It had been hell, but for the past two weeks Rupert had been with Anna for every one of her daily rides. It was all Anthony could do to speak in a civil tone.
Rupert didn’t appear to notice. He just stared down at the paper in his hand, his brow creased. After a moment, he lifted his gaze to Anthony. “I’ve been taking stock of my life. Anthony, due to certain circumstances, I feel it is time I settled down.”
An ominous weight shifted to Anthony’s stomach. He reached out and took the paper from Rupert and silently read through it. “This is all you own?”
“It’s not much but—”
“What are you planning?”
Rupert turned away, as if afraid to face him. His voice, when it came, was strained and taut. “Anthony, I’m in love.”
“With?” Anthony asked silkily, his jaw aching with the effort to keep from ramming his fist in Rupert’s face.
Rupert winced. “You know. How did you find out?”
Anthony didn’t trust himself to speak, so he remained silent.
“Anthony, she’s an angel. I can’t live without her.”
She was not an angel. She was an infuriating, independent woman and it would take an equally strong-willed man to be her partner. Anthony thought about saying as much to Rupert, but the bitterness in his heart would not allow it. He looked down at the list in his hand and noticed that he’d crumpled it into a tight ball. As if the words came from someone else, he heard himself ask, “Does she feel the same for you?”
“I think so. I hope. Oh, I don’t know! We…we have not spoken because of her obligations.”
Anthony frowned. “Obligations?”
“To you.”
Good God, she felt she had to finish her duty to the children before she took up her own life? She saw Anthony as an obligation and nothing more. It was the most lowering moment of Anthony’s life. “What can I do to help you?”
Rupert hesitated. “You can release her, Anthony. Let her go.”
“She’s free to go whenever she wants,” Anthony snapped, “and she knows it.”
A crease rested between Rupert’s brows. “We didn’t mean to…I never thought it would happen like this.”
“No. No, of course not.”
Rupert swallowed. “I hope you will forgive us.”
Anthony turned and walked to the window. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said tightly. How could Anna be in love with Rupert? Even though Rupert had admitted as much, Anthony refused to believe it. He fisted his hands and shoved them into his pockets, staring with unseeing eyes at the garden below.
After a moment, he heard Rupert sigh, and then leave. The door closed behind him.
The pressure in Anthony’s chest increased and he rubbed at his shoulder to ease the ache. Damn Anna Thraxton. She’d invaded his household, set everything on end, forced Rupert to fall in love with her, and now she was planning on blithely dancing away.
And Anthony would just have to let her go, his hands tied by his determination to do the right thing. He thought of Rupert’s list and managed a bitter smile. The boy was deeply in love, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his eyes brightened the second he mentioned Anna.
Anthony unlatched the window and threw it open, then stood leaning out, breathing deeply from the garden below. He’d stood in this same window not a month before and watched Anna perform her magic on Desford. Though far from perfect, the boy’s behavior was improving daily. All of the children had blossomed under her touch and so, in all honesty, had Anthony.
And now he was going to lose her. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window. If Rupert was right and Anna returned his regard…He pushed away from the window and turned to his desk. He would show Anna how false her feelings for Rupert were. It was impossible that she could react to Anthony’s touch and be in love with another man—he refused to believe it.
Perhaps he needed to remind Anna of the fire between them. The idea took hold and grew. He would show Anna how he felt, show her in a way that would leave no room for anything else.
A thumping sound from the hallway preceded Sir Phineas into the room. “Greyley! How are you today? I left my book on the table and I’ve come to get it—” The older man stopped when he saw Anthony’s expression. “Good God, no one has died, have they?”
“No. I was just thinking about—” What? Seducing your granddaughter? Anthony managed a thin smile. “It’s nothing.”
“It has to be something,” Sir Phineas said, closing the door and then limping into the room. He found his book on a small table by a chair that sat beside the fireplace, then he lowered himself into the chair and looked at Anthony with an expectant gaze. “What has you looking like a thundercloud? Not Anna, is it? She has that effect on some people.”
Anthony looked into Sir Phineas’s bright blue eyes and wondered how much he could tell the old man.
As if he read his thoughts, Sir Phineas smiled. “Come, boy. You’ve no one else you can trust. None of your brothers is here.”
That was true. Besides, what did Anthony have to lose? “I’m at a loss and it’s not a feeling I relish.”
“None of us do. Tell me about the matter and maybe I can think of something.”
“I don’t know if you are aware or not, but I’m engaged to Miss Charlotte Melton.”
“So I’ve heard.” The old man pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Don’t think I’ve seen the announcement in the papers.”
“We haven’t posted the banns yet. She is in mourning for several more months.”
“I see.”
“At the time I offered for her, she seemed perfect. She’s young and unspoiled by London life. A very gently bred young lady.”
“Sounds like a paragon. But you don’t look elated.”
Anthony smiled without humor. “I’m not. Since I made the offer I’ve changed my mind. I do not wish to marry her.”
“May I ask what has changed your mind?”
Anthony met the old man’s inquisitive look with a steady gaze.
After a moment, Sir Phineas raised his brows. “Ah! I see. Cry off from your engagement then.”
“I cannot,” Anthony said shortly, jamming his hands back into his pockets. “As much as I wish it, I cannot do anything so dishonorable.”
“The St. John pride makes itself felt.” Sir Phineas sighed. “This is a quandary.”
Silence rested between them. Sir Phineas seemed lost in thought, staring down at his feet. After a moment he looked up. “It’s unfortunate that society has decreed that men cannot cry off from an engagement, but women can. Bloody unfair, if you ask me, but there’s precious little we can do about it.”
“I cannot be dishonest.”
“Then disenchant her by being too honest. Women always get in a taking over the most ridiculous things. I daresay you’ll think of something, Greyley. For what it’s worth, you have my blessings.”
“Sir Phineas, do you know what this would mean?”
A smile touched the old man’s face. “I hope it means that someone we both care about will be made very happy. Someone who deserves the very best.”
Anthony’s throat tightened painfully. “There is the possibility that she loves another.” The words burned his tongue.
Sir Phineas thought the turmoil on Greyley’s face showed a good deal of promise. His one worry had been that the earl would not truly care for Anna, but apparently that fear was unfounded. “What makes you think Anna loves anyone? Damned secretive, that girl. Not one to wear her heart on her sleeve.”
“My cousin Rupert seems to think she—” The earl stopped, white lines appearing at either side of his mouth.
“Ah, the young Mr. Elliot. He seems an impetuous sort. And not always correct in his assumptions.”
A light gleamed in Greyley’s gaze. “Perhaps you are right. It’s just that Anna seems to seek him out, while she avoids me.”
“Daresay she’s afraid she’ll reveal too much.” Sir Phineas picked up his book an
d stood. “She’s a proud woman, my Anna. But trust me, my boy, there’s always hope. And when that fails, there’s guile and wile.”
“There are times when I see a bit of your granddaughter in you.”
“I daresay there’s more than a little.” Sir Phineas flashed a brief smile. “But before you approach Anna, I believe you have something else to see to.”
Anthony nodded briefly. “I’ll take care of it this very afternoon. Whatever occurs, I cannot follow that path.”
“Excellent,” Phineas said, hobbling to the door, the thick carpet muffling the thump of his cane. “If you need any help, you know where to find me.”
Sir Phineas gave the earl a reassuring wink and then left, content that things were progressing very satisfactorily indeed. Whistling merrily, Phineas made his way back to the nursery.
Lady Putney waited until the thumping of his cane faded into the silence before she stepped from behind the suit of armor by the library door. Though it had been closed, she’d been able to hear enough of the conversation to know what Greyley was about.
Anger dripped through her. Were none of her sons worth the effort she’d expended in their behalf? Fools, every one! She’d been counting on Rupert to woo that red-haired harridan away from Greyley, and what had he done but force the issue. The earl was more infatuated than ever, even to the point of trying to trick Charlotte into crying off.
Lady Putney’s mouth thinned. She would have something to say to that. Within a remarkably short time, she was in a carriage and on her way to Melton House.
Charlotte pressed her hands to her heated cheeks, trying to comprehend what she’d been told. “It cannot be true.”
Lady Putney’s overpainted face softened with seeming sympathy. “It’s true, my dear. I shouldn’t have told you, but I thought you had the right to know.”
Charlotte swallowed, aware of a sinking feeling in the region of her stomach. Her parents had lost their entire fortune, every last pence? It seemed impossible. But here was Lady Putney, who was not only one of Mama’s dearest friends, but also her beloved Rupert’s mother, telling her the facts as she knew them.
At the thought of Rupert, Charlotte clenched her hands before her. “It’s hard to believe. My father was just talking of purchasing some additional lands.”
“He probably will, once he has the money Greyley has promised.”
Charlotte’s gaze flew to Lady Putney’s. “What money?”
Lady Putney shook her head sadly. “They didn’t tell you about that, either? I vow, but I could pinch your mother for her stubbornness. She didn’t want to worry you, which I’m sure is to her credit, but still…” She sighed.
Charlotte placed a trembling hand to her forehead. Her mind whirled with the information Lady Putney had given her—her mother had overspent on the household expenses, their man of business had made some imprudent improvements on the estate, her father had made some poor investments…Charlotte suddenly remembered that her father had seemed in an ill mood lately, which she had attributed to all the talk of the wedding, for Mama seldom spoke of anything else. Now his moodiness took on a far more horrible meaning.
Lady Putney looked about the sitting room with a sad gaze. “It will be difficult seeing someone else in this dear house. I shall always think of you when I come.”
Tears welled in Charlotte’s eyes. “The house—” She could not say it.
Lady Putney seemed to suddenly realize the depth of Charlotte’s distress, for she took Charlotte’s hands in her own. “Oh, my dear! Forget I said anything about it. I’m sure something will occur to right your family fortune. Perhaps even—wait. What am I thinking of? Your marriage to Greyley will fix everything!”
Charlotte’s hands curled into fists, her nails biting into the tender flesh of her palms. For the last two days she’d been trying to find a way to tell Mama that she had no wish to marry Greyley. For the first time in her life she was in love, and she wanted Rupert or no one.
Now it seemed that even that choice was stripped from her. She gazed at the small red pillow that adorned the settee. She and Mama had embroidered it only last week. “My marriage to Greyley will save the house?”
Lady Putney gave her hands one last pat. “It will save everything. Once you are a countess, your family will be beyond the touch of any moneylenders, no matter how powerful they are.”
Dear God, but this was horrible. Her family was in dire straits, so serious they dared not tell her, and all the while, they were counting on her to save them. It was horrible. Yet the thought of not being with Rupert was agony.
The door opened and Mama rustled in, greeting Lady Putney and admonishing Charlotte to serve the tea. As she did so, Charlotte watched her mother with a careful eye. She finally decided that Lady Putney was right. Mama didn’t look well at all, and twice she made a reference to the cost of Charlotte’s wedding gown, a fact that made Lady Putney look at her with a significant air.
If only Rupert had a fortune! She knew he’d save her and her family. But he was not a wealthy man. He’d already told her of his lack of expectations, his hopes of living in the cottage in Derbyshire. For the last week Charlotte had dreamed of living in that quaint cottage. She’d help with the household expenses, too, and perhaps raise a sweet little goat for milk and cheese. Rupert would have been so pleased with her and they would have been blissfully happy.
Charlotte closed her eyes, a faint trembling in her legs that made her glad she was sitting. The truth of her situation was obvious. As much as she loved Rupert, she would have to marry Greyley. The thought left her gray and cold, like ashes in the bottom of the fireplace.
Mama and Lady Putney talked for the better part of a half hour while Charlotte helplessly mulled her way through her new circumstances. She was so preoccupied that she barely noticed when the butler announced a visitor, and it was a shock to see Lord Greyley escorted into the room.
In the past, she’d always seen him with a tentative air, part of her not really believing that they would actually be wed one day. And if they were, the day was so far removed that Charlotte was able to allay her fears and anxieties. But today, looking at his broad shoulders and noticing the way he dominated the room without even trying, made her feel small and insignificant. Her heart fluttered when the earl bowed over her hand and pressed his lips to her limp fingers.
It seemed as though Greyley was looking at her more intently than usual. Charlotte managed a perfunctory smile and murmured something incoherent. That seemed to be all he expected, for he turned his attention to her mother and Lady Putney.
Charlotte stared miserably down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. What could she do? She couldn’t imagine life without Rupert, but there was no help for it. She would marry Greyley and be a proper wife, yet every night she would dream of Rupert and his cottage in Derbyshire.
Feeling like the most miserable person alive, Charlotte tried to think of the bright side of her situation. She would be a married lady and a countess, which would give her social standing in London. Perhaps she could become a leader of fashion, and host a number of elegant parties. Charlotte imagined herself as a dashing young matron of society in a futile effort to cheer herself up.
“Charlotte,” Mama’s voice broke in on Charlotte’s musings, a note of reproof lingering in the air, “the earl has asked you no less than two times what you think of the weather.”
“Oh!” Charlotte said, forcing herself to take note of her surroundings. She glanced at the earl and found him disturbingly close, his dark eyes almost hawklike. “I-it has been unusually warm,” Charlotte stammered miserably. “I’ve heard that it is even warmer in London.” Rupert had told her that, Charlotte remembered with a pang.
“You need not worry about London. I daresay we’ll never go there.”
Charlotte paused. “Never?”
“Oh, once every five or six years, perhaps. But only when the season is over. I find it too crowded otherwise.”
Lady Melton gave a
n uncertain laugh. “Lord Greyley, surely you’ll go more often than that. After all, you have an impressive town residence and—”
“I’m selling it.”
Charlotte blinked. She loved the Greyley London house. Located in Mayfair, it was the most stylish establishment on the street. “You…you cannot sell it!”
“Cannot?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair, looking astonishingly self-satisfied. “I can do anything I want.”
Anger rallied Charlotte’s spirits somewhat. Oh, how she wished she were more like Anna. Anna would have made sure her feelings were known. Charlotte glanced at the earl from beneath her lashes, noticing the way he watched her, his lids lowered, a faint smile on his face. He was insufferable, Charlotte decided. And she was to marry him. The thought made her furious.
For one instant, Anthony thought he’d managed to raise Miss Melton’s ire enough to get her to engage in a good, healthy argument. But as he watched, the flash of irritation melted away, to be replaced by her usual anxious look.
Charlotte had never been very comfortable in his presence, Anthony reflected with irritation, wondering how he’d ever come to the conclusion that he would be happy with such a lackluster bride.
Suddenly anxious to see this charade at an end, Anthony said loudly, “I’m also thinking of moving from Greyley House.”
Lady Melton’s mouth dropped open while Charlotte gasped. “You cannot mean that!” she said. “I would miss Mama and—”
“You’ll be my wife, Charlotte. You won’t need your mother any longer.” There, he thought with satisfaction. That should settle things. Lady Putney was frowning and even Lady Melton, that implacable statue of calm, was beginning to look disturbed.
“Lord Greyley,” she said now, “you cannot mean to whisk Charlotte away.”
“Once she’s married, she’ll have far too much to do seeing to my needs.”
“Your…needs?” Charlotte said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.