Regency Sting (17 page)

“I've thought about it, too, my dear, and I think you are being over-nice,” Anne said placatingly. “To accept his support seems to me the wisest thing we can do.”

“It is the
weakest
thing we can do,” he replied earnestly. “Can't you see that my being so greatly beholden to another man for my wife's—and even my own—support would be abhorrent to me?”

Anne looked at him with dawning comprehension, then lowered her eyes to the hands folded in her lap. “Oh, Arthur,” she murmured, shamed, “you are so
good
! I begin to think that you are much
too
good for me.”

Arthur took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “You are being gooseish, you know. But I'm pleased that you are beginning to understand how I feel.”

“But, Arthur, if we refuse Lord Mainwaring's offer, what
are
we to do?”

“I've told you. Only say yes, and I shall write to Shropshire and arrange to take the vicarage.” Noting the look of dismay that came into her eyes, he leaned toward her urgently. “Please don't look so downcast, love. You will be happy there, I promise! What would we give up by leaving London which can possibly compare with what we shall gain by having each other? This life is all so shallow and meaningless, after all. What are balls and parties and the whole social whirl but activity for superficial minds? In Shropshire, we shall have simplicity, and peace, and good works …”

“Oh, Arthur, I don't know …”

“We haven't time for further vacillation, my dear.”

“Please, Arthur, don't say any more. I must think—!”

At that moment, Lord Mainwaring appeared in the open doorway. “Ah, there you are, ma'am,” he said cheerfully. “I've been searchin' for you. I hope you'll pardon this interruption, Claybridge, but I've not had one dance with my dance-instructor. I believe they're goin' to play a waltz. Will you stand up with me for this one, ma'am?”

“A
waltz
?” Arthur asked, shocked. “You must be mistaken.”

“No, he may be right, Arthur. Amanda told me that her mother might be persuaded to dare. After all, this is not Almack's. Waltzing is not so terrible, really it isn't. Many people are beginning to learn it, and it's become the rage in Paris.”

“I think it's a shocking display,” Arthur declared in disapproval.

“Not at all,” Anne argued. “I've tried it myself, several times, and have found it an enormously pleasant experience. But, Lord Mainwaring, you cannot perform the waltz without a great deal of skill and practice.”

“Why don't you chance it?” Jason urged. “It's danced even in America, you know.”

Anne laughed. “Don't let your success this evening go to your head, my lord. Until you've had more experience in the ballroom, you should avoid a dance of such difficulty. I don't believe you're quite ready for it.”

“I see,” Jason said quietly, his smile fading. The strange, disappointed look that had troubled her earlier came back into his eyes. “Well, then, please forgive me for interruptin' your conversation.” With a short bow, he was gone.

“How strange,” Anne said, puzzled. “He almost seemed …”

“Hurt,” Arthur ventured. “I think his feelings were hurt.”

“But … he could hardly have expected me to prance around the floor with him in a dance he doesn't know!”

“And such a vulgar dance, too. At least so it seems to me. However, you might follow him and promise the fellow the next country dance. After all his goodness to you and your family, it would not be kind in you to give him pain.”

“Oh, Arthur, you are truly too good for me,” Anne sighed. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and ran after Jason.

The waltz had begun, and the guests had crowded around the floor to watch the few couples who were courageous enough to perform the daring new dance in public. Anne's eyes searched the crowd, but Jason was not to be seen. Then she turned to watch the dancers. There he was—he was
waltzing
! She moved to the edge of the floor to have a closer look. There in the center of the floor, with the beautiful Lexie in his arms, Jason was twirling around with an expertise and grace remarkable in so tall a man. The two of them looked magnificent together, and even those onlookers who disapproved of the intimacy of the dance could not help but admire the picture they made.

Anne's blood turned cold as the realization burst upon her that she'd been tricked.
Jason knew how to waltz
! He had known all along—and all the other dances as well. He had handled himself with easy confidence all evening. Why, he had probably never required her instruction for
anything
! It had all been a
trick
—a trick to make a fool of her! The blackguard had let her believe he was a bumpkin from the wilderness, when all the while he'd been as comfortable and at ease among the
ton
as if he'd been born to it! He'd been laughing to himself all along. And not only at
her
but at Harriet and Peter as well! Her throat began to burn and her knees to tremble. He was a deceitful, dishonest, fraudulent
wretch
, and she wanted nothing more than to slap his arrogant face!

“For a fellow who doesn't know how to waltz,” Arthur's amused voice came from behind her, “he is certainly doing well.”

“I don't need you to point it out to me,” Anne snapped at him. Arthur, startled at her vituperative tone, gave her a stricken look. Anne immediately regretted her words. “Oh, dear, I didn't mean … I'm sorry, Arthur.”

“Is anything amiss, my dear?” he asked her gently.

Anne was very close to tears, but she couldn't permit herself to make a scene. What she wanted more than anything else was the privacy of her bedroom. “Will you t-take me home, Arthur?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“Of course, if you wish. But do you think it wise to leave now? Lady Dabney will think it strange if you take your leave before supper is served. I believe people are starting to go down to supper now. We need stay only a little while longer.”

At that moment the waltz came to an end. Anne watched as Lexie laughed breathlessly up into Jason's face. The Viscount tucked her arm in his and, still laughing, they headed for the stairs which led down to the lower rooms where the supper tables had been set. Although they passed within inches of Anne's position, neither of them noticed her, so absorbed were they in their intimate raillery. Anne's fingers curled into tight little fists. What a perfect pair, she thought with furious venom—the Detestable and the Deceitful! Let him have her—Jason and Lexie deserved each other.

She bit her lip and turned to Arthur. “I don't feel much like eating now,” she said in a carefully controlled voice. “Why don't you go down without me? I see Cherry sitting over there with her mother. Why don't you offer to escort them?”

“But I don't wish to leave you. I have no great desire for supper either,” he assured her.

“I think you'd be
wise
to leave me for a while. If your mother takes notice of the time we've spent together this evening, she'll be bound to serve you a severe tongue-lashing when you return home tonight.”

Arthur looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Is something wrong, Anne?”

“No, of course not. I merely think we must be particularly careful at this time not to bring difficulty upon ourselves.”

“Very well, then, I'll do as you say. But will you permit me to escort you home later?”

“I don't think so. Don't look so distressed, Arthur. I was hasty in asking it of you. If I must wait until after supper, I may as well leave with Mama.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and walked quickly away.

When she neared the door, she looked round to make certain that Arthur was safely occupied with Cherry and that no one else had taken notice of her, and she slipped out of the ballroom and down the stairs. She ordered her cloak from the footman stationed at the front door and quickly ran out into the street.

The night air was quite cool, and the sounds of the city were hushed and remote. Even the music and the din of revelry coming from the Dabney house behind her sounded muted and far away. She raised the hood of her cloak and began to run, trying to flee from the feeling of humiliation and confusion which threatened to overcome her. But as she ran, the tears began to flow, and by the time she arrived at her own doorstep her eyes were stinging and red, and there was an ache in her chest which could not be explained by her physical exertion alone.

Thirteen

Anne, keeping her face well hidden by her hood, attempted to slip by Coyne without a word when he admitted her into the house. But the butler was not easily avoided. “I'll take your cloak, Miss Anne,” he said firmly, following her to the stairs.

“Never m-mind, Coyne,” she said, in a valiant attempt to steady her voice. “I'll take care of it m-myself. Just go to b-bed.”

The butler stared at her suspiciously. “Is anything wrong, Miss Anne? Where are the others? You haven't come home
alone
, have you?”

She shook her head and tried to wave him away, but the gesture made her hood fall back and gave him a glimpse of her reddened eyes. “
Miss Anne
! What's happened? What's amiss here?” he asked in alarm.

One glance at his troubled face was all that was needed to undo the weak hold she had managed to clamp on her emotions, and she burst into fresh tears. In great agitation, the butler took her arm and led her, unresisting, into the drawing room where he helped her into an easy chair near the fire and went quickly to the table to pour her a glass of brandy. “Is there something I can do for you, Miss Anne?” he asked worriedly as he hovered over her and handed her the drink.

The warmth of the fire was comforting, and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “No, no, C-Coyne, thank you,” she said, determined to regain control of herself. “It is nothing. T-truly, I'm just being missish. I don't want any brandy.”

Coyne bit his lip, feeling helplessly inadequate. “Isn't there
anything
I can—?”

He was interrupted by the sound of the front door which opened and shut with a crash, followed by the clatter of hurried footsteps in the hall, and Jason, his face tense with worry, strode into the room. At the sight of Anne, he stopped in his tracks. “Oh,
here
you are!” he exclaimed angrily. “See here, girl, don't you know better than to run off without escort? What a fright you've given me! Whatever possessed—?” Suddenly, taking note of Coyne's agitated expression, the glass of brandy in the butler's hand and Anne's swift movement to turn her face away from him, he paled. “Good God! Something
has
happened!”

He crossed the room in two strides and knelt before her chair, his face agonized. Taking both her hands in his, he asked in a choked voice, “Were you accosted on the street? If anyone's harmed you, I'll—! Anne, please,
tell me
!”

Anne turned and stared at him in considerable surprise. “Nothing of the sort has occurred, my lord, I assure you. There is no reason at all for you to be so … agitated.”

He peered closely at her face. “Are you
sure
, my dear? You seem so … upset …”

She turned her face away and tried to free her hands from his grasp. “I'm
quite
sure. You and Coyne … you're both making a to-do about absolutely nothing.”

He stared at her, disbelieving, for a long moment. Then he released her hands and stood up. “Very well, we'll take your word for it. Thank you, Coyne, for your assistance. I'll take that brandy, if you don't mind, and then you may go to bed.”

Coyne handed Jason the brandy. “Yes, my lord, thank you. But Lady Harriet has not yet returned—”

“Don't worry about Lady Harriet. I'll go to fetch her shortly. I'm sure she won't require anything else tonight.”

“Very well, my lord,” Coyne said and bowed himself out.

Jason, his eyes on Anne's averted head, drained the brandy glass in a gulp. Then, with a deep breath, he said, “When I saw Claybridge taking supper without you, and I couldn't find you anywhere, I was nearly beside myself with anxiety. If the footman hadn't told me—”

“I don't see why my absence should have been any concern of yours,” Anne said coldly.

“You attended the ball under my escort. That makes me responsible for your safety.”

“But as you can see, I am quite safe. You need trouble yourself no longer.”

Jason turned to the fire and, leaning his arm on the mantelpiece, he stared into the flames. “I can see you've been crying, my dear,” he said softly. “If the cause is something that occurred on your way home, I wish you would tell me. However, if the cause is personal—having to do with young Claybridge, for instance—then, of course, I have no right to interfere …”

Anne's head came up abruptly. “This has nothing whatever to do with Arthur!” she said furiously. “In all the time I've known him, he's
never
caused me to shed a single tear! This is all because of
you
!”

He turned. “
Me
?”

“Yes, my lord. I've been crying because I realized tonight that I've been completely taken in. I now know that you are a lying, deceitful
imposter
.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he said, his brow wrinkled in bafflement. “Do you mean that you think I'm not the real Mainwaring?”

“As to that, I have no idea,” she answered nastily, “but I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that your identity, too, is a lie.”

“I'm not aware of
any
occasion when I lied to you, ma'am. As to my identity, they say it's a wise child who knows his own father, but as far as I know, Henry Hughes
was
my father and the late Lord Mainwaring my uncle.”