A Lady by Chance (Historical Regency Romance) (21 page)

An uncomfortable silence filled the carriage. Unconsciously, Anna listened to the clopping of hooves, the cracking of whips, children at play. A fog horn on the Thames.

Presently, Morgie said. "This is the second cannonball wedding betrothal I've heard of today. You'll never guess the other one."

"Enlighten us," Lydia said dryly.

"Blassingame has offered for Lady Jane Wyeth."

"But the old duke must be eighty years old!" Lydia said.

"He is but five and seventy," Morgie corrected.

"Do you realize how this could affect Kate's plans?" Anna asked.

Lydia's hand flew to her mouth. "Goodness! If the duke and Jane have a son, poor Mr. Reeves will have no prospects, and Kate will never be a duchess!"

"Delicate subject, I know," Morgie stammered, "But the babe might not even have to be the duke's, if you know what I mean. Men of a certain age have difficulties with that sort of thing, I am told. He'd be pleased as punch to have everyone think him capable."

Lydia blushed and purposefully looked away from Morgie's direction.

A throbbing torment raged through Anna as she remembered her husband with Lady Jane the night before. Had they been planning to become lovers once Jane married the old duke? As much as she could picture Jane scheming behind her husband's back, Anna could never imagine Charles denying Kate her heart's desire.

"Anna," Lydia said, "Kate's wedding's only two days off. I fear she will stop it if she learns the duke's plans."

"That might not be a bad thing," Anna said.

"But Kate deserves to be miserable. She's such a schemer. It's either her being miserable or poor Mr. Reeves – whose only mistake is falling in love with Kate." Lydia set her chin forward. "I shall not tell her about Blassingame."

Anna hated to see Kate locked in a loveless marriage, but it was of her own choosing. Whether or not Mr. Reeves became a duke really had nothing to do with winning Kate's love. That he would never be able to do. Perhaps Lydia was right to keep the news of Blassingame's plans from Kate.

Morgie ran a skeptical eye over Lydia but said nothing.

At the sewing school, Morgie stayed with his equipage, as he usually did. Anna, Lydia and Colette divided themselves among the students. Sally sat at the end of one of the tables with her two little girls, who wore patched dresses. She was putting the finishing touches on a new dress for her eldest girl.

"I think the dress will be the very thing to show your new employer," Anna said.

Sally's blue eyes lifted hopefully, a slow smile coming to her lean face. "You mean I'll 'ave a proper job?"

Anna nodded.

By now Lydia had come, all smiles.

"You will be an assistant to Lady Haverstock's dressmaker," Lydia said. "The most fashionable women in London are patrons of Madame Devreaux."

Sally reached down to her toddler, swept back the little one's blond ringlets and hugged her, tears brimming in her eyes. "I don't know what to say, me lady. I'm so excited."

"During your apprentice, you will earn two shillings a week."

The young mother's eyes nearly popped from their sockets. "Oh, I can't thank you enough!"

"No thanks are needed. It is your own skill and determination that have won you the position," Anna said.

A dreamy smile on her face, Sally said, "Some girls may have wanted to be a princess, but all I've ever wanted was to be a fine dressmaker."

"That you are," Anna said.

When they met Morgie outside, he introduced a skinny lad who could not have been over nine years old. His body was bruised, and his hair and tattered clothes were dirty. It actually surprised Anna that Morgie of the meticulous dress would allow himself so near the urchin. Most men of his station would not.

"This is Andy," Morgie said, placing a hand on the boy's scrawny shoulders. "Got a fancy over horses."

"Master Morgan's been letting me work with 'is 'orses," Andy said.

"In fact," Morgie announced, "he's going to become my groom."

Andy hopped on the back of the coach, the others got inside, and it took off.

Lydia lifted approving eyes to Morgie. "How wonderful of you to take in the boy, Morgie."

He shrugged off her praise. "He'll make a fine groom. Loves animals."

"What of his parents? Isn't he awfully young to leave them?" Lydia asked.

"Poor lad has no family," Morgie said. "I've been throwing coins at him from time to time for helping with my mounts, and I believe that has been his only means of survival."

"That is so good of you," Lydia said, admiration in her eyes that swept over his pensive face. "I do not understand how a young child like that could not have a family."

"Too many mouths to feed. No home. No known father and a faithless mother. Any number of reasons," Anna said lowly. "And though we cannot repair the problem, we can lift the load from a few to make their lives easier. Hopefully, others will do so also."

"Mr. Hogart and Charlotte, I do believe, mean to do good works in their lives – that is if Charles will allow them to marry," Lydia said.

"You must know Charles sets no store over rank and riches," Anna chided. "And besides, Mr. Hogart has failed to ask the question."

"He's not going to," Lydia said. "He is much too gallant to ask Charlotte to share a life of poverty."

"They will not have to be poor, I assure you," Anna said. "I will make a settlement on them. It would please me to see them continue his work."

Lydia hugged Anna. "I
will
say it once more. We are so very fortunate to have you for a sister."

"Pooh," Anna said.

"When do I meet this squire of yours?" Morgie asked.

"Come to Haverstock House tonight. We're staying home. I would love you as my whist partner, since the squire – I mean, John – does not play," Lydia said.

"What kind of man doesn't play whist?" Morgie murmured crossly.

In a small family ceremony at St. George's Hanover Square, a sobbing Kate became the wife of Mr. Reeves. Anna observed the ceremony from the front pew, her attention focused almost entirely on her very handsome husband standing beside the nervous bridegroom. Haverstock wore gray pantaloons with a rich black coat adorned with diamond buttons that matched his spurs.  His very virility made Anna catch her breath.

She remembered their own wedding. How differently she had felt toward him then. As her thoughts wandered thus, he caught her eye, and she smiled at him.

But he turned his glance away quickly.

The Duke of Blassingame attended, balancing his thin frame on a silver-handled cane. There was no sign of Lady Jane, and no announcement of their forthcoming nuptials had yet appeared in the newspapers. But Anna knew that Kate knew.

Following the ceremony, a wedding breakfast was served at Haverstock House. By this time Kate had quit crying and graciously met with each guest, including the duke's five middle-aged daughters – his progeny from his now-deceased wife.

But it was Lydia who drew the most praise on Kate's wedding day. For this was the first time she had worn one of the dresses fashioned by Madame Devreaux. The gown was of the palest violet, its neckline plunging extremely low, the soft gathering of the slender dress making her appear statuesque, almost slender.

Colette had arranged her hair in the Grecian style, and a lavender ostrich plume swept from her black locks.

Morgie could not take his eyes off her.

Anna detected that he was intimidated by the woman with whom he had always enjoyed an easy intimacy. Under normal circumstances, he would be sitting beside Lydia at this moment, the two of them delivering tongue lashings over some of the pompous guests.

But today, he stood alone, swallowing hard as he watched Squire Ainsley devote himself to Lydia.

Anna walked up to Morgie. "Despite that he cannot play whist, how did you find Squire Ainsley?"

"Dull witted."

"But you must admit he is very amiable, and quite devoted to Lydia."

"He will bore her to death."

"But he does enjoy riding, and I am told his stable is well equipped. That should make Lydia happy."

"It's not right, you know, asking her to come in as mother to six children who are not her own."

"Lydia loves children."

"Deserves her own."

"The squire will most likely be happy to oblige in that."

Morgie heaved an impatient sigh.

Anna changed the subject. "How does little Andy do?"

"Happy as a lark. My housekeeper bathed the lad and found some clean clothes that aren't too big on his skinny little frame. We'll have him fattened up in no time. Wonderfully good appetite he's got." He looked around. "Mary did not come?"

"Did you not know she is about to present the dowager with her first grandchild?"

"None of you ever tell me anything anymore," he snapped.

"What do we never tell you?" Haverstock asked Morgie, walking up and slipping an arm around Anna's waist, causing her knees to feel cottony.

"First, not a word about the squire fellow dancing attendance on Lyddie. Then, no one tells me Mary is increasing. And you always said I was like one of the family."

"You must perceive that you are the only person here who is not related to the happy couple," Haverstock said, clasping a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Actually, I find you quite superior to most members of my family. Come, let us find the champagne."

They left Anna alone. She wondered if she were one of the members of her husband's family whom he found lacking. Of course she was. If only she were more like Lady Jane, Anna thought.

Chapter
23

"These ladies bloody well need her," Morgie said crossly, flicking his ribbons on the way to the East End. "Don't know why Lyddie has to gallivant 'round with that squire fellow this afternoon. He sees her every blasted night."

Anna laid a gentle hand on his arm. "It's just for this one afternoon. The poor man has scarcely had a moment alone with his fiancé since their betrothal. Besides, I am particularly desirous of speaking to you today on a very private matter."

He lowered his eyes. "Your most obedient servant, my lady."

Though she knew they were quite alone, save the tiger at the rear, Anna glanced around the darkened, narrow street they traveled to assure herself no one could hear. No other carriage was near. Not even Colette had come today, so Anna's conversation would reach only Morgie's ears.

"I know how close you are to Charles," she began. "He shares with you what he shares with no one else. I am aware – though not from him – that you accompanied him to France. What I do not know is if Charles is working for or against England."

"How could you doubt him?" Morgie snapped, cracking his whip against the horse and casting a suspicious glance at Anna.

"In my heart, I know he's good. However, a man I fear may be working against Britain persuaded me that Charles was a traitor."

Morgie nearly collided with a passing hay cart. "Tis insanity, I vow! There's no finer man than Haverstock."

"I very much want to believe that," Anna assured. "I want you, too, to believe that I have absolutely no sympathies for the French. That's part of what makes everything so terribly difficult for me. If I had to choose between my country or my husband, I don't know which I'd choose. For I care for Charles very much."

Morgie's eyes softened and he lowered his voice. "You shouldn't have to choose. Haverstock's as English as the king."

"Then I need you to help me prove it."

"How do I do that?"

"I'm not quite sure." Anna felt a refreshing burst of cool air off the Thames as Morgie's curricle plunged on to the wider Strand. "I thought perhaps you could help me trap the man I suspect."

"And, pray, who is this man?"

"Sir Henry Vinson."

"Never cared for the worm."

"Neither do I, if the truth be known."

"Tell me about him," Morgie commanded, rounding the next corner at a brisk pace.

Anna disclosed that Sir Henry had used her to spy against Haverstock by convincing her Haverstock was a French loyalist. "He has been scheming to learn the identity of Charles' contact in France – the one you two visited."

Morgie nodded but said nothing.

By the time they reached the old building that housed the sewing school, he turned to Anna, a stern look on his narrow face. "Leave it to me. I know how to smoke out varmint."

"Allow me to buy you a drink, Almshouse," Morgie said, settling in a leather chair in a darkened corner of White's and getting the attention of a passing waiter.

Theodore Almshouse, whose once-fine coat was now well worn, sat next to him. "Good of you, old chap, considering I still owe you that five-hundred quid. Regret to say it will be the next quarter before I can pay up. My luck's been devilishly bad of late."

Morgie leveled his gaze at his old school chum, displaying neither satisfaction nor scorn, but a controlled power. "You may not have to pay up," Morgie announced cheerfully. "I have a proposal for you."

Almshouse leaned closer, his ears perked.

The waiter brought a full bottle of port with two glasses. Morgie watched as Almshouse took his glass with shaking hand. "What with your rotten luck and all," Morgie said, "it shouldn't be too difficult for you to actually play to lose."

"You are proposing to pay me to lose?"

Morgie nodded.

"To whom, pray tell?"

"To Sir Henry Vinson."

As she demonstrated a daisy stitch to a middle-aged woman who stunk of onions, Anna sensed someone standing over her shoulder and turned to face Mr. Hogart.

He wore an impish smile, which she affectionately returned.

"I suspected I would find you here," he said, bowing.

Anna gave him her hand. "How did you know?"

"I happen to spend a good deal of time in this neighborhood myself. It took no great intellect to surmise the fine lady who had set up the sewing school was none other than the Marchioness of Haverstock. Tell me, does his lordship know about this?"

Anna nodded as she led him away from the students.