Kathryn Caskie - [Royle Sisters 02] (14 page)

Hesitantly she glanced at Lady MacLaren, thinking that she would detect Anne’s untruths immediately. But Lady MacLaren was smiling. Her eyes welled with pride as she gazed at Anne.

She had gone too far. Why did she do it?

Anne swallowed deeply, hoping to knock back into her throat whatever lie was next making its way to her lips.

Anne loathed lying. She was terrible at telling lies, even small white lies meant to spare someone’s feelings. Always had been.

So why couldn’t she seem to stop lying now?

“S
he’ll be right as March rain within a week.” Doctor Willet finished wrapping the bandage around Anne’s knee, then tied it off.

Laird saw the exasperated glance the doctor gave Anne as she looked down to adjust her skirts over her leg.

Then Doctor Willet swiveled around and gazed at Lady MacLaren. “Though you might try to convince her stay in the house for another fortnight—for her own good.”

“Thank you so much for tending our Anne, Dr. Willet.” She walked with him into the passage, complaining about the stiffness in her shoulders just after a soaking rain.

Laird closed the drawing room door until it
remained but a finger’s width open. “Anne, I know we have only a few moments before my mother returns, so please, just listen to me. I’m sorry for last night.”

She tried to wave him away, but instead he came closer. Anne’s golden eyes began to glisten. “Wh-what is it about me that you find so repugnant?” she asked him.

“What?” Laird shook his head in confusion and knelt down beside the settee.

“Yes, what exactly is it? I need to know.”

“Anne, I adore everything about you. You are amusing and beautiful, brave and kind.” He tried to reach out to her, but she leaned away, making her desire to avoid his touch very clear.

“There must be something about me that you detest.” She folded her arms tightly about her.

“Why are you co convinced?” Laird expelled a breath. “Because I did not make love to you?”

“Yes! At first I thought it was because you had changed—and wished to save me ruin. Because you were a gentleman.
You had changed
.” Her voice trembled with emotion.

“Don’t you understand, Anne? I haven’t changed. I’ve tried, damn it, I have. But it’s no
use. I am irredeemable—a blackguard to my core. My father was right about me.”

“I saw the horror on your face when you pulled away from me. I knew then that you no longer believed your own transformation. You doubted yourself. I had to talk to you. I had to help you see that you were wrong.” Anne wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand and looked directly at him. “Laird, I tried to wait up for you last night…but the wine. I fell asleep—”

“Anne.”

Her expression changed then, grew harder. “—only to be awakened by you, and Apsley…and your lady friends arriving at the house.”

“Anne, you must listen to me—they were Apsley’s friends, not mine. I assure you, nothing happened.”

“But I saw—”

“What, Anne?”

Her nostrils flared and her breath grew rapid. She sniffed back her tears. “
N-nothing.
” She pushed up past him and limped to the door. “Do excuse me, please.”

“Anne!” Laird came to his feet and reached out a hand to her, but Anne had already disap
peared into the passage. “In the library, I didn’t, because I…I—” He closed his mouth and let his hand fall to his side. “Because I love…” His words trailed out into the empty drawing room, until they were enveloped by silence.

Lady MacLaren walked in through the open door, teasing Laird for an instant with the thought that Anne had returned.

“Laird, why didn’t tell me about the fire? You are truly a hero.”

Laird straightened his back, willing away whatever remnants of visible emotion clung to him.

“Dear Anne is so proud; she could not seem to stop herself from telling everyone all about it.”

“The fire?”

Lady MacLaren’s eyes sparkled merrily, and her mouth puckered to suppress a chuckle. “Oh yes, a terrible fire—with cats.”

“Oh dear God.” Laird ran his hands through his hair. “Seriously, she said…cats?”

Lady MacLaren could withhold her mirth no longer, and laughter burst from her lips. “Oh yes. Cats. And you, my dear, are their hero.”

Anne threw herself onto the bed and clapped her hands over her damp eyes. “Why can’t I rein
in my heart when he is near?” Balling her fist, she slammed it to the bedding.

Lord knew, she had tried so hard to remain calm and serene in Laird’s presence, but from the moment he closed the drawing room door and looked at her with that sorrowful expression of his, she knew she should just limp away. But she hadn’t, and an aching wound seemed to rip open within her chest, giving way to bleeding words and tearful accusations.

She was so pitiful.

She should have never come to St. Albans. Playing the role of fiancée to a rogue of the first sort was far more difficult than she ever imagined. She was far too inexperienced in the ways of ordinary gentlemen. Whatever made her think she could parry with a man as extraordinary as Laird? He was far too charming. Too clever. Too handsome. Too…skilled. Anne flushed hotly at the memory of his luscious mouth…his wandering fingers upon her—

“No, no, no!” She scrubbed her hands over her face.
Do not even think such thoughts!

She flung herself upright and sat on the edge of the tester bed. All she needed was to stop de
luding herself that Laird was interested in her as anything but a means to appear respectable—and remain focused on the completion of her two tasks: search for the hidden letters and help Lady Henceforth see the good in Laird. That’s all.

Now that she was aware of her times of weakness with him, she could manage them. It would be simple enough. She would just remain stoic and phlegmatic whenever she found herself in the unfortunate position of being alone with him.

Simple.

An hour later, Laird spied Anne cutting flowers in the garden. Her face no longer appeared mottled, her eyes were not red, and her countenance was quite serene. Yes, he decided, it was time to try another apology.

As quietly as he could, he opened the French window and stepped onto the garden path.

“Anne.”

She startled at his voice and began to hurry away, but she stilled abruptly. She turned slowly to him and raised her chin. “I was just thinking I could use a rake in the garden.”

He supposed he deserved that. “Anne, I am sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I am quite recovered now.” Like the dragonfly circling a puddle alongside the garden path, Anne’s gaze flitted lightly over him.

Ah, a direct approach was not going to reach Anne. Another way, perhaps.

Laird raised his palms and offered her a small smile. “Cats?”

For the briefest instant, he could almost swear that a smile flickered on her lips.

“Well, I didn’t know if the woman I read about in the
Times
had children.” Her throat muscles contracted as she swallowed. “Cats…just slipped off my tongue. I cannot explain it, so I shan’t.”

“So, please let me see if I have a full accounting of my heroics before I speak to my mother or anyone else in St. Albans again.”

Anne nodded once.

“I rescued you from drowning. I pulled a woman and…her cats from a burning building, and it is my grandest desire to improve the welfare of humanity through charity. Oh, and I rescued you from certain death after you fell from a cliff. Do I have this right, Anne?”

Anne’s eyes were wide as tea saucers when she nodded again.

“I haven’t left anything out?”

“Not yet.”

Laird stared at her in disbelief. “Yet?”

“I haven’t been able to locate a London newspaper since we’ve arrived.” Anne cringed. “I read the news and, lud, I do not know why, but somehow, of late, the stories emerge, transformed into heroic stories about
you
.”

“Damn it all, Anne, these tales must stop.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t you think I am aware of that? But Lady Henceforth can just be so politely…
awful
. Another few words and your mother would have been in tears. It was either stuff my handkerchief into Lady Henceforth’s mouth—which would have been difficult given my bleeding knee—or say something that would have the same effect. I chose the latter.”

Could Anne be speaking of his Lady Henceforth? Constance, the elegant, soft-spoken widow who desired nothing more than to read in her garden, to sing when the occasion presented, and to play the pianoforte? Surely not.

It struck him then. This was not about Lady Henceforth at all. This was about last night.
“What did she say to my mother that so upset her?”

“Oh, I do not recall…precisely.” Anne waved him off. “She was about to attack your character. So I stopped her.”

“By making me out to be some larger-than-life heroic figure?” Laird retorted sarcastically.

“Yes
.” Anne limped toward a crimson-budded rose bush. “Haven’t we spoken enough today? I will not discuss anything more. Besides, this was all
your
idea.”

“My idea?”

“Yes, yours completely. I did not wish to perpetuate the lie of our engagement.
You
forced me to continue this outrageous charade.
You
made me agree to help you redeem your character in the eyes of Lady Henceforth.”

“And
this
, Anne, is what you think I meant?”

“I
told
you I could not do this. This was all far beyond my nature. And yet you pressed me.” Anne limped toward the door and opened it. Before she stepped into the house, she looked over her shoulder at him. “So
this
is what you get—
cats
.”

Damn it all
. This day had gone straight to hell.

And all he had wanted to do this morning was to find Anne and tell her that he was sorry.

Two days later

Anne had found reasons, weak and dreadfully transparent though they were, to avoid being left alone with Laird for two full days.

Today, when she was afforded her first real excuse for leaving MacLaren Hall, Laird was nowhere to be seen. Anne gave a parting glance up at Laird’s bedchamber window and then boarded the carriage Lady Henceforth had sent to bring her to Chasten Cottage for tea.

Oh, she doubted Lady Henceforth was just being kind to send transportation in consideration of her bandaged knee. Women like her always had an ulterior reason for gestures of kindness. More likely she didn’t want to risk Laird coming to rescue Anne from some unforeseen accident.

Anne’s head thumped back against the leather cushion as the driver snapped his whip and the carriage lurched forward.

She dreaded Lady Henceforth’s invitation to tea but felt obliged to accept.

She had made a Laird a promise to redeem his reputation, and she would keep it, if only to hasten her own return to London. Anne stared blankly out the window as the carriage rolled down the pitted road.

Today she would take more care with her words. She gave her head a resolute nod. There would be no more talk of dangerous rescues…or cats.

Oh, she had made such a cake of herself.

Cats
. What had she been thinking? There was no conceivable way that Lady Henceforth would ever believe her stories of Laird’s heroics now.

Anne sighed and looked down at the card the butler had just delivered to her.

It was only by a great gift of fortune that Lady Henceforth had witnessed Laird’s one authentic rescue, since the rest of Anne’s own tales were naught but froth and meringue. And fur. She cringed at the thought of them all.

Unfortunately, the most convincing evidence she could produce to support the fact that Laird had indeed changed—even though he had disproved the notion that very same night—was that he did not make love to her even when he knew she wanted nothing more at that moment.

Sadly, though, she could not share that choice bit of proof with anyone, and especially not with Lady Henceforth.

A dozen minutes later, the carriage in which Anne was riding passed a tall hedgerow, and Chasten Cottage burst into view.

She wrapped her gloved fingers over the top of the carriage door window and leaned her face out into the wind to watch the approach.

Coincidentally, another vehicle was just quitting Chasten Cottage, necessitating Anne’s carriage to halt to allow its passage.

As it did, she caught sight of the lone gentleman passenger. He tipped his hat as the carriage rolled past. A shiver slid down her spine.

Anne leaned as far out of the half window as she could without falling, just to be sure of what she saw.

A steady wind blew in her face, making her eyes water, but the distinctive MacLaren coat of arms painted on the door of the town carriage was all the additional verification she needed.

Laird.

How could he do this?

She yanked her head back inside the cab and slammed her fist down upon the seat cushion.
The tears summoned by the breeze trickled down her cheek. Her fingers scrabbled inside her reticule for a handkerchief to dab them away.

She would not wish Lady Henceforth to believe she was crying, for indeed she was not. She wasn’t crying at all.

The tears were from the wind…not because she had just seen her betrothed—her pretend betrothed—leaving his former fiancée’s home. Certainly not.

T
aking tea with Lady Henceforth after seeing Laird leave her home put Anne in a very awkward situation, and did nothing to improve her mood.

“Dear Anne, I am so pleased that your fall from the cliff did not cause you any lingering injury.” Lady Henceforth gifted her with a mawkish smile.

“Only a scratch. I was very, very fortunate that Laird came along when he did.” Anne met Lady Henceforth’s insipid smile with one matched in cloyingness.

She wondered whether she ought to mention that she had passed Laird on the road or pretend she was blissfully unaware that her husband-to-be had been paying a visit to the widow.

“Lady MacLaren seems very excited at the prospect of her son’s wedding.” Lady Henceforth poured the tea to the very brim of Anne’s cup and carefully passed it to her.

“Yes, indeed.” Distractedly, Anne reached out for the spilling dish of tea and settled it before her, not caring a bit if any dripped onto the polished top of the tea table.

On second thought, Anne mused, given that Lady Henceforth had sent the carriage to retrieve her from MacLaren Hall, and likely knew her and Laird’s carriages would pass, another option would be to simply neglect mentioning the sighting at all and wait to see when, and in what context, the widow would offer the information.

Anne decided on the latter, given the widow’s game with the too-full teacup. She waited, calmly managing to sip her tea and to chew her soggy lemon biscuit, for a report of the visit to eventually burst from her gloating hostess’s mouth.

“When will the banns be posted?” Lady Henceforth began most innocently.

“Soon enough, I suppose. We haven’t discussed the wedding plans yet. My sister Mary is in last months of her pregnancy, and travel for
her would be most difficult.” Anne smiled pleasantly. Best let Lady Henceforth feel she had time enough to snatch Laird back from her if that was what she intended.

Lud, wouldn’t it be fortuitous if that was what the widow planned to do. Anne knew she ought to feel happy at the very likely prospect. But she did not.

“I remember when Laird—oh, you do not mind if I refer to him by his Christian name, do you?” Lady Henceforth was almost grinning. “It is how he asked me to refer to him, and therefore how I think of him.”

“Oh, do not change your thinking because you fear offending me.” Anne munched another bit of her biscuit.

“So.” Lady Henceforth leaned over the petite tea table between them. “Are you quite in love?”

For some reason, that question struck Anne hard and tipped her from her footing. An ache akin to a too snug corset tightened in her chest.

“Or don’t you know, Anne?” The far left edge of Lady Henceforth’s mouth twitched in apparent anticipation of Anne’s reply. “Have you even been in love before?”

“I have never felt this way before.
Ever
. When I see him, an excitement pulses through me. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel as though I am at my best when we are together…as though nothing is beyond my grasp.” Anne touched her teacup to her lips, startled by her own words.

Lady Henceforth blinked, and she appeared utterly thunderstruck.

So Anne continued. “When we are apart, I feel like a piece of me is missing, and I only feel whole when we are together again. Until Laird, I did not know I was incomplete.”

Lady Henceforth stared at Anne. “Oh.”

It was evident that the widow did not expect to hear what Anne had told her. And, lud, until she said them, Anne had not expected the words, either.

Anne sat very still.

For every word she said…was true.

A flush of warmth shot up from between Anne’s breasts, and she felt rather embarrassed at having bared her heart—for indeed that was what she had done—to Lady Henceforth, of all people.

“What about you, Lady Henceforth…forgive me, Constance?” Anne began. “You were
married once, but I am worldly enough to know that most marriages in England are not love matches.”

Lady Henceforth glanced down at her teacup and swirled the contents as she pondered the question. “I-I was in love,
once
.

“But it was a forbidden love.” Lady Henceforth laughed tightly. “I have never admitted this.” She looked up at Anne.

“I do apologize. I should not have asked.” Anne stared over the rim of her teacup at the widow.

“I was in love. I knew all the feelings you had expressed and more.” Lady Henceforth sighed forlornly. “But my parents had arranged a marriage for me. Lord Henceforth was much older than I. Closer to my grandfather’s years than my own.”

Anne grimaced. “You had no comment in the matter at all?”

“No. And so I had to bid my love a gentle adieu.”

Anne sighed as well, finding unexpected poignancy in her story. “And did you ever see him again?”

Lady Henceforth shook her head. “No, Gra
ham purchased a commission in the Fourteenth Light Dragoons soon afterward.”

“Graham?
” Anne bolted upright in her chair. “Graham Allan? Laird’s brother?”

Lady Henceforth’s eyes widened. “No, I said
he
purchased a commission. You misheard, Anne.”

“No, I do not believe I did. You said
Graham
.”

Tears sprouted in Lady Henceforth’s brown eyes. “No, I am certain you misheard.” Looking suddenly afraid, she clutched her middle. “Anne, I do apologize, but I am not feeling well. I shall summon my carriage for you. We shall finish tea at another time, if you do not mind.”

Anne was stunned. “No, of course I do not mind, Constance. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Lady Henceforth shook her head. “No. Good day, Anne.”

“Found anything interesting to read yet?” Anne asked.

Laird whirled around, scattering the bundle of music he held onto the parquet floor. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He knelt down and began
gathering up the sheet music. “How was your afternoon? You were not gone long.”

“No, I wasn’t. Lady Henceforth took ill quite suddenly.” She stooped and started picking up the sheets alongside him. “How was she when you were there?” Anne did not look at him, but her hands stilled while she awaited his reply.

“Lady Henceforth had invited me for luncheon.”

“Well, that accounts for it. So much food in such little time.” Laird was unprepared for the stark sarcasm in Anne’s voice.

“Anne.” He eased his hand up her arm. “We are both working toward the same end. To repair my image in Lady Henceforth’s eyes.” He felt her flinch at that, and he wished with all he was that he not spoken those words.

Anne shrugged his hand from her shoulder and came to her feet. “This is the last room to be searched, I believe. No letters?”

Laird shook his head.

“I found one.”

He turned and looked up to see Anne holding a folded sheet of foolscap. She held it out to him, and without removing his gaze from hers, he took it from her.

“I found it wedged in the back of a chest of drawers the other night—in Graham’s bedchamber.”

“What is this?” Laird rose slowly and took the letter from her hand.

“I do not know. I didn’t read it. It was addressed to you.”

With utmost reverence, Laird slowly opened the letter’s creased folds and began to read the short missive. He grimaced as though a fist had closed around his heart.

“Laird?”

“Oh my God
.” He clenched the letter in his hand and fled the room.