A Marriage of Inconvenience (9 page)

Marrying Lucy would no longer solve all of his problems. If Russell followed through on his threats, Sebastian might find himself eternally a subaltern and saddled with a wife he didn’t especially want. But Miss Wright-Gordon was a different matter entirely. With her fortune, he could buy promotions as quickly as the regulations allowed, and her connections were almost as valuable—one cousin a major in Sebastian’s own regiment, another a young captain in the Ninety-Second, with a more distant relation watching for their interests at Horse Guards.

He almost wished he’d taken Lucy up on her offer to release him from their engagement. But it was too soon. He wasn’t yet sure he would be accepted if he asked Miss Wright-Gordon to marry him, and he would rather settle for Lucy than be obliged to wed Clarissa. If he must, he could leave the army and attempt some other profession.

If only he had more time to court Miss Wright-Gordon. Lucy was cast into the deepest shadow beside her—fortune and connections aside, that lush figure, those green eyes, that teasing laugh, all in the body of an innocent, stirred a man’s blood and haunted his dreams. He cursed the day he’d ever met Clarissa Pickett. If only he had known that soon he would meet a woman with every bit of her beauty and allure, but with the character and breeding of a lady.

“Are you sure you don’t want to save this dress for the ball?” Anna’s maid, Sally Harris, asked as she tucked Anna’s curls up into a golden comb.

She smiled at the maid’s reflection. “I shall wear the white silk with the embroidered sleeves for that. I’ve only worn it once, and I don’t think anyone here has seen it.”

“Oh, that one is ever so lovely, too. But this…purple silk! I’ve never seen anything half so grand.”

Anna lovingly stroked the tight, gold-spangled sleeve of her newest evening gown. It was almost
too
opulent, and nothing like the proper maidenly white muslins and pale silks she normally wore to balls and dinners. Perhaps she should have saved it for after she married, but it had been too beautiful to resist. “But you must agree,” she said, “that it’s very unconventional, at least for an unmarried lady.”

“Oh, you’ll be married soon enough, and then you can wear anything you like,” Sally said comfortably.

Anna grinned. “If I am, will you go with me to my new home, or are the inducements to stay here too great?”

“Sam
has
asked,” she said with a blush.

Anna clapped her hands. “Have you accepted?”

“I’d like to. But I told him I couldn’t give an answer until he could tell me how he meant to keep a wife, so he means to speak to his lordship and see if there might be a suitable position, something where we could have our own cottage.”

“Very wise of you, I’m sure,” Anna said, her curiosity piqued by this glimpse into the rules of a life so much different than her own. “I’ll certainly put in a good word for you with my brother.”

“Thank you, miss. You’ve always been so kind.”

Anna shrugged, admiring how the candlelight glinted off the gold-embroidered sleeves. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do.”

Sally smiled as she clasped an amethyst necklace about Anna’s throat. “There! You look splendid, and I’m sure Lieutenant Arrington’s eyes will pop out of his head when he sees you in this.”

Anna studied her reflection in the mirror, unable to resist preening a bit. She wore deep purple Indian silk that had once been a sari and that, thanks to her modiste’s artistry, retained as much of its original character as could be managed in its conversion to a dress—an elegant dress with a low, square neckline and a broad gold sash tied just beneath her bosom. All the embroidery edging the sleeves and hem had been part of the sari, and Anna thought the effect magnificently exotic.

Sally had created a masterpiece of artful dishevelment out of her hair, most of it caught up in combs and pins, but with a few curls left to tumble to her shoulders. She had twin broad gold bracelets fastened just above her elbows, and she wore her mother’s amethysts at her throat, ears and fingers. She wished she knew something, anything, about the woman who had worn the dress in its days as a sari, but she had a feeling that was destined to remain forever a mystery.

She and James had been startled to find the saris the previous summer, hidden away in a trunk in a shadowed corner of the attic. There had been a rainbow of gorgeous silks, and she and James had marveled at their beauty for a full ten minutes before it had occurred to them to wonder why their father had brought such things home to England only to keep them hidden away rather than displaying them or giving them to their mother. They could only conclude that the saris must have belonged to a woman their father had loved very much, and Anna had wondered ever since what had become of her and if she and James had half brothers and sisters halfway around the world.

James had given the silks to Anna, saying that regardless of their origin, it would be a shame to keep them locked away. She had hesitated at first—there seemed something ghostly about them—but in the end had been unable to resist their opulent allure. Now as she descended the stairs, the silk whispered to her as she walked, and she wondered about the woman who had worn it before her, so long ago and so far distant.

She traded her musings over her father’s past for dreams of her future as she stood with James and their aunt and uncle to receive their guests. The Almont Castle party came last of all, and Anna was nearly mad with impatience to see Lieutenant Arrington and how he would react to the sight of her in the dress. Before the footman announced them, Anna heard their voices in the entry hall and even thought she detected the rhythm of Lieutenant Arrington’s step. He still had a faint limp from the healing injury that had prevented him from sailing with his regiment and brought him here. Here, where he could meet her. James would have laughed at her. A fortnight ago, she would’ve laughed at herself. But she couldn’t help wondering if this was fated to be, if all the coincidences that had brought them to the same place and time were destined to bring them a lifetime of happiness.

Lieutenant Arrington brought up the rear of the group, with his mother on his arm, but he was so very tall that his eyes met Anna’s over the heads of the rest. His beautiful blue eyes widened, and the hunger in his expression sent a joyous answering thrill down her spine. Never before had she admired a man so much, nor taken such pleasure in being the object of admiration. Surely she had at last discovered a man she could fall in love with, and surely he would offer for her soon.

She forced her attention to the other guests. As much as she wished she and Lieutenant Arrington were the only people in the room, she must not be so rude as to pretend they were. She greeted Lord Almont warmly and tried to do the same to Miss Arrington, but the other girl’s chill manner did not invite friendship, as if she had put up a wall around herself and did not mean to allow anyone in. Anna wondered if Miss Arrington had always been like this, or if her reserve was a mark of unhappiness over her impending marriage. Her family wasn’t forcing her to marry Lord Almont; Anna had gleaned that much from Lieutenant Arrington, but it was clearly no love match on the bride’s side.

Anna liked Miss Jones far better, and Lieutenant Arrington had said he viewed her as quite as much a sister as he did Miss Arrington. Of the two, she would be far more pleased to have Miss Jones as a sister-in-law, and Anna hoped they would become good friends in time, once the younger girl got past her shyness. Perhaps James and she would even…no, he was in no hurry to take a wife, and Miss Jones was too quiet for him. In a few years he would marry some well-connected daughter or sister of one of his Whig cronies, a lady brought up to be a political hostess who complemented his influence and oratorical prowess with the subtler power a woman could wield.

Lord Almont and Miss Arrington were already greeting Uncle Robert, and Anna found herself momentarily alone. She glanced at James, then tried not to stare. He looked so
embarrassed,
James, who was always so suave and self-assured. But it was unmistakable. He fidgeted, his ears were pink, and he looked at his feet, out the window—anywhere but at Miss Jones, who stood before him. At first Anna thought
her
quite calm, but then she observed her taut posture and flushed cheeks.

“Good evening, Miss Jones,” James said, his voice unwontedly grave and restrained.

Those simple words made Miss Jones’s blush deepen to crimson. “Lord Selsley.”

They stared at each other, motionless and utterly speechless, and Anna was so consumed by curiosity that she forgot to look over their heads at Lieutenant Arrington. What was going on here? She had never seen James at a loss for words, and in her brief acquaintance with Miss Jones, Anna had observed that, though quiet, she was unfailingly polite and self-possessed.

Anna could hardly ask them why they were behaving so oddly, at least not here and now. She could, and would, question James the instant the guests had left. In the meantime a decade of training from her aunt on how to be a gracious hostess took over, and she rescued them from each other.

“Miss Jones!” she said. “I’m so delighted to see you.”

Her words shattered whatever spell had frozen the pair. James glanced at her, oddly self-conscious, then turned to Lady Mowbray, next of the guests in line.

With a slight start, Miss Jones stepped toward Anna. The younger girl’s eyes widened a little, then narrowed wistfully as she twisted one hand in her skirt and touched the other to a little amber cross on a chain, the only ornament she wore.

Anna felt a wave of regret at her choice to wear the purple silk. Something so opulent should have been saved for London, or at least for an occasion where there would not be ladies who could only afford the simplest of dresses. She had only wanted to look her prettiest, and to bask in Lieutenant Arrington’s open admiration, not to cause pain and envy in Miss Jones or any other guest.

And really, Miss Jones was such a pretty girl. The simplicity of her yellow-sprigged muslin gown only accentuated her slim figure, her warm golden-toned skin and the delicate symmetry of her features. No one who saw her would think she needed silk and jewels, and Anna sought quickly for some tactful compliment or reassurance.

“You look lovely,” she said. “I’ve always loved yellow, but I can’t carry it off with my complexion.” It was no more than the truth. In any shade of yellow, Anna wasn’t so much fair-skinned as possessed of a deathly pallor.

“Thank you,” Miss Jones said with a rather wistful smile. “You look beautiful.” She glanced back at Lieutenant Arrington, and Anna followed her gaze and saw that he was still raptly watching her, Anna. But Miss Jones looked still more wistful, and Anna abruptly wondered if perhaps she were infatuated with her cousin…but surely not. It didn’t do to build so much meaning on a glance or a half-veiled expression, in any case. How ridiculous it would be to imagine thwarted love if Miss Jones were sad for some completely unrelated cause or simply wasn’t feeling quite the thing.

“Thank you,” Anna said. “While you are here, you must be sure to see the paintings in the gallery. James can explain them better than I, though.”

Miss Jones glanced at James, then turned back to Anna with a slight shake of her head. “Certainly,” she said. “Is that a Reynolds there over the mantel?”

“It is,” Anna confirmed. “That’s my mother, and the baby is James.”

“It’s a beautiful painting,” Miss Jones said. Again she was the calm, self-possessed girl Anna had come to expect her to be, all wistfulness and agitation gone—or at least hidden. “I shall have to examine it more closely.”

With a parting smile, Miss Jones moved on to speak with Anna’s uncle, last of their informal receiving line. Anna greeted Lady Mowbray, but her body hummed with awareness of Lieutenant Arrington, and Lady Mowbray, with a knowing sniff, did not detain her long.

At last! She tipped back her head—she had to, to meet Lieutenant Arrington’s eyes at such close range. He was the tallest gentleman she knew, well over six feet and more than a foot taller than she. She held out her hands to him and felt a new thrill as her small soft hands were swallowed, all too briefly, by his strong large ones before he very properly broke the contact.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Arrington,” she said. “Welcome to Orchard Park.”

“Thank you.” He smiled his slow, grave smile that Anna liked so very well, but he seemed startled, and he kept looking from her face to her dress. “You…I’ve never seen anything like that dress before.”

She batted him on the arm with her fan. “You like it, I hope?” she asked.

“Of course I do.” He offered her his arm, and she took it and let him lead her toward a quiet corner of the room. “It’s just so very unique.”

He stressed the word
unique,
and Anna wondered fleetingly if he didn’t quite approve of standing out from the crowd. But perhaps that was natural. Of course an officer must impose order and conformity on the men he commanded, and she supposed a young officer trying to rise would only wish to stand out for bravery, not for any singular quirks of behavior.

“I know it isn’t quite the usual fashion,” she said, anxious not to lose his good opinion. “It’s made from silk my father brought from India, and the weave and embroidery were so lovely that I didn’t wish them greatly altered.”

“It’s a beautiful dress,” he said, staring so earnestly into her eyes that Anna was sure he meant she was beautiful in it.

They sat down together on a low sofa, and she smoothed her skirts, looking up at him from demurely lowered lashes. “Do you suppose the Sixteenth will ever be posted to India?” she asked. “For myself, I quite long to see it, since it was so important to my father and he told me so many tales of his life there.” She had come perilously close to saying,
I want you to marry me so I can go wherever the Sixteenth goes,
but surely she wasn’t deluding herself about his intentions. Perhaps he only needed a little encouragement to come to the point, in case he thought her fortune and slightly higher rank rendered her above his touch.

He raised his eyebrows. “You would? It’s a long journey to a difficult climate, especially for a woman of your birth.”

She almost took umbrage at that. Anna had been brought up in the Highlands, by an aunt and great-aunt impatient with the delicate airs affected by ladies of softer climes. If she had inherited her father’s constitution, she should be able to live in India without losing her health, and those Scottish kings Aunt Lilias was so fond of boasting of had hardly been frail weaklings.

Surely he only meant to be chivalrous, and there was something delightful about being treated as if one were precious, fragile and delicate, even when one was quite the reverse. Lieutenant Arrington didn’t need to know she’d grown up swimming in an icy loch and riding bareback on Highland ponies. Not that she meant to allow her husband—whomever he might be—to treat her as if she were made of eggshell.

“If I were married to a gentleman who was sent to India, whether with the army or the Company,” she said, adding the latter to make it a little less obvious that what she meant was,
when I am married to you,
“I should think it would be a far greater hardship to be parted from my husband for years upon years, than to embark upon a long voyage and live in a different climate.”