The Heart That Lies (8 page)

Meldon nodded
and turned to his sister.

“The carriage is ready, Caro.”

Lady Caroline stood.

“Good evening, Miss Smith. I shall see you again tomorrow.”

Anna’s surprise must have shown in her face for Lady Caroline added, “George will sit with you now, but you, I think, will sleep most of the night.”

She patted her brother affectionately on the arm and left them alone.

“I prefer not to disturb the servants’ routine by having one of them sit with you during the night,” said Meldon when they were alone, “so I am come to watch over you tonight.”

“But you disturb your own routine.”

“In many ways I am the least important person in this house. And the servants cannot take their rest when they wish, as I can.” The thought of his lack of importance did not seem to disturb him.

He glanced at the glass of port
and frowned slightly.

“Was the port not to your liking?”

“I am not used to it.”

Although port was considered a patriotic drink, James had never liked it, so it had not been served at meals
in his house.

“Perkins
said it would help.”

Anna wished she had drunk it while Lady Caroline was here. Now she would have to suffer Meldon’s touch.

“Very well.”

Meldon placed the book he was carrying on the chair his sister had vacated and eased Anna up so that she could drink.
The port was good and she quickly finished the small amount in the glass.

“I hope you found Caro good company,” said Meldon as he helped her down again.

“She said little and asked no questions.”

“Then I shall try to follow her example.”

He extinguished all the candles in the room, save the one beside the chair where he sat and opened his book.

Anna fell asleep with the taste of the port in her mouth and the sound of pages being turned in her ears.

After a while Meldon put the book down and looked at her. Thoughts of her had distracted him from all his tasks
today and even kept him from the sleep that he had needed so badly. For three days and nights he had sat in this chair watching her, listening to her breathe, praying that she would not die. Now it seemed she would live and he had not killed her. It was little enough consolation, considering what he had done.

Had his enemies
really used her to try to kill him, he wondered. They would have done better to have had her lure him into her bed and use the resulting scandal against him, for, now he knew that she was a woman, he could admit the attraction that had made him so uneasy before. His usual resistance would not have lasted long against her. Even her unwomanly short hair could not dispel the attraction. He allowed himself to imagine what it would be like when it reached her shoulders. Would it curl between his fingers or would it be straight like Caro’s? Jonas Smith had been an attractive young man, but he thought that Miss Smith would be a beautiful young woman. When she was rested and had had a few good meals her face would fill out. Surely with the bloom of good health on her face... With a start he realised that he was fantasising about a woman who had tried to kill him. He was even more certain now that this was what had happened. For some reason she had created a life for herself as a man so that she could call him out as a card cheat. That his death had been her object he could not doubt, but he could not fathom her reasons for putting her own life in danger. Perhaps it had not mattered to her which of them survived, or perhaps she had intended that both of them should die. The thought of such depravity sent a shiver of fear through him. That such a young woman could value her own life so little saddened him greatly.

Some of her colour had returned and Jonas Smith’s familiar face was
beginning to appear. The shadows under her eyes were darker and she seemed more fragile, but she looked more like herself, except that she was a woman. It was a wonder to him now that he had not guessed her true identity earlier. Had he not been fascinated by Jonas Smith’s long eyelashes? Had her beauty not aroused him, even as he had believed her to be a man? He should have known that no man could inspire the feelings that Smith had provoked in him.

He wondered how much Caro guessed. Miss Smith’s short hair must give her some cause for doubting his story about a woman waylaid by robbers while she walked alone through London at night.
Caro would never ask and her lack of curiosity was not feigned, but her sense of justice would be outraged so that she would have to know more, so that the guilty could be pursued. He would have to ensure that the blame fell somewhere where it could be supported.

His lips curved up into a gentle smile as he watched
her sleep. Although he was relieved to discover that his attraction to Jonas Smith had not betrayed him, for some part of him at least must have recognised the woman, he now had to face the knowledge that the woman to whom he was attracted hated him enough to want to kill him. Most of his distraction today had been trying to work out why. He didn’t really believe she was an agent for the French, but, apart from his activities for General Warren, his life was so dull that he could not imagine what he might have done to instil such hatred that a woman would turn herself into a man simply in order to fight a duel with him. It occurred to him that she might have been living as a man for other reasons. Some of those reasons disturbed him and, although he tried not to dwell on them, it was while he was thinking about them that he finally slept.

The next evening, after Lady Caroline had left and Anna was once more alone with Lord Meldon, he asked her again whether there was anyone who should be told where she was.

“I am alone.”
She was exasperated; why could he not accept that no one cared whether she lived or died?

Meldon frowned. “Then please consider yourself under my protection.”

“How dare you!” She would have slapped him if she could and had made an attempt to sit up in order to do so before the pain in her shoulder caused her to bite her lip and sink back into the pillows.

“No. I didn’t...” Meldon coloured and she understood now what he had meant. “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. “I had no intention of implying anything other than that I would look after you and your interests.”

Then he paled and started to get out of the chair.

“Why?” she asked, before he could start fussing about the pain she had caused herself by trying to move. “I called you out to a duel.”

Meldon sank back down into the chair
as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I trust that whatever debt of honour I owed you has now been settled.”

Anna thought about this for a moment. Her knowledge of duels did not extend to what happened if both participants survived. She would never be able to call him out again and killing him in cold blood was out of the question.

Was it really settled, though? Did that mean James was not avenged? Would he forgive her for accepting the protection of his killer, even if she had no choice?

As if he understood her dilemma, Meldon said, “It is generally accepted that, whatever the outcome of a duel, the quarrel is over, if not forgotten or forgiven.”

Anna nodded. “It is settled.” There was some relief in admitting it.

“Then perhaps we may
finally get to know one another properly.”

Anna thought about all that she had learned about Meldon over the last few months, even before she had met him.

“Do you mean that I will get to know you better because I’m a woman?”

Meldon smiled
.

Now Anna was confused
; he had always shown a preference for the company of men when he had had the choice.

“You don’t like women?”

It had been obvious to her that Meldon had been attracted to her when he had believed her to be a man, but she had thought he would see through her disguise at any moment and expose her.

“Yes,” he said calmly, “I do like women. Some women.”

“Yet you have not married.”

Anna had heard the rumours about his injury, but was surprised that he had not mar
ried before he had gone to war. Although he had been young, he had not been too young to marry under such circumstances.

“No. I have never found the woman prepared to share my life. I’m only a dull farmer.”

“You are a rich, dull farmer.”

“The dull farm
er doesn’t want to buy a wife. I would rather...” he eased his finger between his cravat and neck, then undid it and threw it to the floor. “It doesn’t matter. Eventually I will have to buy a wife.”

“What do you read there?”

Anna was becoming almost as uncomfortable as he in talking about this subject.

“Some of Mr Wordsworth's poems. My sister insists that I keep up with modern tastes
and your own recommendation was... influential. Would you like me to read some aloud?”

Anna nodded. He had a pleasant voice, so listening would not trouble her and they would be able to avoid talking to one another.

Meldon started to read. He read confidently and gave meaning to all that he read, but who would have thought that Mr Wordsworth had written so many poems about love? Meldons’s voice lost colour as his face gained it.

“I keep you awake with my droning,” he said at last. “Perhaps you should try to sleep.”

Anna agreed, but sleep did not come immediately. Meldon continued to read the book, glancing at her occasionally. Wordsworth’s words tumbled around her head. Tomorrow she would ask for pen and paper and try to describe what had happened at the duel, or the cemetery she had left behind in Staffordshire, or James. Anything to stop her thinking about being shut up in the same house as this man for the next few weeks.

“You sent for me?” said Meldon angrily as he stepped into Anna’s bedroom a few days later.

“I did,” replied Lady Caroline coolly.
“Whatever you formerly possessed by way of intelligence has clearly deserted you recently.”

“Clearly,”
agreed Meldon dryly.

“George, what is Miss Smith going to wear?” Lady Caroline continued as if she had not heard him. “Where are her clothes?”

“She had ....” started Meldon, before he realised that his only option, apart from the truth, was to tell his sister that Miss Smith had come naked into his home. Fortunately lying came easily to him. “Her clothes were ruined by the attack on her person.”

“And?”

“And?” Arguing with Caroline was never easy. After she had assumed a position of intellectual authority she always managed to make him seem like a fool.

“What will she wear?”

Meldon risked a glance at Anna. She was watching them innocently enough, but Meldon could guess her thoughts without any real effort.

“Yes, I don’t suppose she can wear my nightshirt forever.”

Anna blushed at that and he wondered that she hadn’t guessed whose clothes she was wearing.

“Then you must clothe her, George, and quickly, for Perkins says she will soon be well enough to sit out of bed.”

Meldon smiled, “That’s good to hear.”

“But she can’t sit out in your nightshirt!” Caro’s voice grew louder and Meldon grabbed her elbow and drew her to the window.

“Please keep your voice down, you disturb Miss Smith.”

“Of course, but I’m very vexed, George.” Caro sighed.

“I can tell. Very well, I shall get her some clothes made. I’ll send Perkins and a maid to buy some cloth and...”

“Don’t be stupid
, I’ll get what’s necessary. I wouldn’t trust Perkins not to come back with breeches for her.”

“Thank you, Caro. That will be a great help.” Happy that he had solved that problem he turned away to leave the room.

“Shoes.”

Meldon groaned.

“Slippers. She won’t need shoes until she’s well enough to go out.”

“Agreed.” Caro took a breath
, but Meldon forestalled her.

“Caro, please, whatever she needs, please take care of it. Hats, gloves, shawls, please
, everything.”

“George, is that the problem? Are you afraid of women?”

“Only of you and the one in that bed.”

Caro laughed.

“I shall remember that.”

Meldon knew that she would.

He turned to Anna.

“Do you mind if I sit with you? My sister is going out to arrange for some clothes to you.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Caroline. That’s more trouble that I’ve caused you.” Anna seemed genuinely distressed.

“No trouble at all. I’m already looking forward to shopping with you when you’re well.
Are there any particular colours or styles that you favour.”

“Lady Caroline, your own taste is exquisite. I can hardly presume to give you instructions.”

“You may compliment me when you inspect what I bring back with me.”