Edith Layton (20 page)

The Viscount and Viscountess Pelham’s salon was filled with flowers, conversation, and callers. Camille wasn’t daunted. She didn’t stammer or shrink from the horde of dashing gentlemen who were bowing over her hand any more than she did from the elegant ladies who’d come to welcome her to their circle.

“Your sister-in-law is a delight,” Eric Ford told Annabelle as they stood to the side of the crowded room, watching Camille welcoming her guests.

She looked up at him, wondering if this was the man she could confide in. He was brave enough, he’d been in the army for many years, and it was rumored that he and the Earl of Drummond and their friend Rafe Dalton had been engaged in secret work for His Majesty during the war. That
would make any of them a perfect ally, but this blond giant was so large and competent-looking, he inspired confidence just by being near.

“Yes, she is,” Annabelle said eagerly. “Have you had time to talk with her this morning?”

“Not as much as I’d wish. I hope to remedy that. She likes to ride, she said.” He laughed. “I think she knows more than I do about horses. Now, that’s a treat for a fellow like me. I’m more comfortable in stables than on dance floors, and I fit better there too. May I ask her to come riding with me in the park one morning? With a groom in attendance, of course. I’ll supply the horses. I’ve a sweet little mare in mind I think she’ll want to take home with her.”

“You certainly may,” Annabelle said. “But it isn’t up to me. She’s a strong-minded girl. If she doesn’t want to go, be assured she’ll tell you straightaway. Camille’s blessed with a forthright personality, so she doesn’t play games with men, fluttering and fanning herself when spoken to. She’s very unlike the flirt I was, you know.” She paused, waiting for his reaction.

He looked down at her with such sympathy, she was tempted to drag him from the room and speak to him at once. “As you once were, true,” he said. “You and Camille are very different, but both surprising, in your own ways. Your championing her now, for example, is something I’d never have imagined.”

His expression was earnest as he went on, “I was glad to hear you were recovered, but now I see you are that in many ways. And so whether you’re now the Belle Camille keeps talking about, or the Lady Annabelle I knew, whatever I’m permitted to call you, I call you both generous and considerate in the way you’re presenting Camille. As well,” he said more softly, “as by the way you, once the queen of flirtation, now honor your husband.”

“Time changes us all,” she said absently, wondering how to get him alone.

“Time?” he asked with a small smile, “or Miles? I’ve known him a long time and have been his friend every minute of that time, though we didn’t meet as often as I’d wish. Yet I was never happier for him than when I saw you two last night.”

“Oh?” she asked, diverted, a bit of the old Annabelle in her mischievous smile, “And not on our wedding day?”

His face became serious. “Not really, no. But last night showed me my mistake in that. Because he never took his eyes off you. Nor did you stop looking at him, except when you had your eyes on his sister. Now I congratulate you on a true marriage of minds, as I couldn’t then. You used to love to torment us men, or so we thought. Now you’ve only got eyes for him. Well done, Belle.”

She glanced away and bit her lip. Not Eric Ford, then. A request to see him alone would be too easy to misunderstand.

And not the Earl of Drummond. Because that elegant gentleman took her hand, bowed, and said, “Belle, is it now? So Camille would have it. She’s right. You’re still as lovely as you were when we first met, only now there’s a new light in your eyes, one that only lights, alas, when your husband’s near. I confess I miss Lady Annabelle, the coquette. Mind, I only admit that because my Alexandria’s not nearby,” he said with a chuckle to take the truth from that blatant lie, because everyone knew his devotion to his wife. “But I truly admire the constant Belle. Miles is lucky. And you chose well.”

And not Rafe Dalton. He had only a few words for her, though they were kind and she was grateful for them. But he was a terse fellow, and they had a difficult history.

And certainly not Damon, she thought, looking over at him and his beautiful wife. Damon and his Gilly never separated. What a fool she’d look if she tried to get him alone! More than that, how would it look to Miles? Because now she noticed that Miles never did stop watching her. Because she kept watching him? Her head began to ache. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

“Are you well?” Miles was at her side by the time she opened her eyes again.

“No, not really,” she whispered. “It’s because I’m not used to all this socializing, after all. Would
you mind entertaining our guests by yourself? I’d like to lie down.”

“Mind? I insist on it,” he said, taking her arm. He led her from the room, his eyes filled with concern. “Would you like me to come upstairs with you?”

“Oh no. I think I need to rest a spell, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll send Meg up and I’ll be there soon too. The hour for visiting’s almost over. Rest now, Belle.”

She nodded, though she knew she wouldn’t rest. She needed time to think. Any one of the men she’d just rejected in her thoughts might have to be the one she finally chose. She didn’t have much time to find the perfect one, so a slightly imperfect choice would have to do.

She paused on the stair, suddenly knowing who it had to be. How foolish of her not to have seen it immediately. There was no more logical choice, no matter the danger. He was a strong man, a clever one, and one she’d always loved, although she still wasn’t sure of him and really never had been. But he was the only one she could choose now, after all. No matter their history, he wouldn’t let her down.

Miles saw her stop on the stair, and hurried up to join her. “Are you all right?” he asked her again.

“Yes,” she said, looking up at him with a real smile. “In fact, Miles, I’m feeling better every minute.”

“I
’m sorry, my lady,” the butler said, “but he’s not in. If you’d care to leave word?”

“When is he expected?” Annabelle said impatiently. She’d lied to get here, telling Miles she was completely recovered from the unexpected bout of weakness she’d experienced in the morning, refusing his escort, saying he should go about business with his man-at-law as planned because she’d do fine by herself. That last, at least, wasn’t true. Her hands were icy even in her gloves, and her heart was beating too fast. She had to speak to the man she sought immediately.

“As to when he is expected, I cannot say,” the butler said. “Perhaps you should ask your mama. She is expected back at six.”

Annabelle already knew that. “I’ve already
spoken to Mama,” she lied again. But it was only a half lie. She’d asked her mother how long she was going to stay with Camille, and had been certain the two planned to spend the afternoon at the dressmaker’s before she’d set out herself. She just hadn’t spoken to her mother about this errand.

“She knew he was expecting me,” Annabelle said haughtily. “If he’s not here, I can’t see why you won’t give me his direction. It’s very important.” The butler looked uncomfortable. This was such a new thing for the usually taciturn man that Annabelle grew suspicious. “My mother fully expects me to meet with him today,” she added with a calm she didn’t feel. “So where is he?”

“He’s expected back in a day or two,” the butler said evasively, and Annabelle could almost feel his anxiety now.

“How tedious,” she said, manufacturing a little moue of annoyance instead of shouting as she wanted to do. “I quite forgot, so Mama said this very morning. But it’s not surprising. Such a pother these days, what with establishing ourselves in London again. It’s been one thing after another; I don’t even know how I stole this time away.” Then with a smile to remind him she didn’t have to give excuses or personal information to servants and was only doing so out of long acquaintance, she added, “So where is he?”

He hesitated.

She drew herself up, and using her most bored and imperious voice, said, “Come, Mr. Dean, time is wasting, and this is important.”

He looked supremely uncomfortable now. Annabelle could see drops of perspiration on his high, shiny forehead. He’d been with the family for years and always been obedient to her every wish. Now she was both fascinated and a little alarmed by this bizarre reaction in a man she’d always thought half statue. But none of it showed in her face or voice.

Taking a wild stab at breaking through his sudden reluctance to help her, she added, “Oh, he’s
there
! Of course!” She stamped one small foot in a charade of irritation. “Isn’t that typical of me these days? I’ll forget my bonnet next.” She looked blank for a moment and then said pettishly, “I know the address and it simply will not come to mind. I know it’s not that far, I know the street but simply cannot recall the number.”

He remained silent, and obviously anxious.

She huffed in exasperation. “Is it because I’m alone? Mr. Dean, I’m no longer the child you knew, I’m a married woman now, quite capable of traveling by myself.” She inclined one shoulder to indicate her waiting carriage. “I’m eager to do so. So. The address?”

“The countess agreed to this?” he said, clearly wavering.

In for a penny, in for a pound, Annabelle thought and said, “Of course. Why else would I be here now?”

It had been a lucky guess because it really wasn’t that far, Annabelle thought as the coachman drove her through London’s busy streets. She knew the district by the address but had never actually known anyone who lived there. It was a decent neighborhood on the other side of the park, but people of quality didn’t live there. Like birds of a feather, they flocked to the same areas, as though they could only exist in their own well-marked compounds. For the first time Annabelle wondered why that should be so. Were they afraid they wouldn’t be accepted or recognized as the elite they were if they lived somewhere else, however pleasant? Yes, of course, she thought, answering her own question.

She looked out at the neat rows of town houses and their small, well-kept front gardens as the coachman slowed, searching for the address she’d given him. This neighborhood was charming, entirely respectable. But she too wouldn’t live here because no one of birth and fortune would. So what was he doing here, and why would he be planning to stay for days?

The coach rolled up in front of a handsome four-story gray stone house. Annabelle frowned
in puzzlement, but stepped out when the coachman opened the door. “Wait for me,” she told him.

Annabelle stood on the pavement looking at the house. It was quiet; the only person she saw was a boy rolling a hoop down the street. He stopped when he came near her, caught up his hoop, and looking back at her over his shoulder, trotted up the steps to the house, opened the door, and went inside.

She looked at the slip of paper in her hand again. This was the house. But surely he couldn’t be here. She would, Annabelle vowed, pull every last remaining strand of hair out of Mr. Dean’s balding head for this. Still, first she had to make a fool of herself by actually going to that door and asking if the man she sought was there. Then she could kill Mr. Dean with a clear conscience.

She went up the stair, raised the knocker, let it fall, and waited.

The door swung open. She’d expected a butler or a footman, but instead, a plump, rosy-cheeked, middle-aged woman stood there.

“Yes?” the woman said, looking at her curiously.

Odd that a housekeeper would answer the door, Annabelle thought, and said, “I’m here to see Lord Wylde.”

The woman’s rosy cheeks turned gray. She stared at Annabelle. A flash of recognition crossed her face, and she went ashen. “Oh my!” she cried, one hand on her heart. “What’s happened! That is
to say…who shall I say is calling?” she asked tremulously.

“His daughter,” Annabelle said proudly, to cover her own confusion.

The woman stared, then turned, then turned back again, and said, “Won’t you come in?” As soon as Annabelle did, the woman, eyes wild, turned away, then again spun around and said nervously, “Here, please, in the parlor.”

She showed Annabelle to a room on the right. It was a well-proportioned parlor, furnished adequately, if not fashionably. Closed white curtains gave the sunny room a diffuse glow. A few landscapes hung on the painted rose-colored walls, and several small porcelain figures of children were set on the mantel over the hearth, but there were no other items of particular distinction. The room had several comfortable-looking chairs and a settee. But Annabelle remained standing, looking around, her back rigid.

“Please wait here,” the woman said, still staring at her visitor. Then she bit her lip, ducked her head in a jerky bow, and hurried away.

Annabelle stood still, thinking furiously. It might not be as bad as it looked; it couldn’t be. She let out a breath she hadn’t know she’d been holding in. Surely there was a simple explanation. She mustn’t jump to any conclusions. He was obviously here. Visiting? A distant relative? An old friend? Yes, certainly, that must be it, she thought
with relief. But she remained standing, facing the door, waiting for him to come to her.

He did.

“Annabelle?” her father asked incredulously. He stood in the doorway looking at her.

“Yes, Father,” was all she could say.

He strode into the room and took her hands in his. “What’s happened?” he asked gravely. “Your mother? What is it?”

“Mother’s fine. I’m not,” she said on a shaky laugh.

“What is it then?” he asked again, examining her face, “Are you sick again? Where’s Miles? Is it Miles? Why have you come alone?”

“I’m not ill, it isn’t Miles, and he doesn’t know I’m here. I just wanted to talk with you about something, and you weren’t at home.”

“I see,” he said, with evident relief. But then he realized the situation, and demanded, “Who told you I was here?”

She slipped her hands from his. “Mr. Dean did. But he’s not to blame. I lied to him. I said Mama told me you were here.” She’d been raised correctly. One did not blame servants for one’s own bad behavior. Her voice became steady and cool. “Still, though she never told me that, she obviously knows where you are, doesn’t she? The whole household must know. Everyone, except for me.”

Two almost identical pairs of brilliant blue eyes
searched each other’s. The earl was the first to look away.

He nodded and took in a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision. “Yes,” he said. “She knows. Has done, for years. And now since you’re an adult, a grown woman with her own household, I suppose it’s time you knew too.” He put his hands behind his back and paced a few steps. Then he looked at his daughter again. “I live here, Annabelle. Half the time, more now that you’ve left the house. I’ve done so for years. This is my other home.”

His gaze shifted from her to the floor as he went on. “Mrs. Lund, the woman who admitted you because our footman is on an errand, is my companion. We’ve been together fifteen years now. When I met her she was a young widow with two children and not a lot of money. Still, she is, whatever you may assume, a moral woman and a brave, great-hearted one. We met through some trifling business; I owned a house she was living in. We talked, I returned to talk some more. In the end, it was I who finally offered her my heart and a home.

“She didn’t want to accept, because she’s a moral woman, as I said. I persevered. If there’s fault in this, it’s mine. She loved me, as I loved her, but her scruples prevented her from accepting my offer. My money and my position didn’t matter to her. Perhaps the fact that she had those two chil
dren and no way to support them finally influenced her, I won’t deceive myself about that. But I also believe she truly loved me.”

He met Annabelle’s shocked gaze unflinchingly as he went on, “She accepted my offer because I promised to never desert her. I never have. Nor have I wanted to. She’s my friend and my comforter, and yes, my lover. If we lived in a world where it was possible, she’d be my wife. But if I’d sued for a divorce, even if it were finally granted, it would have taken years and dragged everyone through the mire in the process. Fleeing to the Continent with Elsie and her children was possible, but it would have meant deserting you. That I couldn’t do, any more than I could bring shame and scandal to you or your mother, or our name. Elsie accepted that when she agreed to my proposal. And so, here we are.”

Annabelle kept staring at him.

“I see,” he said bitterly. “But you don’t, do you?” He eyed her stiff stance and added, “Would it be more acceptable to you if I’d kept a succession of mistresses over the years, as so many gentlemen we know have done? Would you be more understanding if I’d passed all these years with pretty ladybirds half my age? Or if I spent my time and money with opera dancers, or on ‘actresses’ who sometimes appear on stage? Perhaps you’d be less shocked if I’d supported a succession of fashionable whores like Harriet Wilson
and her sisters? Those are the more acceptable routes. But not for me.”

He approached her and took her hands again. His voice softened. “Your mother knows, has always known, and in fact, approves. She doesn’t mind my absence in her bed or in her life so long as I’m there to take her to fashionable affairs she can’t attend alone. I don’t blame her for the way she feels any more than she blames me for my life. We were married because our families decreed it. In those days it was the way of things. We simply don’t suit. I respect and honor her, but we don’t love each other, nor does she expect love of me.

“Annabelle,” he said sincerely, “I live with Elsie because of who she is, and my fondest hope is to grow old with her. She suits my heart and my soul, and yes, my body too.” His hands closed hard over hers. “You’re a married woman now. Surely you know what I mean. Or at least I devoutly hope so. Please, however you feel, speak to me. Let me at least know, because I do love you very much. That’s why I’ve kept this life a secret, that’s why I’ve lived two lives. It isn’t easy, nor is it for the sake of what anyone might say. I don’t care about that and have the money and power to be able not to care. My parents are gone, my friends are few, those I have accept me as I am. Still, I denied Elsie the respectable life she yearned for. Because of you, Annabelle, no one else but you.”

He gave her hands a hard shake. “Do you understand, do you understand me at all?”

Annabelle opened her lips, but then stopped trying to speak. Her throat hurt too much, her chest felt weighted down. In all the days of her mortal illness, she’d never felt so cold and sick. It was as though something was cracking inside her. It was just too much.

She’d faced disappointment before. Damon’s marrying another woman had nearly broken her heart. But not quite. She’d faced up to it and in time had even been able to be perfectly civil to the woman he’d chosen instead of her. She’d been shocked and shamed because of her own foolishness too. She’d thought she’d broken Rafe Dalton’s heart, only to discover that all along he’d loved another. She’d been publicly humiliated for that. Then she’d sought a safe harbor and been rejected yet again by the Earl of Drummond. Even the gentle giant Eric Ford had once deceived her. Each of those honorable men had rocked her vision of the world and her estimate of herself. Still, she’d been able to go on, head high.

But this long-standing deception by a man she’d loved more than any of them—this broke her heart. She bowed her head, laid it on her father’s shoulder, and finally wept. Even though he’d dealt her this blow, she needed him to comfort her.

“Ah, my pretty Belle,” he said, his voice thick
with emotion, “I never wanted this. I spent years trying to spare you this.”

After a time she raised her head and stepped back. He dropped her hands and gave her his handkerchief. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes and tried for a smile, but it quivered on her lips.

“I understand,” she said. “I was just surprised and hurt, I think, because I never knew. That’s why you wanted me married and out of the house, isn’t it?”