Regency Sting (5 page)

The note touched her deeply, but she had no love for meetings of this kind. In addition, she could not help but feel that Arthur should have the courage to demand to see her openly and honestly, no matter what his mother should say. All afternoon she paced the room, trying to decide what course to take. Unable to make up her mind, she returned to the window and, in the gray afternoon light, she read the letter for the third time.

A step on the stairs made her start guiltily. She folded the note in awkward haste and thrust it into the bosom of her dress. Snatching a book from the mantelpiece, she ran quickly to the sofa, sat down and assumed an expression of deep concentration on the book.

To her surprise, the door did not open unceremoniously upon her half-brother or her stepmother, as she'd expected. Instead, someone knocked firmly. “Is that you, Coyne?” she asked in annoyance.

“No, ma'am,” came an unfamiliar voice.

With a puzzled frown, she put aside the book and went to open the door. She found herself facing a complete stranger who stood smiling down at her from a height of more than six feet. She gaped. The man seemed enormous in his odd clothing. His sunstreaked hair was wet with rain and much too long to be fashionable. His skin was darkly tanned and made his gray eyes seem shockingly light. His loosely fitting coat, buckskin breeches and blunt-toed boots were the garments of a man of the outdoors and seemed woefully out-of-place in a London sitting-room doorway.

She was suddenly aware that her heart had begun to hammer in fright and her knees to shake, but whether these symptoms of shock were caused by the unexpectedness of his appearance, the compelling gleam of his electrifying gray eyes or something else, she couldn't determine. “Wh-who
are
you—?” she stammered.

The gleaming smile widened, and the man made a brief bow. “Jason Hughes, ma'am. If you're Miss Anne Hartley, I'm your cousin-by-marriage from America.”

“I … I am … Miss Hartley,” Anne managed to acknowledge, staring at him in astonishment.

“Well, then, I'm mighty pleased to meet you, ma'am,” the giant said cheerfully, proffering a large hand. Speechless, Anne automatically extended her hand to be kissed, but instead the man grasped it and shook it vigorously.

“How … do you do?” Anne said breathlessly, unable to keep from staring at him. “Are
you
the new Viscount Mainwaring?”

“I reckon so. The lady downstairs—your mama, I take it?—”

“My stepmother, Lady Harriet.”

“Yup, she's the one … she said I was to tell you that, since I'm to be the new Viscount, you'll have to do somethin' with me.”

“
Do
something?” Anne asked in complete confusion. “I don't understand …”

“I reckon she wants you to turn me into an English gentleman,” he explained with a broad smile.

Anne, trying to digest his words, merely continued to gape at him. The young giant in the doorway, responding to her expression of dismay, grinned widely and nodded down at her in sympathetic amusement. “Yes, ma'am,” he said with a wry twist of his lips, his voice choked with suppressed laughter, “I can't say I blame you for lookin' so staggered. Judgin' from the look of me, you've got yourself a job and a half!”

Four

“May I come in, or is it the custom for English ladies to keep their gentlemen callers coolin' their heels in the corridors?” the American asked after a long moment, during which Anne found herself being surveyed with an appraising stare as direct, curious and rude as hers had been.

“Of course you may come in,” she said coloring, and stepped aside to let him pass. “Please sit down.” As he looked around the room and lowered his long frame into a chair, she added tartly, “What a strange expression. And not very apt. You can scarcely consider yourself a ‘gentleman caller.' One can't be a caller at one's own home. This
is
your own house, you know.”

“
Is
it?” Mr. Hughes asked innocently. “I didn't know that. The letter said only that I was to report here on my arrival.”

“Nevertheless, it is yours. Are you going to put us out into the storm?”

Mr. Hughes tilted his head up to flick a cool glance at her as she stood over him. “You don't mean to call that little drizzle out there a storm, do you? If I'm to take some real enjoyment from puttin' you out, I'd best wait for a gale, or a nice, freezin' snowstorm.”

Realizing she'd been bested, Anne merely tossed her head and took a seat opposite him. “Have you just arrived from America?” she asked loftily.

“Yes'm. Landed at Southhampton two days ago and made straight for London. I intended to stay at Fenton's—a fellow on board ship told me it's a right proper hotel—but your stepmother insists I'm to stay here. I hope you don't mind.”

“I have no right to mind. As I told you, this is
your
house.”

Mr. Hughes frowned at her. “I know I
look
like a giant, ma'am, but I'm no monster who tromped down a beanstalk. I don't drive widows from their homes nor eat little children for breakfast. I can quite easily take residence at the hotel if my presence here causes you the slightest discomfort.”

“I … I'm sorry,” Anne said contritely. “I've been quite rude. You see, I … I had no warn—I mean, I had not been informed that you were coming. If Mama has invited you to stay here, of course you are welcome to do so.”

“Thank you,” the American said briefly. “
But
—?”

“But?”

“I thought I heard a ‘but' at the end of that very polite declaration,” Mr. Hughes said, a mischievous twinkle gleaming in his surprisingly light eyes.

Anne shrugged. Americans were obviously quite frank and direct in their conversations. She decided to answer him in the same spirit. “I was only going to say that I shall certainly do my part to make you feel welcome among us, but—”

“Aha! But …?”

“But I hope you don't take Mama seriously when she says I'm to … er … take you in hand.”

“Take me in hand? Do you mean ‘make a gentleman of me'?” Mr. Hughes laughed loudly. “No, ma'am, I know better. That's no job for a slip of a girl like you.”

Anne, considerably taller than the average young lady, had never heard herself described as a ‘slip of a girl' and relented enough to smile back at him. “Then we understand each other,” she said.

“Better than you think,” Mr. Hughes said, rising. “If you please, ma'am, will you call the butler to show me to my room? I can see that I'm keepin' you from some important readin'.”

Anne was nonplussed. “Important reading?” she echoed.

“A letter. I must have interrupted you.”

“B-But …
how did you know
…?”

“Well, you see, ma'am, it's stickin' out of your dress a mite. If you'll excuse me, I'll get out of your way and leave you to it.”

The color in Anne's cheeks took several minutes to recede after Mr. Hughes had followed Coyne out of the room. The fellow was the rudest creature she'd ever met! How
dared
he refer to a letter that was obviously not meant for him to notice? What right had he to look at her bosom, anyway? The more she thought about it, the more furious she became. Her stepmother had no right to send him to her without warning! She would tell Lady Harriet what she thought of such behavior—and
right now
!

In the meantime, Lady Harriet, absently working on her embroidery in the drawing room below, had every expectation of a confrontation with her stepdaughter. She had adjusted her embroidery frame so that she could face the door as she worked. In a very few minutes, she knew, Anne would burst indignantly into the room. She realized full well that Anne was bound to react strongly to her sudden confrontation with the new Viscount. But Harriet was unperturbed. She smiled placidly as her plump fingers worked with unhurried precision, adding tiny silk stitches to the intricate floral pattern stretched on the frame before her. She was quite calm. The arrival of the Viscount had not upset her at all. In fact, she'd found the young man delightful. She'd needed only ten minutes in his company to realize that he was the perfect man to fulfill her plans.

Mr. Jason Hughes of America was not exactly handsome, but there was something magnetic about his face. Harriet realized instantly that he was exciting enough to attract the most exacting of females. But she also recognized that his blunt manners, his drawling, informal speech and his years-out-of-fashion mode of dress all cried out for remedial attention. The American was in need of a good coat of town-bronze. And who was more capable of supplying the needed polish than Anne herself?

In addition, the situation gave Lady Harriet a perfectly acceptable excuse for keeping the American hidden away from society for a time. He had to be made presentable. The task would take some weeks, she surmised, during which it would be necessary to keep him in seclusion. And since Anne was to be the principle instructor in his transformation, she would, of necessity, be much in his company. How perfectly natural, therefore, for Anne to win a secure place in Jason Hughes' affection! By the time the young man was ready to meet all the eager young females who would be vying for his attentions, Anne would have already been established in first place.

Harriet smiled in satisfaction. Her plans seemed to be most fortuitously taking shape. Her nephew was a very likeable fellow. Her first brief meeting with him had been fascinating. Lady Harriet had kept him sitting beside her in the drawing room, plying him with questions. In response to her accusations that his father had callously forgotten his sister and brother in England, he'd assured her that his father had spoken of them often. He'd explained that Henry Hughes had married the daughter of a Virginia planter at the end of the war and had removed his bride to the city of Norfolk, where he'd made a mark in the shipping trade and where Jason had been born. About eight years ago, Jason's father had succumbed to a liver ailment and died. Two years later, Jason's mother had remarried, and Jason, having attained his majority, had struck out on his own.

Although Lady Harriet was most curious about the details of Jason's life, she'd noticed that he was somewhat reticent about revealing anything but the most basic facts of his background. Unwilling to pry, and eager to arrange a meeting between the young man and her stepdaughter, she'd refrained from questioning him further. She'd sent him upstairs with instructions to introduce himself to Anne. And now she waited, keeping an interested eye on the door, for Anne to come in and reveal her reaction.

Lady Harriet had not long to wait. Jason had not been gone above a quarter of an hour when the drawing room door was flung open and Anne strode in. Her high color indicated that the girl was furious and bemused, but she faced her stepmother with her temper in check and eyebrows raised in challenging hauteur. “Just what are you up to, Mama?” she demanded unceremoniously.

“Up to? Whatever do you mean?” Lady Harriet countered calmly, fixing her eyes on her needlework.

“You sent that man up to me without a
word
of warning! How
could
you, Mama? I almost jumped out of my skin when I found him standing in the doorway—the fellow's a veritable
giant
!”

“I'm sure you can't blame me for
that
,” Harriet pointed out reasonably.

“You know I don't mean that,” Anne said impatiently. “I don't see why you sent him up at all. Why didn't you tell Coyne to warn me that he'd arrived? And what do you mean by telling him that you expect me to make a gentleman of him? How could anyone make a gentleman of that insufferable creature? What are you about, Mama? Have you some scheme up your sleeve?”

Harriet looked up innocently. “I have no idea why you should think me scheming merely because I would like my nephew—who has just arrived from a colonial backwater where he has obviously experienced nothing of civilized life—to learn to measure up to the demands of his titles. You must have noticed, dearest, that his clothes and manner of speech are not quite what one would expect from an English peer.”

“Of course I've noticed. I couldn't
help
noticing. But why should you
care
? A few months ago, you would have been happy to learn that he'd disappeared from the face of the earth!”

“I've changed my mind,” Harriet declared calmly. “Now that I've seen him, I find I'm quite attached to him.”

“
Attached
to him? Are you serious? You've barely met him!”

“Nevertheless, I
have
met him and find him charming—in a rough, untutored way. I've discovered that I have strong maternal feelings for the lad and would like nothing better than to have him become part of our family.”

Anne stiffened and looked at her stepmother furiously. “Part of the
family
? And how do you plan to accomplish that, pray? And what has it to do with me?”

“It has only
this
to do with you—that I wish you to offer Mr. Hughes a bit of advice and assistance on matters of clothing and social activities and so on. After all, the young man has never set foot in London. He's never had any dealings with proper society. I merely wish you to teach him how to get on.”

“And why have
I
been given the honor of instructing him?” Anne asked icily.

“My dear, you have always been admired for your sense of style. Everyone always says that Anne Hartley is bang up to the mark. Who else in the family is more qualified?”

The suspicious glare did not leave Anne's eyes as she dropped into the nearest armchair. “Mama, I have no desire to involve myself in this. It is no matter to me
how
the fellow gets on in society! And I don't see why it should matter to you.”

“But it
does
matter to me,” Harriet declared, keeping her voice placid. “He's my own brother's son, after all. My own blood, you know. And he's come across the ocean to take his place as head of this family—”