miss Noyes I’ll be with her in a few minutes. I just need to organize the mending and give Cook the shopping list for the next few days.”
“All right, Meredith, but please don’t be long. You promised we could go for a walk in the park this afternoon. It’s been ages since we’ve been able to go outside.”
Annabel whirled around and dashed out of the room, her eager steps fading down the hallway to the front of the house. Meredith shook her head at the girl’s exuberant energy, contrasting it with her own se
nse of exhaustion after the tumultuous move to their new townhouse near Berkeley Square.
She hated to admit it, but Lord Silverton had found exactly what they required. Discreetly situated on a quiet street, removed from the noise and bustle of the city, the house afforded them the privacy and security they needed until Annabel was ready to make her debut.
Meredith turned a critical eye on the small, cheerful breakfast parlor situated at the back of the house. It was flooded with sunlight for a good part of the day and just far enough from the other main rooms to be private. She had decided to convert it into a studio where she could paint and Annabel could draw and read her novels without being disturbed by the rest of their small household.
She inspected the contents of the wooden chest beneath the south-facing window. Meredith grimaced at the meager collection of brushes and paints she had managed to acquire in the mad rush of the last few days. It had pained her greatly to leave her supplies and sketchbooks behind when they had fled their home. And she didn’t even want to think about what her aunt and uncle might do to her work—the precious paintings that had given her so much comfort during the dreary years after her father’s death.
In the depths of her soul, Meredith was an artist. She knew she had talent. As a child, her father and stepmother had always encouraged her, allowing her to spend hours on end in a tiny, makeshift studio next to the schoolroom. But although they had approved of her passion for her art, they had often deplored the subject matter.
Meredith sighed as she reflected on the fate of one of her favorite pictures. Just before her father’s death, she had completed a large canvas that depicted the birth of Athena, springing full-blown from the head of Zeus. Miss Noyes had screamed when she saw it, and her father had claimed it gave him the headache. It had been banished to the attic, along with a number of other works that had suffered a similar fate.
