Even Emily’s aunt and uncle were demonstrative in their affection; and at their age too! But Lord Amberleigh…Reginald…she forced herself to call him by his given name at least in her thoughts. He might have different expectations. Especially if his mistress were less inhibited than Anne. Surely, she would be. Was that not the entire point of a mistress?
Suddenly this entire matter of marrying someone well-matched rather than loved seemed less and less of a good idea. Worse, she found herself remembering the warmth she felt in Edmund’s arms; the way her heart beat fast even at a simple touch, and the way she had wanted his kiss, unlike Amberleigh’s which felt more like something to endure.
A tap at the door interrupted Anne as she smoothed out Edmund’s letter. She might have ignored the knock completely had Eliza not taken matters into her own hands and walked into the room without awaiting a reply.
“It occurred to me after you left the morning room, that Amberleigh was not one to cause such a flustered countenance. On the other hand, I know who might,” Eliza said softly. Her gaze roved around the room, taking in the wanton destruction Anne had not yet set to rights. Eliza began to gather up some of the ornaments. Placing Anne’s pincushion in her hand, Eliza spoke. “You might as well tell me what Edmund has done now to create such a violent burst of temper,” she said.
“How do you know it was Edmund?” Anne asked.
“Because Edmund always gets you into a passion.”
Was that true? Anne stared down at the letter lying crumpled beneath her hand and then handed it to Eliza who read as much of the scrawl as she was able.
“He was tap-hackled when he wrote this,” Eliza surmised.
Anne nodded, “But is it true?”
“Would it upset you if it were?” Eliza asked as she lay the letter aside.
Trust Eliza to get right to the heart of the matter.
“No,” Anne said thoughtfully. “I suppose my pride is hurt, but not like…” She broke off, unwilling to say more.
“Not like how it would feel if it were Edmund,” Eliza surmised.
“I didn’t say that!” Anne retorted.
Eliza blew out her breath and shook her head. “Anne, if I was told that Adam another lady in his life…which I am beginning to think is the case,” Eliza said. “I would be devastated.”
Anne noticed then her sister’s slightly reddened eyes, and the fact that she had been applying powder to lessen the redness. She had been crying, not recently, Anne realized, but for most of the week. Anne felt terrible that she had been so engrossed her own issues she had not offered sisterly comfort for Eliza’s upset. She enfolded her sister in her arms now and hugged her, trying to be more supportive than she had been. “Oh Eliza,” she said.
Anne squeezed her sister tightly. She did not know how to help Eliza, but she did know that she could not marry Amberleigh. She did not love him. And that suddenly seemed most important. Anne released Eliza and sat holding her sister’s hands.
“You should go to Bramblewood. Talk to Emily.” Eliza suggested.
“Emily?” Anne said, catching the glint in her sister’s eyes.
“And whomever else might be there,” Eliza said sweetly. “At Bramblewood.”
“You are devious,” Anne chided teasingly as she pulled on her riding outfit. Eliza helped her to fasten the dress so she did not have to wait for a maid. Anne wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to Edmund. His letter was still awful, and the fact that he sent her such drunken drivel was just the sort of thing Edmund was bound to do, but she did want to talk to Emily.
“Oh! Isn’t Lord Amberleigh coming to call this afternoon after he sees to his property?” Eliza asked. “What will he think to find you gone?”
“I don’t particularly care what he thinks,” Anne said flippantly. “Tell Mother and Father I went riding. I’m going to spend the day with Emily.”
“And Lord Amberleigh?” Eliza asked. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him I’ve changed my mind. The wedding is off.”
Eliza smiled as Anne stalked from the room.
Anne collected Sugar from the stable and headed off in a northerly direction taking the familiar shortcut across the fields to Bramblewood Park. She knew she would feel better once she spoke with Emily. In fact, she felt better already. She felt freer than she had in days. She urged Sugar into a gallop and they raced across the fields.
20
Edmund urged his horse to greater speed, resolutely ignoring the way his head ached each time the horse’s hooves hit the ground. It was his punishment for drinking himself to oblivion last night. He deserved the pain.
When he woke in one of the rooms at the pub, he had realized what he had done the preceding night. Now, in the light of day, it seemed foolish. Oh, he did not doubt that Amberleigh was a bounder and a philanderer of the worst sort, but Anne deserved better than a drunken note from him informing her of the fact.
Edmund took only enough time to splash his face with cold water from a pitcher and ewer set in the room. He allowed himself that luxury only because it took several minutes for the groomsman to saddle his horse. Every moment of delay was another moment that his letter had to reach Anne and he desperately needed to stop the delivery. To hide behind such a letter was cowardly and was born out of his wallowing in a bottle.
He had been permitting Amberleigh to set the pace of this race and he was not going to let that continue. He was the better man, but he was not showing the best side of himself. He only had to show Anne that he, not Amberleigh was the one for her. Anne was a smart girl. She would see that he was the better man by far. She had to.
At Aldbrick Abbey, Edmund was shown the door by Anne’s father and no matter how he cajoled, the man would not budge. “I want to speak to Anne. I need to speak with her,” Edmund insisted.
“What you need, boy, is immaterial,” the man said. “My daughter is marrying another.”
Her mother added more gently, “Edmund, I know you were childhood friends, but it is not seemly for you to be visiting Anne now.”
“I only want a moment,” Edmund insisted, but her father was adamant.
Frustrated, Edmund went to the stable, hoping for a chance meeting. Even if Anne saw the letter, which was likely by now; he thought, he could explain. There was no good explanation, he realized, but surely he would think of something. He ran a distracted hand through his unruly hair as he went to the stable.
At the stable, Edmund immediately realized that Sugar was not in her stall. That meant that Anne was already out riding. Where, he wondered. The trails were expansive. She could be anywhere. Perhaps he should just wait here in the stable for her return.
Edmund was still pondering this dilemma, when Eliza sauntered into the stable yard. “I heard you speaking to Father,” she said. “Or rather I heard him speaking to you.” She smiled at him.
Edmund nodded. Lord Aldbrick was rather loud when he was in a mood. Edmund realized suddenly how much he was like his daughter, and his dislike for the man was somewhat mitigated. Like Anne, Lord Aldbrick was a lot of bluster, but no true malice.
“Was a letter delivered?” Edmund asked Eliza, already knowing the truth of the matter.
Eliza nodded with a bit of a smile on her lips. “That is what precipitated my sister’s hasty ride,” she said. “Anne was on a mission.”
“A mission?” Edmund asked his brow furrowed.
“She went to Bramblewood.”
“Bramblewood?” Edmund repeated. Was she looking for him, or Emily he wondered?
Eliza nodded sagely. “Bramblewood.”
Edmund was back on his horse in a flash, pushing the tired animal to the most direct route across the fields to the duke’s estate.
Edmund pushed the poor horse. He felt like he could not get to Anne fast enough. Once at Bramblewood he left the animal in the groomsmen’s capable hands and hurried to the house. He was offered respite by Alex’s butler, and he told Franklin he was here to see Anne.
“I
will see if Miss Albright is in,” the man said. “You may wait in the drawing room.”
“I know she is in,” Edmund called after him. “I saw Sugar in the stable.”
In a few moments, his sister came into the room to receive him. “Why Edmund!” Emily said brightly. “We were just discussing you. At length.”
There was something chill in the tone that belayed the smile on his sister’s face. He knew that Anne had shown her the letter.
Edmund sighed. “I know. I mucked this up, Em,” he said.
She gave him a look that he supposed older sisters had given younger brothers for centuries.
“And now you need to fix it,” Emily said.
“Can I?” he whispered.
Emily did not answer.
Edmund cleared his throat, drawing himself up gravely, as though he had serious business which must be attended to at once, which of course, he did. “I must speak to Anne,” he said. Maybe the request was somewhat impolite in tone and haste, but he had little time for pleasantries, especially not with Emily. His entire life was on the line and she knew it.
“I would say you do indeed.” Emily crossed her arms and shook her head, but she nodded to the butler indicating that he should tell Anne that Edmund was here.
“Em? Is she very angry with me?” He asked sounding so contrite that it surprised even him.
“What do you think?” Emily said.
Edmund thought she would be. “I only wanted what is best for her,” Edmund insisted.
“I know,” Emily said softly.
In a few moments, Anne entered the drawing room. “Mr. Ingram,” she said with stilted formality.
The greeting went straight to his heart. “A-Anne,” he began, and for the first time in his life, stuttered over her name. Her look froze him.
“Miss Albright,” he started again. “I have done a foolish thing.”
“Several foolish things, if I were to be keeping count,” Anne said.
“Oh, please, do not keep an account of my foolishness,” he begged, and at another time she might have laughed at his self-deprecating humor, but not today. Today, she only waited with a sad look in her eyes that was more off-putting than any scold she could have mustered. When Anne was angry, she got into a passion. She was loud and wild and magnificent. She was fire in feminine form and he could always tease out that fury, sure that it would burn out.
He was not sure how to deal with ice. It reminded him of how much of this past year had gone by without his noticing the changes in her. Now, she was not who he expected her to be. Of course, that did not mean he loved her any less. If anything, he loved her more. She was his life. They were connected on some deep level that defied explanation. He knew this. Why did she not see that? Or perhaps she did.
“You knew it was me,” he said softly, speaking of the note. “You knew instantly, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.”
When had they ever been able to fool one another, Edmund thought? They were of one heart. He had always known that.
“So from where or whom did this information come?” Anne asked. “This slandering of Lord Amberleigh.”
“I am not sure it is slander,” Edmund hedged.
“So you are unsure,” Anne said.
He did not answer.
“Where did you find this information, Edmund?”
He smiled wanly. She could not keep addressing him formally. There was too much between them. “Well, from your cousin, Harry,” Edmund admitted at last.
“Harry? Oh, Harry is so upright, I should believe him in a heartbeat,” she said sarcastically. “My cousin is not one to talk about mistresses and fidelity.”
Edmund hissed through his teeth. That was true, but he was willing to believe Harry. He knew Amberleigh was a ponce. Edmund could not explain how he knew, but he knew. “Harry found out from someone who should know,” Edmund said.
Anne’s eyes narrowed. “At your insistence?”
“W-well, yes,” Edmund stuttered under her knowing gaze.
“Who told him?” Anne persisted.
Edmund hedged again.
“I just want to know if this is true,” Anne said at last, “or did you two just make it up to disparage the man?”
“Amberleigh needs no help from me to be a villain.” Edmund stood and paced, running a hand through his hair, a sure sign of his nervousness. But Anne would know that. He jammed his hands into his pockets.
“Edmund,” she persisted.
“All right then. No. Harry’s source was not exactly reliable. I have no proof,” he admitted. “Nor do I know if the man is currently keeping a mistress or if this is old news,” Edmund said embarrassed, “But I do know the man is not what he says he is. I have a sense for these things. You know that, Anne. I tell you the man is vile. I can feel it.”
“You did this on a feeling?” Anne hissed. “Do you seek to destroy my life, Edmund? Do you revel in my pain?”
Edmund was shocked. “No. No, of course not. I would never wish to cause you pain.”
“But you have,” she said.
“I know. I should not have sent the note, but Amberleigh is not the right man for you. You can’t marry him.” As soon as Edmund laid down the ultimatum, he knew he had said the wrong thing, but he could not take it back.
Anne immediately dug in her heels. “That is not your decision,” she said. “It is mine.”
“It’s the wrong decision!” Edmund shouted, doubling down on his point. Never stand still in a sink-hole, he thought. He had to push straight through.
“You promised you would not interfere,” Anne replied, her voice rising with her ire. “You said you would step aside. Is this how you step aside, Edmund?”
“Well no, but...it is the wrong decision,” Edmund said exasperated trying to make his point more clearly.
“Who I marry is my choice,” Anne argued. “Mine. And mine alone. You have no right to tell me what to do. No right!”
“Of course I am going to interfere. I’m not going to let you throw away your whole life on Amberleigh! He’s a villain and I know it. You would know it too if you hadn’t filled your head with romantic fluff and pretty lies. All those ridiculous notions of how a gentleman should act. And how a lady should act for that matter.” Edmund pulled his hands out of his pockets and waved one demonstrative hand over his head. “You never used to care. I cannot stand by and watch you do something this stupid. I don’t know why you...”
“Stupid!” Anne screeched, her voice becoming shrill. “I’m stupid now, am I?”
“I didn’t mean…Oh bloody hell.”
“You called me stupid,” she said, incensed. “How dare you!”
“I never say the right thing with you,” Edmund said. “You make me so crazy, I forget everything but you.” He thought about how insanely angry he felt when he saw her kissing that arse Amberleigh, and his temper rose again. A pure hot rage ran through him like nothing he ever felt. He thought he would go mad with it. That scoundrel’s lips on his Anne felt like a blasphemy. One that he could not allow; would not allow.
“Do not lie this at my door,” Anne said. Her eyes flashed fire and Edmund felt his own blood boil as she matched his fury. “Your foolish actions are not my fault!”
“You are not listening.” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.
“You are the one not listening!”
“I can’t think straight when I’m around you. I tell you, woman, you make me crazy.”
“I…?” she began, but he left her no time to rebut. He grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her close, intent on kissing her senseless, but before he could do so, she hailed off and slapped him. The sound of the blow rang through the air.
He gasped with the sting of it.
“I don’t make you do anything, Edmund,” Anne said in a low and hard voice. “I am not nor have I ever been responsible for your actions. You are! And right now, your actions are reprehensible.”
He rocked back
on his heels, stung both by her words and her slap. His cheek was on fire. The slap she laid on his face had to have been her full strength. Why was she so angry?
“Anne,” he held his hand over the burning sensation on his cheek, fancying that he could feel the indentations of her individual fingers. “Anne, I…”
“Don’t,” she said raising her hand in front of his face and he wondered if she would hit him again. “I don’t want to hear any more,” she spat. “I won’t stand for it.”
“But Anne,” he said again.
“Get out,” she said.
“You can’t marry Amberleigh,” Edmund insisted. “He’s a manipulating scoundrel.”
“You are both manipulating scoundrels,” she shot back. “Right now, I am sick to death of all persons of the masculine persuasion.”
“Does that mean you are not marrying Amberleigh?” Edmund asked hopefully.
With a growl of rage, Anne chucked one of the pillows from the sofa at his head. It fell short, but she was not uncouth enough to throw any of Emily’s fine figurines, which would have been infinitely more satisfying.
“Leave, Edmund. Now.” Anne’s voice trembled with fury.
Edmund was suddenly struck by the weight of his actions. What had he just done? “I’m going,” Edmund promised. He realized that he had handled this terribly. He never meant to force himself on Anne. He was no better than Amberleigh. She was right. He was trying to manipulate her, but it was only because she seemed to be blinded by Amberleigh’s false charm. He paused, turning back to face her. He opened his mouth to try to explain, but realized that he had already said too much. “I’m sorry, Anne. I never meant…” He broke off his voice cracking. “I only wanted what is best for you. I always have.”
21
Anne’s hand stung from where she’d slapped Edmund. She stood a moment in shocked wonder that she’d actually had the audacity to strike him; the single most trustworthy person she had ever known. Not that she had not done so in the past. There had been many such infuriating encounters in their long acquaintanceship, but she had been a child then, not a woman grown.
The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Page 20
