The Alter Ego_A Regency Romps Story Page 18

  Arthur was vaguely regretting damning the man.

  “I am afraid that I must insist that you get up, Mr Arthur. Your guest insists, and I suspect she is not a woman to trifle with. I have taken the liberty of calling your valet for you, and will ensure that your guest has refreshments.”

  “Anna?” he asked, sitting up as he determinedly pushed his headache down. “She’s here?”

  The footman cocked his head to one side. “The lady specifically instructed me not to say her name, Mr Arthur. Now if you will excuse me, it seems your valet has arrived. I shall let your guest know to expect you shortly.”

  The footman left before Arthur could question him further, and his valet, West, could provide no further intelligence.

  It had to be Anna. Arthur climbed out of his bed and dropped down into a nearby chair so that his valet could shave him while he considered the best way to proceed. It seemed that his love had come alone, but did not wish to be seen calling on him at the Pelican. That was sensible enough, for it was not the done thing for a lady to call on a gentleman, and yet the footman had not been the slightest bit perturbed by her visit, nor had he expressed any sort of silent disapproval that he would have expected.

  His aching head made it difficult to think through the subject for much longer, especially when he had the more important task of convincing Anna that he was truly apologetic for his actions and beg the opportunity to get to know her better. He composed, and dismissed, several pretty speeches while he dressed, so thoroughly engrossed in perfecting what he was going to say that he almost didn’t notice that West had laid out a brown jacket, red waistcoat, and black cravat while Arthur had been pulling on a pair of cream breeches.

  “Good God, man, are you trying to ruin my life? Leave the jacket, but fetch the straw waistcoat as it’s the least objectionable one I have, and one of my new cravats. One of the new white ones!”

  He had never missed Jenkins more in his life, and once again lamented leaving his faithful manservant behind. Entirely by accident, he’d convinced West that he genuinely did have appalling taste in clothes, and there was hardly time to disabuse the man of that notion.

  He did the best with what he had, moving as hastily as possible when one was trying to look well put together. When he had finally reached the stage where he could do no more, he slipped a coin into his valet’s hand as a small apology for his mood and then proceeded to make his way downstairs.

  The footman who had so rudely awakened him motioned for Arthur to proceed to the dining room, which caused him to hesitate for a moment. The dining room, where there were likely to be other hotel guests, did not strike him as the best place to have such an intimate conversation. Still, it was not as though he could invite her up to his room without creating a major scandal, so he would just have to put more thought into how to apologise for everything, and explain to her why she should give him a chance.

  With a deep breath to steady himself, he pushed open the door and stepped into the dining room with what he hoped was an apologetic smile.

  And then he swore. Loudly.

  Kate Weatherley, known to those outside the family as her Grace, the Duchess of Lexborough, arched a single, perfect eyebrow at him.

  “Dear Lord, what have you done to your hair? And what are you wearing?”

  “What the devil are you doing here?” he spluttered at his sister-in-law.

  “Is that any way to greet your best friend in the whole wide world?” she said before taking a delicate sip from her coffee cup.

  “Not at all, but as neither Perry nor Snowley are here, it doesn’t seem a relevant question,” he shot back. He pulled out the second chair from her table and dropped into it, sulkily ignoring the shocked glances from some of the other guests in the dining room.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering some breakfast,” Kate told him as two waiters approached the table. “Bacon, eggs, some sausage, and naturally toast with butter.”

  His mouth kicked up, even if the rest of his face resisted the smile. “Food for a poor head, I see. Were you expecting to find me in such a poor state?”

  She stared pointedly at his coat. “No, and certainly not wearing Alex’s clothes. I thought I’d told his man to throw them all out, or spill boot blacking on them.”

  “Well, I managed to borrow enough to rig myself out for a prolonged visit to Bath, so no doubt your husband countermanded your order.”

  Kate gave a weary sigh. “Stupid man. Now I shall be forced to sacrifice my roses to make itching powder. Again.”

  Arthur, who was just about to tuck into his bacon, looked up in alarm. “Now Katie, you promised you wouldn’t use that stuff after the last fiasco.”

  “I promised I wouldn’t use it on you again. Or at the church. I never mentioned Alex as being off limits, and neither did you. Besides, I highly doubt you will be in charity with him by the end of today.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, starting to feel suspicious.

  “Aren’t you going to ask how I found out you were here?” asked Katie, pouting theatrically.

  “Trix wrote to Cordy telling her I was here. Cordy either told Herbert or William, who probably told Helena, who told Mother, who told you.”

  Katie crossed her arms. “It’s no fun if you guess correctly the first time.”

  He stuffed a forkful of bacon into his mouth. “What I don’t understand is why you’re here,” he said, chewing around his words just to annoy her.

  She didn’t take the bait but did avert her eyes when she replied.

  “I’m here to stop Alex paying off this widow of yours.”

  Arthur choked on the bacon and had to thump his chest several times to recover his breath. Katie sipped her coffee, waiting for him to recover from his near-death experience.

  “He’s doing what?” he rasped, before reaching over to take a mouthful of his own coffee in an attempt to clear his throat.

  “He got it into his head that you’ve fallen into the hands of some conniving Cyprian, and charged down to Bath to save you from yourself. Naturally, I had to come after him, and leave your mother to take care of the guests. How she’s going to explain this one away is beyond me.”

  “Hopefully she’ll tell everyone Alex is queer in the attic, and you went to have him assessed at Bedlam,” muttered Arthur.

  Katie smiled. “That’s practically believable, the way the silly man has been acting. He’s boring everyone rigid going on about the evidence of a mighty Roman fort on our land, but only has a few rusted nails and a scrap of terracotta to show for his work. It’s adorable how excited he is, though, so everyone humours him.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the Romans,” snapped Arthur.

  “To be fair, none of the other houseguests do, either. It’s almost put Helena off Mr Rumble completely.”

  “Hang Helena!” he said, knowing full well Katie was teasing him, and yet being quite unable to prevent himself from becoming increasingly exasperated. “Is Alex in town? Have you seen him?”

  “I believe he is at the White Hart, for he likely arrived very late last night. He may think your widow a scheming hussy, but I do not believe for a moment that he would be so uncouth as to call on her before noon.”

  “She is not a scheming hussy,” said Arthur through gritted teeth.

  “Yes, I hear she’s an excellent young woman of impeccable character. You’ve done badly by her, you know.”

  This comment rendered him speechless for several moments.

  “Who have you been talking to?” he asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.

  “Lady Seraphinia, of course. I am staying with her for a day or two, before returning to Darlington. She and Miss Lindon were so good as to fill me in on the situation – something that Alex should have done, instead of listening to the snide conjectures of Lady Fitzburgh. Everyone knows she’s been trying to marry you off to one of her girls, so no one paid the least bit of heed to her. Well, except for Alex, obviously. Perhaps I shoul
d use some itching powder on her, too.”

  Arthur groaned. “Does everyone know about Anna?”

  “Not her name. Cordy was circumspect enough not to share that part of the letter, or even that she’s a widow, with anyone but your mother, brother and I.”

  He gave a sigh of relief. “Thank Heaven for small mercies, I suppose. At least I haven’t ruined her reputation completely.”

  Katie regarded him in silence for a few moments.

  “Arthur, you know how much I love you, and that I could not have asked for a better brother if we were related by blood rather than marriage. I know you better than anyone else, I think.”

  “Better than Alex, that’s certain,” he responded.

  She smiled but didn’t acknowledge that point. “You’re in love with this lady, aren’t you?”

  He looked up and met her gaze. “Yes. And the dashed thing is, Katie, I think I’ve ruined everything. I’ve never met anyone I truly wanted to marry, not really. And now I’ve lost it before I even had the chance to ask.”

  “And she is not indifferent to you? Even with your hair?”

  “I am confident that she was a little way in love with me, too,” he replied. “That’s what makes it so much worse.”

  Katie suddenly flashed him a bright smile and set her coffee cup down firmly on the table. “Well, let’s see if I can’t go about helping you fix this mess you’ve made, shall I? I have some errands to discharge, but then I will be back in an hour, which should leave us plenty of time to go and see your Mrs Clyde and see what we can do about the situation.”

  “Katie, it’s not that simple. Her parents are here, and I’m not convinced that her father is emotionally stable where I am concerned.”

  “Mr and Mrs Jones? Yes, I heard they had arrived in town.”

  He blinked. “Is that their name? We weren’t properly introduced, for the father was trying to plant me a facer.”

  “Yes, very respectable merchants. Francis Jones is a younger son with a somewhat colourful past, but he made a fortune out in India, which is where he met his wife. He’s a business partner of Sir Joseph Putney, and Lord Pocklington vouches for the family.”

  “How the devil do you know all this?”

  “Lady Seraphinia told me. General Mortimer has been tooling about all over the place, delivering letters and gathering information for the Dowager, poor lamb. And at his age, too! It is unfortunate, really, for Lady Seraphinia should have consulted me before meddling, and we wouldn’t have had to risk the General’s health in such a way.”

  “Did you tell her that?” he asked, slightly impressed with her bravery even as his mind absorbed the information.

  Katie arched a brow. “Naturally I did. I don’t know why you’re all so scared of her.”

  Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “Because the rest of us aren’t Duchesses with wills of iron, my dear. I can barely fathom that she served me such a wicked trick, however.”

  “She thought she was helping,” said Katie with a shrug. “Concerned you’d ruin the girl’s reputation if someone didn’t force your hand. Honestly, Arthur, even that’s your own fault, for if you hadn’t built yourself a reputation as an indolent bachelor, she might have had more faith in you.”

  Knowing better than to argue, he grunted a noncommittal response before finishing drinking his coffee.

  “Now, up to your rooms with you,” said Katie, making a shooing motion with her hands. “There’s a surprise waiting for you.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “It had better not be your itching powder.”

  “Pooh! I promised you that I’d never use it on you again, now didn’t I? Besides, I’m here to help save your chance of marrying the woman you love.”

  Arthur sighed as he stood up. “And yet experience has taught me that your idea of helping can be rather brutal, dearest.”

  She gave a most unladylike grin. “Ah, your gift might prove to be painful, but I swear you will adore me for it. Now go! One hour and I will be back!”

  Accepting the dismissal for what it was, he shook his head and trudged out of the dining room, not even bothering to execute a bow or otherwise acknowledge his leave-taking. The other guests must think his manners abhorrent, but then, they did not know Katie as well as he did.

  He threw open the door to his room with unnecessary flare and loudly demanded to know where his present was hiding.

  “Lord Arthur what have you allowed to be done to your hair and what on earth are you wearing? Take it off this instant, my Lord, or I will resign from your service immediately!”

  “Jenkins!” Arthur shouted as his longtime valet rushed across the room, still chattering out a thousand insults and attacks on his attire. “Jenkins, you have no idea how much I have missed your counsel!”

  The bear hug he threw about the shoulders of the short man rendered his valet into shocked silence for several seconds. He pulled away and straightened his jacket, giving a loud cough as he did so.

  “Indeed, my Lord. I am delighted to see you again as well, but not, if I may venture to point out, am I happy to see what has become of you in my absence. Your hair, my Lord! Your crowning glory! How envious some of my professional acquaintances were that their gentlemen did not have such shining locks.”

  “Hair grows back, Jenkins,” laughed Arthur, too happy to see the man to be offended.

  The look Jenkins pulled suggested that he did not believe in such sorcery. He turned on his heel and walked over to the bed, where he had lovingly laid out several of Arthur’s favourite items of clothing.

  “Not being sure of the occasion, my Lord, Her Grace instructed me to bring your finest outfits with me to Bath. I remembered how smart you felt in the bottle-green jacket, of course, and I have ventured to pair it with your taupe pantaloons and the striped silk waistcoat.”

  Arthur stared at the glorious articles laid out before him, and for several moments thought he might be reduced to tears by their wonder.

  “Jenkins, my good fellow? Remind me to double your salary and never let you leave my side again.”

  Jenkins almost smiled.

  “Only if you promise to never cut your hair without my express permission again. Now, shall we begin, my Lord?”

  *

  Her ankle still ached from the day before, and her heart was no better. A restless night and her sweet-but-incredibly-talkative sisters had not helped, and before breakfast was over Anna had been close to pleading a headache just to make everyone leave her alone.

  Her mother, however, was an angel.

  “Lily, why don’t you take the girls upstairs to put on their walking things?” she suggested. “They are all three of them quite desperate to visit the Pump Room, you know, but I thought a turn about the gardens first is in order, and then perhaps a quick trip down Milsom street, for I know all three need new bonnets. The Rooms can be visited later on, for now I think about it, some ribbons and some new stockings are in order as well.”

  Lily, the wonderful girl, caught on quickly. “An excellent plan, Mrs Jones! And may I venture to suggest that we visit Molland’s as well, for I am sure Anna will find that some of their cakes will revive her.”

  Anna’s sisters, loudly agreeing with this excellent plan, where quickly ushered out of the room by Lily, who paused only to cast a quick smile at her stepmother.

  Anna heaved a sigh of relief and snuggled with Governess, who was curled up in her lap.

  “Would you like me to stay and keep you company, Annie?” asked her father. He smiled, but his eyes were full of concern.

  “No thank you, Papa, for it would not be fair to leave Mama with all the girls on her own,” she replied, trying to sound cheerful. “Besides, it will be nice to have some peace, as I have the final volume of The London House to read.”

  “We know your heart is broken, my dear,” said her mother. Her parents shared a long look before she continued. “I talked over your request with your father, and we have decided that we will make ourselves known to this
Lady Seraphinia. It is why we will be going to the Pump rooms later on today, since you told us she prefers to take the waters with the afternoon crowd.”

  Her father rocked back on his heels, looking thoughtful as he addressed her.

  “I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much, Annie. Although I agree that the Dowager Viscountess is playing a very odd game, there is no guarantee that you will get answers, and I remain unconvinced of this fellow’s intentions, especially now I know he’s richer than Croesus!”

  “We talked of marrying, Papa,” she said quietly.

  There was a long silence before her mother reached over and clutched her hand.

  “Did he propose to you, little love?”

  “Yes, at the-” she stopped, running over their discussion at the picnic. Had that really only been the day before? “He declared his love for me, and said that his family would not object.”

  Her parents shared another look.

  “Darling, some men in this world offer marriage with the left hand, as it were. They do not mean to offer an honourable position to the women they profess to love.”

  Anna’s cheeks flamed. “I know what a mistress is, Papa. He was not offering that, I swear. Please, talk with Lady Seraphinia, and Miss Lindon. There is more to this, I know it, and although I am not saying he was right to lie the way he did, you cannot claim that he deliberately set out to mislead me. How could he, when he had no idea we would meet on the road, and even then he intended to fool everyone.”

  “It suggests an unsteadiness of character,” said her father, still looking as though he was considering calling Arthur out.

  Her mother, however, placed a hand on Papa’s shoulder and shook her head slightly.

  “Anna is right – there is more to this than we have been told, and I feel as though Lord Arthur may have been played for a fool as well, especially if Lily’s friend, Mrs Rowlands, is correct that Lady Seraphinia believes they should make a match. Besides,” she said, suddenly looking thoughtful, “it would also give me a reason to request a meeting with the Duke of Devenish. He is unmarried, you know.”