An Earl To Save Her Reputation

‘My lucky night,’ Harry murmured.

He gripped her lightly, guiding her to a space on the dance floor and smiling before leading her across the room. As the seconds passed Anna felt herself relaxing, Harry was a good dancer and despite her years spent away from balls and ballrooms Anna felt the steps returning like long-lost friends. As they twirled past the other couples Anna could feel her spirits soaring. There was a freedom in dancing, a wonderful feeling that you might take flight, and she couldn’t believe she had gone so long without experiencing it.

They didn’t speak while they danced and Anna found herself sneaking the odd glance at her companion. Beatrice was right, he was handsome, although maybe not in the conventional sense. Most men of the ton followed fashion closely. They wore intricately decorated waistcoats and spent time and money styling their hair as well as their clothes. Harry stood out in the ballroom exactly because he didn’t do those things. His hair was cut short and his clothes were no doubt expensive and finely made, but lacked the excessive pomp of the other men in the ballroom. What he did have was presence. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, but more than physical size he exuded a confidence that could not be imitated—you were either born with it or not.

As the dance drew to a close Anna found herself disappointed. For a moment she had been transported back to the carefree days when she’d been a debutante. Before the marriages and the husbands, when the only reprimand she would get if she laughed too loud or danced too merrily was a stern word from her father.

‘Do you care for a breath of air?’ Harry asked as he escorted her from the dance floor. He picked up two glasses of champagne as they passed a table lined with sparkling flutes and offered her one.

‘I’m doing all the things I cautioned Beatrice against,’ Anna said, still allowing Harry to lead her out on to the terrace.

The raised patio stretched the whole length of the back of the house and was well illuminated with lanterns. Coy young women strolled arm in arm with swaggering young men, while the more daring of couples whispered in darkened corners. Steps led from the raised terrace into the garden, with only the first few feet visible in the moonlight. Every debutante with hopes of a good match would have been warned from straying any further from the ballroom, but inevitably someone would be caught where they shouldn’t tonight.

‘Did you enjoy our waltz?’ Harry asked as he led her to the stone balustrade. They leaned on the smooth stone and gazed out into the garden, their forearms almost touching.

There was no point in denying it. Anna knew her love of dancing had been rekindled and any onlooker would have been able to tell with a single glance how much she enjoyed her first waltz for many years.

‘I did, thank you.’

‘Your late husband wasn’t much of a dancer?’ Harry asked.

Anna shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Early in the marriage they had attended various balls and functions together and Anna had made the mistake of accepting a young man’s invitation to dance after Lord Fortescue had made it clear he would not be making an appearance on the dance floor. Her husband had seen the dance as a betrayal and Anna had paid a high price for her few minutes of merriment.

‘I thought you didn’t like champagne,’ Anna said, motioning to the half-empty glass in Harry’s hand, latching on to the first thing she’d seen to try to steer the topic of conversation away from her disastrous marriage.

‘I thought it best we didn’t sneak through the house in search of something more palatable and get caught in a compromising position a second time within two weeks.’

‘Probably for the best,’ Anna murmured.

‘Tell me,’ Harry said, turning to her, ‘what made you agree to be a chaperon for your cousin?’

‘My uncle asked.’

‘That was all?’

‘I owe him a lot, not that he would ever ask anything I wasn’t comfortable with.’

‘He took you in after the death of Lord Fortescue?’

‘Among other things.’

He’d done so much more than take her in. Anna had been broken, barely surviving when Uncle Phillip came and swept her into his loving home. He’d given her space to heal and provided gentle reminders that not everyone was a monster.

‘I think he is the only person to ever love me unconditionally,’ Anna said quietly.

‘What about your parents?’

She shrugged before she could stop herself. Shrugging was a habit she’d always had, but Lord Fortescue had hated the miniscule movement of her shoulder. This past year she still repressed many of her natural reactions, but slowly they were creeping back.

‘My mother died when I was a young child, I barely remember her. My father...’ She paused, wondering how best to describe him. ‘I’m sure he did care, he just didn’t think a gentleman should be affectionate, so most of the time I had no idea what he was thinking.’

‘I’m glad you have someone to care for you.’ There was a softness to Harry’s voice that made her turn and look at him. He was smiling at her, a smile filled with warmth that crinkled the skin around his eyes and suddenly Anna was aware of just how attractive her companion actually was. As her pulse quickened she tried to gain control of herself with a sharp reprimand, but found her body swaying towards Harry before she could stop herself.

Their arms touched, just a sliver of contact, but enough to cause a spark of excitement to jump through Anna’s body. Here in the moonlight, with the beautiful music from the ballroom drifting on the evening breeze, Anna felt the first surge of hopeful anticipation.

Shaking herself, she managed to look away and as soon as she did the spell was broken. Quickly she took a step back, pretending to adjust her skirts to cover her confusion. It was the warm evening’s air, and perhaps a touch too much champagne, that had caused her momentary lapse in sanity, nothing more.

Harry was looking at her with an amused expression and she wondered how much he’d been able to read on her face.

‘You should be ashamed,’ a low voice hissed behind them.

Quickly Anna spun around, stepping back as she recognised the woman striding towards them. Before she had time to react Miss Antonia Fortescue, her spiteful stepdaughter, had stepped much closer than Anna was comfortable with, only stopping when their noses were almost touching.

‘Miss Fortescue,’ Anna said, her voice devoid of emotion, ‘I did not expect to see you here.’ It was the politest thing Anna could bring herself to say.

‘Look at you, making merry with my father barely in the ground.’

‘Your father died over a year ago, Miss Fortescue. My mourning period has finished.’

Anna thought her stepdaughter might reach out and strike her at that comment, but her disdain was limited to a narrowing of the eyes.

‘Miss Fortescue?’ Harry asked, stepping between the two women.

‘Yes?’ Miss Fortescue snapped, glancing at Harry before returning her unwavering gaze to Anna.

‘I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced. I am Lord Edgerton.’

His title, and no doubt his reputation, earned him another glance from Miss Fortescue. Anna prayed he would keep silent about their sham engagement. The last thing she needed was for her late husband’s family to find out she’d become engaged again.

‘I hope you know what company you keep, Lord Edgerton.’

‘Lady Fortescue is the most amenable of companions,’ Harry said.

Antonia snorted, an unladylike sound that required her to screw up her nose and turn an already unattractive face into something pinched and malicious.

‘Your stepmother was just explaining how she gained an entire family when she married into the Fortescue clan,’ Harry said, without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Anna looked at him appraisingly—he might come across as easy-going and mild-mannered, but her companion was sharp and intelligent along with it.

‘She is no stepmother of mine.’

Silence followed. There wasn’t really much else to say, but Antonia seemed reluctant to move on.

‘I understand you haven’t seen much of Lady Fortescue since your father’s passing,’ Harry said, his voice suitably sombre. ‘Perhaps we should remedy that.’

Anna felt her jaw clench as she turned slowly towards Harry. She tried to communicate how much she would like him to be silent with just a dramatic widening of her eyes, but he flashed her a smile and wilfully ignored her, pushing on with his invitation.

‘I’m having a little house party, the weekend after next. It’s at my country estate, just south of Sevenoaks. We’d be delighted if you could attend. And your brothers, of course.’

Anna didn’t know who was more shocked, her or Antonia, but they both stood with mouths slightly opened, unable to utter a word.

‘Fantastic,’ Harry said. ‘We look forward to seeing you there.’

Anna felt him grip her arm and guide her along the terrace, no doubt planning on escaping before she or Antonia had a chance to collect themselves and protest at the idea of spending more than a few seconds in each other’s company.

* * *

Harry was feeling rather pleased with himself. The evening was going well, exceedingly well. He’d managed to claim a dance from his initially reluctant fiancée, watch her eyes light up as he whisked her around the ballroom and see some of her legendary composure slip as they stood side by side on the terrace. To top it all, he’d furthered his little investigation into the horrible packages Anna was receiving by inviting his main suspect to a country house party.

Next to him Anna walked with her head held high, but her fingers were digging into his arm through his jacket. He hadn’t warned her of his plan, there hadn’t been the opportunity, but he was sure once she’d recovered from the shock she would see it was the sensible thing to do: gather all the possible culprits in one place and wait for them to strike.

They’d just reached the end of the terrace when he felt Anna’s grip on his arm tighten even more. Before he knew what was happening she’d whisked him around the corner and down a short set of stone steps to the shadowy lawn below. In ten quick paces she’d pressed him into an alcove, hidden from view from the terrace above.

‘Lady Fortescue,’ he murmured, ‘I thought we were going to try our best to behave this evening.’

She was standing close to him, so close he could smell the lavender scent of her hair and before he could stop himself he reached out and tucked a stray, coppery strand behind her ear.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ Anna asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, but managing to convey the depth of her fury all the same.

‘A strand of hair...’

‘Up on the terrace, with Miss Fortescue.’

‘Being polite.’

‘To a woman who might be sending me—’ She broke off, her voice faltering at the memory of what was in the last package.

‘We’re never going to get to the bottom of what’s happening if we avoid the people who might be responsible. We need to observe them, confront them, push them into making a mistake.’

‘By inviting them to stay under the same roof as us?’

‘I’ll be there to look out for you.’

Anna closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I barely know you,’ she said quietly.

‘That’s not true.’ Although they had only met for the first time a little over a week ago Harry felt as though they’d known each other for much longer.

‘You do not get to make decisions about my life,’ Anna said, her voice low but firm. ‘No one gets to make decisions about my life.’

There was such conviction as she spoke, such determination, that Harry wondered what had happened to drive her to this point. She didn’t trust anyone and clung to her independence more than any woman he had ever encountered. It should be annoying, but Harry found himself admiring her more for her strength.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said, knowing when to take a step back and regroup. ‘I should have discussed my idea about the house party with you first.’

The apology seemed to disarm her and Harry watched as some of the fury seeped from her body. Without thinking he raised a hand and smoothed the furrow between her eyebrows. She stiffened at his touch, but did not jerk away, instead slowly raising her eyes to meet his own.

For an instant Harry wanted nothing more in the world than to kiss her. He wanted to cover her lips with his own, gather her to his body and kiss her until she forgot whatever it was that was making her frown.

‘Perhaps we should discuss it tomorrow,’ Anna said, taking a step back.

‘Good idea.’

Anna looked around her as if only just realising where they were. A sardonic smile crossed her lips.

‘Thankfully the world thinks we are engaged,’ she said, ‘or this would be an even bigger scandal than us being discovered together at the Prendersons’ ball.’

All the same she peered out into the darkness carefully, judging her moment to return to the ballroom. Just as she was about to dash out from the alcove Harry caught her hand.

‘Dance with me,’ he said.

‘Here? Don’t be silly.’

‘No one can see us.’

‘People will be wondering where we are.’

‘Let them wonder.’

‘This whole engagement is to try to minimise the scandal attached to our names, not increase it.’

‘Dance with me.’

He saw her hesitate, torn between returning to the safety of the ballroom and sharing another wonderful waltz. The music from the ballroom was audible down here, muffled by the chatter of people on the terrace, but still good enough to dance to.

For an instant he thought she would and he felt his heart leap in his chest, then she was gone, her dress swishing behind her, her head bent low as she fled back to the safety of the ballroom.

Chapter Six

Distractedly Anna handed her bonnet to Grace, her maid, and patted her hair with both hands to tame any stray strands. She’d been unable to sleep after the ball and early that morning she’d headed to the shipping company offices to try to catch up on paperwork. It had been a gruelling day, with the Lady Magdalene still missing and the clients who had their goods aboard the ship getting restless.

‘Lady Fortescue would like some tea,’ Mr Maltravers said, ushering Grace away with a shake of his hand.

‘Grace,’ Anna said sharply, ‘I have a headache. I think I will lie down.’

Her effusive business rival had insisted on escorting her home after turning up uninvited at the shipping company office earlier in the afternoon. Anna had argued, strongly enough that anyone else would consider her rude, but Mr Maltravers had been unaffected by her protests and escorted her home anyway.

‘A cup of tea will cure that,’ Mr Maltravers said, taking her by the arm and leading her into the drawing room.

As always Anna stiffened at his touch, visibly shuddering at the feel of his clammy palm on her arm.

‘Thank you very much for your escort, Mr Maltravers,’ Anna said firmly, ‘but I am weary and feel unwell. You will have to forgive me for being a terrible host and not offering you any refreshment before you leave.’ Despite her conciliatory words Anna kept her tone and manner as cold as possible. Mr Maltravers was irking her, making her feel uncomfortable in the one place she normally felt safe.

‘I could wait.’

‘No.’ She wasn’t above begging him to go, but instead placed a hand on his arm and guided him back to the front door, even opening it herself.

‘I shall call on you tomorrow to check you have recovered. I worry about you, Lady Fortescue.’

‘Please do not trouble yourself.’

She hadn’t once encouraged him, hadn’t ever been anything more than polite and most of the time had been downright frosty towards him, but still Mr Maltravers insisted on popping up in every aspect of her life.

Anna shut the door while he was still on the top step, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wood.

‘Shall I bring you a cold compress for your head, my lady?’ Grace asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

‘It is a miracle I do not truly have a headache after spending close to an hour in Mr Maltravers’s carriage with him puffing away on that disgusting pipe.’

‘Lady Fortescue, you have a guest,’ Williams, the elderly butler, announced. He grimaced. ‘He is in the garden.’

Uncle Phillip’s town house was large and well proportioned, but like many houses in the city it didn’t have much of a garden. A small patio with a stretch of grass beyond it, it took less than five minutes to stroll around the whole perimeter.

‘The garden?’ It was a strange place to put a guest.

‘With Mr Tenby and Miss Tenby.’ Williams paused and Anna could sense there was more to be said. ‘They are playing shuttlecock.’

Of course Harry would come to call today. He came to call most days, but for some reason today seemed more significant than any other. Anna wondered if he’d felt it too, that spark, that flare of attraction as they stood together in the Carmichaels’ garden. For a moment she’d wanted to kiss him, wanted to fall into his arms and feel his lips on hers. It was ridiculous, worse than ridiculous, and now Anna could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she walked slowly towards the doors to the garden.

For a few seconds she stood and watched the scene outside. Harry and Beatrice had expressions of furious concentration on their faces as they hit the shuttlecock backwards and forward. Uncle Phillip was seated in the sun, shouting out words of encouragement. It looked like an idyllic family scene.

Harry was in good spirits as usual, his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose strong forearms and his eyes sparkling in the sunshine. He was a good-looking man, there was no denying it, but Anna knew that wasn’t the only reason she felt a tightening inside her as she watched him. There was more to him than a desirable exterior. There was a drive in Harry to look after people, to ensure they came to no harm. He quietly got on and made the important decisions without causing too much fuss.

Of course there was a bad side, too. Yesterday on the terrace he’d assumed control, taken over and made decisions that weren’t his to make. That was why she had to stop this reaction she had to him before it went any further. Never again would she give up her autonomy, not for anyone.

Pushing open the door, she stepped out into the sunshine.

‘Anna,’ Harry called as soon as he caught sight of her, ‘come join us.’

She hesitated, just for a moment, and then stepped off the patio and on to the grass, picking up a spare racket as she went.

‘Our record is twenty,’ Beatrice said, her eyes shining. ‘Lord Edgerton is rather good.’

Anna regarded her cousin out of the corner of her eye. If she wasn’t much mistaken, Beatrice was developing a little affection for Harry.

‘I hope you’re ready,’ Harry said, swinging his racket. ‘Whoever misses the shuttlecock first has to do a forfeit.’

‘What’s the forfeit?’ Anna asked.

Beatrice laughed and Harry hit the shuttlecock, powering it towards her. It had been years since Anna had picked up a racket, but she swung it instinctively, hearing the satisfying ping as the small shuttlecock bounced off the strings. It looped through the air towards Beatrice who hit it easily. Round and round the shuttlecock flew, faster and faster until Anna had to dive to reach it. The shuttlecock spun off the edge of her racket with a dull thunk, losing momentum and heading for the ground. Both Beatrice and Harry jumped forward, angling their rackets towards the small, tumbling object, but, before either of them could reach it, it hit the ground.

‘Congratulations,’ Harry said. ‘You won.’

‘What’s my prize?’

Harry stepped towards her, his eyes fixed on hers, took her hand and raised it to his lips. Anna shivered as he brushed the lightest of kisses against her knuckles. For a moment the rest of the world faded into the background and it was just the two of them on this patch of lawn. Then reality came tumbling back as Harry let go of her hand and stepped away.

‘An evening of entertainment. How do you ladies feel about the opera?’

Anna felt her heart sink. She hated the opera. All those people watching each other, their eyes fixed on the other spectators rather than the stage. It felt as though you were an exhibit in a museum.

‘I love the opera,’ Beatrice enthused. Anna had a sneaking suspicion her cousin would profess her love for any activity Harry suggested right now, even something as horrible as bear-baiting. There was a hint of adoration on Beatrice’s face every time she looked at Anna’s fake fiancé.

‘Anna?’

She almost lied, almost found herself professing a love for something that in truth she found disagreeable, but then she paused. After Lord Fortescue had died, after she had recovered from the rawest emotional and physical wounds she’d acquired in that marriage, she’d promised herself she would start to be true to herself. There was no need to do anything to please other people now; she could accept or decline invitations as she desired. No one could cajole or force her to do anything.

‘I am not keen on the opera,’ she said.

‘Anna,’ Beatrice said, her voice shocked and admonishing.

Anna shrugged. ‘I’m not. I see no reason to lie to Lord Edgerton.’

‘Harry,’ Harry corrected her. ‘And you’re right, there is no reason to lie to me.’

‘I would be delighted to accompany you to the opera, Lord Edgerton,’ Beatrice said.

Harry smiled indulgently, the smile of a big brother to a younger sister. ‘As much as I would enjoy that, we must find something that Anna enjoys, too.’ He turned to her, eyes narrowing. ‘What is it about the opera you dislike? The singing? The impenetrable language? The garish costumes?’

‘I find all that quite enjoyable. It is the audience I dislike, the feeling of being on display.’

Lord Fortescue had enjoyed the opera, often journeying to London for a performance. As always he’d required Anna to be exquisitely turned out for the trip, cataloguing any imperfection to punish her for later. Then he would spend most of the performance looking for signs Anna was flirting with other men. Of course it never happened, Anna wasn’t foolish—she kept her eyes fixed on either the stage or her husband—but the lack of evidence never deterred Lord Fortescue. It meant the opera had gone from a pleasant excursion to a place of fear and horror.

Harry regarded her, his blue eyes seeming to pierce through her protective layer.

‘Let me surprise you,’ he said eventually.

‘As you wish.’

‘Beatrice my dear, help your decrepit father inside,’ Anna’s uncle called from his spot at the edge of the patio.

Beatrice eyed her father reluctantly before bobbing a curtsy to Harry and gliding off to do as she was bid.

‘My cousin seems to adore you after just a few hours,’ Anna said as they were left alone.

‘She is a young woman of good taste,’ Harry said.

‘She is foolish and impulsive.’

‘Like all girls of eighteen.’ It was spoken as if he had personal experience with a foolish young girl.

‘You have a sister,’ Anna said as she slipped her hand through his arm.

‘I do.’

‘Is she the same age as Beatrice?’

‘She’s eighteen.’

‘Is she making her debut this year?’

Harry shook his head. Normally so easy to talk to, he was not forthcoming when it came to his family.

‘Next year, then?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Are you her guardian?’

‘In a sense. My mother is still alive, but she leaves most of the decisions surrounding Lydia to me.’

‘That must be difficult for you. The minds of young girls are impenetrable.’

Harry smiled stiffly, but didn’t answer, then, swiftly changing the subject, he said, ‘I thought we should discuss this house party I am arranging.’