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

by Isabella Thorne

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, who is it?” Emily snapped. She had drawn herself up at the interruption, eyes flashing fire. Her words were clipped, lips compressed in an angry line. Anne could see that her friend was trying to restrain herself from snapping at the butler. Not very successfully she might add. Of course, the interruption wasn’t his fault exactly. The man was only doing his job.

  “Lord Amberleigh, Your Grace. He wished to speak with Miss Albright.” Franklin answered, reluctantly.

  Anne stared unbelievingly at the man. Any sympathy for the butler disappeared at the pronouncement. How dare Amberleigh come here! Their engagement was over. She did not want to see him. She did not want to explain. She looked over to Emily, unsure what to do or how to act.

  “Oh, send him away.” Emily brushed the matter aside as she would a gnat. “You refused him, Anne. Your duty is done. Franklin, tell our guest to find some place else to be.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the butler bowed, but Anne stopped him.

  “Wait.” Anne turned uneasily toward Emily. Her explanation had been paltry at best, and she felt she had in some way deceived the man. Or at least, she had led him on. Perhaps she did owe Amberleigh something. “Would you allow me the use of the drawing room? I think I should speak to him.”

  “Anne, you do not need to, you have made your decision clear, and he must accept that. It is within your right to call off the engagement, after all.”

  “Still…” Anne stood and smoothed her dress, stuffing the handkerchief into her sleeve. “Please let Lord Amberleigh know that I will attend him in the drawing room momentarily.” The butler stole a glance at the duchess who nodded. He bowed and left, the look of a long-suffering mourner upon his face.

  “Anne, why are you doing this?” Emily asked, bluntly.

  “Because, I made a promise to wed him. And my father did give him his blessing. It was unfair of me to have allowed things to go so far when I had so many doubts. Besides I have to confess I might have been somewhat lacking in explanation. If he has recriminations for me, or he wishes to admonish me, then I must own up to such censure.”

  Emily looked as though she would object, but she only sighed and nodded. “Very well, but I will have a footman standing by in the hallway should you need anything.”

  Anne assured Emily that it would not be necessary although she was sure that Amberleigh would be livid. She had disgraced him with her refusal.

  Lord Amberleigh rose as Anne entered. She thought she had prepared herself for every foreseeable outcome of the meeting, but she was surprised when he took her hand and lightly kissed the backs of her fingers.

  “Lord Amberleigh.” Anne said. It was all the response she was able to manage. She had been prepared for anger, outrage, even a bent-knee plea for her return, but none were the reaction she received.

  “There you are. My dear Anne, do not fret your little head over something as simple as cold feet.” Amberleigh began. “I am informed that many a blushing bride has felt similarly frightened before her marriage. You would not be the first, nor the last. I know you are a simple country girl. My effusiveness was overwhelming.”

  “No,” Anne protested. She had no idea where to begin. Apparently, Lord Amberleigh’s solution to her rejection was to ignore it entirely. “My lord, we are not to be wed. I wish to call off the banns.”

  “I understand, my dear, and I forgive you your bout of female emotion.”

  Anne sputtered, astonishment giving way to anger. “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying, that I will still marry you,” Amberleigh said with maddening aplomb. “In fact, I find your eccentricity somewhat endearing.”

  He was his usual unruffled self, as if her choice was of no consequence. His condescending smile mocked her. It made Anne want to slap him. She thought about how good his face would look with the imprint of her hand upon it, but then decided he was not worth it. She would not marry this pompous cad now if he were the last man on earth. There was no point in antagonizing him further. She just needed him to understand that she would not marry him, so he would leave.

  “This is no eccentricity, my lord. I have received word that you keep company with a woman in Town and I therefore no longer wish to continue our association.”

  Anne waited for him to deny it, but Amberleigh seemed nonplussed. He brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder.

  “You are a sensible girl. May I speak plainly?” He replied.

  “Please do.” Anne’s voice was ice. “Perhaps you might begin by explaining your betrayal of all that is promised by marriage.”

  “Yes. I did wonder if the reluctance your sister expressed had to do with that.”

  Anne stared at Amberleigh in shock. She consciously had to stop her jaw from dropping. She had not truly believed Edmund’s story about Amberleigh’s mistress. She did not believe he could hide such a thing from her so completely, but the odious man freely admitted his immorality.

  “I have kept a mistress in London for nigh on six years, though I have been the very picture of discretion.”

  “Not discreet enough,” Anne said, berating her own foolishness. She was once an expert in drawing out gossip. How had she not asked more of Amberleigh’s character? Why had she not inquired of his servants or other ladies of his acquaintance? Anne knew why, because she had not wanted to know the truth. She had convinced herself that Amberleigh was perfect, and she had ignored what she didn’t want to see. Now her eyes were opened and she needed to know just how many lies this man had told her, both by fact and by omission.

  Amberleigh sighed. “I truly do not know how you received word of the matter. There has been no gossip. No scandal.”

  “Nonetheless, I did find word,” Anne said coolly. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to attempt to explain himself. She realized, that she should be grateful to Edmund for his drunken scrawl of a note. Edmund had seen thorough this man’s lies. Edmund had simply known Amberleigh to be false. Anne’s heart softened, and perhaps her face showed her feelings, because Amberleigh reached for her. She avoided his grasp. Amberleigh scowled at her avoidance, but he quickly settled his face into his usual pleasing expression.

  “Our match is a sensible arrangement, Miss Albright. I do not understand your reluctance. Many marriages of the ton are built on far less. As I see it, neither of our lives need to change. Indeed, that is why I chose you.”

  Amberleigh paused and smiled at her. Was he waiting for her to swoon and fall into his arms, weeping for joy at his approval of her? As if his choosing her was some high honor? Anne twisted her hands in her lap, wanting nothing more than to smack the self-righteous grin off his smug face. Amberleigh continued speaking, unaware of her rising ire.

  “It is a most satisfactory arrangement. You shall live at my new property near Northwickshire. You will have your family and your friends nearby, and you may do as you please. I have no intention of giving up my mistress, and I shall not intrude upon you unduly, but I do require an heir. Naturally, you shall have a greater degree of control over the upbringing of any female children you may bear.”

  Anne gritted her teeth. A slap was too good an end to his duplicity. The thought of sharing a bed with this oaf, made her want to run him through with a rapier.

  “I shall see to it that you have as many gowns as you wish. If you desire a horse and curricle of your own to travel the Northwickshire Road, I see no reason why you should not have it, and anything else you require.”

  “How very generous of you,” Anne snapped. “Is that what you told your mistress as well?”

  “I—” he seemed at a loss for words.

  “I asked you a question,” she demanded coldly. “Did you offer your mistress many gowns, jewels and a carriage? A horse? Perhaps a house?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then, you seem to be under the impression that a wife and a whore are one and the same,” Anne said. “I am no whore, Lord Amberleigh.”

  “Of course not,” he said, scandalized
by her use of harsh language. “I offer you my protection and my good name.”

  “I see, did you not offer her your protection also?” Anne sneered.

  Amberleigh did not answer immediately and when he did it was through clenched teeth. “She is not so argumentative,” he said, dropping his affable demeanor.

  Anne was livid. “Has it not occurred to you that a paid companion does what she is told to do without complaint, simply because she is paid? Marriage is different.”

  “I offer you my name!” he argued.

  Anne had heard enough. Her gaze fell on a display of crossed swords in the anteroom and she considered skewering Amberleigh with one of them, if only she could reach the display. It was only her shock at the sheer audacity of the man that kept her immobile. There were so many rebuttals crowding into her mind that she could not choose between them. None were sufficient.

  “No,” she said at last, rising. “I do not want your name, Lord Amberleigh. I see that it is of little value. Now, please leave.” There. That seemed to cover things very well.

  Unfortunately, he seemed not to hear. He reached for her again taking her by the wrist.

  “Unhand me!” Anne demanded.

  “Now, my dear sweet Anne…” Amberleigh placated, attempting to take her in his arms. She stiffened in his grip, but he still did not release her. His attempt on her person ended abruptly as his head snapped back under the force of Anne’s slap. She wriggled from his grasp, putting some space between them.

  Amberleigh turned to Anne with menace, his cane raised as if to strike her with it, and for the first time Anne felt a rush of fear.

  “How dare you?” Amberleigh hissed at her, like the snake Edmund had once caught when they were little. Anne wished Edmund were here now to remove this snake, but it occurred to her that Edmund was absent at her insistence. The surge of anger she felt for her own failings joined with the ire she held for Amberleigh, fusing into a white hot rage.

  Amberleigh stepped towards her and Anne picked up the fireplace poker, brandishing it with a righteous vengeance. She reacted almost instinctively, her body recalling long ago fencing lessons. Although the poker lacked a foil’s balance, she brandished it expertly, sweeping the poker inside Amberleigh’s guard, catching his cane, and wrenching it from his grasp. It clattered across the floor, rolling away.

  “I am not your ‘dear sweet Anne’!” she shouted. “I am not your dear anything. I do not know how to make this clearer, but I shall endeavor to speak plain words so that even your hideously swollen head can comprehend my meaning. We are not betrothed. We are not anything to each other.” She brandished the poker. “You will not touch me again, and unless you want to feel considerably more pain, you will leave at once.”

  For one awful moment, Amberleigh’s face contorted with menace, and then he gave a single sharp nod. He bent to retrieve his cane and straighten his coat, but the scowl on his face could have set fire to the drapery.

  Anne felt her hands tremble, her entire body began to shake. The anger and desire to lash out, to strike at the man was overwhelming and she did not trust herself to refrain from hurting him and severely. The iron poker was much heavier than a fencing foil.

  With an effort that was no less astonishing than any of legend, she forced herself to turn away from Amberleigh. Deliberately putting her back him she walked proudly from the room.

  The footman Emily had promised, despite Anne’s objections, stood in the doorway. He bowed slightly to Anne as she strode from the room, still carrying the fireplace poker gripped in both hands like a club.

  “Lord Amberleigh is leaving.” She informed the young man. “It would be best if his departure was immediate. Please make sure he does not get lost on the way out.”

  “You cannot simply dismiss me.” Amberleigh’s shout was enough to make her turn to face him. Anne stared, astonished at his insolence, wondering how it was she had ever thought the man a gentleman? How had she thought him handsome? To her mind, he was foul, especially when his countenance was twisted into a mask of hatred and derision.

  Anne opened her mouth to speak, although she could not think of anything more she could say. Thankfully, the matter was taken from her hands.

  “I can.” A man’s voice said from the shadows. The Duke of Bramblewood emerged with Emily in his wake. “I think it best if you leave, Amberleigh, and consider this an end to our acquaintance.” He turned to the footman. “James, if you need any assistance in removing Lord Amberleigh, you have the entire staff at your disposal.” Alexander grinned at Anne. “Although Miss Albright seems to be doing quite well on her own. If you wish her help to evict him, I am sure she will oblige.”

  “Yes, Your Grace” the footman bowed deeply. “I don’t believe that will be necessary.”

  The burly young man glared at Amberleigh, and looked ready to remove him by force if Amberleigh said one word.

  Amberleigh stiffened and bowed perfunctorily to the duke. The two women he ignored outright, as he turned on one heel and strode from the hall with a stiff back. No one opened the door for him, but James and another footman quite eagerly closed it behind him, perhaps a bit sooner than was necessary.

  “I think, I would like a brandy,” the duke said, his eyes still on the door where Amberleigh had gone. “Perhaps, a sherry for Anne, if you approve, my love?”

  He turned to Emily, but she had dissolved into laughter.

  “Just what is so funny?” Anne asked.

  “You,” Emily said between giggles. “Brandishing that poker as if it were a sword, chasing the man from the house.”

  Alexander smiled and Anne looked down at the poker still gripped in her hands. Now, she was embarrassed.

  “I hope you never get so angry at my brother,” Emily said, still hiccuping with laughter.

  “Of course not,” Anne said, looking for a place to set the poker.

  “If I may, Miss,” said the footman, who had already returned with brandy and a carafe of sherry. He took the poker from Anne, as if such wild goings on were a commonplace occurrence in the duke’s house.

  “Are you quite alright, Anne?” Alexander asked as they returned to the parlor.

  “Yes. I am fine.” Anne assured them. She found to her amazement that this was, in fact, very true. With Amberleigh gone her heart felt light, and she found a smile on her lips. She had let others rule her for far too long. For the first time in a long time she felt in control of herself and her own life. She had made a mess of things, but it was up to her to set it to rights. “However, I will not be joining you.” Anne nodded at the glasses. “I must find Edmund. We have a previous commitment, and I fear I am many years late in keeping it.”

  Emily nodded knowingly to her friend and wished her luck.

  24

  Edmund paused at the base of the large oak tree, his thoughts were bittersweet. Nothing would ever be the same without Anne. Memories of races and daring climbs to the top branches, made him smile. This tree held some of the greatest parts of his childhood. Memories hung from the branches like so many presents. And in every pleasant memory, Anne was there, smiling, laughing, and meeting him in adventure. Now she was gone; lost to him.

  He walked slowly avoiding the slippery patches of moss that grew on the stones. When he reached the bridge the sounds of ducks quacking pulled his memories to the deep stream. In his childhood it had become the ocean, a raging torrent, or the heart of the Nile, depending on the fantasy and whether he and Anne were fighting pirates or natives or the elements themselves. The ducks swam up to him looking for food. It had been a long while since he had fed the ducks…with Anne. Always with Anne.

  Barefoot chases had ensued through the thick mud along the stream as they charged the ducks that swam and nested under the footbridge. The ducks would then rally and return the charge and Anne would scream and race back up the hill, skirts held high as they fended off the enemy until they both lay gasping and laughing under a warm summer sun.

  The footbridge lay just b
eyond, along the old worn pathway between trees that glittered under the dappled sunlight. It had been a magical pathway between worlds, as if it were made expressly for the two children and their breathless exploration. But it wasn’t the path that was magical, nor was it the warmth of the summer sunlight. It had always been Anne who made his world a wonder and brought laughter and light to his life. It was Anne who made his youth sparkle.

  It was Anne who sent him away. Edmund covered his face with his hands and pulled in a deep shuddering breath. Was this any less than he had merited? Anne had the right of it. He had tried to force the strong young woman back into the little girl. He had tried to confine her to what he remembered so fondly. Anne, however, had grown up. She was no longer the girl who was all arms and legs with her flaxen hair blowing free and wild in the wind. Anne was a woman grown, beautiful and intelligent and ready for marriage and a new life. Edmund was still playing at chasing shadows and fighting imagined foes. He had seen Amberleigh as a villain that needed to be vanquished and he had used Anne to his own ends. It was no wonder she rejected him.

  He touched his right cheek where Anne had last touched him. No matter that it was a slap. He had almost relished the pain of that stinging blow. It was fading now, and would soon be gone entirely, just like Anne would be gone. He had hoped that last touch would bring absolution, rather like a monk seeking redemption in self-flagellation, but if there was a catharsis in the pain it was, perhaps, known only to the holy brothers. For Edmund’s part, he felt miserable.

  There was nothing sacred to this. Edmund knew himself for a fool and was ashamed of his actions. He leaned against the railing of the old footbridge and it creaked under his weight. He was older now. Yet he was still trying to absorb the memories of Anne’s laughter. He wanted to save that memory like a portrait; a frozen memento of things gone by. He wanted to linger here a while longer and savor the remembered sound. If he had to let her go, then it would be here where he had first come to love her. But not yet. He could not let go yet. After a few minutes more, perhaps he would be ready; after he had explored one final time, the best and the worst of their times together. The ducks clamored beneath the bridge, awaiting some treat, but he had nothing to give them. Nothing but regret.