“Can no woman take Lady Margaret's place in your life?” Gareth asked.
Anthony gave a bitter smile and shrugged. “That chapter is closed.”
Gareth nodded, mentally kicking himself for bringing up a painful subject. But Anthony needed to move on. He was a duke, with responsibilities. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking only about himself.
“It wasn't a love match,” Anthony suddenly said. “I thought it was but my father planned it.”
Gareth’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? I thought you first met Lady Margaret at Vauxhalls' and were immediately smitten.”
“My father wanted the match. So did Lady Margaret's parents. The sudden meetings, all that talk about common interests was a sham. It was a farce in which Lady Margaret was a willing participant.”
“Why? Lady Margaret was not short of suitors. Why did she agree to the deception?”
“I was conceited enough to think it was because she was in love with me. But she was doing what was expected of her. Making an advantageous match. I can’t fault her. It was I who was foolish. I nursed a dream that wasn’t meant to be.”
Gareth tried to remember the whirlwind courtship. It didn’t seem possible that Lady Margaret had put on an act.
“Anthony, is it possible you are mistaken?”
“I wish I was. For a year I followed her about like a lovesick puppy. I wanted to spend time with her, to talk to her, to share my life, and to be a part of her life. She only expected me to do my duty. You know what that means? You haven’t visited White Willow. It is built around a medieval mansion. The family bedrooms are monstrously large. They are cold. And lonely. In my besotted state, I hadn’t stopped to ask Lady Margaret whether she wanted to share my suite. Three days later she ordered her trunks to be moved to the adjoining suite. It wasn’t proper, she said. She was a proper duchess but not the wife I wanted. It took me a long time to accept the bitter truth. I had been played for a fool. How my father must have laughed!”
“That is why you aren’t looking for love. You no longer think it possible,” Gareth mused.
“I haven’t become a cynic, Gareth. I don’t blame Lady Margaret either. She will always have a place in my heart. She was the woman I loved, the mother of my child. Had she lived she may have come to love me in turn. I’m not embittered. I’m only being practical. The chances of making a love match among the ton is difficult. Our upbringing is all about duty and maintaining appearances.”
“You are decided upon finding a wife this Season.”
“I need a duchess. My mother isn’t getting younger. Her yearly trips to Harrogate have been helpful but she isn’t likely to regain her strength. White Willow needs a mistress. Mary Jane needs a mother.”
“What will you do? Make a list again?”
“What else?”
“Lady Maria knows a young widow recently come to London. They met six years ago. You may not know her. She didn’t have a complete Season. A scandal cut short her visit. A few years later she married Lord Mannering but was widowed within six months.”
“Lady Mannering? Is she in London?”
“She is visiting with a cousin. Lady Maria called upon her yesterday. She is concerned about her. Lady Mannering has no intention of going out in Society.”
“This is famous. I'll call upon Fanny...er...Lady Mannering.”
“Do you mean to court her?”
“Not at all. She is the last woman I would marry.”
***
An hour later, the Duke of Wimberley was standing outside a modest terrace house in Bloomsbury. The door opened as soon as he lifted the knocker. He held out his card to the maid. “I would like to see Lady Mannering.”
The maid returned within minutes. “Lady Mannering is not at home,” she intoned, giving him a curious look.
Anthony called the following day. Once again the maid informed him that Lady Mannering was not at home. Anthony knew Lady Mannering was inside but there was nothing for it except to leave. A carriage drew up outside the wicket gate. It was Lady Daventon, come to call on her friend.
“It has turned out to be a tolerably pleasant day. The morning rain has spent itself,” Lady Maria said.
After exchanging pleasantries, Anthony said, “It appears you are here to call upon Lady Mannering. I shall delay you no longer.”
He waited to see if Lady Mannering was at home now. She was.
He hoped Lady Maria would be able to draw Fanny into society. She was a lady by birth. Daughter of a powerful baron, married to an earl, it wasn’t right that she was shunning society. She had made mistakes. But he was to blame, too. He would convince her to come out of hiding and try to find happiness.
The next day, the maid was waiting for him. “Lady Mannering is not at home,” she informed, folding her thin arms in front of her and scowling down from her vantage position of the topmost step.
Anthony knew very well it wasn't true. He had observed the hastily dropped curtain while leaving his curricle.
“Please inform Lady Mannering I plan to await her arrival by planting myself at her door.”
“I’ll tell her,” the maid said and immediately realized her blunder. “I mean I’ll tell her when she’s back.”
“Of course you will. I’ll wait until you do.”
The maid disappeared inside, leaving Anthony chuckling to himself. He was still laughing when she returned and relieved him of his coat and hat, and led him into a small parlor.
“Fanny, you can’t be so easily rid of me, my love!” he said.
An hour later he took leave. He paused in the doorway and fished out a shilling. “For you,” he said, and the maid bobbed a curtsy. Smiling, he walked down the steps of the modest house. His thoughts occupied his attention to the extent that he didn't notice the hastily pulled window curtain in the house across the lane.
His persistence had paid off. Fanny, Lady Mannering had consented to see him. She hadn't spoken over two sentences but he was relieved to find her in good health and looks. Her marriage to Lord Mannering had not broken her. She may or may not retain the fire he was familiar with but he had seen a flash of it in her eyes and was satisfied. He would give her a couple of days and call again.
***
Anthony braced himself for another glittering evening. Margaret had loved attending the Season. When she was increasing with Mary Jane, she had fretted at missing out on all the fun.
Every year after that until Margaret's death, they were in London during the Season. Anthony insisted that their daughter not be left behind and carted along nurses and extra maids. Once in London, Anthony would accompany Margaret to a few events but mostly they went their separate ways. They didn't have much in common.
It had bothered him. He had felt cheated. Robbed of his dreams. This time he wasn't looking for love. He was older now and wise in the ways of the world. In their world, men contracted suitable marriages. For other needs, including those of love and friendship, they set up liaisons with other women. Everyone knew the game, nobody was hurt.
He might have to do the same. After he took a wife and installed her as his duchess, he could not expect anything more than duty from her.
Philip, his cousin and now his heir, used to openly sneer at him for trying to gain his wife’s favor. Philip liked to create trouble. Unfortunately, Margaret had been taken in by his extravagant compliments. She hadn’t seen beyond his charming manners and his fashionable clothes.
***
Lady Stanton’s garden party was a select affair. Unlike a ball or a big ton event, guests could talk to each other comfortably. Lady Eversham greeted Anthony as soon as he came in.
“Your Grace, may I present my sister, Lady Redcliff? I persuaded her to come to London. The poor dear didn’t want to put off her mourning. I was afraid she would go into a decline!”
Anthony inclined his head. Lady Redcliff, he noted, was in no danger of going into a decline. She looked the picture of health, with a glowing face and a mass of shining curls. Going by the arched look she was giving him, the late Lord Redcliff was no longer lamented.
“Please accept my condolences, Madam,” Anthony said.
Lady Redcliff dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. Lady Eversham, instead of offering her comfort, vanished.
“My sister persuades me to try to be happy. You must know how painful it is, your Grace. You have also been bereaved,” Lady Redcliff said, availing herself of Anthony’s arm.
Anthony led Lady Redcliff to a nearby sofa and watched dispassionately as she dried invisible tears and gave him a brave little smile. A few minutes later, when she deemed him sufficiently interested, she tapped him flirtatiously with her fan and informed him how terribly lonely she had become.
By the time Anthony made his excuses and stood up, he was sure of one thing: Lady Redcliff would find someone to take the place of Lord Redcliff easily enough. She has come armed for the kill. Most gentlemen wouldn’t stand a chance.
He wouldn’t either if he wasn’t determined to take care of Mary Jane’s best interests. He hadn’t forgotten what Laura had said two years ago: A cruel stepmother will be worse than a cruel governess. You will not be able to dismiss her.
Anyone as self-centered and self-serving as Lady Redcliff would ride roughshod over a little girl. A few minutes later, he left the party. He had promised to escort Lady Malloy to the theatre.
***
Laura smiled as she entered the theatre. It was by no means her first visit but she liked it above all the other attractions London had to offer. She would have enjoyed it better if the ton did not make a practice of walking in as a play was in progress. At times they even hailed friends and acquaintances. She found it most annoying but there was nothing to be done.
When Anthony entered the theatre, he saw Gareth and raised a hand in salute. Laura didn’t notice him. She was engrossed in the play. During the intermission, he came over to the Daventon’s box. “Lady Laura, I needn't ask whether you are enjoying the performances,” he said, smiling down at her.
“This play is by far the best I've seen,” Laura answered, taking a moment to compose herself.
Anthony sat down beside her. “I missed the first half. Tell me about it.”
Laura looked about her, frantically trying to think up an excuse to avoid him. Gareth had escorted Lady Maria outside. Lady Catherine was deep in conversation with another lady. Laura took a deep breath and launched into a description of the first two acts.
Anthony bent an attentive ear as Laura told him about the play. At first, she sounded stilted but soon gave a candid account of the first two acts and performances.
When the play resumed, Anthony continued to sit beside Laura. She grew self-conscious and fidgeted with her hair. Without saying a word, he moved to another chair. It gave him an even better view of her profile. For the rest of the act, he looked at her, enjoying the play of emotions on her expressive face.
He was reminded of the time when he had felt the same wonder. For how long would Laura retain it before she became jaded like the rest of them? She was already changing. Two years ago she was infatuated with him. Now she didn’t care to be in his company.
He had often thought about her. He knew she had feelings for him. He had seen it in her eyes. That was why he had not visited Daventon Manor. Mary Jane had wanted him to take her to meet Lady Laura. It wouldn’t have been difficult to arrange.
But Laura was only eighteen. She wasn’t like other ton ladies. She reminded him of himself at that age. Eager to fall in love, with unbounded belief in a fairy tale ending of happily ever after. He didn’t know whether he was capable of that kind of love. If he failed her, as Margaret had failed him, she would suffer. He had decided he would wait for her to grow up and know her mind.
He frequently found himself regretting his decision.
***
After the play, Lady Maria and Lady Catherine walked with Gareth to the carriage. Anthony escorted Laura. She kept her eyes firmly to the ground and answered him in monosyllables. When the carriage arrived, she took Gareth’s arm.
Anthony waited until the carriage left and hailed a hack. He had already informed Lady Malloy he would be returning to his townhouse and not accompanying her party.
He hadn't suspected his aunt to be so underhanded. Her request for his escort had been a ploy to thrust her protégé in front of him. Lady Victoria was pretty enough but absurdly young. His aunt said she was seventeen. He suspected she was close to sixteen.
His aunt had sent a message that she was in need of an escort to the theatre. Being the obliging nephew, and she his favorite aunt, he had punctiliously arrived at her doorstep. Lady Victoria and her brother were ensconced in the drawing room. Looking guileless, his aunt had told him it was indeed fortunate Lady Victoria had called, and it would be most delightful if she attended the theatre with them. She had latched on to the brother’s arm as if she was in danger of falling on her face. Seething, Anthony had offered his arm to Lady Victoria.
Luckily, his heir Philip had come to the box during intermission, to pay his respects to Lady Malloy. He had seized the opportunity to escape whatever plans Lady Malloy had made for the rest of the evening. He wouldn’t put it beyond her to disappear with the brother and leave him alone with Lady Victoria.
“Philip, escort Lady Malloy home after the play,” he had said.
“How will you go home? We came in your carriage!”
“It is of no import. I can call a hack.”
“But ...”
Before his aunt could come up with an objection, he had left.
The hack was rather shabby but he didn't notice. His thoughts were about Laura. She was an enchanting combination of innocence and wisdom. She also had a kind heart. Kindness was rare. She would make a good mother to his daughter.
He sighed. If he could find a lady of unexceptional birth who was practical and kind, he would procure a special license and marry her without further ado. The sooner he left London, the better it was for his peace of mind.
The hack pulled up outside the imposing townhouse that had been in the Wimberley family for more than a century. Anthony gave the driver a handsome tip and sent him on his way. A shadow detached itself from a niche in the wall.
“I been wanting to speak to you, Guvnor,” a man said, coming into the light spilling from the gatepost. He looked ill and unkempt.
“What's this about?” Anthony demanded, reeling back from the strong odors emanating from the ramshackle person.
“A child, Guvnor! You must do the right thing by Annie!”