The Birthright (25 page)
“I recall all our conversations, sir.”
“It would do you much good to think on this matter, m’lady.” He started to say something further but stopped himself with visible effort. He then bowed and said, “I have the honor of being invited to dine with you tonight. Perhaps we shall speak more on this matter then.”
Anne decided not to speak with Nicole of what she had overheard. There was scarcely time to bathe the baby and herself and then get everything ready before the guests began arriving for dinner.
As usual, Lord Percy was the first to come. Normally he used such occasions to discuss business matters with Charles. Tonight, however, he was there at the bottom of the stairs to greet Anne as she descended. “Madame, your presence lights up the room. And that dress—what a work of art you are tonight.”
She gave him a genuine smile. Percy was an odd-looking character, his habit of taking snuff rather vile. But he had a heart of pure gold and he doted on Charles and Nicole. Anne lifted the hem of her new gown. The material was Chinese painted silk, the colors ivory and mint green, with a collar of Medellin lace. “The dressmaker called it a polonaise design.”
“Upon you it looks positively ravishing.” Percy bent over her hand. “Might I say, madame, it makes my heart glad to see you taking such a brave step.”
Anne fluttered her fan. “Your eyes miss nothing, Lord Percy.” And because the topic left her discomfited, she went on, “Might I ask where your own title comes from?”
“A trifle, madame. A chance encounter, an opportunity to do some royal a small service, which now escapes me.” He dipped into his snuffbox, sneezed like a cannonade, then continued, “I am a landowner by chance and a Christian by choice. I am a lordship by sheer amazement. It’s the clearest sign I have that God possesses a rich sense of humor.”
He offered her his arm, which she accepted. As they walked toward the drawing room, Anne asked, “I don’t suppose you could tell me what is troubling my uncle so.”
Percy faltered momentarily, but then quickly composed himself and said, “Your eye is remarkably keen, madame. But some questions must be left for his honor to answer.”
“Charles is lucky to have such a friend, Lord Percy.”
“And Miss Nicole to have such a sister.” Percy nodded in response to Gaylord bowing them into the drawing room. “Your presence has done her a powerful good.”
“She will make a fine heir for Charles,” Anne said, yet in her heart she could not help but wish that Nicole might find joy in the work.
Percy turned to her and said for her ears alone, “So would you, madame.” Then he bowed and went to greet the other guests now trickling in.
The new dresses did not alter Anne’s habit of standing to one side and observing the gathering. Before long, she sighted the familiar form of Lord Harwick as he closed in on Nicole. He said something to her, then grimaced at Nicole’s calm response. Harwick spoke again, this time at length. Although Anne could not hear the words, she saw how Nicole noticeably tensed and then nodded acceptance.
Anne watched them walk together toward the balcony doors. They made a truly striking couple. Nicole wore a deep green gown of Lyons silk, and the color shimmered as she moved, like the shifting surface of the sea. But there was no joy to be found in either face.
There was another who scrutinized the couple, a young sea captain by the curious name of Gordon Goodwind. He had come as a late addition, a guest of guests, as the friend of Captain and Mrs. Madden, who spoke now with Charles. Captain Goodwind gazed at Nicole with undisguised ardor. He cut a dashing figure in his long black coat and frill-fronted shirt. He wore trousers in the newest fashion, long stovepipes that descended over the tops of his polished black boots. The only mark of color to his person was the blue ribbon with which he kept his long copper hair tied tautly back. On another man it may have looked effeminate, but with his hawkish features and the slash mark on his right cheek, the effect was quite stylish.
Yet Captain Goodwind made no gesture toward Nicole except to bow at their greeting. Then he went to hanging back and examining her every movement. Anne could well guess the reason for his reluctance to approach Nicole—a sea captain had little chance to cross the chasm that separated him from a viscountess. Besides, Lord Harwick kept a vigilant closeness to Nicole as they headed for the balcony.
Nicole walked with her head tilted high, her auburn hair cascading in well-managed curls. Lord Harwick maintained a possessive grip on her arm. The gentleman was perhaps fifteen years her senior, which in itself was not that great a difference. Yet he carried himself too stiffly, and his chin was set at too determined an angle. Anne noticed how others regarded the two, how several of the other young men stared at Nicole wistfully. It was a mystery to Anne how such a lovely young woman could remain not just unattached but isolated.
Anne stepped away from the laughing throng, and as the couple entered the narrow balcony, she moved alongside the open doors. She told herself she merely wished to ensure they were not disturbed, but there was something else. She desperately wanted to know what was happening between Nicole and this mysterious gentleman. Anne had never known a closeness like she felt toward Nicole. Their bond was one of friendship and sisterhood both. And yet there were new walls within Nicole, strange undercurrents that Anne did not yet understand. Even so, Anne was certain her sister was distressed, and if help was required, Anne wanted to be there for her.
Lord Harwick spoke with a deep baritone voice, rich in timbre and very masculine. “My dear Miss Nicole, I do wish you would grant me leave to pay suit.”
Anne took a single step backward, closer to the balcony. She heard Nicole’s utterly flat tone as she responded, “You would be disappointed, sir.”
“Call me Reginald, I implore you.” He then chuckled, but it sounded forced. “On the contrary, I am absolutely infatuated with you. I feel we would make for a perfect match.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You must have seen the way people watched us tonight. Everyone here would most certainly agree we outshine the entire gathering. Not to mention the few moments we have shared together suggest a harmony that could only turn to deeper sentiments, if you would only allow—”
“Might I ask how you feel about the war with the American colonies?”
“What I…my dear, if you will forgive me, I hardly feel this is the time or place to discuss worldly affairs.”
“Very well, then. What about affairs of the heart? Do you hold your faith in God as paramount?”
“I hold the Church in highest esteem, as should every decent British gentleman. But this has scarcely any place in our discussion this evening, my dear.”
“If truth be known, Lord Harwick, you would prefer never to speak of such things with a woman, am I not correct?”
“Miss Nicole, please, we were discussing our courtship.”
“Just answer my question, Lord Harwick. I beg you.”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “All right, yes. I do feel there are certain matters which, if brought into a relationship, would only result in unnecessary hard feelings.”
“With respect, sir, I must disagree.”
“My dear, I can perfectly understand your sentiments, given your most remarkable heritage. But that hardly means we are not meant for each other.”
“Again, with respect, I disagree.” A faint hint of desperation entered into Nicole’s voice. “Lord Harwick, I don’t mean to offend, but I fear if I say anything more, I will do just that.”
“I came out here hoping you might consider me as a worthy prospect for marriage,” Harwick protested. “Somehow we have entered the disagreeable fields of politics and religion and war. I must ask you to return to the matter at hand.”
“Oh, very well. I suppose I shall have to speak plainly.” Her tone was harder than Anne had ever heard Nicole use. “Lord Harwick, I would not marry you if you were the last person on Earth.”
There was a moment of shocked silence. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s true.” The words became a torrent, quietly spoken, yet heated nonetheless. “I don’t wish to become some man’s ornament. Nor do I intend to remain silent on issues I consider vital, merely because some men prefer women to have no opinions, or at least not to speak them. Lord Harwick, these issues are
vital
and must be a part of any relationship I might enter into. I desire a partner who respects me and wants to share his life with me.
All
his life.”
“My dear—”
“Please allow me to finish, sir. I have a duty to perform here. I have an obligation to my uncle Charles, to the position and wealth he intends to bestow upon me, and most especially to God. I must seek a husband with whom I might share this vision, someone who will treat me as a partner in this shared mission.”
There was a long silence. When Lord Harwick spoke again, his voice turned bitterly cold. “I would not be the least bit surprised to learn that you die a lonely old maid.”
“If that is God’s will, then so be it,” Nicole replied flatly.
“Your uncle must be behind this farce. Filling your head with idealistic nonsense. I must say it matches this ridiculous stance he has taken over the colonies.”
“I must ask you to take your leave, Lord Harwick, before you say something we both shall regret.”
“Very well.”
Anne barely had time to back away before the man stormed from the balcony. He marched straight over to where Charles stood talking with Captain Madden and his wife, and then gave a curt bow. “I regret, Sir Charles, that common sense requires me to take my leave.”
Charles started to speak, but then happened to glance over toward Anne, who was watching the two of them. Something in her look caused Charles to alter his response. “We shall miss your presence, Lord Harwick, but will not insist that you remain.”
“Before I depart,” the gentleman said gruffly, “I must once again warn you to hold off on your plans for the morrow.”
Charles’s face turned to stone. “
Warn
me, sir?”
Lord Harwick held to his course. “It’s a dangerous route you have chosen, one that will bring much harm and no good whatsoever. Those words, sir, are not my own.”
“My mind is set.”
“Then you will become an outcast, a pariah within your own class.”
“I have no choice in the matter.”
Still Harwick pushed on. “Not to mention the harm your would-be heiress is causing you. I should not be surprised if the Crown—”
“You have said enough!” Charles snapped. “And more besides. Now common decency
requires
that you depart at once.”
“I shall look forward to your coming demise, sir.” With that Harwick wheeled about and left the chamber without a backward glance.
Immediately Charles excused himself from the captain and Mrs. Madden, then hurried over to Anne. “Might I ask what was said here?”
Nicole came in from the balcony, her eyes glistening but her composure intact. “It was all my fault, Uncle. I humbly apologize.”
“On the contrary,” said an unexpected voice. A stranger stepped up from his station behind Anne. He bowed deeply to Nicole and said, “Your pardon, m’lady, I could not help but overhear.” He looked at Charles. “All you need to know, m’lord, is that your niece has done you and the Harrow name great honor this night.”
Anne saw the crimson blush rise from the collar of Nicole’s dress. Anne reached over, grasped Nicole’s white-gloved hand, and said quietly, “I agree.”
The young man was perhaps an inch shorter than Nicole. He gazed at her with undisguised admiration, his dark eyes alight with awe. “Again, I beg your forgiveness, Miss Nicole. But I must tell you that your words have sparked my heart.”
He bowed once more and then left them. Anne watched his passage through the room and quietly asked, “Who, pray tell, was that?”
“Percy’s nephew and heir,” Charles replied. “Thomas Crowley.”
Nicole then demanded, “What was it Lord Harwick asked you about, Uncle? What dangerous course are you taking?”
The grimness returned to Charles’s features. “I am to address the House of Lords tomorrow morning.”
Nicole gathered herself and said, “I wish to come.”
“My dear—”
“If this is a matter of such grave importance, I should be there.” Her tone came close to matching her uncle’s. “I wish to be coddled no longer, Uncle. I want to know. I want to help.”
It was a somber assembly that set off for the Houses of Parliament the next morning. Twice Nicole started to ask her uncle what was about to happen, but Charles’s stern look kept her questions trapped in her throat. They halted before the members’ entrance, where Charles alighted and said, “I must bid you adieu here. One of the porters will show you to the visitors’ gallery. Take the carriage when you wish to depart. I will make my own way home.” Without another word or backward glance, Charles turned and entered the great stone edifice.
“I wonder what’s happening,” Anne said.
But before Nicole could respond, the young face from the previous night suddenly appeared in the carriage’s open doorway. “Good morning to you, ladies. Thomas Crowley at your service. I could not help but overhear. Perhaps you will permit me to escort you upstairs?”