Authors: Lavinia Kent
S
tanding across the street, her striped gown dancing in the breeze, was Isabella’s best girlhood friend, Annie Westers. Isabella glanced from side to side, searching for some possibility of escape. There was none.
She pasted a smile on her face and stood waiting as Annie darted across the street. “It is you, Isabella. Where have you been these past years? Both your sister and brother would only say you had gone to the country for a rest. I knew better. You hate the country.” Annie leaned in close. “You didn’t have a baby, did you?” she whispered.
Gaping in shock, Isabella didn’t know what to say. She’d been scrounging to find words before Annie’s question. Now she was simply speechless.
“I guess not. I should have realized, given that you are as thin as always. I just couldn’t think of any other reason you’d stay away so long. Did you elope? Marry somebody most unsuitable? Do tell me that he’s gorgeous, at least. A handsome footman? But if that’s the case, why are you back? Did he die? That would be tragedy, of course—although it would be wonderful to have such an adventure and then come back to society afterward with no one the wiser.”
“No, I have not married—and I no longer hate the country.”
“That’s too bad—the not marrying a beautiful, but now-deceased footman part. I’ve always been rather fond of the country myself. Do you think we could leak a rumor about the footman? That would explain your being away and be almost as much fun as marrying the footman.”
A pounding headache was beginning to form behind Isabella’s temple. Annie had never been quiet, but she had never been such a chatterbox. A part of Isabella was delighted to see her friend in such fine form, but this was not the moment for it.
“I am rambling, aren’t I?” Annie’s face took on a slightly dejected look. “My husband claims I have started to speak endlessly and I fear it’s true. The problem is that he never speaks at all and I hate the awkward silence. I am glad that he is so busy with the king and the coronation. It is so much easier to be alone when there is no one there than when there is another person in the room.”
Isabella considered the mornings when Mark turned into Strattington and nodded. “Yes, it is. I was not aware you had married. You didn’t even have a beau before I left. Who did you marry?”
Annie reached out and grabbed her hand. “Lord Richard Tenant. I would have thought you had heard, but perhaps not. And, I have a child, a son. I have no idea where you have been, but it must have been the far corners of the earth not to have heard of my marriage. I had the match of the season two years ago.”
“No, I have not heard anything.” It all felt quite unbelievable.
“Oh, do tell me you are not doing anything besides admiring that delightful bonnet. I have been debating buying it for days. Do come and have tea with me. My husband will not be home until late tonight and I must have company. I will even promise not to talk too much.”
“I really should not.”
“Oh, but you must. I need someone to talk to, someone I can trust. I know it’s been years since we’ve seen each other, but that does not change the fact that we have always held each other’s secrets tight.”
Could she talk to Annie? It seemed an impossibility, but it was true that Annie had never revealed her secrets to anyone, not even when she’d run away from Masters the first time. It was hardly more than a schoolgirl prank now, but still, Annie had held her tongue when it had been the riskiest thing either of them had ever done.
“Yes, I’ll come with you—but you must keep our meeting quiet. I do not want anyone to know.”
“W
here is she?” Mark paced back and forth across the parlor of Isabella’s house. At least Douglas had returned from investigating the leases in Wales. It was good to have his friend back. “She’s always here when I call.”
It was true he was hours earlier than expected, and that he had not sent her a note telling her to plan for him early, but still she should be here. It was a mistress’s duty to be here. He needed her. She was the one good thing in his day.
A day in which he’d actually worn tights and pantaloons. He shuddered just thinking of the experience, and that had only been at his tailor’s premises. He could not even imagine that he was going to wear them parading in public—and
parading
was the word. He’d be walking on a raised platform following the king. The whole of London would be staring at his shins. At least he hoped it was his shins they’d be staring at. He told Divers that he was not wearing a codpiece of that proportion, but who knew whether the man had actually listened to him?
“I am afraid I couldn’t say,” Douglas answered. “But then I don’t suppose you expect me to. I am not sure quite why you brought me with you. I could have told you my dull tale of farmland and cows and sheep later. I’ve never come calling on a mistress before.”
“I’ve never had a mistress before.”
“So why do you now?”
“I’ve never been a duke before.”
“So you chose Miss Smith to be your mistress because you’re a duke? For no other reason?”
Mark scowled at Douglas. He was not going to answer that question. “So where is she?”
“Do you want me to ask? I am sure the housekeeper or the porter would know. Or I could send a message to Divers. The man does seem to know everything. He may still be busy with the tailor, however.” Douglas gave him a knowing smile.
Sinking into a chair, Mark added a scowl to his sigh. The deep pillows of the seat rose about him. A man should not be reduced to worrying about pantaloons. And certainly not a duke. He had estates to run, politics to argue—and a king to please.
He nodded to Douglas. “Ask the housekeeper. I should have set a guard on her. I don’t like the thought of her wandering around alone. She’s not used to London. I’d hate for her to get into trouble.”
Douglas left and returned a moment later. “She went shopping—before the noon meal. They were expecting her home a while ago, although she did not leave a time. She may simply have stopped for ices or taken a walk in the park. It is a beautiful day.”
So where was Isabella now? He glanced at the clock. It was far past the time she should have returned from any shopping expedition, even if she had taken a long walk. He didn’t know whether to worry or to be angered.
A duke would be angered—although, of course, he would not show it.
A man, now. A man could worry.
Douglas came and stood before him. “You seem concerned. Is there any reason to believe she is not simply taking her time? I cannot imagine what harm could befall her. You never worried about your sisters when they were late.”
“It is simply not like her.”
“Do you know her well enough to know what is like her?” Only Douglas would dare ask such a question.
“I know her well enough.”
Douglas glanced about the parlor, his eyes stopping on the open door to the hall, and the steps leading up beyond it. “Yes, I would reckon you do.”
“Oh, just spit it out,” Mark said. He could see that Douglas had more he wanted to say.
“It’s not my place, Your Grace.” If Douglas was calling him Your Grace it was not a good sign.
“I’ve said to just say it,” Mark said. “I am very aware that even if I dismissed you you would not leave. I am stuck with you for life, it appears, so say what you mean.”
Douglas pulled in a deep breath, his chest filling visibly. “It is just, I think you are concerned that she does not wish to return.” He glanced about the room again. “She seemed a nice girl, not the sort who would end up here.”
“By ‘here’ you mean with me.”
“In these circumstances, yes. I did not see her as the type to be happy being kept. It seems somehow dishonorable.” He caught Mark’s eye. “But then I am not a duke.”
“She is happy. I did not force her. This is what she wants.”
“If you say so, Your Grace.” It was clear that Douglas held a different opinion.
“I could not let her just go off on her own. It was duty to do the honorable thing and care for her.”
“And this is honorable?” Douglas shut his mouth. It was clear he knew he had said too much.
“What else could I have done? Her employer beat her. I could not leave her in such a situation or risk what might happen if I just let her wander off on her own. And it’s not like I could marry her.”
Douglas pinched his lips together and did not reply.
Mark turned away and strode to the window, pretending that he was not staring down the street looking for her. “I will go out, to my club. You can wait here, as you take such an interest, and let me know when Bella returns.”
Drawing his lips even tighter, Douglas nodded.
Pulling his coat together, Mark turned and stalked from the room.
Was Bella unhappy? The thought once planted began to root and grow. Damn. He’d let himself believe that she was just missing Joey. He was doing everything a protector was supposed to do—and more. She could not be unhappy.
He refused to feel guilty about not giving her the letter of recommendation and letting her go off to find new employment. This situation was better for both of them—not just for him.
The street was quiet as he exited and he could not resist one final glance down it.
Where was she?
“A
nd so I married Lord Richard.” Annie bit into a cake and settled back into her chair, comfortable in her own parlor. “He courted me, made me believe that I was all he had ever wanted, that he was ready to displeasure his brother by marrying me.”
“His brother?” Isabella asked.
“I would have thought you would know. I was betrothed to Lord Richard’s elder brother, the duke, practically from birth. It was such an old-fashioned thing and my parents never mentioned it so I assumed it was forgotten. Nobody betroths their children anymore. But then, shortly after you left, my father started making noises. He started to think it would be desirable to have me married off and to a duke.”
“You have lost me.” Isabella reached out for a cake and sank her teeth into the scrumptious morsel. Chocolate cream exploded into her mouth. She leaned her head against the back of her chair, curling her feet up beneath her. Tea with cakes and crumpets, a comfortable chair, the release from keeping perfect posture at all times—oh, she had missed this. It might not be the wisest way to be spending her time, but she needed these minutes of being her old self, of pretending that the world was right.
“I was prepared to be courted by the brother. I had not decided if I would marry him, but then at our first dinner at his house I met Lord Richard—and lost my heart. He was everything I had ever wanted. He could have been the hero in one of the dramas we wrote as children. And it was not just his appearance, although he can still make me breathless with a look, it was him. He was kind and strong and noble and— I could go on for hours. If you read my diary from that time you would see that I spent pages discussing just how perfect he was.”
Isabella grabbed another cake. She was sure she could order them from Mark’s cook, but they would not have the same magic that they had in this moment. “If he is so perfect, why do you seem so unhappy now?”
Taking two more cakes, and eating one with great speed, Annie answered. “Just before our son was born, I found out that he’d lied to me—not about who he is. It would be easier if that had all been a lie. No, he lied about wanting me, about loving me. Apparently his brother, the duke, has decided to never marry—some nonsense about losing the only one he could ever love. Oh, I know I sound cold, but his desires were no reason to do what was done to me. The duke went to my father and explained the situation, assured him that my son would still be the heir to the duchy and that a proper settlement would, of course, be made upon my marriage to Lord Richard. If they had just told me, I would have understood and could have decided what to do.
“But instead Lord Richard seduced me, convinced me that I was the true love of his life. I was with child when we wed, sure that all my dreams had come true. He let me see heaven and then . . . I almost lost the child when I found out.” Annie’s words trailed off into gentle tears.
“That is horrible, but how do you know that he didn’t love you? Doesn’t love you? Just because he was acting at his brother’s behest does not mean he does not love you.”
Annie lifted her eyes and stared at Isabella. The deep pain she felt shone in those eyes, as did a knowledge far deeper than her years. “I know. Trust me, things were made clear to me. I would tell you all, but it would serve no purpose other than to make us both angry. And besides, if you have not married there are details that I should not be sharing.”
“I may not be married, but I can assure you that there is nothing you could say that would shock me, Annie.”
Annie pulled her feet up under her, following Isabella’s example. “Did you know that I am not Annie anymore? My husband does not like it. He prefers Georgiana or Georgie. Annie does not fit with his idea of what Lady Richard Tenant should be called. When he first called me Georgie I took it for affection. Now I just think he does not care what I like.”
“I’ve become Bella instead of Isabella. I haven’t decided how I feel about it. Most times I do not mind, and in the dark of night it can be wonderful, but it does feel like being molded, turned into something I am not.” Isabella licked at the cream on the edge of the cake. The wonder of the afternoon was fading as reality intruded.
“That is exactly it. It makes me feel that who I am, who I was, is not good enough. I wish I could go back to who I was before.”
“Do you? I am never sure,” Isabella answered. “I know that things were simpler then, and that I was happy, or at least more content most of the time, but I like who I’ve grown into. Going through hard times has made me mature, made me be less silly. I think I am a better person now than I was when last we met.”
“Do you? I’ve spent most of the last years on Lord Richard’s estates with my son. I did feel happy and worthy while I was there. I could spend all day playing with my baby. It is only here, in London, where I feel I serve no purpose.”
Isabella leaned toward her. “Then why don’t you go back to the country? Does your husband demand your presence here?”