Regency Sting (26 page)

Thus, when the Duchess took her leave, Harriet entered the dining room for luncheon with a dance in her step and a smiling countenance, completely unprepared for the news which Peter was about to relay to her. The two of them were alone at the table, for Jason was rarely home these days and Anne had left to take luncheon with Cherry. “Did Jason tell you, Mama,” Peter asked, “that he plans to return to America soon?”

Harriet, who was about to reach for a biscuit, froze. “Return to
America
? You must be
mad
!”

“No, I'm afraid it's quite true. He told me himself, last evening, when we were playing chess.”

Harriet felt her pulse begin to race. Steadying herself by regulating her breathing, she tried to brush the matter aside. “What nonsense! He was only teasing. You know how Jason enjoys a little joke.”

“He wasn't teasing, Mama,” Peter said earnestly. “He truly means to go.”

“But … but by
why
? The fellow has become society's
darling
! He's living a completely enviable life! Are you telling me he doesn't
like
it here?”

“I don't think he sets much store by his role as ‘society's darling,' although I do believe he's greatly enjoying himself.”

“Then I don't see why—”

“America is his
home
, you know. Perhaps he misses it,” Peter suggested gently.

“Rubbish!” Harriet declared. “
This
is his home. We are his
family
! How can he
think
of deserting us?”

“I believe he is very fond of us, my dear, but his attachment to his birthplace is very strong. I've often remarked on it. It's my belief that he never meant to remain here. He only came for a visit—to see where his father was born and to meet his father's people …”

“But what of his titles? His estates? His responsibilities?”

“I believe,” Peter said quietly, breaking a slice of bread into little pieces with nervous fingers, “that he intends to bequeath them to
me
.”

Lady Harriet gasped. “
Peter
! You don't
mean
it!”

Peter smiled wryly. “He said he is certain I shall make an excellent Viscount.”

“And so you shall,” said his mother, torn between pride and joy in her son's new expectations and dismay at the imminent loss of the man who had become a source of security and an object of her affections. “But I don't really understand. Why should he choose to live a life of deprivation and difficulty in America when he could have one here of ease and elegance?”

Peter smiled. “He's not cut out for a life of ease and elegance. And from what I've learned of his station in the United States, he is far from deprived. Not only is he the head of his father's shipping lines in Norfolk—a bustling and successful venture, I understand—but he seems to have extensive land holdings, both in Virginia and on the frontier—I think he called it Kentucky. I think our Jason is much more prosperous than we'd ever imagined.”

“Is he really?” asked Harriet, wide-eyed. “My goodness, it sounds very impressive. Although I don't know why I should be so amazed. He
is
a Mainwaring, after all.”

Peter laughed. “Once you thought he was nothing but a boorish rebel.”

“Yes, I did, but that was before I'd met him. However, I must admit that, even afterwards, I thought him an impoverished waif. I think it must have been that atrocious coat of his …”

They both smiled, remembering their first impression of the man who had made such an impact on their lives. But their smiles soon faded as they each tried to imagine how they would do without him. “I, for one, will be very sorry to see him go,” Peter sighed.

“Oh, and so will I!” Harriet seconded mournfully. “How shall we
manage
without him?”

“Jason says we shall do very well … and I suppose he's right. He is so easy a man to learn to rely on. But he insists that we are perfectly capable of relying on ourselves. He says that when I've finished my schooling, we should plan to visit him in Virginia for an extended stay.”

Harriet grew misty-eyed. “Oh, I should
like
that, shouldn't you?”

“More than I can say. That prospect is the only thing which enables me to face his departure with equanimity,” Peter admitted.

Harriet worriedly bit her lip. “I wonder … Peter, what do you think Anne will say?”

“I have no idea. But, Mama, that reminds me … Jason asked particularly that we keep this to ourselves and not tell Anne. He wants to tell her himself.”

“Very well, if that is what he wishes. She likes to pretend that she in uninterested in Jason's welfare, but I believe that his departure will pain her, too.”

“As to that, Mama, I have no opinion. I've never understood Anne's reactions to Jason. He has never given her adequate cause—it seems to me—to explain why she holds him in such dislike.”

Harriet groaned. “She does hold him in dislike, doesn't she? Oh, dear … I had so hoped that the two of them would …” Her voice trailed off in a melancholy sigh.

“So did I, Mama,” Peter said glumly, pushing away his untouched plate of food. “So did I.”

Although Anne did
not
hold Jason in dislike, that fact was not at all in evidence as she faced him that evening in the library when he'd stopped in to bid her good night. For the eighth evening in a row, Jason was on his way out. He had not had dinner with the family since his reinstatement in the Prince's good graces. The Regent had taken Jason under his wing, and Jason's nights had become as busy as the most roisterous pleasure-seeker in London. During the past week, the Prince or some other “friend” had insisted on his companionship for a bachelor dinner, two or three card parties, an evening of gambling at Watier's, and one wild rout-party at an unidentified abode. On each of these occasions he had rolled in during the wee hours of the morning, making his first appearance of the day well past noon. He had begun to look weary-eyed and pale, and Anne viewed his dissipation with complete disgust. “Are you going out
again
?” she asked in thinly veiled abhorrence.

Jason nodded. “A musical evening at the Hollands, and then, I believe, I'm expected at White's for cards.”

“I suppose this will be another occasion when you totter home in the early morning,” she said in icy disapproval.

“Do I detect a note of disapprobation, ma'am? Do you not approve of my association with Prinny?”

“Oh, is he ‘Prinny' to you now? How enviable to be part of the inner circle—the brightest star in the Regent's firmament!” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

Jason looked at her in injured innocence. “I don't see why you're takin' on so. Isn't this what you wanted for me? Isn't this what you trained me for?”

“If you think that I intended to prepare you for this sort of activity, my lord, you're completely out in your reckoning! I neither desire nor deserve any credit for your amazingly rapid and spectacular descent into dissipation and debauchery.”

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up. “Call me dissipated and debauched if you will, but it was for
you
that I took this path. No, don't try to turn away, my girl—you may as well face it. I'm no more dissipated than any other ‘gentleman.' That's what you wanted me to be, isn't it—a London gentleman? I'm only bein'
obligin'
!”

She shook herself free. “Don't bother to oblige
me
, sir. Your behavior is no concern of mine, I assure you. ‘Ain't no skin off my nose.'”

Jason laughed. “Can it be that while you've made a gentleman of me, I've made a backwoodsman of you?”

“No, not at all, for I'm no more a backwoodsman than
you
are a gentleman.”

“Are you implyin',” Jason asked, exaggeratedly offended, “that I'm
not
a gentleman? Look at me, girl! From the tip of my perfectly polished shoes to the top of my coiffed head, I'm what you made me! Look at the starched points of my shirt-collar! Look at the fold of my neckcloth! Look at the gold fob hangin' on just the right length of chain from my waistcoat pocket! What
more
do you want?”

“Do you think these trappings make you a
gentleman
?” she asked in frozen hauteur. “Do you sincerely believe that the clothes you wear, or the style of your hair, or even the dissipated, corrupt company you keep has anything to do with being a gentleman?”

Glaring up at him, she noted with some surprise that he was regarding her with a half-smile and a strangely approving gleam in his penetrating eyes. “As a matter of fact, my dear,” he said softly, “I don't think so at all. I
did
think, however, that those were your very standards for judgin' gentlemanliness.” He leaned down and planted a gentle, affectionate and completely unexpected kiss on her forehead. “It's a real pleasure to me to realize that you've learned somethin'.” Placing his chapeau-bras under his arm, he executed a faultless little bow and sauntered from the room.

As Anne watched him go, a number of painful feelings swept over her—anger and frustration, impatience and irritation, and, most distressing of all, an overwhelming sense of disappointment and loss. This was not the way she'd planned to take leave of him. Jason couldn't know it, of course, but this was the last time she would see him. Tonight was the night she was leaving for Gretna Green. As Cherry had pointed out to her many times since Jason's reinstatement, there was no longer any reason for Anne to keep poor Arthur dangling.

She had a strong desire to run after Jason, to stop him and tell him—but what? What was there she could say to him? With flagging spirits and a throat which burned with unshed tears, she turned and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She would use the half-hour before dinner to finish her packing and to prepare herself for the ordeal of sitting down to dinner with Mama and Peter and pretending that nothing extraordinary was happening.

But her hands were trembling and her will was too weak to make much headway on her packing, and she found herself sitting on the edge of her bed staring at the petticoat in her hands as if she didn't know what to do with it. What was she
doing
? She had not the least desire to run away to Shropshire! How could she leave her dear stepmother and brother and the London house which had been her home for as long as she could remember? How could she leave Jason, whose challenging ways and cheerful spirit had brightened her days, filled her thoughts and awakened her to the possibilities of zest and joy that days could hold when spent with him and that were so completely absent when he was not with her?

But this kind of thinking was mere self-indulgence. She had to make herself stop. She had to bury her feelings for Jason. She had no right to them. Even if he had shown an interest in her beyond the brotherly, she could not encourage him. She couldn't betray Arthur, who loved her so loyally. She was
promised
, and a person with character does not ignore promises. No matter what it cost, she would go to the Scottish border with Arthur, endure the hasty, runaway wedding and settle with him in his vicarage. And by making him happy, perhaps she would find a measure of contentment for herself. At the very least, her conscience would be clear.

With Jason to care for them, Mama and Peter would do quite well without her. They would miss her, she knew, but in time they would forgive her. They might even pay her a visit once in a while. She, however, would not be able to permit herself to visit this house, ever again. It would be too painful, and she might never be able to force herself to return to her Shropshire home.

Jason, she supposed, would marry Lexie. They'd have a wonderful life together. Lexie had taste and style—she'd redecorate the Mainwaring house and make of it the center of a social whirl. With Jason's political leanings and Lexie's social talents, they would become the most sought after couple of the
ton
. Lexie would make an excellent political hostess. Anne admitted to herself that Lexie would undoubtedly be a far superior Lady Mainwaring to the one
she
would have become if she'd been given the chance.

As for Jason himself, she didn't think he would continue to pursue his present, dissipated course. Once he married, he would no doubt settle down. A man was entitled, she supposed, to sow some wild oats for a time. He was too sensible, too level-headed and energetic, to be content to waste himself on gambling and carousing. He would soon tire of these shallow, frivolous pastimes and turn to serious preoccupations. If Lexie had any sense, she would encourage him to enter Parliament. That was the place for a man like Jason.

But these things could not be Anne's concern. Jason's future was now out of her hands. She had to admit that, while she
had
had an influence on his fate, she had not done very well. It was too late now for her to make amends. She must put Jason and his interests out of her mind. With a shake, she roused herself from her reverie, folded the petticoat carefully and placed it in an already overcrowded bandbox, trying unsuccessfully to brush away the tears that kept falling upon it as she worked.

Twenty-One

Anne stood just inside her bedroom door with her ear pressed against it, trying to hear the sounds in the corridor. She couldn't leave the room until she was sure everyone was asleep. She had heard Harriet's door close some time ago, and Peter's step could just now be discerned as he passed her door on his way to his bedroom from the library. It would not be long now before he, too, would be asleep. Anne tied her light cloak at the neck, raised the hood carefully and turned to check her portmanteau. In less than fifteen minutes—on the stroke of midnight—Arthur's carriage would be waiting at the corner of the street. The time of her elopement was at hand.