The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2)

by Isabella Thorne

  “Can we not talk tomorrow, Father?” Anne asked almost desperately. She needed time alone to think and settle herself.

  Her father seemed confused by Anne’s reaction, but nodded. He wished her a good night and Anne fled the table.

  13

  The next morning Anne was still troubled. She slept soundly. She had spoken true about the journey exhausting her. When she awoke, she was somewhat comforted to be home, back in her own room with her own things, but she was restless; full of nervous energy that would not be calmed. She often rode in the morning, and now that she was home, she needed the familiar pastime to remind her of herself. Perhaps the exertion would calm her and bring her peace of mind.

  When she arrived at the stables, Edmund was waiting for her, leaning against a stall, and scratching one of the horses between the ears. He had seen to it that two horses were ready for them, waiting just outside the stable door. Anne looked at him in surprise when she saw the liveried groom holding her own white mare, Sugar, at the ready.

  “When did you arrange this?” She asked.

  “Earlier this morning,” Edmund laughed.

  “Yes, obviously. But how did you know I would want to ride this morning?”

  “Because I know you. And I was right wasn’t I?” he said smugly.

  “You presume too much,” Anne muttered, half under her breath, her back ramrod straight. The very nerve of him! The audacity! How so like him to put her into a position where she had no choice but to spend time with him. Leave it to Edmund to interfere in what had to be the single most important decision of her life.

  “I think you have done enough for one morning,” Anne said taking her mount. “If we are riding; then let us ride.” With that, she led her mare to the block and mounted before Edmund could say anything else to embarrass her.

  Edmund replied with a shrug, mounting himself while she settled her skirts. She tapped Sugar lightly with her riding crop and the mare responded eagerly. They rode for a time in silence. Anne set a brisk pace; Edmund following in her wake. She trilled at the ground-eating trot, her anger draining from her with each step.

  Anne would not have admitted it for the world, but she was glad to sitting on the back of her own horse again. The gelding she rode in London was far too tame for her liking and he had very little personality. Besides, time with Amberleigh had sorely curtailed her riding time.

  “My Sugar seems happy to see me,” she said with a smile as she leaned over to stroke the glossy white neck. The mare pawed at the ground at the delay. “She is most eager this morning.”

  “Yes, quite,” Edmund observed with a wry smile, as he wheeled his own horse around to face the rise on the path which lead toward Bramblewood Park. “Shall we have a run, then?”

  “Oh, we should not,” Anne replied, though her tone was wistful. “It has been a very long time since I have raced in the lane.”

  “Then, I shall be sure to win,” Edmund said as he urged his mount into a sudden gallop.

  Not one to be outdone, Anne turned Sugar and the mare leapt to follow her mistress’ command. Anne gave herself over to the madcap run to the top of the hill. They raced the way they had as children, hell bent for leather. The wind whipped her face, and Anne felt her hair come unpinned and fall about her shoulders. Her bonnet flapped at her back, held only by its ribbons, but she didn’t care. This was how it felt to be truly free. She laughed for the sheer joy of it, passing Edmund as the lane crested the hill. She pulled her horse to an abrupt stop at the top, circling as she slowed her mount and looked down at the tranquil setting.

  Northwickshire lay sprawled out at her feet. From here, the countryside fell away in all directions: neatly ordered lawns and fields, small houses set within the folds of the hills with smoke rising cheerily from each chimney. In the distance, on another more northerly hill, she could see Bramblewood Park. It rose above all, and to the East, sat Sandstowe Hill. Anne inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of woodsmoke and sunshine mingling perfectly with the scent of the pine from the trees. This was the perfume she most preferred over any other although she would deny it if asked. Even the sharp scent of the sweat from their run, drying on the flanks of the horses was somehow comforting, and Anne felt better than she had in weeks. She glanced over to Edmund who was looking not at the scenery, but at her. For a moment their eyes met, and she forgot to breathe at all.

  “It has been a long time,” he said softly, and she could only nod in agreement.

  “Shall we?” He gestured to the familiar wood and the tranquil path before them. The trail wound down between the trees in a gentle slope.

  “I should like that.”

  He brought his horse into step beside hers as the road was wide enough here for two. They kept the pace to a walk, resting their mounts and enjoying the day. For the first time in a long time, Anne felt at home again. She was coming to find that as much as she loved the excitement of the city, here was where she felt most truly herself, but Edmund shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.

  “What is it?” Anne asked finally.

  “Do you really mean to accept Amberleigh’s proposal of marriage?” Edmund said after a long silence.

  Anne flushed, startled by the shift in conversation and tone. “I do not know. I am still considering.”

  “I am surprised.” Edmund’s eyes were on the road ahead, his face inscrutable.

  The beauty of the day seemed to have vanished. The woods felt sinister suddenly and cold. “You do not like Lord Amberleigh at all, do you?” Anne demanded.

  “The more important question might be whether or not you like him,” Edmund countered with a grim sort of smile that did not reach his eyes. “Though, I very much doubt that he will ever make you happy.”

  Anne pulled her horse to a rough stop. The mare pranced sideways, not liking the sudden shift in the mood of her rider. “Lord Amberleigh is kind. He is a gentleman and he …”

  Edmund interrupted her with a derisive snort.

  “Tell me this much. In all honesty, do you not find yourself perhaps, just a little bored to tears by the good and proper Lord Amberleigh?”

  “He treats me like a lady, which is more than I can say for you,” she flared back.

  For a moment they stared at one another, perhaps both stunned by the forcefulness of her words.

  “I never thought you wanted to be treated like a lady, Anne,” Edmund said softly. “I always thought you wanted to be treated…like a person. Your own person.”

  Anne was struck by the truth of his words, for right now, sitting here like this with her hair tumbled down over her shoulders, and her cheeks flushed with high emotion, she didn’t feel much like a lady at all. But she did feel alive. Alive in a way that she had not felt in some time.

  She searched for some retort, but Edmund looked at her, his green gaze intense, and the words stuck in her throat.

  “At least the Anne I see in front of me is real. Which is more than I can say for the tedious creature who rides with Lord Amberleigh through Hyde Park at a sedate and very ladylike walk.” He moved his horse alongside hers, reaching across to grab her mare’s reins to keep them close. His thigh brushed hers. Their faces were inches apart, and Anne felt like she couldn’t breathe. “He doesn’t know you, Anne,” Edmund said, his voice low and deep. “And he will never see you for the wild hellion I know you are deep down.”

  Anne jerked the reins away, her horse squealing in protest as she wheeled Sugar about in a tight circle to regain full control of the animal. “What do you know of anything?” She snapped as the mare danced sideways.

  “I know enough to know that you have very little interest in becoming the fragile porcelain doll he wants you to be,” Edmund spat. “Or am I wrong? Have you truly changed that much, Anne? Have you become nothing but his docile plaything?”

  Anne had heard enough. In a wild fury she kicked the horse and sent her into a gallop, back the way they had come. Edmund’s words followed her all the way through the wood and down the hi
ll to settle and burn in the pit of her stomach.

  She was a lady! How dare he suggest otherwise. Anne dashed away angry tears as she approached Aldbrick Abbey. Blast Edmund! Why did he always make her feel so unbalanced?

  When she returned to the house, a carriage, in the process of being unloaded, was in front of the manor. Amberleigh had arrived.

  Anne felt the blood drain from her face, fury forgotten.

  A groom took Sugar from her, and Anne went up the steps to her home. Of course, her father met her at the door. He smiled at his daughter, and drew Anne slightly apart. She looked over his shoulder to see Lord Amberleigh in his meticulous suit, unwrinkled in spite of the two day trip from London. Then, her father bent down to kiss her upon the forehead. “If you want this,” he said softly, “then I shall give my approval.”

  Do I want this? The thought circled around her mind like a flock of angry bats seeking the exit from a cave. Dimly, Anne was aware of her father walking past her, no doubt to allow for a certain measure of privacy for her and Amberleigh. Anne swallowed hard as she waited for Lord Amberleigh to offer her his arm, but he hesitated.

  “I had thought to retire to the drawing room and talk a moment,” he said. His eyes traveled over her attire and his lips narrowed. “But perhaps you ought to change first.”

  Anne finally took note of her appearance. She was flushed and sweaty, no doubt her dark blue riding coat was covered in white horsehair and brambles. Her boots and skirt were soiled with no small amount of mud given the way she had taken the mare the shortest way home which had included fording the stream rather than following the road around to the bridge. Her hair was tumbled about her eyes and she had no idea what had become of her bonnet. In short, she had to look an absolute fright.

  Suddenly, Anne wanted nothing more than to go and hide in her room and cry. Perhaps throw things. There were many things she wished to do, but none of them were particularly helpful, or even ladylike. If only she could have a moment to herself.

  Her eyes burned and tears threatened again. She mumbled a hasty apology for her unkempt appearance and excused herself, hurrying back to the sanctuary of her own room. She shut the door closing out the rest of the world and leaned against it, but her thoughts spun wildly. Had Lord Amberleigh noticed her tears? If he had, he had not mentioned it. Why would he? It was for her own comfort and peace of mind she wished to change her clothing, not to win Amberleigh’s approval. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. Had he given her time alone because he saw she was overwrought and needed a moment to recover or because he did not approve of her disheveled appearance? Amberleigh was not an emotional man and he certainly did not seem to take her feelings into consideration much at all.

  The thought gave Anne a turn and only left her feeling more than a little put out, not to mention a trifle uneasy. What if Edmund had been right in his cruel comments? Anne stripped off her soiled riding habit and kicked it towards a corner. It was a long while before she was fit company for anyone.

  14

  Over the past few days, Anne had done her best to avoid everyone in her house. Emily and Alexander had returned to their home at Bramblewood Park, and Eliza was occupied with helping Mother plan the garden party. Anne was happy to stay out of the way. The two of them hardly noticed, busy as they were directing the gardener to trim the bushes along the pathways to make them more accessible and selecting which blooms should grace the tables. It was not as though they needed her help. Their mother had often told Anne that she had the opposite of a green thumb, a black thumb perhaps. It seemed to be true. Anything she touched shriveled and died. In fact, Anne seemed quite lifeless herself.

  She must do something, Anne told herself. She considered that she should speak with Amberleigh, but no promising opportunity presented itself. He and Father seemed to be getting along swimmingly. They had spent yesterday afternoon shooting, and in the evening they retired to the library with port and cigars.

  And Edmund….well, she did not know if he returned to Bramblewood Park with his sister and the duke or went to visit his Uncle Cecil’s home, Sandstowe Hill. In any case, Anne did not ask. She told herself, she did not care.

  Time seemed to move around Anne without her active participation. The day of the garden party arrived. Her maid had done Anne’s blonde hair in lovely little ringlets and when she looked in the glass she could not help but notice that with her wide blue eyes, she looked exactly like the porcelain doll Edmund had accused her of being. Her maid had pressed Anne’s dress, a blue one she had chosen for the garden party. It matched her eyes perfectly. She looked flawless. She scowled at the reflection in the glass.

  Her poor ladies’ maid had also picked the brambles from Anne’s tortured riding outfit. The young woman cleaned and brushed the garments so that they would be ready to wear at a moment’s notice, whenever Anne wished. The simple riding habit looked much more appealing than Anne’s party dress at the moment, but she could not escape today. Anne thanked the girl for her help, and was rewarded with a bright smile.

  “Will you dress now, Miss?” the maid asked but Anne shook her head, procrastinating.

  She was not ready to go to this garden party. Not yet. “I want to wait a while,” Anne said, dismissing her maid before the girl had the chance to assist her. “Come back in an hour.”

  The maid curtseyed and left.

  Anne just was not in a cheerful mood and could not summon the festive sensibility needed for such a gathering. She wished the garden party was not at her own house. If it were not, she could probably beg off. As it was, she would be expected to assist Mother in her hostess duties. There was no help for it. She was trapped.

  A soft tap at the door alerted her to a visitor, and Anne hesitantly opened the door. Her mother stood on the threshold. She was dressed in a lovely lilac gown that spoke of spring and flattered her full figure. Her nearly grey hair was arranged neatly in a rather sedate style, but she looked elegant. Matronly, Anne would say. Is that how she would look in a few years?

  “Why are you not dressed?” Lady Aldbrick scolded. “The guests will be arriving any moment now.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” Anne said.

  “And you the guest of honor!” Her mother went on.

  “Me?”

  “Of course.” Lady Aldbrick said giving her a brief hug. “Your father and I are so proud of you, netting a fine gentleman like Lord Amberleigh.”

  Her mother made it sound like fishing. Yes, Anne thought. She did net Amberleigh, didn’t she? And now, like a cold unwanted fish, she longed to throw him back. Was that the truth? She wondered. Oh, but then she was terrible. How would she get out of this pickle?

  “He is most affable,” Lady Aldbrick gushed.

  Anne raised an eyebrow at her mother. Affable was not a word she would have used to describe Lord Amberleigh, but he had been busy charming her parents. Anne wondered why that fact annoyed her. Didn’t she want her parents to approve of her future husband?

  Lady Aldbrick continued. “I must admit that I was worried last year when you received no offers. Only wallflowers suffer through a whole Season without prospects, you know. Of course, your father and I would support you regardless. You are our daughter, and we love you deeply, but no one wants to be on the shelf. Why, to be denied the joys of motherhood…”

  “Is motherhood a joy, then?” Anne interrupted.

  “Of course, Anne.”

  “I wondered. I always seem to be such a disappointment to you and Father.”

  “Oh, Anne, no.” Her mother looked horrified at the thought. She sat on the bed beside Anne and patted her daughter’s hand, reconsidering her answer. “I have to admit that your infatuation with the Ingram boy, did have us worried, for a while, but I told your father you would come to your senses and make a proper match, and you have.”

  Anne would have protested. In the past, she had always defended Edmund when her parents called him immature, or a troublemaker, or a bad influence, but today, she kept her peace. She wa
s still angry at Edmund for his harsh words.

  Her mother continued. “Lord Amberleigh seems to be a fine upstanding gentleman, and your father likes him. They are getting along well, I think.”

  “I saw that,” Anne said. She failed to relate that she thought Amberleigh might enjoy her father’s company more than her own. Since he came to Northwickshire, she had barely spoken to the gentleman. It seemed that Amberleigh thought her favor sufficiently won and was now intent upon wooing her father.

  “Your father thinks he will be a sobering influence upon you.” Lady Aldbrick said. “The gentleman is stalwart and steadfast. This is something you must consider in the man you marry. The man who will be father to your children.”

  Again the thought of children with Amberleigh struck Anne between the eyes and she nearly choked.

  Her mother mistook her reaction for embarrassment and chuckled softly. “You will see,” she said patting her daughter’s hand. “Come now, I need you downstairs with me for this party. After all, it is in no small part held your honor. Think of it as a celebration of your good fortune.” Lady Aldbrick stood, still holding Anne’s hand. “Imagine my daughter a bride!”

  “I will be down soon, Mother” Anne promised.

  Lady Aldbrick paused at the door. “Do not dally. Some early guests have already arrived.”

  “Emily?” Anne asked hopefully.

  Her mother shook her head. “No, the Duke and Duchess of Bramblewood have yet not arrived. I assume they will make an entrance.”

  “Of course.” And Edmund? She wondered, but she did not ask. What Edmund did or did not do was no longer her concern, if it ever was.

  Once dressed, Anne took one last look at the coiffed stranger in the glass with her pale skin, wide blue eyes and immaculate golden curls. For an unreasonable moment, she wanted to yank the pins from her elaborate updo and let it stream down her back in a tangle, but she resisted the urge. She was a lady. She took a deep breath and went to find her mother and sister to meet their guests.