The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh (33 page)

“He's asked Prinny to elevate me to Viscount. I don't place much hope in that happening. Georges allowed the woman he saved to speak to Jamison. She'd been recruited by none other than Napoleon's spymaster, himself, Fouché.”

“Who is she? Did Jamison say?”

“No, only that she was threatened into joining them.”

“Sebastian,” Anna asked. “who
is
Georges?”

“He, my dear, is the Marquis Cruzy-le-Châtel. Louis has promised him his lands back, but he still needs Georges, so it hasn't happened yet.”

“You mean he is really working for the French king?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yes, though only a very few people know, and it must remain that way. Georges managed to get his mother and sisters out. His father was murdered.”

Anna couldn't imagine going through all the terror of having her family in danger and her father killed. “Of course, I understand. How—how sad for him.”

Rutherford drew her close. “I'm grateful I never had to make that choice. It's been hard for both him and his family.”

If Anna thought dinner would be a quiet affair, she would have been wrong. Although her future mother-in-law sent her regrets, the wedding plans caused a great deal of discussion and excitement with the girls.

After it was explained to them that Harry and Rutherford had to spend the night elsewhere, Cece looked up at Anna sitting next to her and said, “But won't you be lonely?”

Anna choked. How had the child known?

Emma hurriedly occupied Sir William.

Fortunately, Anna's mother hadn't seemed to hear. Anna said, “Yes, my dear, but that's not something we need to discuss now.”

Jenny, their governess, mumbled, “From the mouths of babes,” and took the two younger girls from the table with the promise that sweets would be sent up to them.

Anna and Emma sat up talking with Anna's mother, who had decided that it was time they should be told what to expect from their husbands tomorrow evening.

The clock struck midnight before Emma and Anna could escape her mother and ready themselves for bed. Dressed in nightgowns and wrappers, they met in Anna's parlor.

Lizzy was setting out wine and biscuits. “I thought you might like something. Don't stay up too much longer. You don't want to look haggard come morning.”

“No, we won't,” Anna promised. “It's so strange. This is the last night I'll be here. My room is all but empty.”

Emma grinned. “You'll like it at the Priory.”

“I'm already at home there.” Anna smiled. “How do you feel about being here?”

“For the most part, I'll be fine.” Emma frowned a little. “It will be strange not having everyone around.”

Anna held a finger to her lip and pointed to the door.

Emma's eyes widened.

Soft footsteps stopped outside the door. Anna grabbed the fireplace poker and rose to go to the door, when it opened.

Harry and Rutherford stood crowded in the doorway, smiling sheepishly.

“The others went to bed, and neither of us could sleep.” Rutherford stepped forward and folded Anna in his arms.

She dropped the poker and returned his embrace. “Then we should go to bed. You'll have to get up early to leave without being seen.”

When she awoke, he was gone, and Lizzy was preparing her bathwater.

Georges held Madeleine, wracked with tears, sobbing in his arms. She'd been so brave, even during the interrogation with Jamison. Only when he'd taken her to his mother and sisters had she broken down. “You are safe, my sweet.”

Madeleine took huge gulps of air. “I know. This is not worthy of me. Not fair to you.”

He stroked her hair and waited for her to calm. “I shall leave in a few days to go to your mother and sister. You will wait here for them.”

“I am going with you,” she said.

“Madeleine, no,” Georges replied harshly. He would not lose her again. France was too dangerous for her. “You cannot. I forbid it.”

Her jaw firmed, and she replied, “Only I know the house. You will not find or be able to enter it without me.”

“You'll tell me all you know.” Georges's hands tightened on her. What she was proposing was impossible.

“No, no, no, I tell you. I shall go with you.”

Somehow he'd find a way to keep her safe and in England. He tipped her face up to his and kissed her. “We'll discuss this later.”

The day dawned cold and crisp. Papa escorted Anna and Emma to the church in one coach, and Mama rode with the girls in the other. Anna had never been so excited to go to church before.

Julia was present, but her new husband was still resting from the exertions of the previous day's trip. She'd never looked happier. Tears started in her eyes as she embraced Anna and then Emma. “How pleased I am for both of you.”

Huntley and Worthington stood up in front with Harry and Rutherford.

“Here they are. Shall we begin?” The Right Reverend Thompson grinned.

Sebastian took Anna's hand. “You are radiant.”

Anna found herself smiling shyly. “Thank you. You look wonderful as well.”

Someone coughed, and she turned to face the vicar.

Anna gazed into Rutherford's warm, molten silver eyes as they said their vows. This was the wedding she'd always dreamed of and had been afraid would never come to pass. When it was over and they were pronounced man and wife, she could scarcely believe it.

Rutherford placed his hand on her waist, even through her pelisse it was warm, as they witnessed Harry and Emma's vows.

Emma's hands shook as Harry held them in his steady ones. She'd been so afraid something would keep them apart. He held her eyes with his, calming her as they repeated their vows. She barely remembered what they'd said. That morning, she'd taken the ring off her right hand, and, now, he was sliding it over the knuckle of her left.

“Mrs. Marsh.”

It took her a moment to realize she was being addressed.

The vicar smiled. “You must sign the register.”

Harry put his arm around her. “Come, Mrs. Marsh.”

Anna suddenly turned and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Harry, we forgot to tell you. You've been made a baronet. It's Lady Marsh.”

T
he Earl of Weir scowled. “Damn it, Serena, you can't back out now. Not after the plans have been made. If you don't go to London, who will you marry? What do you have left here?”

Lady Serena Weir stared out the solar's window, studying the bleak late February landscape. Snow covered the ground, more gray than white, the trees lifeless and black against the gloom. She glanced over her shoulder at her brother, James. “I could marry Cameron.”

“Do you even care for him more than moderately?”

“No, but he needs to marry, and he likes me.” She turned back to the window. In another month the hills would be the feeding ground for the castle's sheep and cattle. But if Mattie, her new sister-in-law, had her way, Serena would not be there to see it.

James snorted with derision. “Cameron likes your dowry. Mattie has made all the plans. She assures me you'll have a wonderful time.”

Serena pressed her lips tightly together.
The plans,
he'd said, as if they had taken on a life.
The plans
for her to go to London for her first Season at six and twenty years of age. A little old to be making a come-out.
The plans
meant she would leave her home. The place she had been born and raised and had never before left. Tears pricked her eyelids. She would not cry. Not in front of James. If a London Season was such a good idea, why hadn't he sold out of the army after their father died, when she was still young? Instead, he'd left her here to manage the estate while he remained on Wellington's staff.

James had returned shortly before Christmas, with his bride, Madeleine—Mattie, as she liked to be called—and Serena's ordered life had been thrown into turmoil. She no longer knew what her future held.

Despite her warm cashmere dress and woolen shawl, Serena shivered. No matter how many fires were lit, Vere was always cold and damp, even in the solar, the warmest room in the castle. London would probably be warmer. That might be a good reason to go.

James teased her in the local dialect. “Serena, lass . . .”

She bit her lip. “James Weir, I
know
you did not speak Scots with Wellington.”

“Please, Sissy?” her brother said, reverting to his childhood name for her. “Stop looking out the window, and talk to me.”

Serena sighed, but turned. Her brother was tall with dark brown hair, like their mother's, whereas she had her father's auburn curls. She'd known her brother would marry, but it had never occurred to her he would bring a wife home with him. Or that Serena would be forced to leave.

Serena fought her sudden panic, but there truly was nothing here for her anymore. “Fine. I'll go.”

“Good girl!” He smiled. “I'll tell Mattie it's settled.”

James gave Serena a peck on the cheek and strode out the door.

“Do. Go tell Mattie,” Serena muttered in frustration.
What didn't he tell Mattie?

London was Mattie's idea to rid herself of her unwanted sister-in-law. Serena had been presented with the plans
au fait accompli
. Somehow, she would have to make the best of it.

 

Early the next day, Serena and James left on the weeklong journey from the Cheviot Hills to the home of their aunt Catherine, the Dowager Marchioness of Ware. James spent the night, but left early the next morning.

Mary, Serena's lady's maid, was still unpacking Serena's trunk when her aunt entered the bedchamber.

“Let me see what you've brought with you,” Aunt Catherine said.

Serena tried to smile, but tears filled her eyes. Aunt Catherine was her mother's twin, and Serena wished her mother were here to reassure her. In answer to her aunt's question, she replied, “I'm afraid none of it is fashionable.”

“You've had no reason to think about being fashionable, have you?”

Serena shook her head.

“Will it hurt your feelings if I told you I'd suspected that?”

Serena was still too numb to feel much of anything. “No.”

Mary stood aside as Aunt Catherine sorted through the clothes, discarding most of them. She held up Serena's riding habit. “Well, this, at least, seems to be in good condition and not too out of date.”

Serena grimaced. “It's probably the newest piece of clothing I own.”

“No matter at all, my child. I knew you would need a new wardrobe. It will be much easier to toss everything and begin anew. A visit to a good modiste in York will start you. When we arrive in London, we shall visit Madame Lisette on Bruton Street.” Aunt Catherine paused. “Have you danced at all?”

“I had a dancing master when Papa was well.”

“When was that? No, don't tell me. It was too long ago to have mattered. We'll hire one in London.” Aunt Catherine made a face at the pile of clothes on the floor. “Other than your riding habit, is there anything you wish to keep?”

Serena glanced at the now empty trunks and shook her head. “No, only something to wear until I have new gowns to replace the old.”

Her aunt's kind, patient gaze stayed on Serena for a few moments. “Good. I am glad to hear it. There is nothing more unfortunate than being attached to a gown that is quite out of style and in no way useful.” Aunt Catherine turned to go. “We'll visit York tomorrow.”

After she left, Serena said, “Mary, please leave me for a while.”

“Yes, my lady. Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, I'm fine.” Serena sat on the window seat. Her throat hurt from holding back the tears she would not allow to fall. How anyone thought she was going to find a husband at her age, she didn't know. It was as if she'd been set adrift. How was she going to learn everything required when she'd only been in small villages? She'd never attended a proper ball or been to a modiste. Serena bit her lip to keep the tears at bay.

Darkness seemed to surround her. She pressed her head against the cold glass. Eventually the weak winter sun faded, and the room dimmed. By the time a knock sounded on the door, Serena had stopped feeling sorry for herself and vowed to carry on. She was the daughter of an earl and the granddaughter of an English marquis. Rising, she went to the basin and splashed water on her face. “Come.”

“Her ladyship wants to know if you'll join her for dinner.” Mary lit the candles. “If you're not up to it, she'll send a tray.”

“No, I'll be down shortly, unless she expects me to change.”

“No, my lady, she said to come as you are.”

 

The next few days were spent in such a whirl of shopping that Serena felt she'd been turned upside down. Never in her life had another person made Serena a priority.

She gazed at her aunt, then at the large pile of new gowns and packages, and laughed. “I'm sure I cannot wear half so many.”

“Well, I'm happy to hear you laugh, my dear, which you haven't done since you arrived.” Aunt Catherine's humorous gray eyes sparkled. “You will need many more when we arrive in Town. You will have routs, balls, dinners, afternoon teas, and morning visits to occupy you, as well as other entertainments.”

Serena trembled. A Season would be worse than she'd thought. “I had no idea.”

“No, I daresay you did not, but there is no need to take fright.” Her aunt smiled warmly. “I am extremely pleased with you. Your manners are very pretty and self-assured, and your mind is well informed. You will do splendidly.”

“But
my age
. I'm no longer in my salad days.”

“Serena, my dear,” Aunt Catherine said in a no-nonsense tone, “even your age may be put to advantage. Not every gentleman wants a young miss. You know how to manage a great house and an estate, and you do not want for sense. I can think of any number of gentlemen who will not look upon you amiss.”

Unconvinced, Serena merely agreed and allowed the matter to drop.

Early the next morning, Serena ordered a stableboy to saddle Shamir.

After he'd done as she bid, he glanced toward the stable. “I'll just get your groom, Will, to go with ye, my lady.”

Serena's nerves were strung too tightly for company. She needed a good gallop this morning, and Will would slow her down. “No, I'll be fine without him.”

The boy helped her mount without arguing. After she'd cleared the stable yard, Serena cantered south up a rise and gazed out over the still barren fields. The frost was not as heavy this morning, nor the air quite as cold. It was late, but spring was coming. The land tugged at her. She'd rather be planting than dancing.

A man on a large black horse appeared in the valley and stared up at her. He looked tall, but it was hard to tell at this distance. A breeze ruffled his fair hair as he rode toward her. After a few moments, Serena realized he was riding not simply in her direction, but to her. Her aunt had warned her not to ride alone. Was this man the reason for the warning? Whirling Shamir around, she gave the horse his head and rode back to her aunt's house as if someone were chasing her.

 

Robert Beaumont rode toward the woman on the crest of the hill. She sat atop a raking roan, much too large for a lady. Her riding habit, a dull rust color, reminded him of autumn leaves. Her long auburn hair curled down her back, and she wore a small hat with some sort of feather—pheasant by the way it stuck out. He wondered how the devil she kept the hat on her head with her hair down. His interest piqued, he urged his horse to a trot. As he neared, she took off at a fast gallop.

She was gone when he reached the top of the hill. Beaumont looked out over the valley. A horse and rider were in the north. How had she gotten that far so quickly? Disgruntled, he turned and rode home. After throwing his reins to a groom, he strode through the doors into the main hall and called to his housekeeper, “Norry!”

She came out from a parlor. “I'm here, my lord. There's no reason to shout.”

“Who lives to the north?”

“Well, my lord,” she muttered, “if you were here more often, you'd know. It's a widow lady. I can't remember her name right off my head. Why?”

Ignoring Norry's all too familiar complaint, he pressed for more information. “Does she have any children?”

The housekeeper narrowed her eyes. “I heard all her children are grown. She moved here after her son married. Now, if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have work to do.”

“Norry, let me know if you remember. Especially if it concerns an auburn-haired female.”

“Master Robert,”
she began in a censorious tone, “we'll have none of your carrying on up here. You leave it in London.” She nodded her head curtly and left.

Beaumont clenched his jaw and stormed off to his study, cursing the fact that so many of his servants had been with him since childhood and never let him forget it.

 

Shamir's hooves clattered on the brick of the stable yard. Serena slid down from her horse and, hoping to avoid her aunt, hurried to a door on the side of the house. Serena had not yet found a way to explain to her aunt how riding calmed her fears so that her aunt would understand.

“Serena,” Aunt Catherine called from the breakfast room.

Serena jumped.
Damn,
caught again. “Yes, Aunt Catherine?”

“Come here, my dear.”

She was certain her aunt planned, once again, to kindly explain why Serena could not ride alone. Though, after seeing the man on horseback this morning, she acknowledged her aunt might be right.

Well, there was no avoiding it. Serena straightened her shoulders and entered the breakfast room braced for a reprimand.

Her jaw dropped.

Two very fashionable couples were with her aunt—one older, about her aunt's age, the other couple near her age. The men wore close-fitting dark coats and beautifully arranged cravats. They and the younger woman, shorter than Serena by a few inches, rose. Her gown was of a light brown cashmere, trimmed with dark brown ribbon, and tied under her bosom with a darker brown and gold twisted cord.

Serena shut her mouth and stood, rooted in place. The younger woman approached, smiling and holding out her hands. Serena, in her dull russet riding habit, felt like a duck to this lady's swan.

“I am so happy to finally meet you,” the woman said. “I'm your cousin Phoebe. May I call you Serena? It is such a lovely name. We are here to help you make your debut.”

When Phoebe embraced Serena warmly, she awkwardly returned the gesture. Serena blinked back tears and her tension seeped out as Phoebe then led the way to the table.

“You're surprised, I'm sure,” Phoebe said in a warm voice. “I've just been told your aunt did not inform you we were coming.”