Anne sighed and her mind wandered back to when she and Edmund were children. They had been laughing and talking all day, the four of them: Alexander, Emily, Edmund and herself. It was just before they all went away to school. She remembered it was one of the last bright days of summer. The sun was warm upon their faces. Emily had raced off with Alexander; leaving Edmund and Anne alone together at the bridge where the stream entered the Brackenbrush Lake.
They were almost of an age when a young lady and a young gentleman should not be left alone together, and yet they were children still, awkward and uncertain with one another. She and Edmund had stood there together basking in the golden hues of the setting summer sun, expecting to be called back to the house at any moment. The sky was just beginning to darken in hues of purple, peach and magenta. The day was ending, and tomorrow Anne would leave Northwick.
“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Anne admitted. Emily was wildly excited about going to finishing school, but Anne was apprehensive. She hoped that Emily would not find new friends and abandon her. “Edmund, what if we never see each other again?” she worried.
Ed had taken her hand in his. She had not worn gloves then, as she was still considered a child. She only wore them for special occasions; otherwise she would have surely ripped them climbing trees and making mischief. She remembered the warmth of Edmund’s hand in hers as he squeezed it gently. She looked at him then, wondering what he could be on about. He stared at her quite solemnly, more serious than she had ever seen him.
“That will never happen,” he replied, “because, someday, I will marry you.”
Anne was struck speechless.
Edmund continued as if it were a matter of fact. “Then we shall never have to part.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “And I shall kiss you whenever I like.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her cheek to him at the last moment.
“No, you shan’t,” Anne said with a nervous giggle. “The lady decides when she shall allow a kiss.”
“Would you then?” Edmund asked softly, and she turned to look at him wondering. She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. Should she allow it? She had never been kissed before. It seemed right that it should be Edmund. She had nearly agreed when Emily and Alexander returned, breaking the moment. Anne saw them coming, laughing and talking. Emily and Alexander would tease them mercilessly.
“No,” she whispered, lest they be seen. Quickly, she turned her cheek avoiding the kiss, and Edmund only brushed his face against her hair. Then Edmund saw the others too. She and Edmund jumped apart as if they were caught doing something nefarious.
Emily and Alex told them of some adventure, and the moment passed. Shortly thereafter, they had all been called in by Emily and Edmund’s, Aunt Agnes, and ordered to wash for dinner.
Anne had never spoken of the moment again. How many times over the years has she thought of it and wished she had not turned her cheek to Edmund’s impulsive kiss, but they were only children, were they not? It would not have made a difference. What sort of promise could two children make to one another?
Edmund had never spoken of that day either.
They had written sparingly while they were at school, but neither of them was much for letters. Edmund’s visits to Northwickshire were sparse and mostly spent with Alexander. Anne had hoped to rekindle their friendship over the Christmas holiday just past, and she thought they had done, but there was no hint of anything more, and now, he avoided her.
Anne wondered if he even remembered the promise he had given her. No. It was a silly childhood infatuation. Meaningless. The thought pained her; especially now that Emily was so happily married to Alexander. She berated herself once again to let go of this juvenile fantasy. Edmund had shown no special interest in her, quite the opposite in fact.
She let her eye once again scan the room hoping for a distraction. She noticed a tall gentleman with dark hair and a rather pleasing visage that she did not recognize. She stared at him, trying to place his name against the guest list. He was someone you would remember. With heavy brows, and narrowed dark eyes he would have seemed quite intimidating were it not for his pleasant smile. It was a solid smile, one that drew a person in.
The gentleman had a crowd of female admirers ringed around him and he was smiling at them all. His straight white teeth flashed as he talked, and Anne found herself smiling in return. For an instant he looked her way and Anne froze until she realized he did not truly see her, so much as pause in his conversation.
Wonderful, she thought dryly. She was invisible to him, too.
“Anne! There you are!”
Eliza came up to her, more dancing than walking, her eyes full of laughter. She grabbed her sister by the hands and twirled her around, heedless of the wine which thankfully a passing footman plucked from Anne’s hand at just the right time to keep disaster from befalling a nearby dowager. The lady glowered at them both and Eliza apologized for her exuberance, but Anne said nothing.
“You seem as though you are having quite an engaging time,” Anne commented. “I saw you dancing.”
“Yes. I found several friends from school. They invited me to take a turn around the park with them tomorrow.”
Eliza launched into a tale about a girl named Catherine and her younger sister, Marguerite, both of whom were members of a gardening club that Eliza had joined at finishing school. Both Anne and Eliza had gone to the same school, but they had vastly different interests. Eliza loved puttering with flowers and could name and draw most of the plants in their own country gardens.
Anne did her best, but she could not keep any flower alive for more than a few days. Instead, her school days were spent reading and doing exceedingly dull needlepoint. Once she was home, her cousin coaxed her into joining the local book club, but the spring, summer and autumn were filled with riding; at least as much as she could manage. Eliza wrinkled her nose at the smell of a stable, and was somewhat afraid of horses.
Anne’s eyes started to glaze over as Eliza prattled on about Catherine’s garden, giving Anne a detailed explanation of the plants and their needs. Anne could scarcely follow, or perhaps she just did not care to do so. She would never use the information since she had the very opposite of a green thumb. Plants withered at her very approach.
Anne’s eyes glanced in the direction of the comely black-haired gentleman with the engaging smile. He stopped to speak to one gentleman who gestured towards the Duke of Bramblewood and his new bride. He crossed the room rather purposefully, only to be waylaid by Baron Holmes, a doddering old man with a penchant for long-winded stories. Anne doubted the dark-haired gentleman would escape before midnight.
Eliza noticed her sister’s lack of attention and reached out to clasp her hand. “Pray tell me, Anne, what is it that troubles you so? You have made absolutely no effort to dance.”
“Generally, a lady waits to be asked,” Anne said. “Should I have requested a dance from one of the passing gentlemen?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow.
Eliza giggled at Anne’s joke, but she was shocked at her sister’s lack of partners.
“No one has asked you?” Eliza asked.
Anne shrugged delicately.
Eliza caught both of Anne’s hands and pulled her nearer to the dance floor. “I am sure it is only because no one has seen you to ask whether or not you wished to dance,” she declared. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”
“I don’t know,” Anne admitted. “I suppose I feel suddenly shy here in London.”
“You! Shy! I think not.” Eliza shook her head.
“Forgive me, Eliza. I am feeling very much invisible tonight. There is not a soul here that has so much as noticed me.” At least not the person she wanted to notice her, Anne thought. Drat, she was becoming a wallflower.
She missed the boisterous exuberance with which Edmund tackled the day. She thought of the times they had gone riding together as children, or even the moment when he had pulled a prank by hiding some book or other obj
ect of hers, just to get her attention as he would say.
Edmund held himself with such absolute confidence in every situation he would be right at home in this ballroom. He did not care one whit what gossips said. He was entirely self-possessed, and Anne felt the same when she was with him.
Edmund would like as not, get Anne into trouble somehow. He had an absolute knack for wriggling his way out of scrapes and putting someone else right in, laughing the entire time. She could not help the smile that crossed her lips at the thought.
Eliza stomped her slippered foot. “Are you listening to a single word I have uttered here tonight?”
Anne glanced at her sister and smiled wanly. “I am sorry, Eliza. My mind is truly elsewhere.”
“I think even if someone were to ask you to dance, you would hardly notice. The only man you have ever paid any attention to at all is Edmund. I think you are moping due to his absence.”
Anne gasped, raising her fingers to her mouth to cover the sound as she looked at her sister. Eliza knew her too well, but she must deny it. She lifted her chin. “Really Eliza, what a dreadful thing to say.”
“Is it not true?” Eliza asked with a quirked eyebrow. “Were you, or were you not just thinking about him?”
Anne didn’t answer.
Eliza laughed. “You needn’t look so surprised, sister. You always get that soft wistful look about your eyes when you think of Edmund.”
“It is only a shame he could not join us tonight. The group feels wrong without him. Things are…unbalanced.”
Eliza leaned forward to tap Anne on the nose with her fan. “You, my dear sister, are the one who is unbalanced. You have been out of sorts ever since Emily married Alexander. Now tell me true. What is really wrong?”
Anne was thoughtful. “I suppose, I do not know where I fit in things anymore. I feel as though I have lost my dearest friend.”
“Are you jealous of Emily and the duke?” Eliza suggested with a sideways glance.
“Never!” Anne’s cheeks burned. “I never had any interest in Alexander. Not in that way. We have been friends forever, and now…I suppose our little group must change, and I do not wish it to do so.”
Eliza nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you had no interest in the duke,” Eliza said with a pointed look. “But that doesn’t mean you are not jealous.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Anne declared.
“Very well then,” Eliza said snapping open her fan and looking across the room at the new duchess. “Emily truly is the belle of the ball. It is not often the Ton sees a duchess so young and beautiful, or a duke for that matter. Their marriage has removed one of society’s most eligible young men, and a duke besides,” Eliza said. “It is easy to see why Emily is so popular of late. Why, did you notice that half the ladies of the ton were wearing yellow, after Emily wore the same shade last week?”
“I did,” Anne said with a giggle. “It looks ghastly on Lady Marley.” They both watched the dancers for several minutes, commenting on their dresses.
Anne ducked her head, shamed by her uncharitable thoughts. “I love Emily,” she said finally. “She is my dearest friend. But yes, I am perhaps a touch jealous, although I know I should not be. Emily deserves the very best and I wish her every happiness.”
“Only you wish a measure of her happiness as well,” Eliza said biting her lip. “Perhaps, if Edmund…”
“No Eliza,” Anne interrupted. “Ed is…Ed. Yes. I miss him, but not in the way you are suggesting. He has only ever been my friend. Besides, he has been preoccupied of late. Why we have barely crossed paths. You know as well as I that he is in London, but since Emily’s Ball I have not so much as laid eyes upon him. I fear he is avoiding me.”
“Surely not.”
Anne swallowed hard and let herself voice what she feared. “Perhaps he has an interest in someone else…” Anne left the sentence hanging. She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug.
“You base your supposition that he has interest in someone else on mere avoidance?” Eliza asked one eyebrow rising almost comically. “He has only ever had eyes for you, Anne.”
Anne shook her head. “As a child, perhaps. Lately, he has made no effort to see me. If he wanted to, he knows full well where to find me. Either, I am truly invisible, or he has no interest.”
“You are not invisible!” Eliza exclaimed, raising her hands in an impatient gesture. “He might be too shy…”
Anne let out a laugh that was far too loud for a ballroom and earned several disapproving sniffs from the ladies seated a short distance away. Flushing uncomfortably, Anne lowered her voice. “Edmund is many things, but shy was never one of them.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t know how to tell you how he really feels.”
Anne shook her head. “You are too much the romantic, Eliza. I envy you that sometimes.”
Eliza seemed at a loss. “I see Emily’s mother,” she said finally. “We should probably work our way back to her.”
Anne sighed and agreed. No doubt Lady Kentleworth would have something about which to complain. She seemed to constantly find fault in everyone, and most especially with her children. She fussed at Edmund as if he were a child. Maybe that was why the young man was making himself scarce. Perhaps he wished to avoid his exacting mother rather than Anne. In spite of her better judgment, the thought gave Anne a surge of hope.
Eliza bit her lip. “I received a letter from Adam today,” she said softly as if afraid the news would upset Anne further.
Anne glanced toward her sister, seeing the excitement in the girl’s eyes. Oh, but she was hardly being fair, wrapped up as she was in her own melancholy thoughts.
“Are you keeping secrets now?” Anne teasingly admonished and drew Eliza toward one of the waiting chairs. “Do tell.”
It was Eliza’s turn to blush. She looked around them and then leaned in to whisper in Anne’s ear. “I think he will propose when he next comes home.”
“Oh Eliza, how wonderful for you!”
Anne’s excited exclamation again caused several old ladies to stare, one or two accompanying their stern look with a shushing sound. Anne ignored them to throw her arms around her sister. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I am telling you,” Eliza laughed.
“I meant earlier.”
“I would have, but there seemed to be so much to do to get ready for the ball. I intended to wait until tonight. Until we went home this evening, I mean.” Eliza looked around them significantly and giggled. “This hardly seemed the place.”
Although Anne was happy for her sister, it did not seem fair to have her younger sister fairly-well spoken for when she herself had made no inroads whatsoever in the matter of marriage over the course of the Season. She stamped down the ugly head of jealousy, and gave her sister a brilliant smile. Of course, there was still time with many more balls and entertainments to come. Nonetheless, Anne smothered a sigh, hoping her sister didn’t notice the soft sound of disappointment as she leaned in to hug her a second time. “I am truly happy for you,” she whispered in Eliza’s ear.
“Oh Anne, I wish you could be this happy,” Eliza said sitting back in her chair and reaching out to hold her sister’s hand again. “Have you tried writing to him?”
“Writing to whom?” Anne asked, lost for a moment by the shift in conversation.
“Edmund.”
Anne’s eyes opened wide. She could not imagine Edmund sitting down and writing a letter to her. She could barely imagine him reading one, but of course he must. She knew he had received letters from his father when he was off visiting at Bramblewood as a child. Usually, that correspondence was tossed into the fire. The thought made her smile.
“I never thought a letter could be such a romantic thing,” Eliza continued, “but my act of writing to Adam created such closeness.” She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging herself, as if her love were there in front of her rather than away at war. “There is an intimacy in a letter,” Eliza confided. “I think
it is because one can release their emotions more fully on paper. The words of two souls intertwine, drawing them together like two branches of a flowering vine.”
“Edmund’s letters have only ever been perfunctory at best,” Anne sulked. “He is not given to poetry. There is no hint of romance in his words. There never has been.”
“Funny. I always though the two of you would marry someday,” Eliza said frowning thoughtfully.
Anne looked away, willing her expression remain pleasant, despite the heartache her sister’s words caused. In truth, Anne had thought much the same, but as she and Edmund grew older it was obvious that Edmund did not share the sentiment.
Anne took a shaky breath and forced a smile. It was long past the time to let go of childhood fantasies. Anne laughed and turned away. Her eyes fell once again on the handsome stranger who was glancing in their direction. He was certainly tall. Anne watched the gentleman as he moved through the room, towards where the couples were assembling for the next set. He did not dance though. The dark-haired man made his way across the room in their general direction.
Anne found herself comparing the stranger to Edmund. He was taller, and darker with fuller eyebrows, she thought. Although the way Edmund’s light brown hair continually fell in his eyes, there was little to be said for his eyebrows. This gentleman definitely had darker hair though, almost black, and straight as a poker. Edmund’s hair always had that adorable curl over his ears and his green eyes held a mischievous sparkle whenever he was up to some bedevilment, which was often. This fellow seemed much more serious, which was a good thing, Anne concluded. She needed to find someone serious.
Eliza followed her line of sight.
“Maybe you should be open to new possibilities?” Eliza said softly, as the dark-haired man lifted his head and looked right at Anne.
“Perhaps,” Anne replied, her heart doing a little flip-flop.
The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Page 2
