Chapter Nine
A game began between Exmore and Annalise: the ignore-each-other game. He left his house every night to search for her. Sometimes, he found her at the opera or theater, where their gazes might accidentally meet to share in a laugh or make an unspoken sarcastic remark. Just being in the room with her, the light in her eyes, the benign brush of their arms, gave him peace. Her presence moored him. While she orbited his world, the days no longer stretched before him like an endless ocean. The gray sameness that characterized his days lifted. He felt like he was returning to himself, the old demons fleeing.
The day before the chemistry lecture, he headed to his club with his correspondences and a journal. He had a quickness to his mind and step. His former vitality was slowly returning with more sleep, less brandy, and less time at gambling tables. Yet, his good mood dampened when he strolled into the club’s morning room to find Colonel Lewiston and Wallis Hume sharing a table.
Wallis hailed him. “Ahh, the man I desired to see. Come, come sit. We have a pressing matter to discuss.” He gestured to a passing servant. “More tea, please.”
Exmore glanced about the crowded room. All the tables and chairs were occupied with men smoking and reading papers or discussing the day’s politics. He was trapped.
“Sit, my good man,” Wallis urged him, oblivious to the invisible current of animosity between Lewiston and Exmore. “You are looking quite well. You must have taken my advice.”
“Err, yes,” Exmore agreed, remaining standing. He didn’t remember Wallis’s advice. People had been trying to offer Exmore their so-called wise words since Cassandra’s death. Exmore conveniently forgot all the inane counsel.
“Who is she?”
Exmore blinked. “Pardon?”
“The lady,” Wallis prompted. “Remember, I told you to find a good lady. So, who is she? I’m an old man who rarely gets out to parties, and unfortunately, I hear the gossip days after everyone else. You must tell me.”
Lewiston tilted his head and studied Exmore. His pale silvery eyes reminded him of cold, stark, snow-laden landscapes.
“No one,” Exmore muttered. “I have found no one.”
“Sit down.” Wallis patted the armrest of the empty chair beside him. “We must discuss Patrick.”
Exmore sank into the empty chair. Lewiston shifted in his. One of them would have to go soon.
“I have heard very troubling reports, indeed,” Wallis said. “I understand that brazen girl Miss Annalise Van Der Keer has been in London for a few weeks now and is making her way into some of the finest homes. It was relayed to me only hours ago that she would be attending Lord Warrington’s ball this evening. Lord Warrington! The Prince Regent shall be there. To think he would be sharing a room with that… fiendish woman. Oh, had I known sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”
This was what Wallis needed to speak about? Exmore looked down to where his hands had balled into fists. He spread his fingers as a servant arrived with more tea. He could feel Lewiston’s blue-flame eyes on him. He hated being so close to the man. Although they rarely spoke, Lewiston possessed a silent smugness in his power over Exmore.
“What say you, Lord Exmore?” Wallis continued when Exmore didn’t answer. “Surely you are outraged.”
“I believe Lord Exmore has danced with her,” Lewiston volunteered.
Exmore’s restraint was cracking. How easy it would have been to strike the man’s handsome face. Perhaps blacken those pretty eyes, as Exmore had wanted to for years.
“He has?” Wallis cried, outraged. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” Exmore said, forcing himself to sit back in his chair. He decided that the best course to protect Annalise was to appear nonchalant, as if she meant nothing to him.
“I say, you of all men should know her true nature,” Wallis said. “She’s a termagant. A hellion.” He waved his hand dismissively. “No doubt, you had to dance out of politeness.”
Exmore didn’t trust himself to answer. He drew a long sip of tea instead. Lewiston had remained silent but looked on with a small amused hike to his lips. What did he know? Lewiston always had the advantage of knowing more than Exmore did.
“Lord Exmore, I fear for Patrick,” Wallis continued. “I don’t want that wild gel chasing after him. He’s an important man now. Five thousand a year. He doesn’t need her sort dragging him to her depths, scaring away more promising prospects.” Wallis looked at Exmore for agreement.
Exmore spoke in low, measured tones, aware that Lewiston was watching him closely. “I think you would find that Miss Van Der Keer has matured. I haven’t witnessed any of her former misbehavior of which you speak.”
“But what happens when Patrick arrives?” Wallis pressed on. “She knows he’s coming. That’s why she’s here. She has the mind of a cunning minx.”
“I feel you are mistaken.” Exmore could no longer conceal his anger. It ground in his voice.
Wallis patted his armrest. “I want you to talk to her father.”
“He is dead,” Exmore said bluntly.
“You appear to know a great deal about Miss Van Der Keer,” Lewiston said slowly, slyly.
Exmore ground his molars. How had he fallen into this delicate game of societal chess? He had to move carefully to protect his queen.
“Then who chaperones her?” Wallis demanded. “Her uncle again? That insidiously ambitious man. You must talk to him. Remind him of his and his niece’s station.”
“Which is?” Exmore snapped.
“Her uncle is a hairbreadth above middling, and she herself is barely respectable.” Wallis’s voice was raised, thundering over the din. “You must speak to her uncle and find some means, some leverage on the man to have his niece removed from London before she can get her scheming claws into my boy. She means to make him the contempt of gentle society and ruin all he has become.”
Exmore bolted to his feet, shaking the table, splashing tea.
“Come now, what is this?” Wallis demanded, lifting his tea-soaked linen from his lap.
“Very well.” Exmore’s voice was a low, hoarse whisper. “I shall speak to Miss Van Der Keer and warn her away from Patrick. I shall suggest that she find a gentleman who knows his own mind and doesn’t require his papa to solve all his problems.”
Wallis’s mouth dropped. “Are you insulting my son? I say!”
Lewiston released a low chuckle. Damn the man.
“You asked me to warn away Miss Van Der Keer,” Exmore said. “I’m merely thinking of a course that will work.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed as his mind worked. “I say,” he said slowly. “Maybe that gel’s sad charms have got to you in your weakened state. Listen to me, my lord, stay away from her low sort. Her kind will say and do anything to ingratiate themselves to their betters.”
Exmore knew he wasn’t acting wisely, but he wouldn’t stand to have Annalise slandered. He leaned down, placing both hands on the table, his face inches from Wallis’s.
“If you say a word against Miss Van Der Keer,” he said in a low growl, “I will sink Patrick’s prospects in this city forever. He may as well have stayed India.” Exmore gathered his letters and journal and strolled out, stunned silence in his wake.
Outside in the vivid sunlight, his body quaked. What had he done? He was supposed to keep things under wraps with Annalise. Their friendship was the purest, most lovely thing he had in his life. Of course, he had to slip up and destroy it. Damn him.
If anything grew from this unfortunate meeting with Wallis and Lewiston, he would do everything in his power to protect Annalise. He would shoulder all the blame. Until then, he would remain silent and hope nothing came of it. But he had a clawing feeling that a powerful wave was rolling in from the sea about to crash upon him.
* * *
Annalise glanced about Lord Warrington’s ballroom, searching for Exmore. Some evenings they crossed paths, other nights they didn’t. She floundered the nights he wasn’t around. Even though they pretended not to notice each other, when he was about she was aware of his every move. She could detect the slightest raised, amused brow or tightened lips suppressing laughter. When it was safe, their gazes would meet, and they would say without speaking, I know you are here. All is well. Strange how she needed only a single look from him to feel strong again.
She didn’t see him among the faces, but counseled herself that she had only arrived, and the musicians were still warming up. There was still time.
She continued to furtively search for Exmore, and at the same time, she tried to assure Phoebe that her hair still appeared beautiful, even without the strand of adorning beads that had broken in the carriage on the way over.
“But I had my hair in papers all night and morning for this coiffure!” Phoebe complained.
“Don’t be so crestfallen. If you were to meet a gentleman tonight, and he were to fall in love with you only for your coiffure, I don’t think you should have him.”
“It’s still vexing.”
“What if I discreetly take a leaf from this palm and place it your hair? Would that do instead?” Annalise reached for the palm, knowing well she wasn’t going to snap off a branch of the hostess’s magnificent plant, but she enjoyed teasing Phoebe and casting her from her frustrations.
“No!” Phoebe gasped.
“But if you don’t stand beside the palm for the remainder of the evening, no one will know.” She laughed. “Come now, you know I’m jesting.”
“Ah, Annalise, there you are.”
Annalise whirled around to find her uncle had materialized behind her. He normally didn’t attend parties, but he couldn’t turn down Lord Warrington’s invitation. It was the greatest home he had been accepted in. His pleasant smile looked like a tight, ill-fitting garment on his face. Beside him stood a trim, handsome man possessing an intense face accented by startling pale eyes.
“Colonel Lewiston, may I present my niece Miss Van Der Keer.” Her uncle had taken on the polite tone he used in public. “The colonel has expressed a desire to dance with you.”
“Thank you.” Annalise curtsied. “I should be very happy to dance.” And she was. She had danced enough now that she no longer feared causing bodily injury to others.
“There now,” her uncle said to Colonel Lewiston. “She is tame enough. Enjoy her.”
Annalise took the colonel’s offered arm and tried to make small conversation to conceal her embarrassment at her uncle’s demeaning treatment of her. “I’m sorry, but I am at a disadvantage,” she said as he led her to the dance floor. “For you seem to know me, but I do not think I’ve met you before.” She would have certainly remembered such a striking gentleman.
“I do not attend many balls.” He spoke in a blunt, clipped manner. “In truth, I knew you were coming here tonight, and I sought out your uncle to present you.”
“Oh,” Annalise said, because that was politer than asking, And why were you searching me out?
“You see, I came to warn you,” he said as they took their positions for a quadrille.
“Concerning?” Annalise was becoming nervous. Who was this Colonel Lewiston?
“I’m sorry for my abruptness and harsh manner. I am a military man, and I lack the talent of delicate conversation. But it has been made apparent to me that Lord Exmore holds you in much esteem.”
The dancers began to move, but Annalise remained still. “Why do you say this? It is not true.”
He held out his hand. She stared at it and took it only after a neighboring dancer bumped into her.
“Please heed my advice,” he said, leading her in a turn. “Take care to avoid him.”
“Why do you speak this way to me?”
He edged closer to her than the dance dictated. “He cares little for your feelings,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear. “He is a marquess and will have his way.”
“Sir, again, do not speak to me this way. It is impolite.”
“The truth is often impolite. He misused a lady. A lady I loved. He destroyed her gentle heart and her life. He… he killed her.”
“What?” She yanked from his clasp. The dancing couples beside them turned, eyeing them. Annalise wanted to walk away, no, run, but knew the best tactic was to stay in the dance and then quietly slip into the crowd. Causing a scene wouldn’t improve the situation.
“My apologies.” He lifted her hand and drew her back into the dance formation. “You may misunderstand. He did not kill her with his hands. He tortured her heart, slowly draining away her life. She died of grief.”
Sorrow imbued his dramatic proclamation, and normally Annalise would have been more sympathetic, but she felt only annoyance. “People do not die of grief, Colonel Lewiston. I should know. Please do not speak any more on this topic. We are at a ball. Tell me, have you attended Astley’s Circus or Kew Gardens?” She pointedly attempted to change the subject to a more proper one.
“As a compassionate gentleman, I urge you, do not fall under Exmore’s influence. Stay away from him.”
The only man she wanted to stay away from was the colonel.
She knew Exmore led another life as a rake in the dark belly of London. He visited places and did things she didn’t care to know about. She knew that sorrow changed a person, driving him or her to act in desperate ways. She couldn’t judge him, especially when she was ignorant of the particulars concerning Colonel Lewiston or his lady friend. But she didn’t want to be dragged into any sordid situation between the two men.
Then a worrisome thought struck her: If Lewiston knew about her secret friendship with Exmore, who else did? Her gaze flew to her uncle. He was drinking champagne and speaking amicably with another gentleman.
The dance began to feel like a sickening blur. She wanted to rip her hand away from Lewiston’s clasp. She didn’t want him touching her in any manner. Thankfully, he turned silent for the remainder of the dance, and they both moved through the figures. When the music ended, he leaned close and whispered, “I warn you. Stay away from Exmore.”
She left the dance floor, shaking, and headed for the refreshment parlor. She heard the colonel say something about procuring her some punch, but she ignored him and continued on her own. How did their secret get out? She had told no one, and she trusted Exmore.
A warm hand latched on to her elbow, and Exmore whispered, “I need to speak to you.”
She slowly turned. Exmore’s face was politely composed but pain imbued his burning eyes. “Please.” His voice had a hollowed-out quality.
She shouldn’t meet him here. Not at a crowded ball with her uncle hovering about. It was too dangerous. Yet, she replied, “Yes,” to his imploring gaze.
He walked to a closed parlor door, opened it, and slipped inside. She glanced again at her uncle to find he was still deep in conversation with another gentleman. She paused a moment more, having second thoughts, but then slipped into the parlor with Exmore.
* * *
Exmore seized her shoulders, holding on to her as if they were in some swift-moving current and she would be cast away from him otherwise. “What did he say to you?” he demanded.
Annalise didn’t need any more explanation. She comprehended him immediately. “That man Lewiston said… that you killed some lady he loved. That she died from grief that you inflicted. He was a horrible man. I couldn’t stand touching him. How dare he say these things to me? And at a ball. He is mad.”
Exmore released a deep breath. He should have known Annalise would be sensible. “He is not mad, but he is a very angry and hurt man.”
She held up her hand. “Please, don’t put me in this situation between you two. There are aspects of your life that I don’t need to know about. You are a m—”
“I’m a drunken libertine.”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“That’s what others say. But I need to tell you something. Something I—I haven’t admitted to anyone else.”
The unspoken words had sat in his mind for years and affected every minute of his life, burned in his heart. His life was divided into two times periods—before Cassandra’s death and then after. He had planned to bury the secret with his death and Lewiston. Until that time, he had been prepared to live with the ugly truth day to day, hour to hour. But now, as he looked at Annalise’s compassionate eyes, the words were too heavy, and he couldn’t carry them anymore. Something in her face—in its unique contours—made him feel safe, as though she had some power that no one else possessed to heal him.
“You can tell me anything you need to,” she encouraged.
The truth he had held back so long burst out. “Lewiston loved Cassandra.”
She blinked. “This—this is about Cassandra?” The machinations of her mind showed in her eyes. “Were they lovers? But—but you loved her!” she said fiercely, protectively. “You loved her so much! I remember what you told me that night. How you loved her with a depth I couldn’t conceive. Oh, Exmore.” She drew him into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not as it seems.” He buried his face in her silken hair, drawing in her vanilla scent.
“Tell me now,” she whispered. “The truth. All of it. You needn’t worry about my feelings.”
“I loved her.” The words emitted from a deep, despairing place. “I loved her too much.”
“You cannot love someone too much, Exmore,” she said quietly.
He drew her tight... He needed her warmth, her strength, her understanding. “Unless they don’t love you. Unless your love is unwanted.”
She sucked in her breath. Her body stiffened for a moment, and then all the softness flooded back. “Oh, Exmore. No. I always thought… yours was the perfect marriage. I coveted it when I had been abandoned. I was jealous of it. I thought… I’m sorry. Oh God.”
“I fell wildly in love with her from the start.” The truth had been poisoning him. He had to get it out. “My father advised me against the match, believing I was too young. I wouldn’t listen. She was all I knew, all I thought about. I didn’t know that she loved another. I didn’t. I thought her reserve was part of her calm countenance. Unknown to me, her father forced her to marry me because I was a future marquess, and Lewiston, then, was only the younger son of a baron.”
He drew back until he could see her eyes. “I didn’t know.”
She caressed his shoulder. “Of course you didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have encouraged her to marry me. I feel like a monster.”
“This isn’t your doing.”
“I never suspected anything. She was a good wife—a model wife. Yet, I felt she always kept something from me. Her elusiveness drove me wild. I couldn’t get enough of her. I spent years trying to steal into her secret world. I thought that was how love worked.”
The tears he had never let himself cry filled Annalise’s lovely eyes.
“The pregnancy made her ill. She couldn’t hold down water or food. It was torture to watch her body writhe with retching convulsion. She… she…” He swallowed. His throat burned. “She called out Lewiston’s name. Until then, I had never heard of the man. She begged her maid to come and write a letter to Lewiston. Beneath her delirium, she knew she was dying.” He searched her face, soft with compassion. “I—I did something I shouldn’t have,” he admitted. “I betrayed her trust.”
“In an emotional time, you act in ways you never thought you would. I can’t judge you.”
“I read the letter.”
She reached up and placed her gloved hand on his cheek. “What did the letter say?”
He could tell she didn’t care about the letter. She knew he needed to confess, and she was giving him permission.
“She said she was sorry that she wasn’t strong enough to run away with him.” His voice cracked. “That she thought of him when she touched me. She pretended the baby was theirs. That someday they—she, him, and her unborn child—would be reunited in a world without end. Just as her love for him was—without end.”
Annalise slowly drew him back to her safe embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She rested her cheek on his chest. He liked her there. Her touch penetrated all the way to his pounding heart. Damn that night years ago, and Patrick, and Wallis’s vile words. Annalise was the only true thing in his life. “I couldn’t keep our friendship secret,” he said. “Wallis Hume was insulting you at a club, and I wouldn’t have it. I couldn’t have him belittling you. Lewiston was there and overheard it all.”
“Shhh.” She ran her fingers along his back. “Don’t worry about that. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“The other day you reminded me that I once told you that you would love again and more wisely,” he said. “Well, you don’t. Love continues, even for those who don’t love you. You knew that, and you fought for Patrick. I’ve never told you how much I came to admire you for that. You are the strong one.”
“I don’t feel strong at all. I’m pretending that I’m strong, because it’s easier than owning how confused and sad I can be.”
“Are you that way with me?”
“No. I really have nothing to hide from you. You know all my secrets.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. How easily she gave herself away to him, letting him know her. She didn’t drive him wild like Cassandra had by hiding her true thoughts. She wasn’t a beautiful enigma. She readily gave herself and that sweet, radiant calmness that he recalled from the day at the print shop. He felt safe in her arms. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? How could a grown man feel unsafe? Wasn’t he supposed to be her hero and comfort her? He drew her tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered again.
They didn’t say anything more but rested in their embrace. The music and chatter from the other room could have been miles away.
Then the door swung violently open, the handle smashing against the wall. Mr. Sommerville and Colonel Lewiston stood on the threshold. Sommerville’s thin neck was red and corded, and his bulging eyes burned with anger. Annalise tried to leap away, but Exmore held her close. They wouldn’t get to her. They wouldn’t hurt his Annalise.
“Thank you, Colonel Lewiston, for alerting me to this unfortunate situation,” Sommerville said while glowering at Exmore.
Lewiston eyed Exmore. Triumph hiked the edge of his mouth. Lewiston surely thought he had done a great service to Annalise. He had saved her from Exmore’s supposedly vile clutches, avenging Cassandra through her.
“What have you done, Annalise?” Sommerville demanded.
“Shut the door,” Exmore said, keeping a protective hold on her. Behind them, guests were turning to see the reason for the commotion.
Lewiston shot Exmore a smug look, so proud of himself, and then walked out, shutting the door.
“You ridiculous, silly idiot,” Sommerville spat at Annalise. “You insist on shaming me, and at Lord Warrington’s ball. Have you any sense at all?”
“Don’t speak to her that way,” Exmore growled, keeping Annalise’s back against his chest, his arm draped protectively across her.
“Tell me, my lord.” Mr. Sommerville opened his hands. “Will you do the honorable thing by this witless girl? Will you marry her and be saddled with her for the rest of her life? She would disgrace the office held by your late beloved, perfect wife.”
“No!” Annalise cried.
Exmore remained silent, assessing her uncle and the situation.
“Come away, now, you wicked child!” her uncle barked. No doubt, his voice carried to the other room. He took pleasure in his righteous anger and belittling Annalise. “You disappoint me in every measure.”
Exmore made a quick calculation and reluctantly released his hold on Annalise… for now. “Go quietly with him,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of matters tonight.”