The Chaperon Bride (Harlequin Historical)

by Nicola Cornick

  She stifled a yawn. Nothing particularly exciting ever happened at the Harrogate assemblies. In the summer the residents of the town were joined by the fashionable throngs who came north to take the spa waters, but the place still had a genteel quality, which she was sure the raffish London crowd found rather quaint.

  Sibella waved at her across the ballroom and gestured that she would be coming over in a moment. Annis waved back and smiled. Some very late arrivals were just entering the ballroom. The Master of Ceremonies was bowing so low he had almost doubled himself up. Someone of more consequence than Mr and Mrs Ingram, then. Annis raised her brows.

  Adam Ashwick walked in, accompanied by his brother and the Dowager Lady Ashwick. Annis’s heart jumped once in recognition, then settled to a steady beat. She deliberately looked away, hoping that her colour had not betrayed her brief moment of confusion. She doubted they had noticed. Generally speaking, no one ever looked at chaperons very closely. Annis fidgeted on her rout chair. She felt confused and strangely out of countenance to see Adam again, regardless of the fact that he would probably not approach her. She had missed him and something had felt out of kilter ever since she had dismissed him. Nevertheless, she knew that she could not weaken now.

  There was no doubt that the Ashwick party was working its way towards her quarter of the room. The Dowager Lady Ashwick and her younger son were both well known in Harrogate society and were stopping to speak to their many acquaintances. Since the new Lord Ashwick had spent much of the previous nine years either abroad or in London, he was being introduced to new arrivals and reacquainting himself with old friends. Annis took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

  She allowed her gaze to rest on Adam’s face for a moment, making sure that he did not catch her watching him. He looked very elegant in pale fawn inexpressibles and a black swallowtail coat and his neck cloth was tied in intricate folds that only a London valet could achieve. He was smiling as he answered some question from Lady Cardew and he looked charming, distinguished, everything that Annis might ever have wanted. She felt a pang of mingled regret and longing.

  Annis forced her gaze away and looked at Della Tilney, elegant in the lavender of half-mourning, and from there to the Dowager and to Edward Ashwick. Unlike his elder brother, Edward did not have the figure to carry off evening dress well. His was a more rotund and rather comfortable figure and though his features were very similar to Adam’s, his face was much more open, with a pleasing warmth of expression. Annis found herself warming to his easiness of manners as she watched him greet Lady Cardew and Lady Emily Trumpton. He soon had the old tabbies eating out of his hand.

  Adam Ashwick looked across at her and caught her gaze, and Annis felt a wave of heat wash over her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She stood up and started to edge away from the crowd milling about the Ashwicks. She had reckoned without Della Tilney and the Dowager, however, who now excused themselves from Lady Cardew and cut off her retreat without appearing to do so. It was neatly and seamlessly done.

  ‘Lady Wycherley, how charming to see you again. How do you do?’ The Dowager was only a small woman, but somehow she appeared to be blocking Annis’s path and Annis knew that she could scarcely dodge around her. Della Tilney was approaching on the left now in a clever flanking manoeuvre that Annis could have sworn was deliberate. She drew to a reluctant halt.

  ‘Good evening, Lady Ashwick, Lady Tilney…’

  ‘I believe that you are already acquainted with my elder son, Lord Ashwick,’ the Dowager said. For a second Annis was certain that she saw a spark of mischief in her eyes.

  She cast Adam a brief glance. ‘Good evening, my lord.’

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you again, Lady Wycherley.’

  Adam Ashwick’s voice was smooth and amused. He took her hand in his. Annis risked another look at his face. His cool grey eyes were smiling into hers and in that moment she read all his suppressed amusement at the sight of her in her matronly red dress and matching turban. A vision came into her mind of herself as she had been the night they had met in the garden: the black cloak, her hair free about her shoulders, abandoned and wild. She felt herself blush like a débutante at her first ball and looked away hastily.

  The Dowager had excused herself, taken her daughter’s arm and moved on, leaving Annis and Adam together. It had been very neatly done.

  ‘I wondered if you would care to dance, Lady Wycherley,’ Adam continued. The pressure of his fingers on hers increased slightly until Annis was obliged to look up again. She met his gaze with a straight look of her own.

  ‘I thank you, my lord, but chaperons do not dance.’

  Adam raised his dark brows arrogantly. ‘Why not? Is there some law against it?’

  Annis frowned faintly. ‘Not exactly—’

  ‘Then you need to consult nothing but your inclination, Lady Wycherley. Besides, I did not ask whether chaperons danced. I asked if you would care to dance with me, which is a vastly different question.’

  Their gazes locked. Annis bit back a smile.

  ‘I see that you are as forthright as ever, my lord. You put me in an impossible position! How am I to refuse without giving offence?’

  Adam grinned. ‘You cannot. Give in to your fate.’

  ‘Then I suppose that it would be quite pleasant to dance with you.’

  His hand was warm on her arm as he steered her on to the floor.

  ‘Only quite pleasant? You are severe, ma’am.’

  It was a quadrille. They drew together, clasped hands and drew apart again.

  ‘It is delightful to see you again,’ Adam said, in an undertone. ‘You observe how good I have been in obeying your strictures and staying away from you.’

  Annis gave him a cool look. ‘I imagined that you had been busy at Eynhallow, my lord.’

  ‘Did you? I assure you that I would have abandoned all my plans to spend some time with you. Still, it is pleasant to know that you have been giving my circumstances some thought. I have missed seeing you, Lady Wycherley. Did you miss me too?’

  Annis gave him a speaking look and he laughed. ‘So you did. How encouraging.’

  ‘I have been far too busy,’ Annis said primly.

  ‘To good effect, I understand. I hear that you are to be rid of your charges in a few weeks, and that they are likely to depart in a blaze of glory. An engagement to Sir Everard Doble for one, I understand, and the younger Norwood son for the other. I congratulate you.’

  Annis smiled. ‘Thank you. I hope that congratulations will be in order, my lord, but I am making no assumptions.’

  ‘Once the Misses Crossley have left you will no longer be a chaperon, will you?’ Adam continued, with limpid innocence. ‘How do you plan to pass your time then, ma’am?’

  Annis gave him a sharp look. ‘I shall then be a chaperon on holiday, my lord,’ she said sweetly. ‘I intend to spend some time at Starbeck before going to London for the Little Season.’

  ‘Do you accompany another young lady to London?’

  ‘Of course. It is my job. I shall be chaperoning Miss Eustacia Copthorne.’

  Adam gave a soundless whistle. ‘You must enjoy a difficult challenge, ma’am. I declare your choices become more testing each time! You would do better to give it all up and spend some time with me.’

  ‘Would that be less challenging, Lord Ashwick?’

  Adam smiled. ‘Maybe not, but it would be more enjoyable. For both of us.’

  They parted, turned, crossed hands and drew together again. Annis took the opportunity to check that Fanny and Lucy were both well in view. They were—and they were gawping at her, along with half the population of the ballroom. As Annis had said, chaperons simply did not dance. It was as though most people assumed they were either incapable of dancing or somehow exempt from the normal entertainments of society.

  The dance was ending and Adam offered her his arm for the customary circuit of the floor.

  ‘That was not so bad, was it?’ he enquired ligh
tly. ‘Perhaps you might give me permission to call on you at Starbeck, ma’am—before you become a chaperon again?’

  Before Annis could reply, Charles was at her elbow, pointedly proprietorial.

  ‘Good evening, coz. Your servant, Ashwick…’

  The men exchanged polite bows. Once again there was an air of constraint between them, then Charles said, a little awkwardly, ‘Mr Ingram asks if you would care to escort my cousin over to join his party, my lord.’

  Annis hesitated and felt Adam stiffen as well. It felt suspiciously like some sort of trap. Charles had delivered the invitation with the unmistakable ring of a royal command and Annis could see that Ingram was watching them across the room with something approaching a gloating pleasure. Evidently he did not expect a refusal.

  She saw the angry colour come into Adam’s face, saw him hesitate as though he was searching for the appropriate words, and with a flash of insight wondered what hold Ingram had over him. Whatever it was, it seemed dangerous. Adam looked as though he would happily throttle the man.

  After what seemed an age, Adam turned to her and bowed with scrupulous courtesy. ‘You must excuse me, Lady Wycherley. I have no wish to offend you, but I fear I cannot accept Mr Ingram’s invitation.’

  He kissed her hand, turned sharply on his heel and strode away.

  ‘Well!’ Charles said, as he and Annis turned as one to watch Adam go. ‘Of all the dashed poor manners—’

  ‘Can you truly blame Lord Ashwick for declining Mr Ingram’s invitation?’ Annis demanded. ‘It seems to me quite natural that he should want nothing to do with him, and rather insensitive of Mr Ingram to push himself on Lord Ashwick’s acquaintance!’

  Charles looked defensive. ‘Yes, but the old man asked me specially to make sure of Ashwick—’

  ‘Oh, I see! You are worried for yourself and fear that you will be in bad odour with your employer because you failed to bring in the prize catch!’ Annis looked at him in exasperation. ‘Really, Charles, are you a man or a mouse? There must be plenty of other business in Harrogate and around even were you to forfeit Ingram’s favour—’

  She knew that she was beating her head against a wall even as she spoke. There was a stubborn, closed expression on her cousin’s face and after a second Annis sighed and took his arm. ‘Both you and Mr Ingram will just have to make do with me, Charles, and I only do it as a favour to you because you are my cousin. I don’t like the man either!’

  Chapter Seven

  Fifteen minutes later, Annis had said all that was polite to Samuel Ingram, exchanged a few words with Sibella and David, and was looking round a little anxiously to try to locate Lucy and Fanny. She was conscious that she had allowed them rather too much latitude that evening. What with the unexpected invitation to dance with Adam Ashwick and the unwelcome summons to join the Ingrams’ party, her chaperon’s duties had come a poor third. Naturally there was a price to pay, and that price was that Fanny had disappeared.

  As Annis reached the edge of the dance floor, Lucy Crossley, pretty in a pale blue dress that matched her eyes, came up and caught her arm.

  ‘Lady Wycherley, I am a little worried about Fanny…’

  ‘Yes?’ Annis kept her voice discreetly low, looking round covertly to make sure that their conversation was not attracting any attention.

  ‘She said that she was going to the ladies’ withdrawing room, but I am afraid…’ Lucy hesitated and Annis saw concern warring with a surreptitious glee in her face ‘…that is, I know she has a tendre for Lieutenant Greaves and I wondered if they had gone out into the gardens.’

  ‘I see,’ Annis said.

  ‘I am not trying to get Fanny into trouble…’ Lucy had a look of limpid innocence that contradicted her words.

  ‘Well,’ Annis said, clamping down on her irritation, which was only made worse by the gleam of hopeful spite in Lucy’s eye, ‘I hope that Fanny may remember that she is affianced to Sir Everard Doble, and the Lieutenant may remember that he is a gentleman.’

  Lucy giggled. ‘Lord, I don’t think so, Lady Wycherley! Barnaby says that Lieutenant Greaves is the worst flirt in Harrogate!’

  ‘Yes, very well, Lucy!’ Annis frowned. ‘I will go to find Fanny, though I am sure this is all a hum. Now, please stay with Lieutenant Norwood until I come back with Fanny, and if Sir Everard Doble comes over, pray tell him that we shall come out to the carriage in a moment.’ She fixed Lucy with a severe look. ‘I trust that you, at least, will behave with discretion!’

  ‘Oh, yes, Lady Wycherley.’ Lucy assumed her most angelic look.

  ‘Good. I am sure that there is no call for concern. I shall see you directly.’

  Annis sighed. She liked Lucy a great deal more than Fanny, but she supposed it was no surprise that the girl was relishing her elder sister’s apparent fall from grace. Fanny had seldom treated Lucy with kindness and now Lucy was having a small revenge. Annis had absolutely no faith that Lucy would hold her tongue. She was a sad rattle and Annis knew she would tell Barnaby Norwood what was going on and then the story would be round Harrogate in no time. Fanny would be branded a flirt, Sir Everard might cut up rough, and all before Sir Robert Crossley had come up with Annis’s payment.

  A search of the ladies’ withdrawing room confirmed what Annis had already suspected; Fanny was nowhere to be found and the attendant had not seen her. Annis retraced her steps to the passage and paused for thought. There were no gardens at the Dragon and the possibilities for private conversation were therefore very limited. Could Fanny and Lieutenant Greaves have gone into one of the public rooms, hoping to grasp a few moments on their own? If so, Annis thought they were taking an enormous risk of discovery, but perhaps that might add to the excitement.

  First though, before she panicked, Annis thought that she should try the supper room. Given Fanny’s penchant for food, it was entirely possible that she might be found tidying up the crumbs left over from supper. Annis had noticed that Fanny had been particularly partial to the pigeon pie that evening…

  Fanny was not in the supper room and the servants who were clearing the food away had not seen her. Annis went out into the Dragon’s impressive entrance hall and opened a door at random. It was the library and it was quite deserted at this time of night. The fire was lit and one candle burned, but the room was empty. Next door was the writing room, and as Annis opened the door she heard voices.

  ‘I ’eard as you were looking for information about Mr Ingram, my lord. I’ve got something that might interest you, but it’ll cost you…’

  ‘How much, Woodhouse?’

  Annis recognised Adam Ashwick’s incisive tones and paused, her hand still on the doorknob. Neither man appeared to have heard the door open for they were standing at the far end of the room in the window embrasure. The long windows were, in fact, slightly ajar. Woodhouse had his back to the door and Adam was half-turned away from it. Annis heard the clink of guineas. She could also smell the strong scent of ale. Every time Woodhouse moved another wave of it filled the room.

  ‘For two hundred I could guarantee to point you in the right direction, m’lord.’

  ‘I will pay you three hundred, you old scoundrel.’ Distaste and amusement warred in Adam’s voice, ‘Here is half that on account and the rest will be on delivery, but for that I expect the best quality information. And proof, Woodhouse. Otherwise Ingram will tell me to go hang!’

  Annis drew a sharp breath. She knew that she should withdraw, for Fanny Crossley was certainly not here and whatever Adam was discussing with Woodhouse was none of her business. She had known that he was no friend to Ingram and if he sought information to bring the man down, then that was his affair. She was about to tiptoe back the way she had come, when she heard Woodhouse mention Charles’s name. She paused.

  ‘A little tip, my lord…’ Woodhouse gave a cackle of laughter. ‘You should look into Mr Lafoy’s activities. There’s a gentleman that could do with watching. Ingram’s right-hand man, so he is.’ He hiccupped loudly. ‘What
you’re after is treasure, my lord. Buried treasure. Or sunken treasure perhaps. Look to the skies and into the depths. That’s my advice!’

  Adam sounded impatient. ‘What the devil are you talking about, man? You’re so drunk you’re not making sense—’

  A draught from the open window tugged the knob out of Annis’s hand and the door swung to behind her, closing with a soft, stealthy click. Both men spun around. Woodhouse swore and dived for the open terrace door and Adam came quickly across the room towards her.

  Annis experienced a moment of pure panic when she wanted to run away. This would be ridiculous, however, and within a second she realised that she would have to brazen it out. She put her hands behind her back, resting her palms against the door panels, and waited for Adam to join her. His greeting was typically blunt.

  ‘What the devil are you doing there, Lady Wycherley? Eavesdropping?’

  Annis blushed a furious red. ‘No, of course not, Lord Ashwick! I have lost Miss Fanny Crossley and thought that she might be in here. I can see that she is not, however, so I shall leave you.’

  She turned towards the door. Adam was quicker than she. He leaned one hand against it and held it closed.

  ‘Just a moment, Lady Wycherley. Do not be so hasty.’

  Annis gave him a haughty look ‘My lord?’

  Adam grinned. ‘Pray do not turn starchy with me, ma’am.’

  Annis glared. ‘Then do not prevent my egress from the room, sir.’

  Adam stood back with exaggerated courtesy. ‘You are, of course, free to go. I should be grateful if you would grant me a moment, however.’

  Annis sighed sharply. ‘Very well, my lord. You have a minute only. I must find Miss Crossley.’

  ‘Of course. There was something I wished to ask you. Did you hear my conversation with Woodhouse?’