Lucy Muir Page 3

  Chapter Three

  Silence again filled the drawing room, but it was a taut silence, not the companionable kind of a few minutes before. A sense of unreality settled over Anne. She heard the ticking of the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece, the snapping of the burning logs and saw Lord Stanton’s half smile as he watched her reaction to his words, but it was as though she were looking on from a distance. Surely the port had befuddled her mind. She should be feeling shock and outrage at the idea of such an improper wager, but she felt neither. She was not even surprised. Here at last was the rake, Hell-born Harry, of whose exploits Charlie had told her.

  Lord Stanton said no more but continued to sip his port in a relaxed manner. Still feeling somewhat removed from reality, Anne found herself considering the wager seriously. There had been very little money for Melissa from her parents’ estate, and Anne had only a competence herself. Two thousand pounds was a fortune and would guarantee a future for Melissa. It was a pity the terms of the wager would not allow the amount of the dowry to be mentioned beforehand.

  Still, it would mean that what little money she did have she would be able to spend on their wardrobes, or perhaps to rent a house in a better area of London. There was one potential problem that occurred to her, and she voiced it to Lord Stanton.

  “I would be a fool indeed to enter upon such a wager when a single word from you would be sufficient to destroy both our reputations and any hopes we have of establishing ourselves in Society.”

  Lord Stanton’s half smile vanished. “If you were a man I would call you out for the imputation that I would interfere in the terms of a wager. However,” he continued, his smile reappearing, “under the circumstances I will forgive you. I am afraid you must rely upon my word that I will not.”

  Anne was silent again. What most tempted her was that the terms of the wager were such that Melissa would gain whether she won or lost. Only for herself was there a risk. If she were to lose… Only married women could indulge in affairs with impunity. It would mean that no man would ever marry her. Not that any were likely to anyway, at her age with her lack of fortune, she supposed.

  Anne looked Lord Stanton over frankly, wondering why such a renowned rake was interested in having a liaison with her. He must be very bored from being in the country for a long time. Perhaps he would not even collect. Six months was a long time. By then he would be back in London and probably enamoured of another woman far more beautiful than she. Yes, that was most likely what would happen. Anne’s face cleared and she opened her mouth to accept the wager, when Lord Stanton spoke with uncanny perception.

  “Make no mistake, my dear. I mean to collect in full if I win. Don’t deceive yourself.”

  His eyes travelled slowly over her with unmistakable meaning, and Anne felt an unaccountable flutter in her chest.

  “But why?” she burst out. “I am not young, beautiful or wealthy.”

  “Because, Anne,” Lord Stanton replied, most improperly using her given name, “I find you a very desirable woman. Having no intention of entering the married state, I can think of no other way to obtain what I want. If I were to simply offer you carte blanche you would not accept. By offering a wager, particularly one by which your cousin will gain, I have a chance. You revealed a great deal of yourself in our conversation this afternoon. I know you would honour a wager once you entered upon it. As you see, I am quite unscrupulous.”

  Lord Stanton smiled at Anne again, and she was aware of a feeling of intimacy between them that was somehow established by his use of her baptismal name and his meaningful smile. She thought again how well he fit into the opulent late-seventeenth-century furnishings of his home. So much richness and ornamentation made a very sensuous ambience. She was acutely aware of his physical presence. His arm was casually flung across the top of the sofa, revealing his shirt, and she noticed how the tightly fitting kerseymere breeches outlined the muscles of his thighs. The firelight brought out the silver glints in his hair, and his eyes seemed to caress her. Anne shook her head slightly to clear it. The situation was unthinkable! She must be foxed, she decided, setting down her glass of port. A well-brought-up woman, even one raised in a military atmosphere, would not entertain the idea of agreeing to such a wager even for a moment. And what of her promise to Sanders not to wager? As these thoughts chased each other through her mind, Lord Stanton caught her eye and saluted her with his glass provocatively, seeming to dare her to accept the wager.

  “Done,” she said simply, accepting his unspoken challenge.

  Lord Stanton set down his glass and rose from the sofa.

  “We must seal the wager,” he said, taking hold of her hands and drawing her up into his embrace. Either the unexpectedness of his actions or the port made Anne’s reactions slow, and she did not resist. His hands were warm and dry in hers a moment before he released them to clasp her closely in his arms. She felt his body moulded against hers, and then warm lips covered hers. She felt a quick sinking sensation in her stomach, and her knees weakened. Almost unaware that she was doing so, she began to return his kisses. At her response, Lord Stanton’s lips became more demanding, and then suddenly he held her from him.

  Anne swayed a little on her feet, but Lord Stanton held her steady. Appalled at her behaviour, Anne stared at the floor, concentrating on the intricately intertwined flowers patterning the carpet. After a moment of silence, she felt a light touch on her cheek, and Lord Stanton turned her face gently up to his.

  “Good night, Anne,” he said softly. “Pleasant dreams.”

  Anne did not reply, but pulled herself away and hurried from the room to the safety of her bedchamber.

  Lord Henry Stanton remained in the drawing room long after Anne had left, staring into the dying fire and reviewing the night’s events. He was becoming more dissolute with age, not less, he feared. Whatever his companions had done, always before he had limited his attentions to married women or women of the demimonde. This was the first time he had made plans to seduce an unmarried woman of good, if not distinguished, family. He realised with some self-disgust that he would not have made the wager if Anne had male relatives to protect her.

  He had not misjudged her spirit, though! Lord Henry smiled as he recalled her reaction to his proposition. Most gently bred women would have had recourse to their vinaigrettes or hartshorn, but not Anne. She was a refreshing change from the vapourish misses, bored wives and blatantly sensual Cyprians with whom he was familiar. His misgivings at the wager disappeared as he contemplated Anne’s attractive qualities, and he wished he did not have to wait six months to collect. Still, it would make for an amusing Season to watch Anne try to establish her ward in the upper echelons of Society. He smiled in anticipation as he rose to retire for the night, his conscience subdued.

  Anne awoke early the next morning with the feeling that there was something unpleasant she was going to remember in a moment. Of course, the wager! She groaned and turned her face into the pillow, wishing she could remain behind the silken bed curtains forever and not have to deal with the consequences of her foolish behaviour. Whatever had possessed her!

  However, much as she would have liked to stay in bed all day, she could not. She pushed back the bed curtains and padded softly to the window. It was a white day. Heavy snow weighted down the branches of the trees, their winter garb clothing them more heavily than summer’s leaves. A cloud-gray sky promised more snow. There would be no hope of escaping Longworth today. Anne sat on the gracefully curved window seat and continued to stare outside, the heaviness of the day matching the heaviness of her spirits.

  There was no way out, not now. Charlie had taught her that one never retreated from one’s gambling obligations. It simply wasn’t done.

  Anne rested her head in her hands and thought glumly that perhaps Lord Stanton was right, and she was not a fit chaperone for her cousin. Whatever would she do? Her only way out would be if she won. Her eyes cleared, and she straightened up. Of course! If she won, no one need ever know of the sh
ameful wager. She would explain away the two thousand pounds to Melissa somehow and all would be well. Her spirits brightened, and she rose from the window seat, ready to face the day.

  Mary entered the room with fresh water and Anne bade her good-morning cheerfully. She refused Mary’s help in dressing and, after a quick wash, clad herself in a blue morning gown of Valencia and a simple linen cap. A look at the red chinoiserie clock told her that Melissa would be awake, and Anne went in search of her cousin before going down to break her fast.

  Anne and Melissa found that Lord Stanton had not yet come down, but the appetizing aroma coming from dishes on the side table told them that the food was ready, so they helped themselves. When Anne was halfway through a dish of kidneys, Lord Stanton made his appearance, flawlessly attired in a light green superfine coat and buff kerseymere pantaloons.

  “Good morning, Miss Amberly, Miss Southwell. I trust you have both recovered from your journey?” he queried, helping himself to a large plate of food and joining them at the table.

  “Yes, thank you, Lord Stanton. We were most comfortable,” Anne replied.

  “Oh, yes,” echoed Melissa. “It would be strange if we were not comfortable. Your house is most beautiful, my lord.”

  Melissa had gotten over her disappointment at Lord Stanton’s ordinary behaviour, and appeared to regard him in the light of an older brother.

  “Perhaps you will allow me to entertain you with a tour of Longworth. I do not think the weather will allow you to depart before tomorrow.”

  “We should like that exceedingly,” Melissa assured him.

  As Anne listened to Lord Stanton talk to Melissa, she found it hard to believe that he was the same man who had drawn her into his arms and kissed her the night before. Memory of that kiss made her flush, and she glanced up quickly to see if it had been observed, but his attention was still on Melissa. Anne wondered why his kiss had disturbed her so much more than the few others she had received. She had been popular with Charlie’s young fellow officers, and several had pressed their suits upon her, although none had won her heart. In Medford there had been no eligible men, and she had been content to live alone, joining in local society as one of the village spinsters.

  “Anne,” Melissa’s voice interrupted her musings, “you have been woolgathering. Lord Stanton was just suggesting that if we are able to leave tomorrow, he would be pleased to offer us the use of one of his carriages.”

  “Thank you, Lord Stanton, but that will not be necessary. The carriage the squire lent us is quite satisfactory.”

  “I think it would be better if you accepted my offer, Miss Southwell. I know I may depend upon the discretion of my servants, but the squire’s may not be as trustworthy. Were it to get about in London that you stayed here, even though it was necessitated by the weather, your reputations would be ruined. Indeed, I should warn you that if I should chance to encounter you in London I shall not recognize you, nor should you recognize me. It would be your undoing.”

  “I think it is most unfair,” declared Melissa, her blue eyes darkening. “You have been so kind to us. I am sure you come by your reputation unjustly,” she added ingenuously.

  “Thank you for your defense, Miss Amberly, but I must stress the importance of not appearing to recognize me or telling anyone of your sojourn here.”

  “If you really think it necessary,” Melissa capitulated, “but I think it a pity we cannot associate with our first friend.”

  “It is not quite that bad, Miss Amberly. We may be formally presented during the Season, in which case we may speak to each other, although you must not show any partiality for my company, nor I for yours.”

  “Perhaps after you are married you will be able to receive Lord Stanton,” said Anne, looking challengingly at Lord Stanton. “If you were a married woman, there would be less danger to your reputation.”

  “I shall be able to, shan’t I?” agreed Melissa. “I promise I shall invite you to the first entertainment I hold as a married woman, Lord Stanton.”

  “Thank you, Miss Amberly. I shall be honoured to attend. Perhaps Miss Southwell will allow me to escort her,” Lord Stanton replied, looking questioningly at Anne.

  Anne chose not to respond, commenting instead upon the sun, which had broken through a crack in the clouds. Lord Stanton accepted her change of subject with only a quirk of his eyebrows, and the remainder of the meal passed with no further awkward moments.

  The promised tour of Longworth took most of the afternoon. Longworth had been built in the latter half of the seventeenth century, Lord Stanton informed them, by the second Marquess of Talford.

  “I am fortunate,” he continued, “that the three intervening holders of the title were all astute politicians who loved Longworth. They managed to stay in favour with the ruling parties and kept Longworth up well.”

  “Who will keep it up after you, Lord Stanton?” Anne asked somewhat presumptuously.

  “My sister has three boys,” he explained. “They all seem good children, so I have no worries about the fate of Longworth after my demise.”

  At Anne’s look of surprise, he added, “Are you surprised that such a rake as myself has family? Not only do I have a sister, but I believe that she is quite fond of me. Although,” he added fairly, “I know she wishes I would change my ways.”

  Their tour would have to be confined to the East Wing, Lord Stanton explained, as he led them up the stairs to the Long Gallery. After his holiday guests left he had had the other wings closed, and they would be bitterly cold, he elucidated. Anne and Melissa did not miss the closed wings but were quite overwhelmed with what they did see. Anne had never been in such a great country house, and Melissa confided that the ones she had seen could not compare to the grandeur of Longworth.

  The white walls were all elaborately ornamented with the sculpted and gilt decorations Anne had noticed in the red drawing room. Colour was provided in the carpets and the bright upholstery of the lavishly carved and heavily gilded furniture. Lord Stanton also had an immense collection of paintings that lined the walls of almost every room. He brought another Fragonard to Anne’s attention.

  This Fragonard was not in the style of the one she had seen in the red drawing room, and she looked at the portrait of a young girl closely, marvelling that the same artist could produce paintings of such different types.

  “I do have two other Fragonards in the style of the first one you saw, Miss Southwell,” Lord Stanton said wickedly, as he and Melissa joined Anne before the portrait. “However, they are in the wings that are presently closed. Since you are such an admirer of his works, you must come again in the summer when those wings will be opened.”

  Anne was going to ignore his remarks, but realised she could not in the presence of Melissa without appearing unaccountably rude.

  “Thank you, Lord Stanton,” she accepted. “Perhaps I shall stop on my way back to Medford this summer.”

  “I had hoped you would make a longer stay,” he replied, his meaning evident to Anne, who could not prevent another blush.

  Melissa looked at them oddly, and Anne quickly turned the conversation by asking Lord Stanton about an unusual ebony clock she noticed upon the mantelpiece. Her ploy was successful, and the rest of the tour unexceptionable.

  That evening, as Lord Stanton again entertained them with amusing stories of London and the haut ton, Anne began to wonder if Lord Stanton had really been serious about the wager. There were times that day when he had seemed to tease her about it, but he had given no indication that he had meant it seriously. Perhaps, she mused, he had just been amusing himself at her expense, as Charlie and his friends had often done. Men did appear to have a different sense of humour than women did, she reflected. When Lord Stanton made no attempt that evening to prevent Anne from retiring early with Melissa, she became convinced that the wager had been some kind of jest. Although, just to be on the safe side, she would be sure she won.

  The next morning dawned clear and cold, and Lord Stanton
assured his guests they would be able to get through the roads with no difficulty.

  “I have taken the liberty of having your coachman and groom return to Medford this morning with the squire’s carriage,” he added. “One of my unmarked carriages is being prepared to take you to London.”

  “Thank you, Lord Stanton,” Anne said genuinely, accepting that the precaution was for the best.

  They made a good breakfast of kidneys, steak and eggs and then returned to their chambers to dress for their journey.

  When it was time for them to depart, Anne felt oddly reluctant. She had enjoyed the short stay at Longworth, particularly the masculine company. It had been restful, too, despite Lord Stanton’s teasing. Once in London, she would be overwhelmed with responsibilities.

  Lord Stanton bade them goodbye in the hall as they waited for hot bricks to be placed in the carriage to keep their feet warm. Anne and Melissa thanked him once more for the shelter he had given them, while Sanders looked on in silence. Then, as Sanders adjusted the hood of Melissa’s cloak about her curls, Lord Stanton leaned forward and spoke only for Anne’s ears, “Until July, my dear Anne.”

  Chapter Four

  “Melissa, can you think of no relatives at all, no matter how distant, who live here in London?”

  “I am sorry, Anne, I cannot think of anyone. Papa was an only child, and your mother was Mama’s only sister,” Melissa said apologetically.

  Anne sighed and, rising from the Chippendale-style desk by the window, began to pace up and down the room while Melissa watched her anxiously from the sofa.

  They had been in London a month now, and Anne was beginning to fear that Lord Stanton was right. They would never succeed. At first things had been deceptively easy. They had arrived in London without mishap and Lord Stanton’s coachman had taken them to a respectable hotel. From there Anne had contacted an agent, and they were able to rent a townhouse with a good address for a reasonable rate since the Season had not yet begun. It was small, with only one drawing room, but it was attractively furnished, and both she and Melissa were pleased with it. They had staffed the house well at minimal expense by hiring servants who had little experience. Their butler was a former footman in his early twenties, their footman a young lad from the country and one of their housemaids a former scullery maid. What the servants lacked in experience they made up for in willingness, and on the whole, Anne was satisfied with their staff. Only in the matter of their cook was Anne not content. After their first meal of underdone lamb, she found herself thinking wistfully of the excellently prepared meals at Longworth.