The trouble was, Edmund saw all the doting pomp of a courting gentleman not unlike politics; a way to get someone to do as you preferred with false flattery and pretty lies. It was, as a whole, a rather deceitful activity, which begged the question of what one was meant to do to win the good opinion a person with honesty, especially a woman. Furthermore, he was unclear as to what he had done to lose her good opinion in the first place. Perhaps he only flattered himself to think that Anne had once thought highly of him.
A booming laugh from the other side of the ballroom caught his attention. Edmund hid a smile behind his wine glass as he spotted Harry Westlake. The man was easy to spot. He seemed to expand beyond his lean frame, taking the entirety of whatever space he occupied.
Even if Harry couldn’t be seen, one could always easily locate the man by his booming laugh and the occasional exclamation of all around him. The propriety of the ton was often compromised when Harry attended such formal gatherings; yet, all but the most stringent allowed the man an exception to custom. Harry’s general good nature won most in the end, not unlike the man’s fair cousin, Anne Albright.
Harry never had any trouble charming the ladies. At the moment, his friend was, with great animation, chatting with no less than three young ladies who all seemed much taken with him. An older woman nearby, possibly a relative of one of the young ladies, tried to send censuring looks to the unflappable man, but her stern unspoken reprimands were somewhat tempered by the occasional quirks to her lips as she tried not to smile at his unorthodox antics.
“Your friend seems to be rather enjoying himself,” a smooth, perfectly modulated voice said next to him. Edmund started and turned to see Amberleigh beside him, similarly holding a glass of wine. Edmund felt his spine stiffen and a sudden surge of emotion he couldn’t quite classify filled him. Rage seemed an appropriate word, if not an appropriate feeling in their current environs.
“He is remarkable in that capacity.” Edmund opted to be civil, attempting to keep his composure in polite company. “Harry is one of those rare individuals who can enjoy himself wherever he is.”
“Wonderfully uninhibited family,” Amberleigh said with a wry smile, raising his glass in a silent toast that seemed almost mocking. “I wonder if that is a trait of Northwickshire natives, a sort of quaintness. I have noticed the habit in dear Anne as well; I confess, most especially in her laughter. While genuine, it is rather…abrupt.”
“What is?” Edmund asked not quite certain he heard the fellow correctly, distracted as he was by the man’s presumptuous and familiar use of Anne’s Christian name.
“I find the noise startlingly annoying, but of course, she does have other qualities,” Amberleigh replied.
Edmund tightened his grasp on the glass to a dangerous point where he worried it might shatter. It took a moment to forcibly relax the muscles in his jaw and his fingers. Such was his ire at the implications of such a statement.
“I have not found it so in the considerable time that I have known her,” Edmund replied, with an ease that even startled him. He smiled tightly, aware that the light did not reach his eyes. “I find Miss Albright’s laughter to be most melodic.”
“Oh, indeed.” Amberleigh nodded, although the gleam in his eye made Edmund set the glass down before he snapped the stem clean off the base. “It is charming in its own way, I do suppose. The fact that there is considerable volume behind her laugh, makes it that much more real. There is no pretense in Anne.”
Amberleigh made it sound as if Anne’s honesty was a bad thing; as if it made her naïve or dim. Edmund glared at the man.
Unperturbed, Amberleigh took a sip of his wine and breathed deeply around the liquid. He swallowed, and swirled the remainder in the glass and watched with some amusement as Harry attempted a dance with a young woman. Harry, like Edmund, was not a graceful danger, but his partner would likely return from the excursion flushed and smiling. Such was Harry’s appeal.
“That is the way with women; is it not?” Amberleigh was still taking although Edmund had given him no encouragement to remain. “Even their shortfalls are charming; their feminine inconsistencies easily forgiven. What would be reprehensible in a man is nothing less than endearing in the fairer sex.”
Edmund grunted his response, his attention on anything other than his companion. Edmund returned to scanning the room for Anne herself. Perhaps if he ignored the towering idiot beside him, the man would go away.
Yet, he continued, pleased with the sound of his own voice. “And those peculiarities we find the most irritating are instantly forgotten at the end of a lady’s kiss.”
That won through Edmund’s inattention. Kiss? Anne? Had this buffoon kissed his Anne? How dare the cad take such liberties? Edmund fumed. If looks could kill he was certain that Amberleigh should drop where he stood.
“Indeed.” Amberleigh commented smugly not meeting Edmunds glare, his head resolutely pointed to the entrance at the far side of the room. “It is the nature of women, I suppose, that a lady will protest a bit now and then, but will sweetly soften when kissed and kissed well.”
It was a struggle for Edmund to keep his voice low. “Has she softened to you then? The lady?” He did not want to say Anne’s name aloud paired with Amberleigh. Just the thought was abhorrent. He balled his fists wondering if he could hit the man now without bringing the entire ton down about his own ears.
“Easy there, chap,” Amberleigh said, his eyes darting to the nearest people around them. “You know how quickly such word can spread. If someone heard you just now, they would already have her and I wed just for the scandal.” He leaned in closer and Edmund fought the urge to shove him away. “It was a small thing,” Amberleigh said. “And I am sure you have also shared in the lady’s affections. She is after all most uninhibited.”
Edmund was outraged. Was he implying that Anne was some easy piece? In his anger, Edmund found himself entirely unable to speak.
Amberleigh reacted to Edmund’s shocked expression, guessing the truth. “No? A pity.” Amberleigh then smiled and nodded to those nearest who had noticed the tense conversation and Edmund’s scowl, even if they were not close enough to hear what was said.
Edmund stared at his hands curled into tight fists and reminded himself that this was neither the time nor the place.
“Of course, yours was a child’s friendship,” Amberleigh hissed acidly. “That does make a difference.” He pushed past Edmund and sauntered off into the crowd, calling to someone of his acquaintance.
When Edmund saw it was Anne, it took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from calling the man out then and there. He has gone too far by half. If he has forced himself on Anne, I will show him what a man of Northwickshire does to a cad like that, Edmund promised himself.
The horrid thought was followed by one even more repugnant. Perhaps Amberleigh had not forced himself on Anne. Perhaps Anne had welcomed his kiss. If so, then she was already lost to him. Edmund refused to believe it. He could not lose before he had even begun. This was Amberleigh’s doing.
Edmund marshalled the urge to hunt the rogue down and run him through, or at least thrash him soundly with the flat of the blade. He needed to find Harry. Harry was Anne’s cousin. Harry would know what to do and if Edmund were to call Amberleigh out, Harry would stand as his second. There was a time that it would have been Alexander, but Alex was a duke now and a family man. Besides Ed was sure his sister would allow him no rest were he to endanger her new husband. No. He needed to speak to Harry.
Edmund made his way through the press of people. He had Harry in his sights as he tried to move deftly, though with limited success. Thankfully, Harry caught sight of his friend making his way toward him. Something in Edmund’s face must have given away his intention, for Harry cut short his conversation. He bent his head in apology to another young lady, not the one he’d danced with, and broke to make his way to Edmund’s side. He motioned Edmund toward the great windows that led out to the balcony and Edmund changed cou
rse, grateful to escape the press of bodies to a more private setting.
“Goodness, Edmund.” Harry grasped his shoulder and shook it slightly. “Whatever is the matter with you? You look as though we’ve just declared war.”
“Not we.” Edmund gently threw off his friend’s grip. “I. I have declared war.”
Harry thought for a moment and pursed his lips. “Let me guess. Amberleigh?”
“The man has slandered Anne.” Edmund nearly swallowed his words to keep from shouting. As it was, he had to turn away to shove the anger down to a manageable level. “I should call the man out directly.”
Harry looked at Edmund sharply and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have never known you to be a man of violence, Edmund. Rash action and thoughtless words perhaps, but never violence. What the devil did the man say?”
Edmund turned to his friend in surprise. He’d expected one of several reactions from Harry, but this cool reserve was not what he had anticipated.
This was his friend, a man he thought he could count on above all others. Worse, he had never known Harry to back down from a fight. Ever. “You expect me to allow the bounder to say what he will about my Anne and take no offense?” Edmund was talking through a tight jaw now, gesturing wildly to emphasize his words.
“She’s not your Anne,” Harry replied in a harsh whisper with a glance over his shoulder to assure they were still speaking in privacy. Edmund looked at him uncomprehending. What Harry was saying was nonsensical. Harry sighed. “Anne is not yours to defend, Edmund. Defense of her reputation belongs to her father.”
“She is your cousin!” Edmund said with some desperation.
“Then the issue is mine. You have made her no declaration, Ed. In fact, you have made it clear you have no wish to court. Anne is not yours; or you hers. Amberleigh is one of her suitors. One she has shown favor to. The question is what do you intend to do to change that?” Harry queried with a raised eyebrow.
Edmund searched his friends face, but found only frustration and concern. Harry was not mocking him, nor warning him. Harry was only reminding him of what he already knew.
After all these years, the endless days of childhood memories and feeling stacked one upon the other, closed in on him until Edmund felt as if they might crush him under their weight and confusion. In his youth, he had denied any attempt to match Anne and himself as a pair. Edmund has said as much to Harry, to Emily and to Alexander, and even Anne herself. He had told no one about his ill-fated proposal that day on the bridge.
Oh hell, as children, he and Anne had argued more than they had spoken kindly. They were always locked in some sort of challenge or competition. Anne was always a most spirited young woman. To Edmund that only added to her appeal and his attraction to her had only grown stronger over the years. Still, that did not change the fact that Harry was right. Anne was, in fact, not his to defend. Whatever childhood promise he had made to her was just that: a child’s promise without merit. He didn’t know how to make it again, not now that a gulf had seemed to have grown between them. Edmund felt hollow, like a great fever had come and gone, leaving him raw and cold.
He looked back towards the crowded ballroom to find Anne on Amberleigh’s arm as he escorted her to the dance floor. For the first time in his life, the idea of living without Anne seemed not only possible, but likely. The thought left a great aching pain in his chest.
“No one knows Anne like I do.” Edmund bit off each word turning them over thoughtfully in his mind. “No one. She may not be mine, I grant you that, but I will not lose her to the likes of that scoundrel.”
“That sounds very much like a vow,” Harry pointed out.
Edmund fought between thought and emotion, between gentlemanly manner and passionate declaration. In the end, all he could do was nod his agreement. Let Harry consider that in any way he would. It no longer mattered. All that mattered was Anne.
All the same, his eyes fell on Amberleigh again who stood across the room, holding Anne at his side casually as though he had a right to do so. I’ll not lose her. Not to you, Edmund thought.
Maybe it was a vow after all.
10
Anne was quite frankly becoming bored. So far, she had only danced with Lord Amberleigh. After the dance, he had tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow and claimed her for the evening. It seemed he wanted her to meet every last person in attendance. He now held her at his side as if to show her off. It chafed her that the introductions were made in such a proprietary way, especially given she had not replied to his proposal.
He had waylaid her, the near second she arrived, as if staking a claim; as if their marriage was a foregone conclusion. Wasn’t it though? She had stalled, claiming she needed her father’s permission, but Amberleigh had smoothly won himself an invitation to return with their party to Northwickshire and meet with her father at the close of the Season.
Anne knew her father would agree if she told him she wished to marry Lord Amberleigh. He could have no objection. Amberleigh was titled, prosperous and from good family. So why did she hesitate in her reply? Anne knew that Lord Amberleigh cared for her. She knew that he was wealthy, and she would be well taken care of. Moreover, the fact that he had an estate near Northwickshire was a point in his favor.
She would reside near her mother, and her sisters, unless Eliza and Suzanna moved away with their own marriages. She certainly would be near Emily and the duke. Yes, there was much to support Lord Amberleigh’s suit. There was only one obstacle in Anne’s mind; well, perhaps two. She didn’t love him, and he wasn’t Edmund.
No matter how hard Anne tried, she could not stop thinking about Edmund. That night in the study had set a fire in her. She dreamt of Edmund’s kiss, imagining what it would have felt like for him to close the space between them and take her in his arms. The thought brought a heat to her cheeks, and she berated herself for her flight of fancy.
Edmund did not think of her in that way. He was not ready to marry and start a family, but that thought brought further imaginings of Edmund’s possible future children. Would they have that stubborn lock of hair that always fell in his eyes or his lazy smile? Would they have those brilliant green eyes? They would be raised in Northwickshire of course, just as she and Edmund had been. Oh, this would never do. Anne chastised herself again. She should be contemplating a future with the man at her side.
She looked askance at Amberleigh, as he once again hinted that he and Anne were to be married. Albeit, without absolute confirmation of the fact, but still, the thought made Anne uneasy.
Anne grew increasingly more uncomfortable each time he introduced her to another individual in such a manner. He even went so far as to hint at children, which brought her up short.
“Please,” she said softly, realizing that such an implication could destroy her reputation, even though she did not think he meant it so. After that, Amberleigh said nothing else about her lovely golden curls in relationship to the offspring she might have.
Anne tried to picture Amberleigh’s children or even Amberleigh as a child and found that she could not. It was as if he had sprung full grown from the ground, straight and stalwart from the first. Perhaps his children would be more like Edmund’s cousin William. No. Even William could be goaded into fun. He would join the occasional snowball fight or summer swim. She could not see Amberleigh enjoying either pastime even as a child. She needed time to think on Amberleigh’s proposal. And if he introduced her to one more acquaintance with the veiled implication of their impending nuptials, Anne was certain she would scream.
So it was that Anne felt relieved and even a little thrilled when Edmund crossed the room with a grim look of determination upon his face. He claimed her hand in his own and Anne’s stomach did a small flip at the contact.
“You promised me this dance, or had you forgotten?” he asked with a charming smile upon his face that faded from his eyes when he looked at Amberleigh. She recognized that look. Edmund was angry. What had made him so filled wit
h ire? It did not matter. She wanted release from the monotony of Lord Amberleigh’s arm. Anne wanted to dance, and perhaps more importantly, she wanted to dance with Edmund. She felt the first rush of excitement she had felt this whole evening fill her as she put her hand in Edmund’s.
“Oh…yes. I do believe I have. Pray excuse me,” she said with a curtsey, noticing with only a small amount of chagrin the way Lord Amberleigh’s face hardened, especially as he laid eyes upon the man who had the audacity to take her from him.
“I never promised you a dance,” Anne teased as they made their escape to the dance floor, lining up belatedly with the rest of the couples just as the music started. “Why are we dancing? You hate to dance,” she asked as she caught Edmund’s hand and the first steps of the country dance set the partners in motion.
Before he could reply, Anne and Edmund parted with the formation of the dance pattern. When they came together for the next steps, Edmund feigned a look of wide-eyed surprise. “Since when? I happen to love dancing. I have always loved dancing.”
This declaration produced a snicker from Edmund’s sister Emily who was passing at just that moment in the hands of her husband. “Allow me to step aside,” she teased. “Should God choose to smite thee for speaking so false, brother, and to a lady no less!” Emily said and skipped lightly out of the way.
It was all Anne could do to hold a straight face.
“Truly Edmund,” Anne said as they came back together. “You loath dancing. When, I was thirteen and had to beg you to partner me so that I might not shame myself in front of my dancing master, I wrongly supposed practicing with an actual boy would make my steps more sure.”
Edmund sniffed, raising his chin to a rather haughty level. “I fail to see how the experiment proved a failure. You had the steps memorized in time for your lesson.”
The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Page 11
