Anne was rather accomplished with a rapier, he remembered. She had promised that if he ever got her into such trouble again, she would be sure to run him through. Anne was always like that; fiercely determined. She reminded him of a jungle cat he had once seen in a menagerie. It was a wonderfully wild creature and all the more beautiful for its willful spirit. It had taken him too long to recognize that beauty in Anne.
The day before Anne had gone away to finishing school, they stood on the footbridge over the stream that fed Brakenbrush Lake just as they had a hundred times before. The setting sun glistened off of the water and the colors caught in Anne’s blonde hair making her appear to shine with a golden halo in the dying light. That was the first time he saw her as beautiful. He wondered immediately why he had not seen it before. It was as if he had turned around one day to find her transformed from a girl into a fine young woman. Had the change occurred when he had not been looking? Or perhaps he had not paid enough attention.
The ripples on the water reflected in her eyes and made them shine with unshed tears as she spoke of their parting. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The pain of that separation stuck him so strongly, he did the only thing he could think of to do. He took Anne’s hand and he swore to her that one day they would be married. She studied him intently, but did not speak. He leaned in to kiss her thinking that was usually what men did in such situations. At least he had assumed so, but she turned and gave him her cheek, laughing as if the offer had been made in jest.
“The lady decides when she shall allow a kiss,” Anne teased.
“Would you then?” he asked shyly, hating how his voice trembled, but praying she would allow it. He most ardently wished to kiss her. He had never kissed anyone before and it felt right for it to be Anne. They had shared so many first experiences, why not this? But she had hesitated. His fearless Anne, always ready for any adventure had hesitated, unsure of his kiss. Unsure of him.
Emily and Alexander had returned and the moment was broken, lost forever. She had refused his kiss and his clumsy proposal. He still remembered the look in her eyes; the absolute trust she had once shown in him. Times like those were fleeting and once lost, could never be recaptured.
They had seen each other again on school holidays or when she visited with his sister, but they were not as they once were. Edmund had attempted to return their friendship to what it used to be, but there were children no longer. Things were far more complicated now.
His father kept him busy and just now, he wished he were busy. Too busy to dwell on the letter in his pocket and the lady who had written it when he felt as if each mark on the page was a work of art and the contents fired his heart’s blood.
“I would not have believed it,” Harry said, his tone wondering and seemingly awestruck.
“What?” Edmund came out of his reverie, confused.
“The great Edmund Ingram.” Harry’s face cracked into the familiar lines of a grin. “In love with my cousin.”
“Oh, don’t be an arse,” Edmund said crossly. He turned back to watch the flames and try to restore the calm he’d just felt. The calm when he’d been thinking of Anne. He shoved that thought aside.
“Face it, old man.” Andrew said, although he was several years Edmund’s senior. “It is clear to anyone with eyes. You are besotted. No man stares into the flames with such a half-witted smile unless he is absolutely rapt. Given the topic of conversation it is easy to surmise the cause.”
Harry sat back and sipped his drink. “I, for one, am rather glad to see it.”
Edmund waved him off and looked into his own glass; the brandy offered his reflection back to him. Was he in love with Anne Albright? He had once thought so or perhaps he had been afflicted with a childhood fancy that passed for the true emotion. It cannot possibly be love, he told himself firmly, ignoring Harry’s chuckle completely. It was a childhood infatuation, nothing more, but he couldn’t finish the thought. It was too dismissive, too marginalizing of one of his most precious memories.
A man’s interest changes, a traitorous voice in his head sounded reminding him of Alexander’s words. What was his feeling now? More importantly what was hers? His childish proposal was not well done. He knew that now. If he were to ask her again would her answer be different?
Lud! Was he contemplating marriage? The thought was striking. He was not yet twenty, far too young to be thinking of marriage. Although you couldn’t tell by his mother, who seemed intent upon introducing him to what must be every eligible young lady in London. There was more than one reason why Edmund had been avoiding the balls. In her own way, his mother was as demanding as his father.
Anne was the same age as himself, the traitorous voice reminded him and ladies often married younger than gentlemen. Time was short. Had he not warned Alexander of the same where Emily was concerned just a few short months ago? Why not take your own advice? He thought.
Edmund nearly groaned aloud.
Later. He would worry about this later, after the close of parliament when he wasn’t trying to stop the liberal Whigs from taking over the government while simultaneously attempting to find a way to tell his conservative father that he agreed with many of those liberal-minded ideas.
4
Anne stood gazing out of the window of her borrowed room in the Bramblewood Mayfair house to avoid pacing with nervous excitement. After Lord Northrup’s ball Lord Amberleigh had called upon her and requested an outing. When Anne saw his carriage drive up to the house she retreated to sit perched on the edge of her bed. She sat carefully, so as not to wrinkle her dress. It would not do to rush down to greet the man, no matter how excited she was that he was here. She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves.
Anne had hoped to attract a gentleman caller this Season, and she had done so. He was older than she was and most distinguished, not a mere child, like Edmund. Even the thought felt disloyal and she pushed it away, as the maid knocked on the door to tell her that Lord Amberleigh had arrived. She took a moment to look about the room.
“Is anything wrong?” her maid asked.
“No.” Anne shook her head. “I just wanted to be sure that I’ve not forgotten anything,” she said.
The maid handed her the gloves from the dresser, and Anne gave her a quick grin. “Thank you,” she said as she pulled on the gloves.
“Miss Albright,” Amberleigh exclaimed as she descended the stairs. “You are a vision of loveliness.”
Anne blushed at his praise. He always made her feel cherished. No one had ever been so generous with compliments to her. He was constantly telling her that she was lovely or delicate or sweet. How different his attitude was from Edmund who was likely to call her stubborn and head-strong rather than compliment her. She smiled as she took Lord Amberleigh’s hand.
“You will want your wrap,” he said. “It is a bit chill outside,” he said. “I had thought we might have to cancel our outing, but at least the rain has stopped.”
“Oh, I don’t mind a little rain,” Anne said. “I am after all, English. A fine pickle I would be in if rain frightened me,” she said with a little toss of her head.
“Nonetheless,” he said as smiling, he helped her with her cloak and they departed for their drive.
Anne was a little warm bundled in her cloak, but she said nothing to upset the fine comradery they shared. It was the first of many such drives, with Amberleigh explaining all of the sights and sounds of London. He seemed to know every nook and cranny of the city, and proceeded to tell Anne of the history without fail. Each time he ended the outing with a promise that he would return on the morrow or that he would see her at this ball or that soiree. He begged her to save him a dance, which usually turned into two dances. Anne was basking in the attention and it did not hurt so much that Edmund continued to avoid social engagements.
Later that evening, Anne commented to her sister and friend that Amberleigh would be at the next ball they were attending.
“Oh, of course he will,” Emily h
ad said. “He seems smitten.”
“I do not think smitten is the correct word,” Emily’s mother said. “But the man does seem to know what he wants, and a baron is a good match for you Anne.”
“Yes,” Anne said. “But I do not think he is so far gone. He only enjoys the walks and carriage rides…”
Emily’s mother shook her head. “He is no green boy,” she said. “His visits have purpose.”
The conversation moved on and Emily, Eliza and Lady Kentleworth only commented over tea that the Ton was beginning to whisper about Anne and Lord Amberleigh.
“Let them whisper,” Anne said waving a nonchalant hand. “I care not for their gossip.”
Eliza laughed. “When have you not cared for gossip, Anne?” she asked. “It has always been your bread and butter.”
Anne looked down embarrassed by her sister’s comment. “Perhaps I am growing up,” she said. “Becoming a lady. A lady does not gossip,” Anne said quoting something Amberleigh had said.
“Nonetheless, I believe Lord Amberleigh shall put forth an offer,” the Viscountess added.
“Truly?” Anne said surprised that things had moved on apace. Well, that was what she planned. Wasn’t it? She did want an offer this Season. She would not be a wallflower or end an old maid who could not attract a gentleman of her liking.
“Have you told him that you prefer riding a horse to sitting in that flashy phaeton?” Emily inquired.
“His manner of conveyance is very grand,” Anne said, with a slight frown. “But I like carriages well enough, and Lord Amberleigh does not particularly enjoy riding.
Emily raised an eyebrow.
“Anyway, he has asked that on the morrow we might walk together,” Anne said. “Both of us like walking. He said he likes to observe what new spring flowers are bloom.”
“Did you tell him that you kill flowers with a glance?” Anne’s sister Eliza teased.
“I do not,” Anne said testily. But her sister was right. Eliza was the one who liked gardening.
When Amberleigh arrived the next day, Anne did tell him about her mare, Sugar, who was dear to her heart.
He nodded appreciatively while Anne spoke and suggested that she call the maid to get her cloak for their outing.
“It is not that cold,” Anne protested. “I like to feel the air around me.”
“I will not have you coming down with a chill,” Amberleigh said decisively as he put the cloak around her shoulders. “You must wrap up well. It is a cool morning, unless you would rather stay inside?”
“I enjoy walking in any weather,” Anne said, “unless it is a downpour. And riding,” she added as Amberleigh tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I love riding.”
He escorted her down the stairs from the townhouse.
“See. It is warm enough,” she said looking up at the sunshine.
“I only care for your well-being,” he said, and she thought that was true. Perhaps she was being silly.
“I am enjoying the walk,” she said after a while. “I am not much of a gardener though and I suppose, I appreciate it more in others.”
“I am glad you enjoy these simple quiet times together,” Amberleigh said. “I must admit, I enjoy them too. They are tranquil and soothing.”
Anne laughed. There was that. “Edmund would never do anything so conventional,” Anne said.
“Edmund?” Amberleigh repeated.
Oh dear had she said that aloud? And called Edmund by his given name? She bit her lip trying to think how to go on from such a gaffe. “The son of the Viscount Kentleworth, Emily’s brother,” Anne explained. “We are…friends, I suppose. We grew up together as children in Northwickshire.”
“Ah,” he said.
“We spent our childhood picking flowers…and walking,” she finished lamely, unwilling to share more deeply with Lord Amberleigh about Edmund.
“Northwickshire is quite beautiful,” he said smoothing over the awkward moment with the comment which seemed somewhat inane after their more familiar sharing.
“Shall we return to the house?” he asked and Anne nodded. They made the circle and when they arrived back at the townhouse, he spoke. “Since you like riding, perhaps, instead of walking, we could ride tomorrow in Hyde Park, if you would deign to accompany me?”
“I would like that,” Anne said. She had wondered earlier if he had even heard her comments about her mare, and this proved that he had. She knew he was going out of his way to please her and for that she was grateful. She gave him a brilliant smile, and he complimented her on her loveliness.
The next morning, Anne tugged on her riding gloves. Eliza waylaid her as she was exiting her chambers.
“Eliza, can this wait?” Anne murmured as Eliza maneuvered her back into the bedroom and shut the door. Anne checked her appearance once again in the looking-glass. Everything must be perfect, she thought. “Lord Amberleigh shall be here any moment,” she told Eliza impatiently.
“Lord Amberleigh is exactly the reason I must speak with you,” her sister insisted.
“What about Lord Amberleigh?” Anne queried when she noticed her sister’s concerned expression. “It was your suggestion to seek out new possibilities.”
“Yes, but I meant many of them. You have allowed Lord Amberleigh to monopolize you completely. People are beginning to talk.”
“Let them,” Anne said with a shrug as she turned back to the looking glass and twirled a curl around her finger.
“Is Edmund forgotten then?” Eliza asked.
Anne stopped mid-motion, her eyes wide. “Edmund is too busy for a Season in London,” she snapped, feeling a dull ache in her heart, although what she meant was that he was too busy for her. His response to her letter had been perfunctory at best. She had indeed been trying to make herself forget about Edmund.
“And you are too busy with Lord Amberleigh,” Eliza countered her expression cross as she flounced on her sister’s bed.
Anne sat next to her, careful not to crush her carefully pressed skirts. Even though she was about to go riding, and her riding habit would no doubt be somewhat disheveled afterwards, she at least wanted to look presentable when she first encountered Amberleigh downstairs. He was fastidious about such things.
“In truth, Eliza, I never expected…” She waved her hands as she struggled to find the right words. “Lord Amberleigh has been most solicitous.”
“You are saying you like his attentiveness?” Eliza asked to clarify. She sat up straighter and looked at her sister with interest.
“I am saying that he is charming.”
“What does that mean? He is charming?” Eliza pulled a face and scrunched lower, arms crossed. “What do we really know about him? This has all been so sudden.”
“That is exactly the point, little sister. Do you not see?” Anne asked. “It is romantic. Lord Amberleigh has swept me off my feet. I feel caught in a whirlwind. Is that not how love is supposed to feel?”
Eliza sat bolt upright. “Love? You are in love then? With Amberleigh?”
Anne grimaced. She had not meant to use the word. Now that she had, she wondered what it meant. Anne bit her lip as she thought. “I do not think so. But that I have enjoyed his company of late is undeniable.”
“He is exceptionally attentive.”
“I have no complaints. Not really.” Anne hesitated. “It is just…well he is so upright. It is difficult to know his feelings on the matter. With Edmund you always knew just what he was thinking, but…” Anne broke off uncertain.
“Amberleigh is not Edmund.” Eliza offered.
“No. He is not.” Anne sighed. “Perhaps I was spoiled, growing up with someone who is so very open. When I consider other gentlemen, they always seem to pale in comparison.”
“With Edmund?” Eliza’s eyes opened wide. She seemed about to speak but subsided.
Anne, looking at her could only laugh, but it was not a happy sound. “Such a cross face, dear one! You want to scold me that if I compare other men to Ed
mund, then I would not allow another man to court me. I know.”
“Does Edmund no longer hold a place in your heart?” Eliza asked.
Anne smiled wanly at Eliza’s naivety. It was understandable. Emily had married her childhood sweetheart. Why should Anne not do the same? She reached for her sister’s hand, taking it tenderly. Her voice was soft and filled with pain. “He does not write me, Eliza. Nor has he come to visit of late. He has made no mention of an intention to call. I think he has made his position very clear.”
“You are saying that he leaves you no choice.”
“I am saying I need to lay aside childish fantasies. Once I thought only of Edmund. But I was a child. Now, I am a young lady. I must think of more realistic prospects. I have had one Season already, and am halfway though the second. A lady may take her time, but if she reaches a third year without a serious offer, people begin to suspect some flaw in the lady’s character.”
“Oh Anne, you do not really believe anyone thinks that of you?” Eliza said squeezing her hand.
Anne leaned forward to kiss her sister on the forehead and rose without reply and moved to the window. “All I know is that Lord Amberleigh treats me as a lady, and Edmund never did.”
Now it was Eliza’s turn to be unsure of what to say.
With one hand, Anne swept aside the muslin curtain to peer outside. “Oh, I am late already. I can see the horses have already been brought around.”
“It is a lady’s prerogative to keep a gentleman waiting,” Eliza said.
“No, No, it is not genteel of me,” Anne said. “It feels rude to make him wait for no reason when I am already dressed.”
“You will appear too eager,” Eliza warned.
Perhaps I am,” Anne replied. “It is in my nature.” Although Anne wondered if she should perhaps wait just a few minutes.
Edmund never minded that I was eager, Anne thought to herself. But Lord Amberleigh is not Edmund, a traitorous internal voice reminded her. Why did Amberleigh have her questioning her behavior? No. She was being silly. Anne darted across the room to retrieve her riding crop from the top of her bureau where she’d left it, pausing only to pull Eliza to her feet so that she might give her sister a quick hug. “Please wish me well.”
The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Page 5
