A Lady's Addiction (Honor Prevails Book 1) Page 18

  The thought crossed her mind that if she were to marry again she would be expected to follow her husband’s direction in her behavior. Would Drake attempt to control her, as Danforth had been wont to do? She’d had her freedom for some time now. Could she trade it for the promise of a child?

  Lord Drake led them to the next flight of stairs and they soon finished their ascent.

  The large room in front of them, hung with paintings from floor to ceiling, contained numerous sophas scattered about for patrons to sit and admire the artwork.

  “I think I see a portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence,” Mathilda said quite loudly.

  Anna knew very little about art or artists for that matter. Nevertheless, any schoolgirl could point out the work of Sir Thomas. There were so many canvases crowding the surrounding walls she doubted any important artist of the day had been left out of the display.

  Lord Drake pointed out a few paintings for her opinion and she pretended interest in the subject matter. She much preferred being outdoors rather than merely looking at a painted landscape. The near seclusion she’d maintained while in mourning had made her forget the simple joys of life.

  “Lady Stafford.” Lady Beauchamp’s high-pitched voice came from behind her. She turned to see the matron observing their party with interest. “I thought I saw you there.”

  She performed the introductions. The dowager appeared well acquainted with Lord Drake although her eyebrows rose when she learned Mathilda was his sister.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Lady Beauchamp said to the girl while she eyed Anna and Lord Drake. “Are you enjoying your stay in London?”

  Anna felt her eyes cross as the girl gushed over Somerset House and how wonderful it was to spend the day in Lady Stafford’s company. She stopped listening to Mathilda and had to repress a giggle when a few moments later Lady Beauchamp began to look alarmed at the girl’s enthusiastic discourse and excused herself hurriedly.

  Their party continued to circle the room and greet acquaintances in between admiring the paintings. Mathilda strolled a little bit ahead. Anna guessed this to be a strategy to allow Drake to converse with her in private.

  “I do enjoy spending time in your company. We should make it a habit.”

  “It is a lovely exhibition,” she rejoined warily. She didn’t suppose the man would propose to her in public, would he?

  “The ton is all abuzz about you and Mr. Maitlin. The gossip sheets report you picnicked with him in St. James’s Park just yesterday.”

  “Yes?” The tone of Lord Drake’s voice led her to believe the gossip had not been positive. With Neil gone from London, she paid scant attention to the scandal sheets.

  “I was afraid you two might have an understanding,” the viscount replied and abruptly stopped walking. He turned to look at her. “I was relieved to learn Mr. Maitlin is not… ahem… not a marital candidate as it were.”

  She took a calming breath and decided to pretend to misunderstand the man. “I am not so high in the in-step that I would only accept a titled man as my husband.”

  “I was referring to his inability to beget an heir.”

  There was no mistaking what the man referred to. She replied evenly, “Why would you be pleased about someone else’s misfortune?”

  “It isn’t exactly that I am happy Devlyn Maitlin has a physical defect−”

  “Mr. Maitlin has a physical defect, my lord?” she interrupted the man, appalled at his words. Their current conversation was not fit for polite society and yet she’d felt compelled to continue it if only to defend Devlyn.

  “I’m putting this badly,” her companion replied. “I wanted to tell you I’m relieved you haven’t formed an attachment to the gentleman.”

  “This conversation is much too personal, Lord Drake.” If they didn’t leave the building now, she would say something to guarantee Drake would never consider offering for her. Despite the things he’d said, he might be her only viable candidate for a husband. “I think I should like to leave now.”

  “Of course,” he replied and motioned to his sister to rejoin them. “I do believe an ice at Gunter’s would be most agreeable.”

  “Oh, please say yes, Lady Stafford?” Mathilda’s smile was hopeful.

  “An ice sounds refreshing.” Maybe she should try harder to get to know the girl.

  The Exhibition Room had grown stuffy with all the bodies contained in it. The descent by staircase proved considerably easier than the ascent, but she, and her aching legs, were thankful to see the lobby of the building.

  Soon after they entered the viscount’s town coach, a light spatter of rain could be heard on the roof. The carriage curtains were open. Their party occupied some moments watching the light drizzle outside.

  “I believe there will be no visit to Gunter’s today,” Lord Drake said.

  “Do you think the rain will stop soon?” Mathilda looked visibly disappointed.

  “Whether it does or not I think we should take Lady Stafford home.” He directed his attention to her. “I heard a rumor you were recently ill. We don’t want you to suffer a relapse. Do you feel quite well?”

  “I must own to a slight headache. The exercise may have brought it on.”

  Lord Drake and Lady Mathilda expressed their concern and regrets. The rain still fell when they’d arrived at Stafford House. A footman helped her from the coach as he held an umbrella over his mistress.

  “Do stay inside,” she said to Lord Drake when he would have left the carriage. “I would not be the reason you catch a chill.”

  Mathilda mumbled something about seeing her again and Anna waved vaguely from her place on the pavement. A moment later she stood in the entryway of the house.

  “I do not wish to be disturbed,” she said to Dinkins.

  She groaned as she made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber. Her legs and backside protested at the additional exercise and she silently vowed to never set foot in Somerset House again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  His mother sniffed numerous times at dinner and sent Devlyn one too many pointed looks over her teacup in the drawing room before he succumbed to curiosity and asked, “What have I done?”

  “Pardon?” The dowager placed her teacup and saucer on a small rosewood table beside her chair.

  He took a deep breath. “You are obviously upset about something.”

  “I promised not to interfere.” His mother picked up Dashy from the floor and positioned him on her lap. She patted the dog while she looked around the room and sighed every few seconds.

  Good lord. “Mother, what, pray tell, has distressed you?”

  “I spoke with Lady Beauchamp this afternoon while I was out shopping for gloves. We were delayed in a shop together while we waited for the rain to stop. The woman was positively aquiver with gossip about Lord Drake and Lady Stafford.”

  “What about Drake and Lady Stafford?” He attempted to inject indifference into his voice and failed miserably.

  “Apparently the lady and gentleman visited Somerset House today with Lord Drake’s sister.”

  “Yes?” He knew as much himself.

  “Lord Drake’s sister hinted to Lady Beauchamp that her brother and Lady Stafford are very nearly engaged!” His mother looked affronted at the idea.

  He panicked for a moment before his head cleared.

  “That is very likely only wishful thinking on the part of a girl who hopes to see her brother marry a rich woman.”

  His mother nodded. “Lady Stafford is entirely too intelligent to enter into marriage with a fortune-hunter.”

  “Lord Drake fulfills an important requirement Lady Stafford requires in a husband,” he replied. He stood up to signal the end of the discussion. He had to get out of the room.

  The dowager nodded when he bowed and excused himself. He heard her ask softly as he left the drawing room, “But what about love?”

  He stared unseeingly into the back garden of the house through the small window in Cameron’s study. His
mother’s words echoed in his mind. He knew why she felt so troubled. In her world, love would always be enough.

  He’d never given much thought about how, or if, love would find him. He’d grown up with parents who were very much in love. When he was a child, he assumed all marriages were based on the emotion.

  His mother had told him often enough she’d fallen in love with his father at first sight. Lord Cameron had been the most eligible bachelor of the season to hear his mother tell the story. Her strategy had been to act aloof as the other debutantes simpered and preened around the viscount.

  “I knew she was smitten with me all along,” his father would say with a twinkle in his eye. “The outcome was a foregone conclusion.”

  His mother would pretend to be offended and invariably his father would express his undying love for her. Not until he went off to Eton for school did he learn that most marriages in polite society were based on duty.

  He’d received no further correspondence from Wiggins and his mind searched for an excuse to see Anna. Tomorrow Michael Bradley would contact her, and he didn’t know what might happen afterwards. Thomas had placed a copy of the London Times on the corner of Cameron’s desk. Right now, he was too agitated to sit down and read it.

  “I must let her know how I feel about her. Give her a choice.” He’d found his excuse to see Anna. His words to his mother denying Anna was nearly engaged to Drake had not only been spoken to reassure the dowager. He needed to reassure himself.

  * * * * *

  Michael wanted to find out if Lady Stafford would pay him. Neither Maitlin nor his lackey would expect him to return to Stafford House. He made sure the street was empty before he mounted the steps to the mansion. The elderly butler answered the door.

  “Yes?”

  “A letter for Lady Stafford,” he said to the servant and held out a folded piece of paper. “The matter is urgent. I will wait for her reply.”

  The butler looked askance at the cheap paper before he took the missive from Michael’s hand. The servant stood aside, and Michael entered the foyer of the house. He watched the butler hand the note to a waiting footman. Michael was shown to a bench in the entry hall of the house to wait for his answer.

  He’d become quite adept at estimating the amount of money he could pawn jewelry for and was eager to see what Lady Stafford would give him. Where could he meet her? If he told her a destination in advance of their meeting, Maitlin or his servant would probably be there as well. He had no desire to deal with either man.

  The meeting place would have to be a public area with numerous routes of escape. His thoughts of likely London landmarks were put aside when the footman returned from his mission and whispered in the butler’s ear.

  “The countess replied in the affirmative to your question.” Once the butler had relayed his information, he proceeded to open the front door. The servant stood looking at him as if he were an unwanted insect.

  “A very smart decision on her part,” he replied, and smiled cheekily at the other man.

  Michael exited the house. His steps along the pavement were light. Lady Stafford had decided to pay him. His meager belongings were already packed in preparation for his departure from London. Tomorrow he would set his plan in motion.

  * * * * *

  Anna stretched sleepily where she lay on the satin coverlet of her bed. As she moved, every muscle below her waist screamed in protest. There came a light knock at her bedchamber door. Mary peeked around the door as her mistress said, “Enter.”

  “A letter has been delivered for you. The man who delivered the missive insists on waiting in the entry hall for your answer.”

  She came wide awake. Perhaps Devlyn had written to her. Did he need to see her to discuss Franco?

  “What time is it?” she asked and sat up.

  “Nearly six of the o’clock, my lady. A footman is waiting outside this room to relay your answer to this letter.”

  The piece of inexpensive paper Mary handed her had been merely folded and carried no wax seal. She realized Devlyn would never send her a note on such inferior paper.

  Lady Stafford-

  I await your decision as to whether you will pay my price for silence. Tomorrow after one of the o’clock you will take an open carriage out for a drive, the jewels on your person. Only your coachman Silvers may accompany you. I will find you and give you directions as to your destination.

  Franco

  She was not surprised to read her coachman’s name in the missive. Michael Bradley appeared to be very thorough in his schemes. Later she would give the note to Wiggins. Right now, all she could do was comply with Michael Bradley’s wishes.

  “Mary, tell the footman my answer to the gentleman is yes.”

  When the maid returned from her task Anna said to the girl, “I will take a short turn in the garden. Please inform Cook I will have supper in my bedchamber.”

  Mary hurried off to speak with the cook and Anna gingerly moved from the bed. Her legs, thighs and buttocks ached. She had been much too sedentary in the last year and the proof was her body’s reaction to climbing several flights of stairs at Somerset House. She picked up a thin silk shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders before leaving her bedchamber.

  Although dusk had not yet settled, she felt some apprehension at leaving the safe confines of the house. The sooner Michael Bradley was dealt with, the better. Although the evening was warm, she pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  She walked the small gravel path that wound through perennials and assorted topiary in the back garden of Stafford House.

  Her movements were slow. If she mentioned her discomfort to Mary, the girl would procure either more laudanum or some foul-smelling salve from Cook. What she really wanted was wine. She’d wandered the house after breakfast that morning as she checked to see if Mary had overlooked disposing of alcohol in any of the public rooms. She was both relieved and dismayed not to find spirits in the house.

  Anna heard the scrape of a boot against stone. Her pulse thumped loudly in her ears.

  “Wiggins?”

  “Lady Stafford,” a masculine voice said from near her.

  She jumped slightly when Devlyn stepped from behind the small potter’s shed not three feet in front of her.

  “Devlyn!”

  “I apologize for alarming you,” he rejoined with a soft chuckle.

  She folded her arms across her chest. Why was he here? Goodness, he looked more handsome every time she saw him. “Where is Wiggins?”

  “He has gone to make sure that now you have responded to Michael Bradley’s note, the man has vacated the premises.”

  “Did you speak with Bradley?”

  He shook his head. “No. I didn’t want to alert him to my presence here. I have a plan to deal with the man. It won’t be in place until tomorrow.”

  She nodded as if she understood. All she really knew was Devlyn stood in her garden and they were alone.

  “Why are you here? Did something happen?”

  He ignored her questions and asked one of his own. “What did Bradley want?”

  She handed Devlyn the note she still held. Her intention had been to send it to him through Wiggins. Devlyn read the letter silently.

  “You agreed to do what he wants?” he questioned as he pocketed the piece of paper.

  “Of course.” Really, how did one go about all this cloak and dagger nonsense?

  His expression hardened. “I will make sure you are safe.”

  “He will know if either you or Wiggins follow me,” she replied.

  “There will be someone from the Foreign Office near you at all times.”

  A tense silence followed.

  “Did you enjoy your outing to Somerset House with Lord Drake? Lady Beauchamp expects an announcement of your engagement to the man.”

  She cocked her head and replied, “If you want to know about my relationship with Lord Drake you have only to ask.”

  He shook his head. She strained t
o hear his words as he replied in a whisper, “I only wanted to tell you-”

  She heard a soft creak as the garden gate opened and turned to see Wiggins enter the garden. He paused when he noticed her and Devlyn.

  “Excuse me, Lady Stafford, Mr. Maitlin.”

  “Wiggins,” she replied absently. What had Devlyn been about to tell her?

  “Michael Bradley walked to Park Lane and hired a hackney,” the valet said to his employer.

  “Thank you, Wiggins,” Devlyn replied and then addressed himself to her. “Stay in the house. Wiggins will be here if you need to send me a message. Good evening, Lady Stafford.”

  “Good evening,” she replied although Devlyn had already disappeared through the garden gate.

  Wiggins bowed hastily and followed his employer. She stood alone for a few moments. She sensed Devlyn would have told her something important if Wiggins hadn’t interrupted them. She’d never considered herself to be the fanciful sort. Why then did she believe Devlyn had wanted to express his feelings for her? Did he love her?

  She wasn’t surprised at the idea Devlyn could be in love with her. The development of his feelings for her was evident in the way he looked at her, touched her. What surprised her, no terrified her, was the response she would have made to his declaration of love: And I love you.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I am a fool,” he said for the hundredth time. Devlyn placed his elbows on Cameron’s desk and put his head in his hands. “I left her. I walked away from her.”

  The house around him was silent. Millicent, despite his warning to stay at home, had gone to Vauxhall Gardens. The dowager retired early with a headache and instructions not to be disturbed.

  Although his mother had only spent a few minutes in Anna’s company, she had the look of matchmaker in her eyes. What about her promise not to interfere in his affairs? He knew his mother was upset he wasn’t trying harder to woo Anna. Blast, he was upset himself.

  How totally out of character for him it had been to think about proclaiming his feelings so openly. Although in his own defense, he was floundering in uncharted territory. There had been something in Anna’s eyes that gave him cause to hope she felt the same for him. Maybe love could be enough.