Lucy Muir (14 page)

Anne stood by the window, looking down into the street at the vehicles passing by. Well, her life mattered little, anyway. She should look on the bright side. She supposed she would be given a larger house by Lord Stanton and perhaps some jewels to add to her modest collection. She would refuse to appear with him in public as Lady Parnell did, though. Perhaps she could suffer through it with the fewest people becoming aware of the illicit association as possible.

She traced her finger idly over the back of the chair by the window. She might as well face it. She had lost the wager. There was no hope. She was bound to become Lord Stanton’s mistress, however repugnant it might be to her. Anger at Lord Stanton overcame her, and she clenched her fists, remembering his words the night before. She tried to remind herself again that she was as guilty as he for entering upon the wager, but the anger remained. She might as well concede right now and get it over with. That would be better than waiting until the end of the Season, watching Lord Stanton’s knowing smiles.

Chapter Nine

Once Anne had determined to concede the wager, she wished to get it over with as soon as possible. The next morning she carefully went through the invitations, searching for one to a function that Lord Stanton would be likely to attend.

Melissa came into the drawing room looking so bright and happy that Anne could not regret her decision to concede. Lieutenant Halcott was taking Melissa for a drive, and she had dressed in a becoming yellow gown trimmed with a narrow flounce. She swung a stamp-paper hat trimmed in shades of yellow by its ribbons, and sang softly under her breath.

Anne bade her ward good-morning and resumed looking through the invitations.

“I am trying to decide which function we should attend tonight,” she said.

“Tonight is Amelia’s come-out ball. We must attend that, of course,” Melissa reminded her, and crossed the room to watch for Lieutenant Halcott’s arrival from a window.

“Yes, I had forgotten,” Anne said, putting the invitations back on the salver and seating herself on her favourite chair.

Melissa looked at Anne thoughtfully. Her guardian appeared to be quite distracted. Perhaps it had meant more to Anne for her to marry a title than she would admit. But if it was a title she wanted, Anne could marry one herself.

“Have you ever thought of Lord Millbank as a serious suitor?”

Startled by the question, Anne looked at Melissa in surprise, and then laughed. “No. I cannot see myself spending the rest of my life helping my husband deciding how many quizzing glasses to carry or what colour of neckcloth to wear. Although I do like him despite his absurd posturings.”

“I thought perhaps if you did not care to marry Captain Leslie, Lord Millbank would be a possibility,” Melissa persisted. “He
is
titled, and Amelia tells me he has never before paid the attention to any woman that he does to you.”

“No, Melissa, I am not so determined on a title. Of the two I would prefer Captain Leslie if I were to marry, which I am not sure I shall.”

“But every woman must wish to make a good match,” Melissa protested. “You did not have the opportunity in Medford, but here in London you could have many suitors.”

Anne thought she had better lay the groundwork for her not marrying. It would not be possible for her ever to marry after she paid off her wager to Lord Stanton.

“It is true that when I was younger I thought of marriage,” Anne explained. “But now after all my years of seclusion in Medford, I no longer find the idea attractive. I became quite used to the quiet life in the country and I miss it.”

Melissa felt a little guilty. Here she had been enjoying the time in Town, while Anne was pining for the country. She had an idea.

“Why don’t we arrange a picnic in the country,” she suggested. “I know Amelia would enjoy it, and the Spencers might like to go as well.”

Glad to have the subject changed, Anne agreed, and they began making plans. When Lieutenant Halcott arrived to take Melissa for a drive, he was apprised of the idea and entered into the planning.

After her cousin left with her escort, Anne felt that she had narrowly escaped Melissa’s probing. If she were not careful, Melissa would suspect something was wrong. She must concede the wager and get it over with so she would not be so nervous. She would insist to Lord Stanton that she not pay the debt off until Melissa was safely married to Lieutenant Halcott, and out of danger of being affected by anything Anne might do. She hoped he would be at Lady Amelia’s come-out ball tonight so she could do what must be done.

* * * *

As they entered the Millbanks’ house that night, Anne and Melissa were pleased to see that Lady Amelia was in exceptional looks. The excitement of the evening had brought a becoming flush to her cheeks, and the young woman greeted Anne and Melissa with animation. Amelia was clad in a flattering gown of white muslin, a garland of white flowers in her soft brown hair and a simple carnelian necklace at her throat.

Even Lady Millbank appeared less of a dragon, welcoming Mrs. Halcott and her protégées with more warmth than usual. Other times she had been markedly cold to them, particularly to Anne. Perhaps, Anne suddenly realised, she feared Anne was trying to snare her son. The thought amused her, and she greeted Lord Millbank with a bright smile. Lord Millbank was dressed in honour of the occasion, dazzling in a lavender coat, green waistcoat, yellow breeches and no fewer than four quizzing glasses. He returned Anne’s smile and looked immensely satisfied with himself.

When they went into the ballroom, Anne looked around to see if Lord Stanton was present, but could not find him, although she did see Lord and Lady Brookfield. She also saw Lady Conliffe, in a gown of clinging white sarcenet, looking smug with Lord Woolbridge beside her. Perhaps Lord Stanton would arrive later, Anne decided, and tried not to worry. But as the evening progressed without Lord Stanton putting in an appearance, Anne began to fret. Perhaps he was not going to come at all. She became quite unable to concentrate, and even made mistakes in the steps while dancing the gavotte with Mr. Spencer. She sat the next dance out with Lord Millbank, who looked rather puzzled when Anne assured him that he looked very fine in his new coat by Hoby and boots by Weston. Perhaps she did not feel quite the thing, he decided charitably, looking Anne over with one of his quizzing glasses. He fanned her a moment with his large canary-coloured fan, and then went to fetch her a glass of lemonade. Anne accepted it gratefully, and assured her partner she would be quite all right; she only needed to sit out a few dances. Lord Millbank offered to sit with her, but Anne refused graciously, saying she could not allow him to desert his other guests.

Sitting alone by the wall, Anne at last saw Lord Stanton arrive. She waited impatiently for him to come and claim his customary dance with her, and thought absently how much more flattering his conservative well-cut clothes were than Lord Millbank’s extreme fashions. The close-fitting coat and breeches outlined his muscular form, and his neckcloth was tied in a perfection that rivalled Brummel’s. But while she appreciated his looks, the sight of his confident figure also increased the animosity she was feeling toward him since his warning that she not encourage Captain Leslie.

As soon as Lord Stanton caught sight of Anne by the wall, he came over to her and bowed.

“May I have the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Southwell?”

“Thank you, Lord Stanton, but it is quite close in this room, and I feel faint. Would you escort me for a turn upon the balcony?” she asked him abruptly.

“Do you know what you are saying, Miss Southwell? Are you sure you wish to go out on the balcony alone with me?”

“I do not think anyone will remark upon it, and if they do I am willing to take the risk to my reputation,” she replied.

“Very well,” Lord Stanton said, and giving her his arm, he escorted her through the balcony door. In their absorption with each other, neither noticed a young woman with black curls standing next to a potted plant to the left of the balcony door where she had gone to get a breath of fresh air.

“What is it you wish to discuss?” asked Lord Stanton as he guided her to the right corner of the balcony. “I hardly think you wished to come out here to be in my company.”

“No. I wish to concede the wager,” Anne said coldly, her palms damp with nervousness.

“You wish to concede? The Season is barely half over,” Lord Stanton said in astonishment.

“It makes no difference. You were correct in your appraisal of the situation,” Anne informed him almost angrily. “Melissa indicated her partiality for Lieutenant Halcott to me yesterday. I will not stand in the way of her chance for happiness and force her to marry someone she doesn’t love just for the sake of a title and to win my wager.”

Lord Stanton hesitated. He found himself oddly reluctant to take what had been just offered. He leaned against the wrought-iron railing of the balcony and regarded Anne closely. She gazed back at him unwaveringly, her quickened breath causing her breasts to rise and fall under the russet silk of her gown, her anger bringing a high colour to her cheeks.

“I must insist the wager stand,” he said finally. “Much can happen before the Season ends. Has Halcott actually made an offer? If not, Melissa may yet marry a title. Or,” he added, deliberately provocative, “are you that anxious to become my mistress?”

Lord Stanton stepped forward, placed his hands upon Anne’s shoulders and, catching her by surprise, bent down to kiss her. For a moment, Anne did nothing. Then anger took over: anger at Lord Stanton for ever tempting her to make the wager, anger at herself for accepting it, anger at his possessiveness. She broke free and tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist easily and held it. Then, to her mortification, he began to laugh.

“What has you in such a passion, my dear? Are you angry at me for being correct about your ward’s affection for Lieutenant Halcott, or are you angry because you are losing? Didn’t your brother ever tell you it is bad form to show emotion when you lose?”

So outraged that she could not trust herself to speak, Anne broke free and rushed back into the ballroom. In her agitation she failed to notice the flash of blue skirt as the girl standing to the left of the door pulled back farther behind the potted plant.

Shocked, Melissa waited quietly behind the plant until Lord Stanton, appearing unruffled by the encounter, went back into the ballroom, and then she followed unobtrusively through the door.

Across the room, another dark-haired girl had noticed Anne’s dash into the ballroom, and watched with interest as Lord Stanton and Melissa followed her discreetly into the room.

Anne sought the retiring room, where she tried to gain time to get control of herself by inspecting her hem for a non-existent tear and straightening her headdress. As she pretended to have a great deal of difficulty adjusting a feather to her liking, the door opened and Lady Conliffe came in.

“That is a most attractive gown, Miss Southwell,” she said. “I look forward to the day I will be able to wear such colours,” she added, smoothing her pink sarcenet.

“Thank you, Lady Conliffe,” Anne replied. “I do not think the day is far off,” she said, too angry to tone down her response. Lady Conliffe appeared unoffended.

“Lady Amelia’s ball is a great success, but it is also a sad crush, is it not?” she asked Anne. “One becomes quite overcome with the heat and needs a breath of fresh air.”

Anne looked at her sharply, but Lady Conliffe’s face betrayed nothing. “Yes, I believe I find I have a need of a breath of fresh air at this moment. Excuse me, please,” she said to Lady Conliffe, walking to the door.

“As you say, Miss Southwell.” Lady Conliffe smiled, rising to leave also. “I suggest the balcony.”

As Lady Conliffe returned to the dance floor, Anne looked after her thoughtfully, wondering just what she had seen. Well, there was nothing she could do. She shrugged and prepared to endure the rest of the evening as best she could. She could not ask Melissa to leave her friend’s come-out ball early. Fortunately, Lord Stanton appeared to have left, and because she no longer worried about encountering the marquess, the time went by fairly quickly.

On the ride home that night Anne forgot her own troubles due to Melissa’s strange silence. Usually Melissa liked to discuss the entertainment they had attended, but tonight she sat in an odd, almost morose, silence. Mrs. Halcott noticed it as well, and questioned her, but Melissa simply said she was fatigued.

After Mrs. Halcott’s driver stopped and left them at their townhouse, and Sanders disappeared with their pelisses, Melissa spoke abruptly.

“I wish to speak with you, Anne.”

“What is it?” Anne inquired, uneasy at Melissa’s strange tone.

“Perhaps it would be easiest if I told you that I overheard your conversation on the balcony with Lord Stanton. I assure you it was not intentional, but I was on the other side of the balcony where I had gone for a breath of fresh air.”

Anne felt a cold hand grasp her heart. “Let us discuss this in my bedchamber,” she said.

In strained silence the two women went upstairs and shut themselves in Anne’s room. Melissa remained standing by the door, and Anne walked to the fireplace, where she stood for a moment, marshalling her thoughts.

“What exactly did you overhear?” she asked cautiously.

“Everything,” Melissa said, looking directly at Anne. “What was the wager Lord Stanton mentioned? What did it have to do with my marrying a title?”

“It was nothing, Melissa,” Anne replied, attempting to pass it off lightly. “Only a jest between us. You know how I like to wager.”

“I know how you
used
to wager,” Melissa replied implacably. “Tell me the truth, Anne.”

Anne felt uneasy in the presence of this new Melissa. Always before Melissa had been gentle and rather unassuming. This determination was a new aspect of her personality, one Anne was not sure she liked. As Melissa continued to regard her steadily, Anne knew that she must tell the unvarnished truth. Reluctantly, she sat on a chair by her bed and began her tale. Melissa remained standing, her hands clenching the silk of her skirts. When Anne finished her story, a silence remained unbroken between them for a long time.