The Beautiful One (15 page)

“I look forward to seeing them on their return.”

Tommy looked pleasantly surprised. “I'm certain they'd be delighted to see you. It's been rather a while, hasn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” he continued, “London was
not
so diverting. It's all the same old parties and routs, and I'm glad to be away from it. In fact, there are a few people whom I won't miss seeing.”

“Oh?”

“People keep trying to fix me up with their sisters and cousins and such. The young ladies are all very pleasing, et cetera, but not a thought in their heads. It's deuced awkward—you really can't have a conversation with a one of them. And it spoils the fun of the hunt, being fixed up with people.”

“Your problems are truly monumental, Brother. But do consider that you might wish to marry before long.”

Tommy shuddered, which amused his brother.

“Good grief,” he groaned. “I'm only twenty—no need to even begin thinking about being leg-shackled. Why, Father didn't marry Mother until he was at least twenty-five, and look how marvelously their marriage worked out. I take them as my models—they had years of bliss. I'd be a fool to do differently.”

Will only hesitated a moment before saying, “Indeed.”

“And after your ball,” Tommy continued, “I mean to stop over at Henshaw's estate for his ‘Grand Party for Art' or whatever the devil he's calling the event. He's promised the unveiling of a magnificent new painting of this apparently stunning woman who's in a book of erotic drawings he's got. Have you heard about all this? She's called the Beautiful One.”

“I saw something in the newspaper. Henshaw must be relishing being the center of attention. I suppose she's his latest mistress or something like.”

“Doubtless,” Tommy agreed, laughing. “But this Beautiful One thing really is the talk of the
ton
these days. Henshaw's obviously enjoying deciding who gets to see the book—
I
didn't make the list. But I've heard that she really is something to see.”

He sighed ruefully. “It is a diverting mystery. Why don't you come to the party? It would do you good to get out of Stillwell for a bit.”

The last thing Will wanted to do was join a house party full of chattering hordes. But he appreciated his brother's concern. And he'd have to begin getting out in the world again at some point. “I'll think about it.”

Anna had arrived near the library door just in time to hear Tommy mention
The
Beautiful
One
and Henshaw's ghastly party, and she'd stood there listening in helpless horror, holding a large vase she'd brought down from the attic.

A party was being planned at which her identity as the Beautiful One was going to be revealed. Dear God.

Will knew about the book.

He also knew she'd been using a false name.

She stood there shaking, her mind whirling.

She knew he was angry that she hadn't said she was Dr. Bristol's daughter, but he hadn't exposed her lie when Tommy mentioned her father, and she held out hope that she could somehow explain to him that the false name was just a detail.

Far more pressing, though, was the fact that his brother had apparently almost seen the book. What a disaster that would have been. He hadn't said whether it had been in London or somewhere else that he'd seen the marquess. Had it been somewhere close to Stillwell? It wasn't as if she could ask.

She lifted a shaking hand to rub her face. What she wanted at that moment was to sit down on the marble floor and bury her head in her knees and weep. Her father would certainly have pointed out that to feel fresh despair and rage over those drawings and the power they had to make her into an outcast was foolish. But something had changed. Now, she'd had a taste of what she might be losing.

She reminded herself harshly that she and Will could never have married. He was a viscount and she was a doctor's daughter. His sights must be set on women far above her. But what had grown between them since she'd come to Stillwell had touched her deeply, and she realized now how much she wanted to hold on to hope that something might happen, something that could change all the reasons he wasn't for her.

But that would be a fairy tale, and she knew better than to believe in such things. The book existed, and it was her ruin. She must stop hoping and dreaming.

She squeezed her eyelids together hard and took a deep breath. She
must
not
allow herself to feel so deeply about Will. She would be leaving soon, and that was a good thing.

Behind her, she heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs, and she steadied herself and turned to see Judith, carrying a small oil painting.

“Was that Miss Chittister just arriving?” Judith asked when she got to the bottom of the stairs. “I thought I heard a coach.”

“No, it was Lord Grandville's brother.”

Judith's face lit up. “Tommy's here? The dear boy, how I've missed him!”

A bark of masculine laughter issued from behind the library doors.

“I was just going to get Grandville's opinion on putting this painting in the drawing room. And that vase might look nice there as well. Would you mind bringing it along, Anna, so I can welcome Tommy properly first?”

Anna would far rather not see Will and his brother again just now, but she almost had a sense Judith needed a little moral support. She seemed eager to see Tommy, but what if he were as unhappy to see her as Will had been? Anna nodded and followed Judith into the library.

“Tommy!” Judith said.

The young man jumped out of his chair as her greeting caught his attention and strode over to her with a grin.

“Judith!” He took the little painting out of her hands, putting it on a table, and pulled her into an enormous hug as Will stood with an impassive look and Anna lingered by the door.

“Why, you must set all the hearts of the young ladies and their matchmaking mamas to beating faster,” Judith said, after he'd said how well she was looking.

He chuckled. “I cannot complain, though as merely the brother of Viscount Grandville, I don't merit anywhere near the attention I would if I were the man himself.”

“Yes,” Judith agreed, letting her eyes rest on the viscount. “I'm certain he is very much missed.”

“You may put that vase down, Anna,” Will said, and she could see that she was going to get the haughty viscount treatment. She gave him a mutinous look but complied.

“Well,” said Tommy, “he shall have to play the host in a very few days at the ball, and there will be no escaping the ladies then.”

“Thank you, Tommy, that will do,” Will said. His brother laughed.

“I've had such fun on my travels,” Judith said, “to Egypt and here and there, and I do have my dear Tristan, but I miss family. It's so good to see you both.”

“And where is Tristan?” Tommy asked, even as the dog trotted through the open door.

He crouched down to pet the dog. “He does remind me of Cadfael.” He glanced up at Anna. “Cadfael was the sire, our father's favorite hound.”

“Ah,” she said, smiling. It was kind of him to include her, but then, he thought of her as the daughter of an old family friend.

He stood. “Doubtless Father would be glad to know part of dear old Cad is here with us.”

Will cleared his throat. “Was there something you wanted, Judith?”

“Yes. I was wondering whether to put these things in the drawing room.” Judith gestured to the vase and the painting. “It's quite bare in there, and guests will surely wander in during the ball. What do you think?”

He looked at her as though he barely knew her, and Anna thought how very good he was at using lordly haughtiness as a shield.

“I have no opinion whatsoever. But you may ask Anna. I am ceding all authority in the matter of the ball to her. In fact, she will be my hostess.”

A prolonged moment of stunned silence greeted these words.

What?
He couldn't. Hosting the ball was an honor due to his stepmother. And the last thing Anna wanted was to appear prominently at a public event.

He crossed his arms and tipped up his chin, and she saw that he meant to pay Judith out for forcing his hand over the ball.

“Of course,” Judith said, “it will be as you prefer. But will Anna know what your wishes might be?”

“Is there some confusion, some problem with this direction?”

Judith folded her hands before her and made herself look into his hard blue eyes. “No, I understand you perfectly.”

But Anna had a problem with his decree—a huge problem. How on earth could she be at this ball, let alone be its hostess, when men were looking for her?

She gave him a very dark look. “My lord,” she said, “I'm sure you will wish Lady Grandville to have the honor of being your hostess.”

“I believe I've made my wishes known, Anna. You are the daughter of an old and respected family friend who is doing me a service in caring for my niece, and I am repaying you by having you host my ball.”

“But it's too great an honor,” she persisted. “I don't wish—”

“You will handle all the arrangements,” he said, cutting her off. “It's only a modest occasion for the neighbors.”

The guests were to be the neighbors. Very likely no one in this country neighborhood would have seen the scandalous book—yet—especially since Henshaw was apparently showing it only to selected people. She might very likely escape the ball with no harm done.

But what he was doing to Judith was nothing short of a public snub.

Tommy was looking at Judith with a concerned expression on his handsome features. “I say,” he began.

The viscount raised one haughty eyebrow at his brother.

Judith turned to Anna. “Where shall we put these, my dear?”

* * *

Will had to hand it to Judith; she did humble well.

Anna smiled at her and Tommy, pointedly excluding him, which did not surprise him but annoyed him mightily. They left with their furnishings.

Tommy crossed his arms and fixed Will with a grim look. His brother had grown into manhood when Will wasn't looking, and he made an imposing figure now. Tommy was twelve years younger, but increasingly now, that gap would mean less.

“That was badly done, Will. The honor should go to Judith, and well you know it. People will talk.”

He shrugged. “It's only a small ball for the neighbors, and I am doubtless already considered eccentric.”

“What the devil is it,” Tommy demanded, “that's between you and Judith? You've always been so cool to her, despite her kindness to both of us. I would have thought that by now, whatever was between you might have fallen away.”

“It's nothing. We have just never been friends. I was nineteen when she came. Maybe I simply did not need another mother.” He wouldn't for the world spoil Tommy's happy memories of their parents and the family life they'd shared with the knowledge of their father's betrayal of their mother.

A knock sounded at the door again, and Norris appeared with items needing attention.

“Well, I'll leave you to your papers,” Tommy said with resignation. “But tell me, what about the cottages? Have you made any more progress since my last visit?”

“Yes. They're almost finished.”

“I should be happy to help again,” Tommy said as he strode toward the door, turning as he went. “I quite enjoyed swinging a hammer last time.”

“Certainly. Perhaps after I finish with Norris. And, Tommy,” Will said, smiling, “I
am
glad you've come. Stillwell has turned into a veritable henhouse.”

Tommy's laughter rang out as he passed through the doors.

* * *

In the drawing room, Judith rested the small painting against a wall while Anna put down the vase and thought how much easier things would be if she could just leave Stillwell now. Even though the ball would only be for the neighbors, playing a prominent role at the event was just the kind of risk she needed to avoid, never mind that if she left, surely Will would be forced to see that Judith was the right person to be his hostess.

But she couldn't leave. All was not yet resolved between Lizzie and him, and Anna couldn't abandon her. And she needed the two hundred pounds he'd promised her.

She refused to pay attention to the tugging in her heart that said leaving the man she now knew as Will was going to be very, very hard.

Judith was looking at her quizzically. “I didn't know you were a friend of the family, Anna, before Grandville mentioned it just now. Why didn't you say?”

“Er…I didn't want to presume on such a small acquaintance. My father was a doctor who sometimes attended the family at Littlebury Lodge.”

Judith squinted. “I'm afraid I don't remember any of the doctors, though Alistair and I were sometimes gone in the summer, and fortunately neither of us was prone to illness. Perhaps we were away when he came.”

Anna nodded, then took a breath. “I'm not happy about what Lord Grandville has done, choosing me to be hostess. It's clear he's only doing it to hurt you.”

Judith sighed. “It's all right. Truly. I came to Stillwell prepared for all kinds of resistance from him. And I forced his hand over the ball when I brought Miranda here. I'm not surprised he felt the need to retaliate.”

“Well,” Anna said, “since he'll never know what's decided between us, you must go on with the plans you have in mind for the ball, and I will assist you in whatever way you may require.”

“Thank you.” Judith smiled. “Lizzie is fortunate to have you as her governess.” She traced a fingertip along the gilded top of the picture frame. “I do wish she could come stay with me at my house in Town, but he would never allow it.”

“No,” Anna agreed. He could be so frustratingly hard-hearted and domineering. If she'd thought he was softening a little, today he had proved her wrong.

Judith cocked her head. “She would certainly benefit if there were some way you might stay longer. I don't suppose he's asked you to?”

“He did, actually, but I can't. Once my month here is over, I am to go to my aunt.”

“Ah, well.” Judith lifted the painting and held it up to a conspicuously vacant area. “Shall I have it hung here?”

When Anna got back to her room some time later, she felt dusty and exhausted and not a little gloomy. She rang for a bath, which the maid set up in her room. It felt like heaven, having someone make a nice hot bath for her, and she took what comfort she could in it.

When she emerged later, she found that the maid had laid two gowns out on her bed—two
new
, very pretty gowns—along with a pair of pert green leather slippers with blue satin ribbons. A note, folded and sealed, lay on one of the dresses.

In a strong male hand was written:

You'll need something to wear, as your other gowns seem to have disappeared. Truth be told, I think Vicar was looking for contributions for a charity sale.

No! He hadn't!

She ran to the wardrobe, where she'd hung her blue gown next to the brown one before taking her bath, but the cabinet was empty.

He
had.

Grimly, she went back to her bed and examined the new gowns. They were a pretty pair, both made of the finest muslin, one in a pale apple green and the other the clear blue of a May sky. They were not fussy or embellished—a governess could certainly wear them. But they were exquisitely made. These gowns would not let her pass unnoticed when she left Stillwell.

With a huff of frustration at his high-handedness, she took the green gown and slipped into it. Its fresh cloth fell softly against her skin, and the bodice fit remarkably well for something that had been made without her. She supposed he'd had a maid measure one of her gowns when she was out of her room. The soft shoes fit like a second skin after the sturdy leather of her old half boots, and he must have been very crafty about getting her size, because she only had the one pair.

She turned to look in the cheval glass. The vivid green fabric seemed to bring out the pink in her cheeks and set off the black of her hair. The gown's bodice revealed a tasteful amount of her bosom and expertly suggested the slim lines of her waist before falling in a pretty cascade to the tops of the darker green leather slippers. She'd taken care again that morning to put her hair up neatly, as she'd done the day before when she'd made over her gowns.