Читать книгу An Earl To Save Her Reputation - Laura Martin, Laura Martin - Страница 13

Chapter Five

As the music in the ballroom swelled above the chatter Anna found herself looking around in anticipation. Against her better judgement she had agreed to attend the Carmichael ball this evening, a ball that Lord Edgerton, Harry, would be making an appearance at, too.

She had been doing a lot of things against her better judgement these past few days: agreeing to this sham engagement just to avoid a little scandal, allowing Harry into her life and confiding in him about the malicious parcels she’d been receiving. After a long time spent being a meek and mild wife, Anna didn’t usually give in to anyone easily now she had her much wished-for freedom and independence, but Harry seemed to be able to get her to agree to anything with his confident persistence.

‘You’re thinking about him,’ Beatrice said breathlessly, sitting down beside her and taking a large gulp from the glass of lemonade Anna had been holding.

‘Who?’

‘Who?’ Beatrice laughed. ‘Your fiancé, who else?’

‘Fiancé in name only,’ Anna said, lowering her voice. She didn’t want her cousin to get carried away in a romantic fantasy.

‘For now. Admit you were thinking about him.’

‘Shouldn’t you find your partner for the next dance?’

‘Hah, I knew it. You were daydreaming about him.’

‘Beatrice Tenby, don’t be so ridiculous. I haven’t daydreamed about anything or anyone in the past five years.’

Handing the glass of lemonade back to her, Beatrice stood.

‘I don’t think you’re half as prim and proper as you make out.’ Beatrice flounced off, swishing her skirts and fluttering her eyelashes at any young man who glanced in her direction.

‘I do hope not,’ a low voice said in her ear.

Anna stood abruptly, using all her self-control not to exclaim out loud. Lord Edgerton—Harry, she reminded herself—was standing directly behind her. He took her hand, bowing over it before straightening and giving her a wink.

‘It would seem we’re the centre of attention,’ Harry said quietly.

Nonchalantly Anna glanced to the left and right. Everyone around them was deeply engrossed in conversation. Too deeply engrossed. Behind the uninterested façade they were watching every move Harry and Anna made.

‘I trust you are well, Lord Edgerton,’ she said loud enough for the gossips to hear.

‘Very well, Lady Fortescue. Perhaps you will do me the honour of granting me this dance.’

Anna stiffened. She didn’t dance, at least not any more. Her role here was purely that of chaperon to Beatrice. She was expected to sit on the periphery of the ballroom, watch the young women dance and laugh and be merry, and hold the lemonade whenever her cousin retreated to the edges for a rest.

‘I’d wager you are a fabulous dancer.’

Once. Once she’d been as carefree and happy as Beatrice. She’d whirled across ballroom after ballroom, content to let her partner of the moment guide her, happy to trust a man she barely knew completely for those few minutes of the dance.

‘I don’t dance.’

Harry stepped back and regarded her. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said finally.

‘You don’t believe me?’

‘I don’t believe you. You have more grace than a dancer in the ballet.’

He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. There was no way she could refuse and a part of her felt a spark of excitement at the thought of dancing again.

Slowly she placed her hand in his and stood, allowing Harry to lead her to the dance floor. The last dance was just finishing, the dancers breathless and flushed from the quick steps to a lively tempo. There was a brief pause before the musicians struck up again, this time with the unmistakable first notes of a waltz.

‘My lucky night,’ Harry murmured.

He gripped her lightly, guiding her to a space on the dance floor and smiling before leading her across the room. As the seconds passed Anna felt herself relaxing, Harry was a good dancer and despite her years spent away from balls and ballrooms Anna felt the steps returning like long-lost friends. As they twirled past the other couples Anna could feel her spirits soaring. There was a freedom in dancing, a wonderful feeling that you might take flight, and she couldn’t believe she had gone so long without experiencing it.

They didn’t speak while they danced and Anna found herself sneaking the odd glance at her companion. Beatrice was right, he was handsome, although maybe not in the conventional sense. Most men of the ton followed fashion closely. They wore intricately decorated waistcoats and spent time and money styling their hair as well as their clothes. Harry stood out in the ballroom exactly because he didn’t do those things. His hair was cut short and his clothes were no doubt expensive and finely made, but lacked the excessive pomp of the other men in the ballroom. What he did have was presence. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, but more than physical size he exuded a confidence that could not be imitated—you were either born with it or not.

As the dance drew to a close Anna found herself disappointed. For a moment she had been transported back to the carefree days when she’d been a debutante. Before the marriages and the husbands, when the only reprimand she would get if she laughed too loud or danced too merrily was a stern word from her father.

‘Do you care for a breath of air?’ Harry asked as he escorted her from the dance floor. He picked up two glasses of champagne as they passed a table lined with sparkling flutes and offered her one.

‘I’m doing all the things I cautioned Beatrice against,’ Anna said, still allowing Harry to lead her out on to the terrace.

The raised patio stretched the whole length of the back of the house and was well illuminated with lanterns. Coy young women strolled arm in arm with swaggering young men, while the more daring of couples whispered in darkened corners. Steps led from the raised terrace into the garden, with only the first few feet visible in the moonlight. Every debutante with hopes of a good match would have been warned from straying any further from the ballroom, but inevitably someone would be caught where they shouldn’t tonight.

‘Did you enjoy our waltz?’ Harry asked as he led her to the stone balustrade. They leaned on the smooth stone and gazed out into the garden, their forearms almost touching.

There was no point in denying it. Anna knew her love of dancing had been rekindled and any onlooker would have been able to tell with a single glance how much she enjoyed her first waltz for many years.

‘I did, thank you.’

‘Your late husband wasn’t much of a dancer?’ Harry asked.

Anna shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Early in the marriage they had attended various balls and functions together and Anna had made the mistake of accepting a young man’s invitation to dance after Lord Fortescue had made it clear he would not be making an appearance on the dance floor. Her husband had seen the dance as a betrayal and Anna had paid a high price for her few minutes of merriment.

‘I thought you didn’t like champagne,’ Anna said, motioning to the half-empty glass in Harry’s hand, latching on to the first thing she’d seen to try to steer the topic of conversation away from her disastrous marriage.

‘I thought it best we didn’t sneak through the house in search of something more palatable and get caught in a compromising position a second time within two weeks.’

‘Probably for the best,’ Anna murmured.

‘Tell me,’ Harry said, turning to her, ‘what made you agree to be a chaperon for your cousin?’

‘My uncle asked.’

‘That was all?’

‘I owe him a lot, not that he would ever ask anything I wasn’t comfortable with.’

‘He took you in after the death of Lord Fortescue?’

‘Among other things.’

He’d done so much more than take her in. Anna had been broken, barely surviving when Uncle Phillip came and swept her into his loving home. He’d given her space to heal and provided gentle reminders that not everyone was a monster.

‘I think he is the only person to ever love me unconditionally,’ Anna said quietly.

‘What about your parents?’

She shrugged before she could stop herself. Shrugging was a habit she’d always had, but Lord Fortescue had hated the miniscule movement of her shoulder. This past year she still repressed many of her natural reactions, but slowly they were creeping back.

‘My mother died when I was a young child, I barely remember her. My father...’ She paused, wondering how best to describe him. ‘I’m sure he did care, he just didn’t think a gentleman should be affectionate, so most of the time I had no idea what he was thinking.’

‘I’m glad you have someone to care for you.’ There was a softness to Harry’s voice that made her turn and look at him. He was smiling at her, a smile filled with warmth that crinkled the skin around his eyes and suddenly Anna was aware of just how attractive her companion actually was. As her pulse quickened she tried to gain control of herself with a sharp reprimand, but found her body swaying towards Harry before she could stop herself.

Their arms touched, just a sliver of contact, but enough to cause a spark of excitement to jump through Anna’s body. Here in the moonlight, with the beautiful music from the ballroom drifting on the evening breeze, Anna felt the first surge of hopeful anticipation.

Shaking herself, she managed to look away and as soon as she did the spell was broken. Quickly she took a step back, pretending to adjust her skirts to cover her confusion. It was the warm evening’s air, and perhaps a touch too much champagne, that had caused her momentary lapse in sanity, nothing more.

Harry was looking at her with an amused expression and she wondered how much he’d been able to read on her face.

‘You should be ashamed,’ a low voice hissed behind them.

Quickly Anna spun around, stepping back as she recognised the woman striding towards them. Before she had time to react Miss Antonia Fortescue, her spiteful stepdaughter, had stepped much closer than Anna was comfortable with, only stopping when their noses were almost touching.

‘Miss Fortescue,’ Anna said, her voice devoid of emotion, ‘I did not expect to see you here.’ It was the politest thing Anna could bring herself to say.

‘Look at you, making merry with my father barely in the ground.’

‘Your father died over a year ago, Miss Fortescue. My mourning period has finished.’

Anna thought her stepdaughter might reach out and strike her at that comment, but her disdain was limited to a narrowing of the eyes.

‘Miss Fortescue?’ Harry asked, stepping between the two women.

‘Yes?’ Miss Fortescue snapped, glancing at Harry before returning her unwavering gaze to Anna.

‘I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced. I am Lord Edgerton.’

His title, and no doubt his reputation, earned him another glance from Miss Fortescue. Anna prayed he would keep silent about their sham engagement. The last thing she needed was for her late husband’s family to find out she’d become engaged again.

‘I hope you know what company you keep, Lord Edgerton.’

‘Lady Fortescue is the most amenable of companions,’ Harry said.

Antonia snorted, an unladylike sound that required her to screw up her nose and turn an already unattractive face into something pinched and malicious.

‘Your stepmother was just explaining how she gained an entire family when she married into the Fortescue clan,’ Harry said, without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Anna looked at him appraisingly—he might come across as easy-going and mild-mannered, but her companion was sharp and intelligent along with it.

‘She is no stepmother of mine.’

Silence followed. There wasn’t really much else to say, but Antonia seemed reluctant to move on.

‘I understand you haven’t seen much of Lady Fortescue since your father’s passing,’ Harry said, his voice suitably sombre. ‘Perhaps we should remedy that.’

Anna felt her jaw clench as she turned slowly towards Harry. She tried to communicate how much she would like him to be silent with just a dramatic widening of her eyes, but he flashed her a smile and wilfully ignored her, pushing on with his invitation.

‘I’m having a little house party, the weekend after next. It’s at my country estate, just south of Sevenoaks. We’d be delighted if you could attend. And your brothers, of course.’

Anna didn’t know who was more shocked, her or Antonia, but they both stood with mouths slightly opened, unable to utter a word.

‘Fantastic,’ Harry said. ‘We look forward to seeing you there.’

Anna felt him grip her arm and guide her along the terrace, no doubt planning on escaping before she or Antonia had a chance to collect themselves and protest at the idea of spending more than a few seconds in each other’s company.

* * *

Harry was feeling rather pleased with himself. The evening was going well, exceedingly well. He’d managed to claim a dance from his initially reluctant fiancée, watch her eyes light up as he whisked her around the ballroom and see some of her legendary composure slip as they stood side by side on the terrace. To top it all, he’d furthered his little investigation into the horrible packages Anna was receiving by inviting his main suspect to a country house party.

Next to him Anna walked with her head held high, but her fingers were digging into his arm through his jacket. He hadn’t warned her of his plan, there hadn’t been the opportunity, but he was sure once she’d recovered from the shock she would see it was the sensible thing to do: gather all the possible culprits in one place and wait for them to strike.

They’d just reached the end of the terrace when he felt Anna’s grip on his arm tighten even more. Before he knew what was happening she’d whisked him around the corner and down a short set of stone steps to the shadowy lawn below. In ten quick paces she’d pressed him into an alcove, hidden from view from the terrace above.

‘Lady Fortescue,’ he murmured, ‘I thought we were going to try our best to behave this evening.’

She was standing close to him, so close he could smell the lavender scent of her hair and before he could stop himself he reached out and tucked a stray, coppery strand behind her ear.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ Anna asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, but managing to convey the depth of her fury all the same.

‘A strand of hair...’

‘Up on the terrace, with Miss Fortescue.’

‘Being polite.’

‘To a woman who might be sending me—’ She broke off, her voice faltering at the memory of what was in the last package.

‘We’re never going to get to the bottom of what’s happening if we avoid the people who might be responsible. We need to observe them, confront them, push them into making a mistake.’

‘By inviting them to stay under the same roof as us?’

‘I’ll be there to look out for you.’

Anna closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I barely know you,’ she said quietly.

‘That’s not true.’ Although they had only met for the first time a little over a week ago Harry felt as though they’d known each other for much longer.

‘You do not get to make decisions about my life,’ Anna said, her voice low but firm. ‘No one gets to make decisions about my life.’

There was such conviction as she spoke, such determination, that Harry wondered what had happened to drive her to this point. She didn’t trust anyone and clung to her independence more than any woman he had ever encountered. It should be annoying, but Harry found himself admiring her more for her strength.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said, knowing when to take a step back and regroup. ‘I should have discussed my idea about the house party with you first.’

The apology seemed to disarm her and Harry watched as some of the fury seeped from her body. Without thinking he raised a hand and smoothed the furrow between her eyebrows. She stiffened at his touch, but did not jerk away, instead slowly raising her eyes to meet his own.

For an instant Harry wanted nothing more in the world than to kiss her. He wanted to cover her lips with his own, gather her to his body and kiss her until she forgot whatever it was that was making her frown.

‘Perhaps we should discuss it tomorrow,’ Anna said, taking a step back.

‘Good idea.’

Anna looked around her as if only just realising where they were. A sardonic smile crossed her lips.

‘Thankfully the world thinks we are engaged,’ she said, ‘or this would be an even bigger scandal than us being discovered together at the Prendersons’ ball.’

All the same she peered out into the darkness carefully, judging her moment to return to the ballroom. Just as she was about to dash out from the alcove Harry caught her hand.

‘Dance with me,’ he said.

‘Here? Don’t be silly.’

‘No one can see us.’

‘People will be wondering where we are.’

‘Let them wonder.’

‘This whole engagement is to try to minimise the scandal attached to our names, not increase it.’

‘Dance with me.’

He saw her hesitate, torn between returning to the safety of the ballroom and sharing another wonderful waltz. The music from the ballroom was audible down here, muffled by the chatter of people on the terrace, but still good enough to dance to.

For an instant he thought she would and he felt his heart leap in his chest, then she was gone, her dress swishing behind her, her head bent low as she fled back to the safety of the ballroom.