Latimer heard Jenny wish one of the maids a good morning and thrust Finch’s letter into his pocket. Of late, his dear wife had been given to easy tears and he thought it was the situation with Adam and Desirée that made her feel so low. Now was not the moment to let her know that in the week since Adam and Desirée had returned from Scotland, Jean-Marc had contacted Ross and told him their friendship was over—or that Finch was desolate at the impossible strain placed on any future encounters with their old Mayfair Square friends.
Jenny entered the library, followed closely by a new maid, Gretta, who carried a hot chocolate pot and cups on an enameled tray. Taking chocolate with Jenny late in the morning had become a ritual in recent weeks and, although the rich drink wouldn’t have been his choice at such a time of day, he did love to be with her under whatever pretext.
As usual, the tray was placed at one end of the long map table and the maid left.
Latimer caught Jenny about the waist and kissed her soundly. In fact he kissed her so long and so thoroughly that he had to raise his face and rest his chin on top of her head—otherwise, he was not sure he could contain his always ready drive to make love to her.
She snuggled into him…and started to cry softly.
Alarmed, Latimer looked at her closely. “You’re crying again, love. Won’t you please tell me why? Is it because of all this unpleasantness among our friends.”
“Oh, Latimer, I am ridiculous.” She wiped away tears. “I am desperate about our friends, o’course, and I canna bear feelin’ angry with Jean-Marc even though it is he who has taken all the joy out o’ somethin’ wonderful. But these are tears for a different reason. I’ll pour chocolate.”
He subdued his desire to stop her from doing anything until she’d explained herself, but then he realized that something else was different about his wife and it unnerved him. “I am particularly fond of that dressing robe, Jenny,” he said. Until recently it had been her habit to get up before him and dress before coming downstairs.
With a pink floral cup and saucer in each hand, she turned around and went to a sofa near the fire. Jenny held a cup out to him and he took it before joining her on the couch.
She smoothed a hand down the lace panel on the front of her yellow and cream striped robe. “Forgive me for not dressing before I came down. It look me much longer than usual t’get up today and I didna want t’miss the opportunity for our time together before ye’re away to the warehouses.”
Something was wrong with her. She was sick. Latimer breathed deeply through his nose and tried to calm himself. “We will always have our special times together, no matter what.”
Jenny looked to the tall windows where a strong, cold wind threw the naked branches of a willow tree across the panes. The hollow, scraping sound they made cast Latimer lower and he only retained his pleasant expression with great effort. What could be wrong with Jenny? Would she tell him if he didn’t press her?
She set her cup aside. “These are happy tears.”
“Happy tears,” he repeated, disposing of his own chocolate in one scalding swallow. He coughed and put the empty cup down.
“In a few months, there will be three members of our family, Latimer.”
He inclined his head. “Three?” His smile must make him appear foolish. “Three.” The reality of what she meant flooded him. “We are going to have a child?”
Jenny nodded. She was, he noted, pale and her face was thinner than usual. “But dinna worry, I’ll no take t’wearin’ nightclothes all through the days. It’s just tha’—”
“You may wear whatever makes you feel most happy, comfortable and calm,” he told her. “And you will think happy thoughts and do things that make you happy. Otherwise it won’t be fair.”
She frowned at him.
“Because I’m going to be outrageously happy so you shouldn’t let yourself be less so.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. Damned if he wasn’t close to tears himself.
He felt Jenny’s fingers on his cheek. “Are ye cryin’, too?”
With great care, he scooped her onto his lap and cradled her. “I think I may be. I thought I already had more good fortune than I should ever have hoped for.”
“No, no, that was me. I already had more than I should have hoped for.”
“You look thin. Have you been seen by a medical man yet?”
She took his hand and pressed it to her belly. “Thin?” she said and laughed. “If I’m thin in some parts it’s because I’m not feelin’ like eatin’ so much. But there are parts that are far from thin.”
How could he not have noticed how the shape of her stomach had changed? “It’s wonderful. I’d like you to feel like this all the time.”
“Well, I wouldna’, sir, if ye dinna mind. But I’ll enjoy each moment while we wait. And then I’ll pray for more—but not all o’ the time.” She kissed his cheek.
Latimer leaned back and held her close. “Now we won’t be the childless ones anymore. I can hardly wait to tell our friends.”
Jenny’s giggle wasn’t like her, but it was something else Latimer fell in love with. “There’s somethin’ so funny, Latimer. Sibyl’s increasin’ and so is Meg. And Finnie, too. What d’ye think o’ that?”
“They aren’t having this baby,” he said touching her belly again, “but I suppose they’ll have to be happy with the babies they do get…Finnie?”
“Yes, Finnie, too. She wrote t’me about it.”
“She never said a word in her letter to me.” He knew his mistake as soon as the words were spoken. “But I suppose she wouldn’t since it was all about the business.” Finch still owned a part of the import business they’d started together.
“No doubt,” Jenny said, still smiling and looking softly distant.
He expected her to say something more about the letter at any moment, but Jennings knocked and announced that Miss Anne Williams hoped to speak with Mrs. More.
“Bring her in at once,” Jenny said, and to Latimer, “It’s such an unhappy time for so many. Nothin’s been said about what’s t’happen t’Anne.”
Anne Williams brought a breath of cool morning air with her. Strands of blond hair had blown free to trail at her neck and the sides of her face. Latimer liked her determined posture and unassuming air.
“Good mornin’ t’ye, Anne,” Jenny said. “There’s hot chocolate in the pot. Take some. It’ll warm ye up.”
Anne smiled and murmured her thanks—and poured a cup for herself.
“A busy time for everyone,” Latimer said, almost at a loss for anything at all to say.
“Very busy,” Anne said. Her mouth and chin were firmly set and she made a pretty picture in a red pelisse and dress with a simple matching bonnet. “And confusing. I came to you because you are sensible and I think you will do me a small service.”
“O’course,” Jenny said at once.
Latimer would prefer to wait and find out what Anne wanted before agreeing so readily.
She didn’t sit down, but wandered about the room, slowly sipping her chocolate and glancing at Latimer and Jenny. At the windows she inclined her head and said, “This isn’t a day for sitting in the park.”
“Too cold,” Latimer said, but her manner puzzled him. “There’s someone out there?” He went to take a look himself.
“Poor man,” Anne said. “I think he’s sick with love for the Princess—or, if he’s lucky, it’s the idea of being in love with her that’s got him so sad.”
“Anthony FitzDuram?” Jenny said.
“Yes.” Latimer glanced back at her and smiled. “Poor fellow is sitting on a bench with his chin on his chest. Hardly seems the thing to do under the circumstances.”
“Hopelessness can make a person stop caring what others think,” Anne said, sniffing the chocolate. “When there seems to be no one who cares and no reason to go on.” She looked quickly at Latimer and turned away from the window.
Latimer watched FitzDuram, hat tilted forward, hands pushed into the pockets of his greatcoat. The man disturbed him.
“Would you please give a message to Princess Desirée for me,” Anne said.
Curious, Latimer left the window and picked up a book he’d left on the desk. He took it to the shelf where it belonged, glancing at Anne from time to time.
“I’m going to leave London,” she said, and her chin rose even higher. “It’s time for me to—” She swallowed and coughed before going on, “It’s time for me to go elsewhere.”
Alarm tightened Jenny’s expression. “Ye canna. Ye’ve no relatives or friends. I know because I asked Desirée. Ye’re tryin’ t’do this because of her marryin’ and the trouble with that mutton-headed brother o’hers.”
Rather than rebuke her, Latimer grinned.
“Would you please tell Desirée I know I’m a coward but I can’t bear to look at her and say I’ll never see her again, but I’m going because it’s the right thing to do.”
“It is not, so.” Jenny stood up. “I know ye’re t’stay at Number 17 until a place can be…well, Desirée said Jean-Marc said ye’d always have a place there.”
Anne looked at the floor. “They’re trying to work it out for me to be at Number 7. Lady Hester will take me in but I don’t think it’s right. There’s not enough for me to do and the Princess has Mr. Chillworth now—I’m happy to say.”
“She’s going to need you for so many things,” Jenny said. “As a new wife wi’ no experience, she’ll be askin’ ye all sorts o’ things about keepin’ her house.”
“Her attic,” Anne said, and shook her head. “I think it’s lovely up there, but she doesn’t need me to help her. She doesn’t even have more than a handful of her dresses with her. They’re all at Number 17. There’s nothing for me to look after, nothing to do.”
She was right, but Latimer would not stand by and see a young woman, alone, head off with nowhere to go. “What’s wrong with remaining where you are and helping the Princess from there?” he asked.
“I don’t like it at Number 17,” Anne said loudly. Her face paled and she covered her mouth.
“Why not?”
She shook her head again.
Latimer drew closer to her and said, “Anne, if something’s amiss, tell me about it.”
Anne put down her cup and saucer. “I just don’t feel right there. There’s no reason other than that.”
“Would you feel right here?” Jenny asked in a rush, her eyes wide and on Latimer’s face. “I don’t have a personal maid because I don’t—”
“Wonderful idea,” Latimer said before Jenny could both invite Anne to work for her and tell her she didn’t need her in the same breath. “Anne, you’re an answer to our dreams. We’re going to…we need as good a girl as we can find and we were about to start looking for someone suitable. Anne’s suitable, wouldn’t you say, Jenny, dear?”
“Aye.” Jenny’s green eyes sparkled. “Aye, verra suitable. Perfect. Can ye believe we’re…” She stopped speaking and Latimer knew she’d been about to blurt out that she was increasing.
“Jenny and I can hardly wait to share our news,” he said, with a wink at Jenny. “We’re to have a child and before long Jenny will need you, Anne. The sooner you start getting used to each other, the better. And, of course, at least until the baby comes, you’ll be able to help the Princess.”
Sadness was the last emotion Latimer expected to see in Anne Williams’s eyes, but for a moment there it was. Immediately she smiled and said, “I’m so glad for you, and if you mean it, I’d like to come to you. I’ll have to give…well, I’ll have to explain it to the Princess and let the Count and Countess know my plans, but that shouldn’t take long.” For a moment she seemed unsure what to do, but then her smile broadened and she took a breath as if it were the first for some time. “Thank you. Oh, yes, oh, thank you. If you’re sure there is a place for me.”
“There’s a place,” Jenny said.
“You’re not just making it for me?”
“Noo,” Jenny said. “Are we, Latimer?”
His mind was moving on to the Egyptian pieces he expected today. “No, we aren’t. Jenny needs a personal maid, and another female to speak with whenever she pleases. Will you go to the Princess now, Anne? She’ll be happy for you.”
She thought, but not for long. “I think I’ll go to Number 17 first and put my things to rights so I’ll be ready to go.”
He saw then that this woman had a deep need to leave her present surroundings. Her anxiety was obvious.
“If it were suitable, I should speak to Mr. FitzDuram on the way,” she said, attempting to straighten her hair. “I can at least wish him a good day.”
“Latimer’s leavin’,” Jenny said. “Cross the square wi’ Anne, my love. Then it’ll be appropriate t’stop awhile.”
There was no arguing with Jenny once she’d made up her mind on one of her humanitarian adventures.
Mr. FitzDuram didn’t hear them approach. He must have caught a flash of her red dress and pelisse, Anne decided, because he glanced up suddenly and almost leaped to his feet. He took off his hat and said, “Good morning, Latimer, Miss Williams.”
“’Morning,” Latimer said sounding, Anne decided, a little too hearty. “Bracing, hmm. Good day for a walk in the park.”
“Is it?” Mr. FitzDuram asked, vaguely surveying the square. “I suppose it is.”
“I love the cold,” Anne said with honesty. “I grew up in Dorset, on the coast, and the wind could be bitter but I relished it. Sometimes I had to lean against it to stop from being thrown down.”
FitzDuram looked away. “I spent most of my growing years in Scotland. It was always wild, or so it seems in my memory. Even in summer.”
“I expect you still live there sometimes,” she said. “With your family’s whiskey-making.”
“No. I’ve never been interested in that, apart from an occasional drink of the stuff.”
Latimer stamped his feet and flapped his arms and Anne was embarrassed when she realized she’d forgotten he was standing there. “Well, I’d best see Miss Williams home and get on to Whitechapel,” he said. She was certain he had one of the nicest faces and dispositions ever. He was handsome, of course, but that wouldn’t be what she would notice about Latimer first.
FitzDuram caught Anne off guard by offering her his arm. “Why not allow me the pleasure of walking the lady back, Latimer? I can tell you’re a man with things to do.” He grimaced. “Which is more than I can say for myself.”
Latimer looked uncertain and appeared about to refuse when Anne spoke up and said, “I don’t really need an escort, but thank you, Mr. FitzDuram. I’ve already taken too much of Mr. More’s time.”
After the slightest shuffling of his feet, Latimer tipped his hat and made his farewells before striding away across the park.
“A nice fellow,” Mr. FitzDuram said. “Solid.”
“Yes,” she agreed, rather wishing she could go on her own way now.
“Of course, he has every reason to be pleasant with all he has in his life.”
Anne fiddled with the strings of her reticule. It was most unsuitable but she said, “I do believe you are sad, Mr. FitzDuram.”
His regard from bright blue eyes was sharp. “How would you know if I am sad?”
Flustered, she said, “Forgive my forwardness, please. Of course, I don’t know. That was presumptuous of me.”
He continued to look into her eyes. In a quiet voice he said, “Are you too cold to sit with me a little.”
Anne glanced around.
“It will be all right. We are in the open with houses all around us. No one can think badly of us.”
“Then I’ll sit down,” she said, feeling impetuous. In fact she was chilled, but once she sat on the bench she threaded her gloved hands into her sleeves and tucked her booted feet well under the bench.
He joined her. “I am sad, y’know,” he said. “This is the last place I should have come but there are good people here, people I wish were really part of my life, and my feet brought me to Mayfair Square.”
Anne didn’t know how to answer him.
“I’ve failed at everything I’ve touched.”
She frowned and looked sideways at him. How could what he said be true? He was well-to-do, educated, had a future in politics and was a very personable man to boot. “The Princess is a special lady,” she said. “And you fell for her. That’s not a sin.”
Once more she got the full force of Mr. FitzDuram’s blue stare. “And I failed with her, too. Not that my suit was long or well-thought-out. You see before you a lonely man, Miss Williams, and I hope you will forgive me for revealing myself to you so.”
Anne turned sideways on the bench to look at him. “There is nothing to forgive. We all have our troubles.”
“I hope yours aren’t like mine. I think I loved the idea of having the Princess more than anything else. Please don’t misunderstand me. I first met her when she was seventeen and thought her irresistible then, and when I heard she had returned to Town preparatory to another Season I decided I must pursue her, but she isn’t for me and never was. There isn’t a woman who is. Do you think she’ll be happy with Chillworth?”
Anne almost told him how much his gift had embarrassed the Princess but thought better of it. “Very happy.” Adam intended to return it later anyway.
“You’ll freeze to death,” Mr. FitzDuram said, “I’d best get you home.” But he didn’t get up.
“I went to Mont Nuages as a governess,” Anne said, feeling strange to be sharing a part of her life she never mentioned. “I considered myself fortunate to be offered the position because I had recently lost my mother and spent almost everything from the sale of her things to pay bills. My father died some years back. But, after little more than a year in Mont Nuages my services were no longer needed so I was told I must leave. Then I had the fortune to meet the Princess.” She raised her shoulders and smiled.
“And now she doesn’t need you,” he said with candor, not malice. “You have been cast adrift by the acts of others, while I have managed to scuttle myself at every turn.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “Actually, I have had the most extraordinary fortune today. I am to become Mrs More’s maid. That means I shall be able to keep on seeing the Princess. I do love her.”
“Good,” he said and there was no doubt he was pleased for her. “You deserve good luck. A great deal of it. Come, I shall walk with you to Number 17 and be on my way.” She stood and took his arm for the short walk. “I am trained to practice law,” he told her while they dawdled. “But I cannot abide the law. My father is a judge and has had dreams of my following in his footsteps. He is a fine man whom I respect, yet I am a disappointment to him. I thought I wanted to be involved with politics, but I don’t. I hate the self-serving wrangling. The posturing, the lying. These men lie for personal gain and the people they supposedly served be damned…oh, do forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you giving up politics, too?” Anne asked. Best to pretend you hadn’t heard a thing in these circumstances.
“Yes.” He sighed. “I resigned early this morning, which is why I wandered here like a homeless waif drawn to a place where he might find succor. I can’t bear to tell my father. He already thinks me a complete failure.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Because you do not want to do the things he believes would be good for you? Of course I should not say so, but that is selfish.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. I am trying to convince myself that I could indeed take over the distilleries. Perhaps, given a little time to find my feet, I will find solace in returning to my heritage, and to the moors and the silent land of my birth.”
“What should you like to do?” she asked him.
He became edgy and didn’t seem disposed to answer. Then he blurted out, “I should like to write,” in a manner that didn’t invite discussion.
They reached Number 17 and Anne’s disappointment surprised her. “I wish you the best of everything, Mr. FitzDuram,” she said, shaking the hand he proffered. “I should think Scotland could be wonderful if you’ve a tight home and a good living. And soon enough there would be a loving wife and children to surround you. I feel a free spirit in you. You should let it fly.”
He studied her as if he’d never seen her before, then said, “I’ll watch you go in.”
When she had opened the front door and stepped inside, she turned back to wave, but he had turned away.