“…if you are agreeable, then?”
It took Anne a moment to recognize Lord Amberleigh had been speaking to her. She wrenched her eyes from the wayward pearl peeking from the napkin and stared up at him, trying to puzzle through what he had just said. “Yes, of course,” she agreed heartily, even adding a nod. It seemed safest to agree. Lord Amberleigh had been holding forth opinion of several topics all night long. So far, smiling and agreeing has sufficed as the extent of her responses.
“If you are finished then…” Amberleigh said.
“Yes,” she said and the waiter took the plate smoothly, bypassing the napkin and handing the pearls to Amberleigh who placed them in the pocket of his coat.
He rose and offered her his arm. Anne blinked, quickly coming to the realization Amberleigh’s words must have contained an invitation of some sort. Anne looked helplessly at her table-mates and found no inkling there. The man next to her seemed to have dozed off over his dessert and the lady upon the other side was deep in conversation with Emily’s mother. With nothing else to do, but accept his arm, Anne allowed herself to be drawn from her chair and led from the supper-box. Apparently, she had agreed to a walk along the promenade.
Anne stepped along the pathway on Amberleigh’s arm. The gardens were a wonder indeed. She had never seen such an array of flowers all in one place. Some were short and close to the cobbled path and others were taller with leafy fronds and festooning branches covered in blossoms. Roses climbed trellises and hollyhocks festooned several railings making the balustrade look as if it was made of flowers. The scent was heavenly.
Lord Amberleigh told her the common names of each of the plants as they passed. Anne had a moment when she thought her sister Eliza could have bested him with the planting and growing schedule of the flora as well as their Latin names. It bought a smile to her lips.
Lord Amberleigh laid a hand over hers and she paused. “I am glad you are pleased with the night,” he said.
“The gardens are very beautiful,” Anne agreed. She took a deep breath of the clean air, hoping to settle her nerves. The air had a fresh damp feel as if a storm were not far away and the leaves of the plants turned over in a gust of wind.
“Here,” Lord Amberleigh said, as he produced a silken shawl which he laid over her shoulders. “I should have given you this before we came outside, but I thought you might enjoy the gift more if we were in private when I offered it to you.”
In the lights that spilled from the many lamps and lanterns Anne could just make out the exquisite flowers embroidered across the cloth, the work of many hours from the hands of a talented seamstress. She lifted her arm to touch the fabric draped there and bit back a gasp. “Lord Amberleigh, this is entirely too much. A gift of this nature…and the pearls…”
“Are quite appropriate,” he interrupted silencing her with a single finger pressed against her lips to forestall further objection.
Anne let her protest drop. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach rose. Was the man about to propose? Now? Frantic not to be forced to answer something she was so ill-prepared to even consider, she stepped to the side of the path and seated herself beneath one of the many lanterns that decorated a small fountain in the vast gardens. “You must tell me about yourself, Lord Amberleigh. I know so little about you.”
“What?” He seemed stymied by the question; his tone cooler than it had been a moment ago.
Anne felt her heart beating in her throat. To continue to question him might put him off entirely, and she was not sure that was the outcome she wished from this evening.
What did she wish for this evening? She had wished to receive a proposal this Season. Now that the moment had arrived, she felt trapped. She had wished to be kissed, but as she nervously bit her lip, it was Edmund’s kiss she’d imagined, not Amberleigh’s. Anne sought some way to stall.
“What is your favorite color?” The words burst out before she could stop herself. She turned towards him hopefully, wishing she could read his expression in the semi-darkness. The hundreds of lights that lit the gardens were behind him though, and it was impossible to see his eyes, so deeply were they set in shadow.
“My favorite color?” Amberleigh seemed flummoxed by the question.
“Yes. Mine is blue,” Anne continued gaily. “Do you have one?” she asked, pressing the point as she returned her gaze to the garden beyond.
“Why…I do not suppose I have ever considered the matter. Red perhaps. Does it matter?” He laid a hand on her arm, and she shifted, turning away as if she did not notice his touch. It was not abhorrent, but it was not Edmund.
Why could she not stop thinking of Edmund? She knew Edmund’s favorite color. It was green, not dark green, but the light green of spring when the grasses were just starting to grow and the trees beginning to bud.
Edmund loved green. He sought it out avidly in his wardrobe; always clear in his desires. He looked quite dashing in green. It brought out the color of his eyes.
“I think a favorite color is very important,” Anne replied, noticing the path, which led further into the garden a short distance away. There were lamps set along the pathway, twinkling in the darkness as though there were a flock of fireflies set out to guide their way. Anne drifted that way, enjoying the sight and not wishing to be quite so near Lord Amberleigh should other couples set out and come upon them. Surely they would soon, as people finished their suppers.
“How are favorite colors important?” Amberleigh, asked taking her arm so that he might guide her steps.
“They say so much about an individual, do you not think so? Red is a color so alive. I think of a rose when I think of red; something almost startling in its vibrancy.”
He liked that. She could tell it in the way his lips curved up at the corners as he bent over her to hold a branch out of the way so that it might not snag her skirts. She waited for him to ask her what blue meant to her, or to comment on the summer skies or at least to acknowledge her own choice of color, but he said nothing. He led her down the well-manicured path to where a Grecian looking statue sat nestled amount the roses.
“You speak of roses, but you are fairer than any rose here,” he said finally and for a moment Anne wondered if he was quoting poetry, so practiced did the line sound to her ears.
“Do you read the poets then?” Anne asked as she settled on a marble bench, drawing the exquisite shawl around herself more tightly though in truth she was not cold.
“I do not read much,” Amberleigh replied shortly as he sat next to her. “I find, I do not often have time for it.”
“And yet you like artwork. You make time for that.”
“Yes,” he said. “But that is different. One must study the masters to have some inkling of which will be profitable. Books do not have the same tendency to appreciate.”
She stared at him. She had thought he actually liked art. Instead, it seemed his interest was purely monetary. “So it is not for the pure enjoyment of the artist’s work?” she asked startled.
“Of course not.”
There seemed little to say to that. Anne cast about for something else to say, to invite conversation which might lead her to better understanding of this man’s nature. She wondered why such a conversation was so terribly difficult. With Edmund she never had a moment’s trouble in knowing what to say. With the very thought of Edmund made a rush of heat flow through her body.
Frustrated with herself for even thinking the name, she forced her attention to the handsome profile of the man before her. She should entirely be thinking of the gentleman she was with, not someone else, although Edmund could never be thought of as just someone else.
Anne attempted to begin again. “I understand you have invested in shipping.” It seemed a safe enough topic, with a note of inquiry at the end to invite him to delve into at least this part of himself. “How did that begin?”
Amberleigh’s mouth pursed into a hard line. “I hardly think that is a topic for a lady.”
�
��Why-ever not?” Anne asked.
“Well,” he struggled for a moment with the answer. “You are not likely to understand the nuances of such things. Though I will say I am quite pleased with how things have turned out since coming to London. I expect to leave here rather wealthy.” He smiled grimly. “Well, more wealthy than when I entered Town.”
“Are you leaving then?” Anne asked in surprise, somewhat nettled by the way he had assumed she was dim-witted by virtue of being a lady.
“Soon. I came to London in hopes of accomplishing several goals. As of yet, I am only lacking one.”
Amberleigh gave her a brilliant smile as if Anne should share in his happiness with the accomplishment of these goals. Anne had no idea why that should be so. His smile faded, just like that, turned on and off again just like the curious lights of Vauxhall.
“Come with me…” Amberleigh reached for Anne’s hand, drawing her to her feet. His touch was gentle as he took her arm and led her down the lit walk.
All around her was the scent of roses, almost overpowering here in the depths of the garden. She thought Eliza would love this garden. She found herself trying to look at it as her sister would, seeing the concentration of this flower or that along the path. Perhaps that would help her to strike some conversation that did not feel awkward. Anne was reminded of her mother’s garden and how she and Edmund sat under the arbor and laughed. She did not remember ever laughing with Lord Amberleigh.
He shifted her hand to pull her closer to him. They were nearly hip to hip. It felt intimate, almost too much so. For a moment, she felt flustered and even a little overwhelmed.
Anne was certain that he would propose. That was why he brought her out here to the solitary path. It was what she wanted. Why did she now feel so unsettled?
They passed someone, another couple walking, and Anne realized they were not as alone as she’d thought. She smoothed her dress, and used the movement to reposition her hand on Amberleigh’s arm so that they were not quite as close. He did not press the matter.
“What were your goals then?” She asked after a moment’s silence, during which she gathered herself. “I know you have found an estate to call your own, as you have mentioned such to me.”
Amberleigh chuckled. “You cut straight to the point. I like how no-nonsense you are, Anne. I find it quite refreshing. It is rare in one so lovely, to find practicality as well. I feel as though you are a woman who can be relied upon. You do not allow life’s little foibles to upset you.”
Practical? Reliable? Hardly the impression she’d hoped to give. She opened her mouth to refute this, but they had reached a tiny clearing hidden away some distance from the main path. Here, he drew her around to face him. In the soft light, his face was one of such intensity that she drew back her words unspoken. Overhead there came a soft rumble of distant thunder.
“I am a powerful man, Miss Albright, as you well know. I am of good family, titled and well-positioned. I have built a fortune to rival that of any other man and my estate holdings are many. I am, as you see, quite well-endowed.”
She nearly laughed aloud at his words, then, she realized she was being rude and unladylike. She stifled her laughter which turned it into a snort.
Amberleigh regarded her coldly, almost as if he were angry at her levity.
Edmund would have laughed at the unintended innuendo. Was it intended? Anne wondered suddenly. She sobered. “You do seem most accomplished,” she said when it became apparent he was waiting for her to reply somehow.
“Yes,” he said simply.
She had no answer to that, but apparently he did not need one.
“You are a very lucky woman, you know. To have fallen into my purview as you did. Our meeting was in fact, most propitious.”
“Propitious?” Funny, how the word left her cold. Here he was telling her that he found meeting her favorable, but even standing here in a romantic atmosphere wearing the elegant shawl he had thoughtfully thrust upon her, felt wrong somehow; lacking in romance, and she was the one who had put space between them.
Anne found herself wondering if she were walking in this garden with Edmund, would she have wanted that distance? She felt certain she would not. She had no doubt that they would not be having this exceedingly awkward conversation. She and Edmund would be laughing, or perhaps kissing.
The thought put a lance of heat through her that had nothing to do with Lord Amberleigh. But Edmund had not kissed her. He didn’t think of her that way. She only wished he did.
Amberleigh took both Anne’s gloved hands in his. “I have come to realize, in fact, that you are just what I was looking for.”
Thunder rumbled again, accompanied by a flash of lightning. Amberleigh seemed not to notice, reaching instead to grasp her hands, drawing her close. “I have searched the whole of London, to find someone of such estimable worth with whom to share my life.”
Was it about to rain? Anne glanced upward, not sure if she’d felt a drop of water touch her cheek or not. “Wait…What are you saying?”
“Anne, you are a most fortunate woman.” The next thing she knew she was in Amberleigh’s arms, his lips pressing upon hers with a firm and insistent pressure, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth.
“My lord!” She gasped, pushing at him with her palms as she broke the contact to stare at him, breathless and somewhat aghast. “What are you doing?”
“I think it is perfectly clear. I am proposing,” he replied bending his head to kiss her again.
The clouds had not yet broken, but Anne felt as if a splash of cold water snaked down the back of her neck, chilling her spine in a most peculiar way. This was not at all how she had imagined her first kiss.
She stared at him for a moment her hands on his chest, holding him at bay.
“I suppose, I have become overcome by the moment,” he said as he drew back. “But from the start, I knew you would be the perfect manager of my household and mother to my children.”
“Children?” The thought of children with Amberleigh struck her queerly, as did the thought of said children’s creation. She could not imagine it. She stared at him, drawing the wrap around her and flinching as thunder crashed overhead again. When he reached for her again, she pushed him away, this time successfully enough that he stepped backwards.
“It would give me a deep feeling of contentment,” Amberleigh said. “To know I had someone I could rely upon when I was forced to be away in London…Someone who could create a home for me to return to after my countless journeys.”
“Countless journeys?”
“My estates are many and must be seen to. I travel often,” he said, reaching for her hand again, drawing her close against him.
She could think of no sensible reply.
Thunder rumbled again.
“My lord, it is about to rain,” Anne said inanely. “I cannot…we should surely return. The others…what will they think?”
Amberleigh waved her off. “What is a dousing to romance? Think Anne. Think of the life you would have with me: your firm and practical hand upon my estate, managing my servants with your calm sensibility. Say you will marry me, and I…we will return triumphant to my guests. Our guests, my dear.”
Anne shivered as if she had taken a sudden chill. “I am sure I shall catch cold standing here, Lord Amberleigh.” She stressed the use of his title because he had used her given name without her leave and the familiarity had made her uncomfortable, as did his kiss. More so, she knew that he had ever been solicitous of her. Would he allow her to be caught in the rain?
Anne knew she should be happy, but she was conflicted. Amberleigh had carefully planned the kiss and the romance of the moment, but Anne felt the entire evening was wrong, as if it was somehow unfaithful to Edmund…which was ridiculous.
Anne desperately sought a way to put off her reply. When the thought came to her, she pounced on it. “I cannot possibly answer you without first talking to my father. I am sure you understand.”
“Inde
ed. I have quite forgotten myself. I should have spoken to him first, of course, Anne. Whatever you desire.”
“I think our time would be best spent in returning to the supper-box,” Anne said.
“Practical, as always, my dear. Do lead on.”
Anne lifted her skirts and nearly ran back to the covered walkway, not caring that she didn’t look the least bit lady-like. All the while she was wondering how it was that Lord Amberleigh could be so accomplished in so many things and yet not have enough sense to get out of the rain. Unless, he wanted to be caught out.
That thought gave her a turn. To be caught with him in such a state of disarray, so publicly would practically necessitate a quick marriage. Anne shook her head. Her foot slipped into a puddle and she felt the water seep into her slipper. They reached the covered colonnade just as the heavens opened and the downpour began. She slowed now that they had cover and Amberleigh took her arm again.
Why was she so discontented? Anne asked herself again. The evening had been perfect, and most romantically planned. Even the idea to be caught out in the rain could be seen as romantic. Why then, was she so upset?
For some reason she found herself remembering Edmund’s offhand proposal of so many years ago, and the number of times they were both doused in the lake and returned home soaking wet, laughing and joking. The water, or the impropriety had never bothered her before. She found herself wondering why Edmund’s childish words seemed so much more romantic than Lord Amberleigh’s declaration. She gazed up at the man poised against nature’s fury, as though even that, like everything else, was only something to conquer and tame to his liking.
9
Edmund scoured the ballroom for some sign of Anne. He had arrived early with the intention to win a dance from her before Amberleigh could interfere. His skill at the pastime would do him no favors in charming the lady who had once been his friend, but perhaps he could find some other way to state his feeling. If only, he could decide exactly what that was. He had no real experience at courting. He could openly state his thoughts and intention, but his frankness often made trouble for him in polite circles: circles in which Anne wished to travel, he reminded himself.
The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Page 10
