Jack of Hearts (4 page)

* * * *

Elspeth had decided the best way to introduce Anne to Society would be to invite a select group of friends to a musical evening. “There will be a supper beforehand for some of our intimates,” she told Anne. “That way, you can get to know a few influential people who may then invite you to their own entertainments.”

“You are sure they will be willing to include me, Elspeth?”

“I assure you, Anne, with the earl of Faringdon’s sponsorship, you will be welcome anywhere…” Elspeth hesitated. “Well, perhaps not to Almack’s, but then, I don’t expect to receive a voucher either! I hope you don’t mind?” she added apologetically.

“Mind? You are all very kind to be doing this much for me. And from what I hear of Almack’s, it is too dull for us anyway!”

* * * *

There were to be twelve at the Astons’ dinner, with another twenty invited for the music afterward. The duke and duchess of Hairston, old friends of Charles’s, were the first to arrive, with their oldest daughter, and then the Viscount Forbes and his new wife. Anne and Sarah were shown into the drawing room next, and Elspeth was just finishing up the introductions when there was a stir at the door. All eyes were turned to the newcomers, one a solidly good-looking young officer in uniform and the other a tall, dark man dressed all in black. Anne’s eyes slid over the lieutenant, for although he was a good-looking young man, there was nothing in his broad face and open countenance to spark her interest. There was something in the stance of his elegant companion, however, that held her attention. He stood there as though he expected all eyes to be on him, a fact that annoyed her. At the same time, she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. His long brown face with its melancholy look reminded her of a painting of a Spanish saint. Then, as Val approached with an outstretched hand, the stranger’s face was transformed. His smile was utterly charming, and his face went from looking ascetic to faunlike in an instant. It was rather„ disturbing, Anne decided, as she felt an involuntary shiver.

Val brought the two men over. “This is Elspeth’s old school friend, Miss Anne Heriot. Miss Heriot, may I present Lieutenant Brook and Jack Belden, Viscount Aldborough.”

Anne could have sworn she saw a look of recognition in Lord Aldborough’s eyes, though he gave her only a polite hello. So he may already have heard of her, she speculated as she watched Val introduce the two around. She had not yet mentioned her three candidates to Elspeth, so there was no reason to suspect the Astons of inviting him for her. It seemed that Val and he were old comrades from the Peninsula, so it was perfectly understandable that Jack Belden should be here.

Anne was seated between the duke and the lieutenant at dinner and facing Lord Aldborough, who spent the whole meal, as far as she could tell, regaling the ladies on either side of him with his exploits in the mountains of Spain. After dinner, when the rest of the guests arrived, she couldn’t help noticing that at least, three of the young ladies in the room made every attempt to draw him away from Lord Forbes’s side.

As the concert began, Anne told herself that if Lord Aldborough had not already been at the bottom of her list, he would have fallen there tonight, for there was nothing she despised more than a man who was so obviously aware of his own effect on the ladies, particularly young, susceptible ones like Lady Clarise, the Hairstons’ daughter. Thank God, she was neither that young nor that susceptible, she congratulated herself. If Lord Aldborough was looking to restore his fortune through her, then he was going to be sadly disappointed.

* * * *

Jack was very aware of Anne Heriot the whole evening, She was not at all what he’d expected, although exactly what that was he couldn’t have said. He supposed he thought that the daughter of a tradesman would be ignorant, loud, and overdressed. He might also have expected her to seek out his company, once she discovered who he was, given what he knew from his solicitor. Instead, she had ignored him.

She appeared to be one of the most self-possessed women he had ever met. He had watched her during supper. She had given her dinner companions equal attention and seemed not at all overawed by the fact that one of them was a most prominent nobleman.

It had been easy to observe her and at the same time appear to attend only to the duke’s daughter. Charming young ladies was like breathing for him—he did it utterly unconsciously. It would have been harder for him not to do it, which was one reason he did not consider himself a rake. He never set out to win a young woman’s affection. It just seemed to happen.

Yet now there was someone he needed desperately to attract, and he wasn’t at all sure how to do it. He could only hope that whatever drew the young women to him would draw Miss Heriot. Surely even a self-possessed young woman would have some vulnerability to his supposedly infallible charm, he told himself ironically.

He had an odd sinking feeling about the whole enterprise, however, which puzzled him, for it seemed to come not from fear of defeat but fear of success. Yet what was there to be apprehensive about? Miss Anne Heriot was more than he could have hoped for. She was a friend of Elspeth’s, and that meant a great deal, for Elspeth was one of the most sensible people he knew She was very well educated and very attractive, in a “nut-brown maid” sort of way.

It was her air of being in charge of herself and the situation that bothered him. If he was able to win her, there would be no doubt about who was in control. Jack sighed. Well, why shouldn’t she be? It was, after all, her fortune that could save his estate. He had no right to expect more from a marriage. Like love. In his situation, he would not be making a love match.

He had never thought much about love. Oh, he had basked in adoration of the young women over the years and had never lacked for bedmates, English or Spanish. But infatuation wasn’t love. The young ladies did not love the real Jack Belden; they loved some exotic creature that they imagined he was.

Anne Heriot did not look like she had a romantic bone in her body, which, he supposed, was a point in her favor. For if she chose Jack Belden, she would be choosing him for his title, which was at least something real!

Elspeth had been right, thought Anne, as she sat at the breakfast table a few days later going through the modest stack of invitations. She was probably not being included in the most fashionable parties, but she was sure to meet all three men, either at the duke of Hairston’s ball or the Perrons’ supper dance. She sighed happily, which caused Sarah to look up from her book.

“Is anything wrong, Anne?”

“No, that was a sigh of satisfaction, Sarah. Thanks to Elspeth, we will be very busy for the next few weeks.”

Anne went back to opening her invitations, and after a few minutes, it was Sarah who gave a sigh as she closed her novel.

“A sad ending?”

“No, a happy one,” her companion told her with a smile. “But now I must scour the library for a new read. And your father’s library offers very little for a woman’s taste.”

“You don’t need to make do, Sarah. We will take ourselves to Hatchard’s this very morning.”

An hour later, the young women were walking down Bond Street.

“I can never get used to all this chaos,” Sarah said, as the sounds of the traffic and street vendors assailed her ears.

“I find it exciting,” Anne confessed. “Though I admit I would not want to live in London year ‘round.”

Just as they turned the corner, Sarah almost stumbled over a blind beggar. The man sitting there was dressed in a threadbare uniform jacket. He shook his tin cup as he heard them, calling out, “A penny for a poor soldier.” Sarah and Anne opened their reticules at the same time, and Sarah dropped in two pennies, while Anne gave him a shilling. Staring straight ahead, the beggar shook his cup next to his ear and said, “Thank you, ladies,” with a smile.

“It’s the least we can do for one of our veterans. But how did you know we were women?” Anne asked in a sharper tone.

“Yer lovely lavender water, ma’am. Sure, and it perfumes the street. And doesn’t the street need it,” he added with a grin.

“Come, Sarah. We wish you well, Private.”

“Private? And didn’t I make sergeant just before Talavera?”

Anne apologized, “I am sorry, Sergeant, but I didn’t notice your stripes.”

“Ye can’t see what’s not there, ma’am. I sold ‘em weeks ago.”

“And that is a sad commentary on the state of our country, Sarah,” said Anne as they crossed the street. “A man gives his sight for his country and must then give up his insignia as well. I think it disgraceful.”

“And they are everywhere,” nodded Sarah in agreement.

* * * *

It was lovely to lose oneself among the book tables, thought Anne, feeling guilty at how easy it was to shut out the reality of abandoned war veterans as she paged through a book on modern methods of sheep farming. Sarah had wandered to the table where the latest romances were stacked and had already chosen one by the time Anne reached her side. “I have never read Miss Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice
, Anne. I am looking forward to it.”

“Choose a second book, Sarah, for soon we will be too busy to shop for such practical pleasures. We will be spending all our time at the Pantheon bazaar!”

“A volume of poetry, then,” said Sarah with a grateful glance at Anne, for she knew Anne would respect her independence enough to let her purchase the Austen herself, but would be generous enough to pay for the second book.

They were just out the door, carrying their wrapped parcels, when Sarah gasped. “My God, that dray is out of control, and the sweeping boy is right in his way!”

It seemed to Anne that time stopped for a split second. She saw the boy, his back to the wagon, she saw the left front hoof of the draft horse lifting…and then it all moved faster than it could have. All she could hear was the clatter of the wagon and the pounding of hooves as she ran toward the boy. She had almost reached him when she felt herself hit and was knocked to the sidewalk. As she lay dazed in the gutter, all she could think was,
But the horse hadn’t quite reached us
. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings and sort out the voices raining over her.

“My God, did you see that?”

“Anne, Anne, are you all right?”

And the one closest to her, whispering into her ear, “That was as brave a deed as ever I’ve seen in any battle, ma’am. Let me help ye up. I think ye’re only scratched and not harmed.”

Anne opened her eyes, and the world spun around for a few minutes and then slowly settled. Bending over her was the blind soldier. How had he gotten across the street? And how could she only be scratched if the horse and wagon had hit her? And the boy? “The boy!” she cried.

“Fine and dandy, miss. I’m just sorry I had to barrel into ye.”

Anne began to pull herself up. “Stay still, Anne. Surely she should stay still, Sergeant?” Sarah asked anxiously.

“No, no, I am fine.” And she was, miraculously, though she suspected she’d have a few bruises and be very stiff the next morning. She grabbed the sergeant’s outstretched hands and let him pull her up.

“So it was you who hit me and not the wagon,” she asked, still a little confused.

“Aye, ma’am.”

“Thank you for saving both our lives. Where is the boy?” she asked, looking around.

“Run off, the ungrateful little bug…er…brat, ma’am. His broom got broke in the fall, and I think he’s more scared of his master than he was of that horse.”

After two gentlemen had assured themselves of Anne’s welfare and complimented her on her courage, the crowd melted away, leaving only Sarah and Anne and the sergeant.

“Surely it took a great deal more courage than mine for a blind man to run into the street like that,” said Anne with a grateful smile that softened her sarcastic tone.

The sergeant blushed. “I did lose the one eye, miss,” he protested, adjusting the eye patch over his right eye.

Anne really looked at him for the first time. He was a stocky man, who appeared to be in his late thirties or perhaps even early forties, judging from the grizzled look of his whiskers. His thick, curly, black hair was also sprinkled with gray and receding slightly from his forehead. His eye was a bright blue and full of humor, which offset the effect of the patch and the scar that ran from his forehead down his cheek.

“You look like a strong, healthy man, Sergeant, aside from your eye.”

“I’ve always had the luck of the Irish, miss. Just that one saber slash in ten years of fighting.”

“How are you with horses, Sergeant?”

“Horses, miss?”

“I am in need of a groom, Sergeant. If you work out satisfactorily here in town, perhaps it could become a permanent position when I return to Yorkshire.”

“I am good with most animals, miss. I wasn’t in the cavalry, but I’ve handled horses all me life.”

“Then it is settled. There’s a small apartment over the stables. If you think it an improvement over where you are living, then you are welcome to move in.”

“Anything’s an improvement over my flea-ridden room, miss!”

“All right, then. Here is my address,” said Anne, handing him a card. “I will expect you by five.”

“I can’t thank ye enough, Miss Heriot.”

“Nonsense, sergeant. You saved my life and the life of that ungrateful little bug…er…brat,” she added with a teasing grin. Anne took Sarah’s arm and started down the street.

“Miss Heriot, don’t ye even want to know me name?”

“Why, of course.”

“Ex-sergeant Patrick Gillen at yer service, Miss Heriot,” he said, snapping her a fine salute.

* * * *

Sergeant Gillen arrived at four-thirty, carrying a knapsack that held all his possessions, and one of the footmen showed him to the stables. “Here is where you will sleep, Sergeant,” he announced, opening the door on a clean, sparsely furnished room.

Gillen dropped his bag on the cot in the corner and gave a satisfied sigh.

“Miss Heriot told me to tell you that tomorrow she’ll send you to a tailor who can measure you for a new suit of clothes.”