One Indulgence (32 page)

Her dainty gloved hands shot up to cover her mouth. Her eyes shone like those of a desperate thief who had been caught with the jewels in her pockets. “I…I…”

“If you would wish to end our engagement and make Benjamin Cayson a very happy man, I will sincerely wish you well, my dear. In fact, I would give a toast at your wedding breakfast.” He tilted his head and smiled. “Would that not be quite a sight to behold? The jilted bridegroom congratulating his usurper? It would be the talk of London for years.”

At first he thought she was sobbing, then quickly realized that she was stifling laughter behind her hands. The tears that had been glazing her eyes finally fell over and ran down her cheeks.

“Oh, my lord…” she gasped, her voice thick. “You would do this for me? Oh, but sir, won’t there be such a scandal? Won’t you be…eh…”

“A laughingstock?” Henry suggested wryly. His thoughts went to Richard. Was being the object of a few jokes at White’s such a terrible thing by comparison to all else? Not even close. He didn’t give a damn. “Don’t concern yourself with it, my lady. I assure you that I do not. Dry your eyes now. It would hardly do me credit for someone to see and accuse me of being a brutish husband before I am even wed.”

She laughed again and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief he produced. Of course, he was sure to give her the one from his left pocket, for Richard’s still lay folded in his right.

“Very well.” She sniffed, smiling. “Oh, I can’t believe this! Truly? Oh, but you already said so twice!” She laughed again, then sniffed to regain some composure. “But if I may ask and I am not being too forward, do you have hopes elsewhere? Perhaps your heart is already engaged, like mine?”

“Yes,” he said, feeling the very core of his chest tighten. “My heart is very much engaged elsewhere.”

“Oh!” she cried with genuine delight. “I cannot tell you how good that is to hear! I know what you said, but I still could not help but feel I am leaving you in the lurch. Will you offer for her soon? Do you plan to marry at the end of the Season?”

He let his bitter amusement show on his face. He regretted the lapse immediately, but it was too late. She bit her lower lip.

“I’m sorry, I was prying. Never mind me, my lord.”

“No, it is all right,” he assured her, recovering. His terrible reaction had not been about her reference to marriage—he was far too grounded in reality to mourn that impossibility—but rather the question of whether he would have any relationship with Richard at all. For all he knew, ending the engagement with Anne would forever sever the last tie he had to Richard, though it would not have been much of a tie anyway.

“What did Ben say when he spoke to you? W-was he very rude to you?” Lady Anne said, changing the subject.

Henry returned from his reverie. “He was no more rude than a man could be expected to be under the circumstances,” he replied. “I must tell you that I have arranged for him to speak with you privately at the Cunningham picnic. It is a bit of interference that cannot be helped, considering.”

“Interference? Oh, no, my lord! Nothing of the sort.” She smiled brightly. “Did you tell him that I—”

“He does not know that I’m speaking to you about anything,” Henry cut in quickly. “Forgive me, my dear, but I highly suggest that we keep our…collusion a secret from him.”

“But why?”

“I’m sure you would not like the idea of another lady accepting a proposal
for
you. Likewise, Mr. Cayson’s pride could hardly be helped by thinking that I had arranged his marriage for him.” Henry gave her a wry smile. She acknowledged his point with a nod. “Point of fact,” he continued, “I told your Benjamin that if he could convince you to throw me over for him, I would gladly wish him happy.”

“Oh!” She let loose a burst of laughter. It must have been the single happiest sound he had ever heard from her. It warmed him to hear, for knowing that he was hurting and bound to further hurt such a kind young woman had been weighing on him. Henry smiled, and they both began to laugh at the absurdity of their now shared conspiracy.

They had been laughing and whispering for some time before Henry spotted the mounted figure standing at the mouth of the lane.

God, no…

“Is that Richard?” Anne said, still smiling. She raised her gloved hand and waved. “Richard!”

Henry made a distressed sound in his throat. Anne misinterpreted and placed her hand reassuringly on his arm as she whispered, “No need to worry, my lord. I will say nothing to anyone. I wouldn’t want it to get back to Ben.”

At their distance it was impossible, yet Henry was certain he saw Richard’s narrowed eyes shift to where Anne’s hand rested on his arm. It felt like she was burning him.

“Richard!” Anne called again, despite it being entirely unsuitable for a lady to shout in public.

Henry swallowed hard, almost choking from the effort, and opened his mouth to add his greeting and make all the appropriate demonstrations…when Richard suddenly pulled at the reins and sent his horse into a sharp turn. He set off at a gallop that was downright scandalous for Hyde Park. In a matter of seconds he was gone, disappearing down one of the narrower lanes into the trees.

“Oh, my…” Anne said, falling back into her seat. “What do you suppose could be the matter?”

Please, Richard. It’s not what you think. None of it is what you think.

Somehow Henry managed to force down his pain and shrug one shoulder. “Nothing, I’m sure. Must have remembered a missed appointment just now.”

“But I called to him,” she added, still worried.

“I’m sure he didn’t hear you. In fact, I don’t think he even saw us.”

“Oh. You think?” she said, calming a little.

“Certainly.” He guided his team back onto the main path, in the opposite direction from which Richard had fled. “I’m sure he didn’t see us.”

BUT OF COURSE, Richard had seen them. He had been crossing the top of the path along his usual route when he had halted his horse and stared at the sight of Henry’s golden curls, shining in the sun. And happy. He had seen his sister’s cheeks glowing with delight over whatever bit of flattery Henry must have given her.

He drove his horse on, hardly seeing or caring about the disapproving glares of those he passed. Finally, he went halfway down a narrower path and led his horse off between the trees. He stopped under the branches of a heavy oak and wiped his face with the back of his hand. His fine kid gloves came away stained with tears.

* * * *

Ben Cayson felt like a fool. A bookish, portly, graceless fool. He must have lost his mind to agree to all this. Brenleigh might have told him that Anne cared for him, but what did that signify? Brenleigh could be wrong. Lord Richard could also be wrong. Neither man could know Anne’s inner thoughts and feelings for certain. Was he about to make a spectacular ass of himself?

He continued to pace around the ancient tree that lay some yards off the main wilderness walk. Brenleigh had not been able to promise him any specific time, but it had to be sometime. All the guests were expected to gather back on the main lawn soon for various refreshments and the announcement of Cunningham’s younger son’s naval promotion. Cayson wiped his moist palms on his waistcoat and pulled out his watch again. Almost half past two.

“Good God,” he muttered.

“Ben?”

He spun around so quickly that he nearly lost his footing on the tree roots near his feet. There she was, just emerged from the trees beyond the little clearing. She was wearing a dove-gray dress, accented with blue ribbons and white lace. She always looked so lovely, so soft. She never overdressed or fluffed herself up like a tea cake as other ladies did.

“Ben?”

Damned if he hadn’t been staring! “Yes? Yes, it’s me. Eh…are you enjoying the picnic?”

“Yes.” She crossed the little clearing to join him under the tree. On her side the tree roots were massive and had the lovely effect of creating a low bench. She looked down at the rough seat, biting her lip. “I…I think I’ll rest here for a while. If you don’t mind my intrusion.”

“Intrusion? No. Please.” He sounded flustered, he knew. He cringed inwardly and reminded himself to be calm. He was an intelligent man. If he could handle peer reviews at Oxford, he could handle a proposal, surely.

“I was with Lord Brenleigh on the wilderness walk,” she said, her eyes down. “But…um…he lost his hat down this little glen and went to retrieve it. I think he must have gotten turned around, maybe gone up the other side, for I’ve quite lost him. Can’t imagine where he could be.”

Ben suppressed a smile. Brenleigh had come through for him as promised, but Ben didn’t have much time. He had to say the right things in the right way, and he just didn’t have much time. Perhaps she was already anxious to get back to Brenleigh.

I hope not.

“Anne, so long as we have a few minutes together, I would like to…eh…”

“Yes?” She looked up at him, her ungloved hands held neatly in her lap.

What did he have to offer her? What? She would always be a duke’s daughter, that was true, but was that good enough for her? Would she be unhappy on his small property near Dover? It was a fine house but hardly the palace of a duke…or in Brenleigh’s case, an earl. She would never want for comfort, but perhaps for luxury.

“Ben? Y-you wanted to say something?” she said curiously.

There was no point in tiptoeing, and he wasn’t sure if he knew how to do it anyway. So, like a fool, he let his train of thought spill out. “I’m not an earl, Anne. I…I’m not extraordinarily wealthy, but I’m hardly a pauper.” Seeing the sad look that overcame her features, he pressed on. It was either that or flee like a coward. “I don’t move in the first circles, and I know I’m bookish and boring and fat—”

“Ben!” she objected.

“No! Listen to me! I’m not good enough for you, Anne, but…but I love you! And Brenleigh can’t say that, though how any man could not love you is beyond me. Perhaps I am just smarter. They have titles and grace and all that rot, but they are too damn stupid to see how
perfect
you are.”

Anne rose to her feet. She had her hands pressed together, her expression one of…anguish? Shock? Distress? He could not tell.

“Oh, Ben,” she gasped. “How could you—”

“No, no. I’m not done. You have to listen.” He rushed forward now and reached for her hand, forcing her to sit again. He knelt before her, his cheeks flushed. “Marry me, Anne. Marry
me
. I can’t give you half of what Brenleigh can, but I will love you forever.”

Anne looked, for a moment, as if she would fall over, but instead she hugged him tightly. Then she pulled back suddenly and glared at him. “If you ever insult yourself like that again, I will smack your face, Ben Cayson!” she blurted. He was so shocked by this response that he almost fell backward, but she held his hands tight and pulled him close. She fell forward and wrapped her arms around his neck like a vise.

“Anne? Anne, oh, my dear!” He hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and inhaling the intoxicating sent of her perfume. “Tell me, please, before I go mad!”

“Yes! Oh, yes, I will marry you, Ben!”

They continued to hold each other until it became quite inappropriate, and long after anyone would call it wise, but neither cared. When Anne finally lifted her head—who knew how many minutes later—her expression was a little awkward.

“Um…h-how will we tell everyone? Lord Brenleigh, eh…”

“Do not worry about it, my dear. It is all…” Ben grinned, unable to help himself. “It is all arranged.”

“Arranged?” she said, biting her lip.

“Yes. Oh, I will tell you all about it later, but I have to see Culfrey as soon as possible, and Brenleigh too.”

“Won’t he be upset?” Still that coy look, which Ben took for sheepishness.

“Oh, I think not,” he said somewhat smugly. “You must not fear that you are jilting the man, my darling, for Brenleigh knows everything. We already spoke.”

“I’m so glad!” she burst out with, hugging him again.

Ben knew they had to go, that people might be missing her soon, but he wasn’t looking forward to facing her family. Ben could only imagine how Culfrey would rip up at her and make accusations against him, perhaps even refusing to approve his suit! He would deal with that terrible possibility if and when it happened.

Ben lifted his head to look down at her but did not let her go. He was just about to say that they should leave now, but he did not want to leave. Ever. He lowered his head again, only this time he brought his lips to meet hers.

More minutes passed, and neither of them much cared if they made it back to the picnic at all.

Chapter Twelve

Uncertainty and Hope

It was the day after the Cunningham picnic when Richard learned, along with the rest of his immediate family, about Anne’s sudden desertion. He had been on one of his rare visits to Avery House, to see Anne, no less, when the sound of Culfrey’s towering rage had echoed through the hall. Richard had raced up the stairs and entered the library without so much as a scratch at the door, the butler anxiously at his heels. Rather than object to the intrusion, Culfrey had turned to Richard as if to a port in the storm. He had beseeched Richard to talk some sense into their sister, tell her how she was disgracing the family and humiliating a powerful peer of the realm. When Richard had merely stared, dumbfounded as to what was actually going on, a trembling Anne had explained everything. She was crying off. She did not wish to marry Lord Brenleigh. Ben Cayson had proposed, and she had accepted.

There had been no words to describe Richard’s relief. He had held out his arms to his beloved sister and declared himself thrilled beyond words for her. Culfrey’s face had turned so red that Richard had feared for his heart, but the man had eventually relented. After several days of raging, lecturing, and outright begging, he had finally agreed to an interview with Cayson. When Cayson had left, all smiles, Culfrey had declared that it was because he had washed his hands of Anne, damn her hide! In truth, Richard knew his brother loved Anne and wanted her to be happy. Richard was, of course, smart enough to keep silent on the point.