Innocence (36 page)

Dear Anneliese,

I am very sorry to be the bearer of such sad tidings, but in the interest of our shared desire for honest and full disclosure, I thought you would prefer to be informed of events.
 

Moving to sit on the edge of her bed, Lisa steeled herself for what was to come while questioning her assertion that ignorance was incapable of producing happiness.

To my distress and Father’s vexation, Hugh rode out after Nathaniel before Father could speak with him—about what, he will not say—and they did not return from their visit to Gladstone Park until the day after you’d departed. When Nathaniel discovered you had left Worthington Hall, he appeared quite stunned. But then he said you returning to your father was for the best, as it was going to take time to sort out the mess he’d created. Then Father asked him what he was talking about, at which point, to my complete and utter frustration, I was ushered from the room! There was much shouting, but I was unable to discern what was being said, despite listening diligently at the door.

The next thing I knew, Nathaniel was packing to depart, all grim-faced and tight-lipped. He left immediately, having only just returned, and now I have no idea what’s going on, and no one will enlighten me. Father tells me not to worry, and Margaret, though very kind, refuses to answer any of my questions, saying she does not want to usurp her husband’s authority. Then Father told me he has doubts about Lord McGivern’s suitability as a prospective husband. But when I told him I thought very highly of Hugh and asked why he’d lost favour in Father’s eyes, he wouldn’t elaborate, merely saying I must trust his judgement on the matter. While I understand that’s the way things are done, it seems terribly unfair my feelings don’t carry more weight.

I had hoped to speak to Lord McGivern, to see if he would enlighten me as to the cause of the sudden rift between him and my father, but he left Worthington Hall with Nathaniel, and he never even came to say goodbye. If I was less of a lady, I’d have chased after him and demanded an explanation. But not wanting to risk appearing indecorous, I limited myself to watching his departure through the lace curtain of my room . . . and my copious tears. To add to my confusion, he sat upon his horse and stared up at my window for the longest time before turning and riding away, though I am certain he did not see me. His valet followed sometime later in the carriage he had arrived in, leading me to believe he is not planning on returning, so I have no idea when, or if, I shall ever see him again.

Adding to the mystery, Father travelled to visit the Gladstones the next day, returning with a foul disposition. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me not to worry—an impossibility, I assure you—merely saying the earl had a lot to answer for. Then I overheard him telling Margaret it looked like there would be more than one wedding. When I requested to know—remarkably politely, considering the circumstances—to whom he was referring, he said Lady Lucinda was to be married forthwith, but that it was to be a quiet affair. A quiet affair? I tell you, that does not sound like something Lucinda would agree to at all.
 

Of course, I cannot get a straight answer out of anyone. I can only assume the earl has made his support of Father’s political cause contingent on Nathaniel and Lucinda being wed without delay for fear Nathaniel will change his mind. This seems quite unnecessary as Father says Nathaniel is finally behaving with honour if a complete lack of sense—don’t ask me what that means—so I do not imagine he would renege on such an important agreement.

Oh, Anneliese, I do so wish it was you Nathaniel was marrying and not Lucinda. I realise one must do one’s duty, and it doesn’t appear Nathaniel has any choice in the matter, but I fear he is making a terrible mistake. Truly, I am all woe and gloom at the travesty I see unfolding before me. But the outcome appears inevitable. After persistent questioning, Father finally admitted Nathaniel has gone to the King to request permission to wed, confirming my dreadful conclusion.
 

If it is not too much to ask, I would appreciate it if you could find it in your heart to enlighten me to the actions that precipitated these events. I’m considering asking my lady’s maid, Agatha, what she knows, but I would rather hear directly from you if you’re still willing to correspond after my delivering such melancholic news.

Please forgive me for being the bearer of such woe.
 

Your friend,
 

Rebecca

P.S. If I do not hear from you, I will assume you no longer desire a friendship, and though I would be greatly saddened by such a decision, I promise to honour your wishes.

Lisa read through the letter twice in an attempt to make sense of Rebecca’s somewhat garbled rendition of events. Nathaniel had taken her advice and gone straight to the Earl of Gladstone to repair the breach and arrange to marry Lady Lucinda. She did not blame him. It was the logical thing for him to do, and she had made her wishes clear. But oh, how her heart ached at the thought he would soon be in the arms of another woman.

When she no longer ran the risk of soaking the paper with her tears, Lisa read through it a third time and found herself puzzling about why the wedding was required to occur hastily. Not that it mattered. The revelation of her unexpected heritage had come too late.
 

Disconsolate, she crossed to the window and stared out at the rain-soaked afternoon. Following a dripping trail of water down the pane with her finger, she couldn’t help but think of Nathaniel, in particular, the way his wavy locks would not be tamed despite the best intentions of his valet. She pictured him gazing at her with his deep blue eyes that could be dark and intense, hot and sensual, or soft and loving all dependent on his mood. Then there was his smile, the one that entranced her, warmed her from within, and inevitably drew an answering smile from her lips and heart.

“Oh, Nathaniel, I wish you happiness,” she whispered, leaning her head against the window frame, her breath fogging the glass. For herself, she could not imagine being truly happy ever again.

Chapter 32

Purpose

Dinner with her father and Penelope was an ordeal Lisa endured as best she could. She listened politely to their tales—mostly amusing, though sometimes harrowing when Penelope questioned her father about recent events. Contributing when required to the conversation, Lisa thought she was doing quite well at hiding her true feelings. But after one too many lapses, when she was tardy in her responses, Penelope eyed her considerately.

“So, Anneliese, what did you make of my nephew, Nathaniel?”
 

Lisa startled so badly she dropped her fork, sending it clattering to the ground. Wilson, their one and only footman, rushed to pick it up and fetch her a clean utensil.

“The marquis?”
 

She did her best to affect a nonchalant expression while hiding her trembling hands in her lap.

“Yes, he’s a very handsome young man, wouldn’t you say?”
 

Penelope’s tone was not unkind, but there was no missing the speculative slant to her brows.
 

Swallowing hard, Lisa knew she’d have to do better if she were to be successful in allaying Nathaniel’s aunt’s suspicions.

“Oh, yes, very handsome,” she said. Denying the obvious seemed unwise. “There was much discussion amongst the serving girls as to who was the most attractive. Lord McGivern, Lord Cahill, or Lord Marsden.” Lisa made no mention of Lord Edgeley, the mere thought of the man sending a shiver down her spine.

“Pity the boy’s a darn fool,” her father muttered. “Forgive my language, Penelope, but I’m afraid your nephew can’t be very bright if he mistook my daughter for a servant for two entire months.”

“That does seem remarkable. Are you sure he didn’t guess you were a lady of quality, Anneliese?”
 

“No, never.” Lisa answered truthfully, then followed it up with a lie. “Not that I spent much time in his presence. I worked in the kitchen mostly.”

“It’s just a hobby, of course, but Anneliese was trained by one of the best pastry chefs to ever come out of France.”
 

Her father beamed, enjoying the opportunity to boast to one of their peers about his daughter’s unusual talent. He had informed Penelope of her heritage and more than Lisa had expected about her stay at Worthington Hall.

“How extraordinary.”
 

Penelope continued to eye Lisa curiously, no doubt still amazed by the revelation of the double life she’d led while awaiting her brother’s return. Thomas’s letter, introducing Lisa and requesting Penelope’s chaperonage for her journey, had been purposefully vague regarding the nature of her stay in his home. But her father didn’t seem concerned about Penelope knowing of her misadventure, not that he knew the full story, of course.

“I admit to having harboured the hope Anneliese and Nathaniel might come to an agreement if given the opportunity to get to know one another,” her father added.

It took all Lisa’s recently developed skill at subterfuge not to give away the extent of her shock.

“Papa?” she asked hoarsely. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Just that I thought you two might make a good match.”
 

He eyed her purposefully, signalling for her to be careful what she said in front of Penelope. Lisa stared at him blankly, wondering what exactly she was supposed to be being discreet about. But then she recalled his words from earlier in the afternoon, how he wanted her to marry for love as he and her mother had done. Her father had been hoping Nathaniel and she would meet and fall in love. Of course, he wouldn’t want her to mention such an unconventional notion in front of their guest.

“Oh, what a splendid idea, George.” Penelope politely ignored the silent message he’d sent Lisa’s way. “You and Thomas are such good friends. How fortuitous it would be if your children were to marry. You could be grandparents together!”

Her father’s cheeks coloured at that notion. “Yes, well, I hadn’t thought quite that far.”

“I hardly think someone of the marquis’s position in society would be interested in someone like me,” Lisa said, wanting to put a stop to this painful of conversations as quickly as possible.

“Nonsense,” her father said. “You’re beautiful, intelligent,
and
related to several royal houses. The boy’s going to kick himself when he realises what an opportunity he let pass by just because he couldn’t see beyond a servant’s uniform to recognise the lady of exceptional quality beneath.”

Oh, Nathaniel had well and truly seen beneath the uniform,
Lisa mused, the scandalous thought causing her cheeks to flush. Busying herself with her dessert, she applied herself to each bite of the strawberry tart as if she’d never tasted anything finer. In reality, it was like dirt in her mouth. She chewed mechanically, swallowing each dry morsel with a sip of the wine her father had served her in honour of her homecoming.

“Well, it’s not too late,” Penelope said. “I’ll make the introduction myself when Anneliese comes up to London for the season. She is most welcome to stay with me at my townhouse. In fact, I’d be happy to act as chaperone and introduce her to society.”

Her father seemed taken with the idea while Lisa did her best to stifle her splutter of dismay.

“What a jolly surprise it will be when Nathaniel discovers the young lass he’d seen working as a maid in his father’s home is both a member of the royal family and a distant relative. I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t a betrothal announced before the season is over. The
ton
will be agog at the news.”
 

Penelope’s smile was quite genuine, but Lisa stared at her in horror.

“That’s impossible. Nathaniel is betrothed already, I mean
Lord Marsden
, to Lady Lucinda Gladstone. They’re to be married forthwith.”

Lisa’s declaration was met with silence.

“Really?” Penelope said. “I haven’t been informed of such a development. Are you sure?”

“Quite.” Lisa modified her tone. “It came up in conversation after Uncle Thomas formally introduced me to everyone just before my return home. Lady Rebecca mentioned it again in a letter she wrote after I’d left but which arrived at Barlow Manor before me.”

“I’m surprised Thomas didn’t speak of it in the letter he wrote to me,” her father said.
 

To Lisa’s relief, he shrugged, seeming to dismiss the matter.
 

“I’m sure it’s for the best,” he added. “I can’t see my Lisa enjoying the life of a marchioness with all that formality and public scrutiny. Though I suppose you’ll have to get used to increased attention when your heritage is revealed.” He addressed Lisa directly. “Regardless, I would never agree to your marrying a simpleton.”

Lisa forced herself to laugh at his words, but Penelope did not join in.

“Well I, for one, am disappointed,” she said soberly. “I’ve always thought of Nathaniel as a sensitive individual. The match may have been orchestrated by their respective mothers from before their births, but it’s obvious to me he and Lucinda are not well suited. I’m surprised Thomas has agreed to the union. I do hope he hasn’t sacrificed his son’s happiness to his political ambitions, no matter how honourable.”