Dante was anxious. And for reasons he could not state. He should have been ecstatic. Tonight was the night that he announced to the world that Anna was his bride. She was the only woman he had ever wanted. He could not shake the feeling that something was about to happen, and it was nothing good. The last time he felt this way, he thought he had lost her forever.
The white cravat his valet had elegantly tied was suffocating. Dante had been dressed for the ball well ahead of any of the guests and rather than loiter in his room, he went to his study. He would have preferred the cottage. At least there, he could complete the painting he had started for Anastasia.
He poured a glass of brandy, noticing his hand shook with anxious nervousness as he swirled the contents. His grandmother had taken the news of his choice in bride well—too well. Perhaps that was what was bothering him.
He downed the contents in one gulp. The liquid burned his throat as it travelled into the empty pit of his stomach. The anxiety had not eased. He reached for the decanter again. Before he had a chance to pour another hearty helping, the door to his study flew open, crashing against the wall.
“Where is she?” Mr. Weston demanded. Dante had met the man on several occasions, was familiar with his work as investigator to the ton, but had never interacted much with him on a personal level.
“Your sister?” Why was he being questioned about Miss Albryght?
“No, Miss Quintin.” Weston stormed up to him, and grabbed him by the cravat. “If any harm comes to her…”
“Weston, stop!” Mrs. Weston screamed from the open doorway.
“Give me one good reason,” he said over his shoulder, but was still glaring at Dante.
“You don’t have all the facts.” At least Mrs. Weston was a voice of reason. Although Dante was unsure what facts she could be referring to. He knew he had done nothing wrong.
“What do you want with Miss Quintin?”
Weston pulled him in close, twisting Dante’s cravat. “I’m here to take her home.”
The breath was caught in his throat, but he continued to hold his ground. He pushed off Weston and ground out with a rasp, “Like hell you will. Who gives you the right…?”
“She is under my protection. I will not see her hurt and abandoned like she was eight years ago.”
Weston threw a punch that landed square on Dante’s jaw with a loud thwack. Pain ricocheted through his face.
“Stop this!” Mrs. Weston screamed as she ran between them.
Dante lifted his head, rubbing his jaw. His head was spinning. “What the bloody hell is this all about?”
Speaking over his wife, Weston growled out, “Your grandmother didn’t think the baby was yours. Did you think the same? Is that why you sent her away this evening when she told you? You couldn’t accept the truth.”
Baby?
“Baby?” Mrs. Weston managed to utter the word first.
When Mr. Weston failed to answer, Dante asked the same question. “Baby? What baby?”
Weston stepped in close. He looked like he wanted to kill someone. He narrowed his gaze and searched deep into Dante’s eyes. He would have been scared if he had something to hide; the man had intimidation down to a science.
“You mean to tell me that you know nothing of your daughter?”
Dante stumbled back.
“Daughter?” He had a daughter?
He tried to formulate the words when Weston continued to enlighten him. “You never knew that Anastasia had borne and lost a baby eight years ago?”
Dante was about to demand a complete explanation when Miss Albryght pushed her way into the room. “Lord Huntingdon, Anastasia is missing.”
The burning in his throat thickened. The fire in his stomach exploded. “What do you mean she is missing?” he asked as he pulled away from Weston’s grasp.
“Anastasia left her room over an hour ago and was coming to see you.” Miss Albryght skirted past her brother. “But Lybbe overheard Gibbs tell Dabney that the carriage would take Anastasia to Scotland first thing in the morning.”
The dread that had been simmering in his gut was now at a full boil.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Weston demanded as Dante pushed past him.
“To find my future wife.” He did not wait for Weston’s response or to see if anyone was going to follow him. He stormed to his grandmother’s sitting room and entered without knocking.
“Where is she?” There was no doubt in his mind that his grandmother was behind this.
“To whom are you referring?” she said with a sly smile that only confirmed his suspicions.
“Miss Quintin. Where is Miss Quintin?”
“I have no idea. Although Dabney said she saw the young lady in question leave in such a hurry earlier this afternoon.”
“She’s lying.” The accusation came from behind Dante. He turned around to see Weston reclining against the doorjamb.
For as long as Dante could remember everyone had folded to Grandmother’s demands, but no more. This was going to end tonight.
“What do you know of the baby?”
Grandmother’s face paled, but her features remained stoic. “I have no idea what you are referring to.” She ignored Dante and continued on with her embroidery. It was an odd task at a moment such as this, but Dante suspected it was her means to ignore his questions.
Weston stormed further into the room. “Dammit to hell. You are the one responsible for hurting Anastasia.” Dante stopped Weston before he could reach his grandmother. She did not deserve his protection, but he still needed to know to where Anastasia had disappeared, and yelling at his grandmother was not going to achieve results.
Dante rounded on the bitter old woman and leaned on the table, blocking her view of herself in the mirror. “Is it true that there was a baby and that you knew it was mine?”
“It could have been any man’s bastard. Miss Quintin’s father knew who you were even if she claimed she did not. I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
Dante slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the expensive decorative glass bottles. “What did you do?” His voice reverberated through the space. It was the first time in his life that he had raised such a forceful voice to any woman, let alone his grandmother.
She raised her muted brown eyes to his. “I did what I needed to do to preserve the appearance of this family. That little whore…”
He whipped his grandmother around to face him. “How dare you play with people’s lives like it is a game of chess.” Dante had lost all patience. If she were a man, Dante would have punched her by now. “Where is she? Tell me where Anastasia is or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” She stared at him, daring him. “You can threaten me all you want, but I am still mistress of Paradiso.”
To say that Dante was frustrated would have been an understatement. Although his grandmother was responsible for Anna’s disappearance, among other things, she was not about to reveal anything. Grandmother would be as silent as the grave just to spite him. How was he…? He turned to Weston. “Help me find her.”
Weston nodded his head and then turned in the direction of the hall and spoke to someone. “Be sure that she doesn’t leave this room, Bacheler.”
Weston then turned his attention back to Dante. “This is your estate. Tell me everywhere she could possibly be.”
Laughter broke through his thoughts. “You’ll never find her.” His grandmother’s final words sent an icy chill down his spine.
Dante guided Mr. Weston in the hall and the ladies followed. The man Mr. Weston referred to as Bacheler brushed past them and entered his grandmother’s sitting room.
As if answering the unspoken question, Mr. Weston said, “Bacheler has been in my employ for many years. He can be trusted.”
“Your man understands not to let her go?”
“Don’t worry about Bacheler.” Dante heard the annoyed tone lacing Mr. Weston’s words and chose to ignore it.
“I’ll concern myself with whatever…”
Mrs. Weston interjected before Dante could finish his sentence. “Is it possible for the two of you to stop acting like little children? We have more important matters to resolve.”
“I don’t believe Lady Huntingdon would have locked Anastasia away in the house,” Miss Albryght began in a firm tone. “But, Philippa and I can search here just in case. I’m sure we can get some of the guests to help.”
“Good, you two start searching.” Before Mr. Weston let the ladies leave, he pulled Mrs. Weston toward him. “Good evening my dear,” he said before he gave his wife a hearty kiss.
“Really, Weston,” Miss Albryght exclaimed. “Could that not wait till after Anastasia is safe?”
Mr. Weston did not say a word, just smiled.
There were several places Anna could be. “Why don’t we start with the pantheon?”
“We will rendezvous in thirty minutes,” Weston instructed his wife and Miss Albryght. “And be careful.”
“Let’s go.” Dante took off at a clipped pace with Mr. Weston on his heels.
They searched the pantheon, the cottage, and even the grotto, but there was no sign of Anna anywhere.
“Damn,” Dante swore under his breath. “Where could she be?”
“There must be someplace else that Lady Huntingdon could have had her taken.” The frustration in Mr. Weston’s tone matched his own.
There was one location that Dante had not thought of at first. “Bloody hell, the tower.” He began to run in that direction, with Mr. Weston close behind. It had not been used in years and since it was not visible from the house or temple, it was an ideal place for Anna to be kept captive. He had no doubt in his mind that she was being held against her will.
As he neared the clearing, Dante thought he heard a shriek in the distance. He stopped, trying to get a better listen, but his heart pounded so loudly in his chest it disturbed the night’s sounds.
Weston came up beside him. “It’s Anastasia.”
Without another word, they started running in the direction of the cry. When the tower came into view, Dante’s heart stopped. Anna was dangling from a window twenty feet off the ground, her pale blue gown flapping in the wind.
“Help me!” Her panicked cry set Dante’s nerves over the edge.
They ran toward her. “Hang on,” he called out to her, unsure if she heard him over her pleas.
A female figure was struggling to push Anna further out the window. The clouds cleared overhead, casting light on the dire situation.
Dante ran with every bit of energy he possessed, only slowing as he reached the tower door. He yanked on the heavy handle, but the door was locked.
“I’ll get the door open. You go to Anastasia.” Dante did not care if Weston ordered him about. Right now all that mattered was Anastasia. He wanted her safe and in his arms.
Dante was standing directly beneath her, but there was nothing he could do. He felt helpless. “I’m right here, Anna.” He called up to her. “Just hang on.”
“I can’t,” she cried. He could hear the anguish in her voice. Dante ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He had to save her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weston ramming the door with his shoulder. The sound of wood cracking broke through Anna’s cries. Another charge and Weston disappeared into the tower. After that, everything happened quickly.
Loud shouts penetrated through the tower.
Cries and commotion in the distance grew closer.
Anna screamed for help, her hands fumbling to hang on.
In the next moment, Dante watched as she lost her grip. All thought of himself disappeared. He braced himself to catch her. He would take the brunt of the fall.
Cries echoed through the countryside as her body slammed into his. Dante wrapped his arms around her as he fell to the ground.
Anna was sobbing heavily, her chest heaving with each breath she took. Brushing her hair out of her face, he kissed her cheek. “Are you all right?” He ran his hands over her body. Miraculously she didn’t appear to have broken anything.
“I’m…I’m…yes.” She was breathing heavily.
“Shh, I’ve got you.” Dante sat up; a swift pain lanced his back as he cradled her in his arms. “Nothing and no one can harm you.” She buried her head into his chest and cried softly.
As if on cue, the woman partly responsible for Anna’s current predicament was guided out of the tower by Weston. He looked over at them. “Anastasia, are you all right?”
Her breathing had evened to a steady calm. “Yes. Thank you for coming, Weston.”
Jealousy reared its ugly head. Why did Weston get her appreciation and he did not? Surely she was not going to blame him for his grandmother’s actions?
“I’m going to take this one up to the house,” Weston said as he nudged Dabney along. The woman’s face looked bruised. He didn’t want to know what Weston had done, but was thankful for his assistance.
Anna turned her attention to Dante. “Thank you for catching me.” She kissed his cheek and then rested her head against his shoulder. The jealous beast disappeared.
“You are most welcome.”
“How did you find me?”
“Miss Albryght alerted us to your disappearance. I questioned my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother hates me.” Anna shook her head. “I don’t know what I ever did to earn such disdain, but…” He saw the tears pool in her eyes. “She kept us apart.”
Perhaps it was too soon to discuss the baby, but he needed to know. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She stilled in his arms, but did not look up at him. She must have guessed to what he was referring. “I wanted to, but it just hurt too much. She was so small and weak.” That final sentence brought on more tears.
Dante raised his Anna’s chin and looked into her eyes. His heart mourned for the daughter he had not known he had lost. He would never forgive himself for not being there for either of them. “I’m so sorry that I was not there.”
“I used to blame you. I thought that you didn’t care. I was so hurt and angry.”
Shaking her head, she sniffed back the tears. “But, you didn’t know.” She stroked his cheek. “I cannot be angry now, knowing what I do. I just want you, Dante.”
Reaching up, she pulled his head down and took his lips in a soft kiss.
“Anastasia!” The sound of Miss Albryght’s cries broke through the calm as she came running toward them, followed closely behind by Mrs. Weston.
Dante began to stand, his back reminding him that he took the brunt of Anna’s fall. At the sight of her friend running toward them, Anna hobbled forward.
Miss Albryght almost knocked Anna over she embraced her with such force. “Oh, you’re all right. I thought…”
“You’re not crying, Isabel?”
“I never cry,” she responded through sniffles just as Mrs. Weston approached.
“Oh, Anastasia,” Mrs. Weston started encircling both Anna and Miss Albryght in her embrace. “Thank heavens you are safe.”
Anna reached her hand out to Dante. She did not say a word, and she didn’t have to. Her loving touch said it all.
* * *
By the time they reached the house, the guests had already gathered in the ballroom. The sound of the orchestra playing invited them into the festive space. Despite all that had happened, there was great cause for celebration this evening. However, before he could celebrate, there was one unpleasant but much overdue task Dante must oversee.
“I need to speak with my grandmother alone, but I don’t want you far away. Will you wait outside the sitting room?”
Dante wanted to confront his grandmother and if Anna was with him, he suspected the old tyrant would not cooperate even more than usual.
“I’ll be right here.” Anna brushed a kiss on his cheek.
Dante strolled into the sitting room. After this evening, he would have no further contact with his grandmother.
“Is it true?” He demanded as he stood over his grandmother.
She did not even try to hide her annoyance at being confined, and now with being interrogated. “Is what true?”
“Let me refresh your memory.” Dante continued to hold his ground. It felt good. “That you purposely kept Anastasia and I apart. That you knew she was with my child.” The fear and guilt shone bright in her eyes, but her features maintained an eerie calm. “That even after her family informed me of her passing, you knew it not to be true. That you paid her father to lie for you.”
Not admitting her guilt, she stated, “Whatever you claimed that I have done was for the good of this family. Your grandfather did not understand that; why should I expect you to?”
Dante suspected his grandmother was responsible for far more than just keeping him and Anastasia apart. Over the years, there had been too many accidents, too many mysterious happenings to be coincidental.
He knew his grandmother would not confess. Drastic measures were the only solution to this disaster. “You are forthwith excluded from any and all doings with this family. I am the Earl of Huntingdon and I will be making the decisions from now on.”
“You cannot do this.” Her voice remained calm, unaffected, but the fear in her eyes spoke otherwise.
“It is already decided. Arrangements will be made for you to be taken to Hunt Hall. You will not leave the estate, host no events, and receive no visitors.” It was the most secluded estate he owned, not to mention the only one that had yet to be renovated.
“So I am to be exiled for one simple mistake.”
“Simple?” Dante’s voice escalated. “You tried to ruin my life. You wanted to harm Anastasia because she did not fit into your scheme.”
“What did you expect? She was the daughter of a curate, and you were the grandson of an earl. There were appearances to be kept. I was not going to have my family’s lineage be tainted by some…some nobody.”
Dante could not believe that everything his grandmother had done was because of title and station. “Is that all you care about?”
Grandmother remained still, refusing to answer or even acknowledge him.
There was no point in arguing. No matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried to reason with her, she would always see herself as being correct, justified in her actions. “I am done discussing this.” He turned his back on her. “From this day forth, I have no grandmother.”
She did not say a word, or even express any remorse. He should have known. Had he opened his eyes a little wider, he would have seen the truth of her long ago. The only person for whom she had ever shown any affection was his uncle—her first-born. And even then, her affection came with a price.
Dante would not let her dictate to him anymore.
For the first time in his life, he was his own man.