Anne very much remembered the joy that had spiraled through her when Walter had asked for her hand in marriage. When Chetwyn asked, what she felt was a sense of stepping onto a path that wasn’t quite steady. But sitting in the parlor with him on bended knee in front of her, wariness in his eyes as though he expected rejection, what could she say other than, “Yes, of course, it will be my honor to become your wife.”
Honor? Good God. It sounded so dreadfully trite and dull.
He pressed her hands to his warm lips, lips that would soon be pressed to other parts of her. It would be pleasant, she was sure of it, and she would be happy.
“You have made me the most joyous man in all of London today.”
“I couldn’t be more delighted myself.”
Delighted? What was wrong with her? She would never be lonely again. It had been only two days since she last saw Tristan and her thoughts were constantly turning to him. The sooner she moved on to becoming a wife, the sooner she would have other matters to distract her.
She heard the front door slam and saw Jameson barreling past the parlor doorway. “Something’s up there,” she said.
A man just proposed to you, and you’re sidetracked by your brother’s arrival home? She gave her attention back to Chetwyn. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”
“No, don’t apologize. He did seem to be in a bit of a bother, didn’t he? Shall we share our good news with your family? Perhaps that will improve his mood.”
“Yes, by all means.” Smile, she ordered herself. This is what you wanted.
She knew he had spoken to her father already because it was her father who had come to her bedchamber a half hour earlier to inform her that the Marquess of Chetwyn wished to speak with her. She’d suspected of what he wished to speak so she’d changed into a pale lilac gown, one she’d been saving for a special occasion.
He helped her to her feet, wound her arm about his, and patted her hand where it rested in the crook of his elbow. “I shouldn’t like to wait too long,” he said.
“I see no reason why we should. I should think that Society would understand that a woman who has spent two years in mourning would be anxious to get on with her life.”
“My thoughts exactly.” They turned down the hallway. “I know there are things that must be tended to. A wedding gown, a trousseau, of course. Perhaps you could let me know tomorrow what date would work well for you.”
“I’ll visit Sarah this afternoon. As she’s gone through a wedding, she can help me determine a time frame.”
“Wonderful.”
Could their conversation be any less rife with excitement? They reached her father’s study and she heard loud voices coming from within.
“Jameson seems to be in top form,” Chetwyn said quietly.
“Indeed.”
“Perhaps we should wait—”
“I think not. My family can use some good news.”
The servant opened the door. They walked in. Jameson, pacing about, came to an abrupt halt. Her father was sitting behind his desk, scowling. Her other brothers were standing about looking none too happy.
“Is everything all right?” Anne asked. A silly question because obviously something was amiss. Jameson looked as though he wanted to put his fist through a wall—or worse, into someone’s face.
She wasn’t certain now was the proper time to share her news.
“Hardly,” Jameson barked. “It’s that scapegrace, Lord Tristan.”
Anne’s heart pounded so hard against her ribs that she was surprised it didn’t knock Chetwyn aside. He did, however, separate himself from her. “What of him?” she asked.
Jameson puffed up like an irate rooster. He shot his gaze to Chetwyn as though he were somehow at fault. “After the charity ball . . . Lord Tristan Easton secreted Lady Hermione away. Spent the night with her. She returned home with her hair tumbled, and her gown ripped. Now he refuses to marry her. When I confronted him, he said she was lying.”
She was! Anne bit back the words. Oh, God, she couldn’t do this to dear, unsuspecting Chetwyn.
“Pity those ruffians you hired didn’t do a better job of putting him in his place,” Stephan muttered.
She felt as though the earth had shifted beneath her and she was in danger of losing her balance. “You hired the ruffians who attacked him at the docks?”
Jameson straightened to his full height. “They were to deliver a message to him to stay away from you. I suppose you know of it because he told you.”
She looked at Chetwyn, discovered him studying her intently, and wondered what he suspected. “Forgive me, Chetwyn,” she whispered before turning back to a brother she suddenly immensely disliked. “He didn’t have to tell me of it. I was there . . . on the docks . . . with him when the four of them attacked.”
“Christ!” Edward blurted, while Stephan’s eyes bugged and Phillip’s mouth dropped open. Her father’s face turned a mottled red.
“Anne—” Jameson began, his voice seething.
“I can also assure you,” she cut in, “that he was not with Lady Hermione following the charity ball. He was with me. Until dawn. Did he not tell you that?”
Appearing horrified, Jameson shook his head, opened his mouth, closed it.
“So perhaps he’s a gentleman after all, striving to protect my reputation.”
“Good God,” her father barked as though he’d finally found his voice. “But Chetwyn—”
“Yes, Chetwyn,” she said softly, turning to him. “I’m so sorry. Shall we simply pretend that you never asked and I never said yes?”
“Will Lord Tristan marry you?” Chetwyn asked.
She released a choked laugh. “I doubt it.”
“He bloody well will,” Stephan said.
No, she thought, he bloody well won’t.
“She’s lying?” Sebastian barked.
“She’s lying,” Tristan repeated for the third time.
Sitting in a nearby chair, Mary watched as the two brothers faced off.
“I warned you to take care with her, that this would happen,” Sebastian said.
Lounging back in a chair, Tristan laughed. “I’m not sure what more care I could have taken than not leaving the ball with her. I can’t help it if she’s lying through her teeth.”
“If you weren’t with her, then where were you?”
“That, Brother, is none of your business.”
Ah, Mary thought. He was with someone, and she suspected she knew who the lady was.
“It’s going to be all of London’s business—”
“It’s nobody’s damn business. But if you must know I was on my ship. My men will vouch for me. I was feeling claustrophobic after the ball so I went for a sail.”
“Only your men can vouch for you?”
Mary hid her surprise. It seemed her husband was more aware of the situation than she thought. He knew another lady was involved.
“Only my men.”
“I doubt they will hold much sway. People will think you’ve bribed them to lie for you. Lady Hermione comes from a powerful family. Not to mention that they are much more well liked than we are.”
“I’ll speak with her.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“I’m not going to marry her.”
“I’m not sure you’ll have a choice.”
“I was forced once before to do something that I didn’t want to do. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I’m forced again.”
Mary watched as her husband paled.
“I had no choice. I had to get you away from England. You were second in line.”
“I’m not blaming you. I blame Uncle. But I will not marry Lady Hermione. I can speak with her or I can simply set sail tonight.”
“If you leave, you’ll never be able to return.”
“Tell me, Brother, what the hell am I returning to?”
Mary watched as Tristan stormed from the room and her husband sank into a chair. She thought he’d moved beyond the guilt from what happened all those years ago but it still lingered. It probably always would, until his brothers were happy.
She rose, walked over to him, knelt before him, and took his hands. “Did you not once tell me that we must let him travel his own path?”
“But he’s lost, Mary. I can see that now and he has been since he was fourteen. Maybe marriage to the chit would help settle him.”
“Not when he loves someone else.”
Sebastian studied her. “Do you know who was on the ship with him?”
“I don’t know but I have a good idea.”
“Then why doesn’t he announce it and marry her?”
“Because just as he doesn’t want to be forced, my love, I suspect he doesn’t want to force her.”
“It makes no sense.”
“He’ll find his way.”
He sighed. “At fourteen, I thought we would be able to step back into our roles so easily. I should have kept us all together.”
“You made the best decision you could at the time.”
“You’re not going to let me feel guilty about this are you?”
“No. Come upstairs and I’ll distract you.”
Standing, he drew her to her feet and kissed her. She would never tire of his kisses, never tire of—
A knock on the door brought their prelude to lovemaking to an end.
The butler stepped inside and announced, “Your Grace, Lords Blackwood and Jameson would like a word.”
“Ah.” Sebastian exchanged a glance with her. “Would you care to wager that it was Lady Anne Hayworth on the ship with him?”
Smiling softly, she shook her head. It was whom she’d suspected all along.
Under the circumstances, Tristan supposed that he could have come in through the front door. Her brothers wouldn’t be happy to see him, but considering that they had confronted him at Sebastian’s this afternoon and informed him that he would marry their sister, he expected they would begrudgingly allow him to speak with her in the parlor. But quite honestly he felt a need to see her without anyone knowing.
So he was perched on the sill of her window watching her. She sat on a sofa before the fireplace. In spite of the warmer weather, tonight a fire burned in the hearth and he wondered if revealing their little trysts had chilled her. But what struck him the most was the loneliness he sensed coming from her. How often she had spoken of the lonely nights that awaited her if he remained in her life. Until this moment he wasn’t certain that he’d quite comprehended the full extent of what being with him would cost her.
He slipped into the room and walked over to the fireplace. She barely moved a muscle. Simply lifted her gaze from the fire to his eyes as he pressed a shoulder against the mantel.
“Why did you tell them that you were with me?” he asked quietly.
Looking lost, she shook her head. “Because they thought you were a man without honor. She was lying, yet all of London would believe her over you. I suppose my father and brothers paid you a call.”
“They did.”
“Did you tell them to go to the devil?”
He’d wanted to. “No, I told them that I’d marry you if it was what you wanted.”
She released a brittle laugh. “How many ladies receive two proposals in one day? Yours isn’t quite as charming as Chetwyn’s.”
A fissure of something dark and possessive shot through him. “He asked?”
“Yes, just before we discovered the trouble that Lady Hermione was stirring up.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him yes, and then I had to apologize for being less than a lady.”
His hand began to ache and he realized he was gripping the mantel so hard that his knuckles were in danger of pushing through the skin. He loosened his grip. “Did you want to marry him?”
“It’s all moot now. He’d not have me. Besides, he deserves someone who is above reproach.”
“But did you want to marry him?”
“I don’t want to be lonely. I’ve had two years of that. And Chetwyn is kind, generous. He would have been an exemplary husband. Life would have been good I think but—” She offered him a small smile and shifted her gaze to his hand that was once again gripping the mantel. “You can relax; I’m not going to marry you either.”
Strangely her words served only to heighten his tension. “Why not?”
“Do you love me?”
“Does Chetwyn?”
“That’s not the point.” She rose to her feet and joined him by the fire. He could see the sadness in her eyes so much more clearly now. He hated it. “Your life is obviously on the sea. Mine is here. If I’m unmarried then I’m free to make choices.”
“To take a lover without guilt,” he said, each word biting.
“Would you deny me what comfort I might find with another?”
He touched her cheek, but she refused to be quieted.
“Can you promise me that you’ll not take comfort with other women when you’ll spend months from home—”
Home for him was the sea. The majority of the time he would be there.
“—in places with exotic women? Would you not be tempted to stray? What would our marriage vows be but a farce?”
“And when you get with child?”
“If I’m not with you, it won’t be yours, will it? Who knows? In time, perhaps I’ll meet a man who’ll forgive my sins.”
In the meantime she would be alone, sitting on a sofa, staring at the writhing flames of a crackling fire.
He guided his thumb along the corner of her mouth. “It was never my intention to cause you any pain.”
“I know. Still unintended consequences are rather troublesome and must be dealt with.”
“Your family won’t be happy if I don’t marry you.”
She gave him a sad smile. “They won’t be happy if you do. They don’t like you and I find that rather a shame—that they don’t appreciate the man you are.”
A blackguard? He’d torn her reputation asunder. He couldn’t give her what she deserved. A home, husband, children. Permanence. A life without loneliness. But he almost broke out in a sweat at the mere thought of not getting back out on the sea. Perhaps if he’d never known anything different—
“Will they send you away?”
“I shall send myself. I still have the money from Walter. I shall be a lady of independent means.” She cradled his jaw. “I’ll be fine, but you must let me go completely.”
“I won’t stay away from England forever.”
“But when you return you mustn’t seek me out. It would be unfair to us both, to have continual joinings and partings. It’s too hard, Tristan. It’s too damned hard.”
“I won’t leave until I know for certain that you’re not with child.”
“I’m not. My courses began rather fortuitously this morning. I’d have not accepted Chetwyn’s offer otherwise.”
He didn’t understand the disappointment he experienced at her reassurance that she wasn’t carrying his child. He didn’t want children. His life wasn’t suited to them. He was completely unencumbered, free to do as he desired. And what he desired was to leave, to be back out on the water.
“I’ll never forget you,” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers to taste her for the final time. She was right, of course. Walking away from her was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. But she wouldn’t be happy on his ship and he wouldn’t be happy off it. Nor would she be happy waiting for him to return. No matter how glorious the reunions might be, there would always be the bitter knowledge that they would come to an end.
With Rafe’s assistance, Tristan was able to learn that Chetwyn’s favorite club was Dodger’s Drawing Room. With a letter of introduction from his brother, he was allowed into the hallowed gentlemen’s domain. With some well-placed coins in the proper palm, he quickly located Chetwyn in the smoking salon, sitting in a plush chair in a seating area near a fireplace. He was smoking a cigar and sipping brandy. He was also flanked by all four of Anne’s brothers. They were no doubt consoling him. Tristan was actually grateful for their presence. It would ensure they all heard what he had to say.
He could feel eyes coming to bear on him, attention being diverted to him. He’d always given the impression that he savored being the center of things, but the truth was that he abhorred it. Perhaps it was the remnants of having his uncle’s attentions focused on him and his brothers. When he was shivering in the tower, he’d wished that he’d been invisible, that his uncle had ignored him, that he was insignificant. Maybe that was part of the reason he hated being in London, where every aspect of a person was scrutinized and commented on. Anne relished this life and he couldn’t wait to leave it.
As he approached the seating area, Tristan watched as Anne’s brothers came menacingly to their feet while Chetwyn did little more than study him with a speculative gleam. It seemed the man was always observing, seeing things that Tristan rather wished he didn’t.
He came to a halt before Chetwyn. “Gentlemen.”
“You haven’t been to see my sister,” Jameson said.
“Actually I’ve just left her.”
“You bastard,” one of the younger pups groused, his hands balling into fists.
Tristan ignored him. “Chetwyn, I thought you should know that I’m not going to marry Anne because nothing happened between she and I.”
“She said—”
He cut Jameson off. “That she was with me. Yes. On my ship. On the deck with the smell of the sea around her and the wind blowing her hair. I did my best to convince her that she’d have a more enjoyable time below in my quarters, but she was having none of it. She simply wanted to be on the water for a bit. Fewer cares out there, she said. As a gentleman, I swear to you that nothing untoward happened, certainly nothing that demands she spend the remainder of her life shackled to a rogue such as myself. I’m not giving up the sea, not even for her.” He shrugged. “Which will leave her very lonely indeed.”
Chetwyn slowly came to his feet. “You did attempt to seduce her.”
“Without question. But she’s made of stern stuff, your Anne.” He nearly gagged on the last two words.
“I believe we need to take this conversation into the alleyway,” Jameson said, rage evident in his eyes.
Tristan held Chetwyn’s gaze. “Yes, I believe we do.”
The conversation was fairly brief, a few harsh curses uttered as fists were flailing. He had no doubt that the more brutal of the blows came from Jameson—not for Anne’s sake, but for Lady Hermione’s.
They left Tristan in a crumpled heap, with a battered face and a couple of broken ribs. He groaned as Rafe gently turned him over.
“Did you enjoy watching that?” he asked through a puffed-up tender mouth, tonguing a loose tooth.
“Not as much as I thought I would. How did you know that they’d want to pummel you?”
“It’s what I’d do if we’d had a sister and some blackguard treated her the way I treated Anne. Help me up.”
Oh, he hurt, dammit, as he staggered with a great deal of help to his feet. He couldn’t straighten, not completely. He wasn’t even certain he could walk.
Rafe slipped beneath Tristan’s arm to give him support. “They gave me hope.”
Through eyes half closed with swelling, Tristan squinted at his brother. “What?”
“The globes. I collected them because they gave me hope that there was someplace out there better than where I was.”
“But you have new ones. You’re still collecting them.”
Rafe didn’t respond as he helped Tristan hobble to the waiting carriage, and Tristan couldn’t help but wonder if his brother was still searching for someplace better. It occurred to him that he and Rafe weren’t so very different after all. Wasn’t that the reason he stayed on the sea: searching for what he’d lost?