The Heart That Lies (16 page)

She hesitated and he thought he had gone too far.

“And you will not be angry if I deny you entry?”

His heart sank; she was going to tell him that she could not bear to be in the same room as him.

“No. You have as much right to keep me out of here as you have to keep me out of your bedroom.” He felt himself blush at the
insinuation that he might try to enter her bedroom, but Anna seemed not to notice. Instead she seemed to be considering his request very carefully.

“Then you will be welcome whenever you wish to come and sit with me, but ...”

“But?”

“My lord, you understand that I do not play at poetry.”

“Of course.”

“Then you do not come for conversation?”

“No. I come because I realised that that chair is the most comfortable in the house.” He pointed to the chair closest to the fire. Turning back to her, he said, “Miss Smith, if I disturb you, you must tell me to leave and there will be no protest from me.”

“Oh, but...”

“No. I have no wish to distract you. You have published nothing since you came here, have you?”

“No.” It was a whisper.

“Because of the duel or because you are no longer Jonas Smith?”

“Both. I no longer have Jonas Smith’s experiences and ...” Her lip trembled and tears appeared in her eyes again.

Meldon retrieved the handkerchief again and gave it to her.

“
The duel. I dream about it often,” she said, “and sometimes I do not survive and sometimes ...”

“Sometimes I do not?”

She nodded and blew her nose into the handkerchief.

Despite his misgivings, Meldon put his arms around her and held her. “I have those dreams, too,” he admitted. “They will pass, for both of us.”

“Will they?”

“I promise. You will grow used to being alive again.”
He hoped he was telling the truth; the dreams disturbed him too much, especially the ones that ended with him standing over her still body.

He let her go. “I’ll send Simpson in with some brandy. Will five minutes be long enough?”

“Ten,” she said as she began to use the handkerchief on her eyes again.

“Very well.” He picked up the poem from the table where he had put it. “Thank you again. I shall treasure it.”

He left her before she could see how shaken he had been by her tears.

Once Meldon had started visiting the library things improved between them. He went often and never initiated a conversation. He either read a book or watched Anna write. She seemed to write fluidly and he enjoyed the calm that they shared. Sometimes Anna would start a conversation, asking what he was reading or, having stared out of the window for a while, read him a line or two of poetry and ask his opinion. He thought her writing improved and told her, but still she offered nothing for publication.

E
ach morning she rode with him and they discussed his plans for Meldon or his tenants. He took great pleasure in her interest and knowledge and had changed some of his plans to take her wishes into account. Most mornings he worked in the estate office and sometimes he joined Anna and his mother later as Anna read aloud. At other times they went out visiting and he could enjoy the impeccable way in which Anna behaved with each of their hosts.

Nonetheless, he had planned and examined his plan and tested his assumptions. He was not entirely certain that he wasn’t wasting his time, but
he was determined to try.

He welcomed Finch’s arrival, for Finch would talk sense to him
. Meldon took him into the billiard room and told him everything that had happened since his return from Kent.

“Don’t you think you should
have taken me to your mother?” was Finch’s first comment when Meldon stopped.

“She won’t mind. She’s
too busy trying to countermand all my orders about the ball. What shall I do about Miss Smith?”

“You don’t need my advice.
You know what to do. Surely you know how to propose to a girl.”

“She’s in love with Carstairs.”

“No she isn’t. I never took you for a stupid man before today, Meldon.”

“I tell you, she loves him. Love at first sight
, even though she knows his character.”

“Yes, I do think she fell in love at first sight.
” Finch stroked his chin in the way that he knew annoyed the earl. It was what he did when he thought he knew more about something than Meldon did. “Very well, let us try reason. You’re usually amenable to reason, but since it’s your heart that’s affected... Is Miss Smith of good character and possessed of all her wits?” He spoke slowly, as if to a child or someone particularly slow-witted.

“Of course she is.”

“Is Carstairs a self-absorbed bore?” He enunciated the words slowly and Meldon began to grind his teeth.

“Yes, but he’s a handsome, self-absorbed bore.”

“And Miss Smith values beauty above character?”

“No!
” Meldon realised that he had shouted his protestation. Finch smiled.

“Then she doesn’t love Carstairs.
”

“Then there’s the other man.”
Meldon no longer knew which man worried him more. Finch was right; it was possible that Anna did not love Carstairs, but she had told him that she loved the other man.

“What other man?”
The smile disappeared from Finch’s face.

“The man she loved before. She said she loves him still, but I believe Carstairs has taken his place.”
Now that he said it aloud, it sounded unlikely. Anna was not this changeable.

“What do you know about this man?”

“Only that she loved him in London and that he has fine hands and a good character.”

Meldon had
occasionally wondered whether Finch himself might be the man that Anna loved. She had certainly seen a lot of him at his card table and at supper in Meldon House. His character was good, but no one could describe his hands as fine. One of their early missions had resulted in Finch being captured and tortured and his left hand had been broken and had not healed properly. Only someone with poor eyesight would describe him as plain, for he was the most handsome man of Meldon’s acquaintance.

Slowly Finch smiled
, then he burst into laughter.

“Oh, Meldon, I’m sorry, but you really are a fool.”

Meldon was speechless. Finch grabbed one of Meldon’s hands, peeled off his glove and held it before his face.

“I think she must mean these hands, for I know of no man who possesses a pair finer.”

Meldon snatched his hand away and put the glove back on.

“Do not make fun of me, for I love Miss Smith and I will not be mocked.”

“I don’t mock you. I’m only trying to make you see what you refuse to see.”

Meldon wished it were true, but knew it was not, it could not be.

“There is the small matter that she tried to kill me.”

“Only once, Meldon, only once.
Now, when can I see her? I have thought much about how she would look as a woman.”

Meldon sighed. Was he to have
yet another rival in his friend?

“
I thought you wanted to see my mother?”

Finch had the grace to blush.

Meldon stepped out of the door and called for Simpson. “Please tell Miss Smith that Mr Finch is here and that if she wishes to join us, we are here in the billiard room.”

Simpson
returned with the news that Miss Smith would join them as soon as she had finished reading to the countess.

Finch and Meldon discussed Finch’s journey
from London while they waited.

When Anna entered she was smiling.

“Mr Finch. What a pleasure to meet you again and under such pleasant circumstances.”

Finch bowed.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Smith. I am happy to see you recovered from your previous ordeal and from your most recent one.”

Anna’s smile broadened at such plain
speaking. “Lord Meldon has told all, then?”

“Only that you drank a little more
whisky than was good for you.”

“At least I have a better idea of how much is too much
now,” she said wryly.

“There are some who would say that even a sip is too much for a lady.”

“And what do you say?”

Finch hesitated, as if sensing for the first time that he might have made a trap for himself.

“I say that there are some women to whom the rules do not apply and you, Miss Smith, are one of them.”

They
both laughed like old friends sharing an old joke. Meldon was filled with jealousy. Why couldn’t he make Anna feel this easy? Why couldn’t he make her smile and laugh?

“Come and sit by the fire,” he said. “You look cold.”

“I am warm enough, thank you,” but she allowed him to lead him to the chair nearest the fire.

She smiled at him as she sat, then turned her attention back to Finch.

“How was your journey?”

They continued to discuss Finch’s journey until Simpson came to tell them that the countess was
expecting them in the sitting-room and had asked for tea to be brought.

“Then we will join her there,” said Meldon as he stood.
“Now, let us go and drink cold tea with Mother.”

The next morning Meldon waited for Anna with Finch in the stable yard. She was later than usual and, although he was impatient to inspect the work on the cottages, his impatience was tempered by the fear that something worse than a hangover had happened to her this time.

Eventually she appeared, hurrying breathlessly from the
house.

“I apologise, Lord Meldon. I had not allowed for it to take longer to dress in a habit than in
breeches.”

“You look very well in your habit,” said Meldon, before Finch could say anything.

“Thank you, but I find it awkward and I will need your assistance to mount and dismount.”

“That is of no matter,” lied Meldon. Anna so rarely allowed him to assist her that he thought she must find his touch distasteful. He helped her on to her horse.
Since the stallion she normally rode was not used to a side saddle, she was riding the mare that Caroline used when she was in Hampshire.

“You look very elegant, Miss Smith,” said Finch and Meldon could not disagree.
She looked unhappy, but she sat as naturally as she did when she was astride. Her skill as a horsewoman was impressive.

They rode to the cottages
where Meldon inspected the work done in his absence. To his dismay, Anna did not come in with him, but stayed outside with Finch. Occasionally he heard them laugh and he clenched his fists. It took all his willpower not to go and call his friend out.

When he was finished, he walked back to them and was
struck by how attractive they were as a couple. Finch was in his early thirties and, although much shorter than Meldon, was better looking. Even if Anna was not swayed by beauty alone, Finch’s character was of the best kind. He was steady and loyal. Meldon knew that he had the ability to love deeply, for he had been devastated by the death of his wife in childbirth five years ago and was devoted to his son. Meldon knew that it was for Freddie’s sake Finch looked for a wife, but how much better for them both would it be if he could love his new wife.  And what man could not love Anna?

Finch
was, indeed, thoughtful as they returned to the house. Anna and Meldon discussed his plans for the new sheep. Meldon was pleased by her interest and the intelligence of her questions. The purchase of the sheep had been nothing but a ruse to allow him to go to Kent to resolve a problem there, but he had been so impressed by the sheep he had seen in order to give substance to his story that he had bought some and they would be arriving shortly.

When they had
arrived back at the house, Anna left them to go and change before breakfast.

“She’s a remarkable woman,” said Finch as they walked into the house.
“If you don’t propose before the ball she will have men queuing up to marry her.”

“Will you be one of them?” asked Meldon before he could stop himself.

Finch stopped walking. “So that’s why you’ve been as black as thunder all morning.” He paused as if considering the suggestion. “It’s not such a bad idea at that.”

Meldon hit him so hard that he fell.

“Oh God, Finch. What...?” Meldon regretted it immediately.

“You are a fool, Meldon, and right now I’m a better friend than you deserve.” Finch made no effort to get up until Meldon reached down and pulled him to his feet.

“I’m sorry.”

“Accepted. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Meldon, especially where there’s no cause, but I tell you now that if I see the slightest sign of interest on
her part in Carstairs, I will propose myself, if you don’t. She doesn’t deserve a man like that.”