The Earl's Betrothal Read online

  “Ah, there he is now,” he heard his mother say as she made her way toward him. “We were just speaking about what a miracle it was that you returned home after the dreadful news we’d received. I’ve already made apologies for your father,” she added in a lowered voice so that only he could hear. “He was adamant about attending but was feeling tired. I told him not to be pigheaded and foolish. Your Grace,” she said, raising her voice again, “I do not believe you have met my younger son, the current Lord Halford. Anthony, may I present the Duke of Marwood, the Duchess of Marwood, and their daughter, Lady Elizabeth Spaulding.”

  “Your Graces, Lady Elizabeth,” Anthony said, bowing to each in turn. “An honor to make your acquaintance.” The Duke of Marwood was a large man with a stocky build and pale, ruthless eyes. His wife was tall and too thin. She would have been a handsome woman but for the pinched expression she wore. Lady Elizabeth, however, was as beautiful as Anthony remembered. He wondered if she and Alex had been in love.

  “Halford.” The duke harrumphed. “Met the other Halford. Decent chap, if a bit wild. Hope you are more settled than he was.”

  His mother paled, and Lady Elizabeth blushed at her father’s implications, which matched what Anthony’s father had suggested: that since the marriage agreement between Alex and Lady Elizabeth had been near completion, it made sense that Anthony simply step into the breach. He was not happy with the duke’s assessment of his brother’s character, however. “I expect the military disciplined a great deal of wildness from my character, Your Grace,” Anthony replied, trying not to bristle. “If you will excuse us, my mother is anxious for me to greet our other guests. Duchess, Lady Elizabeth.”

  Bowing to each again, he and his mother moved away. “I cannot believe the nerve of that man sometimes,” she whispered to him. “Saying such things about you and Alex that way, as if the two of you were bloodstock at Tattersalls.”

  They’d reached the cluster of people nearest them. Unfortunately it happened to be Sir Frederick Putnam, a local baronet, and his wife and two daughters. Anthony winced inwardly. The Duke of Marwood had been pompous and arrogant, but the Putnams were social climbers of the worst kind. Sir Frederick wasn’t entirely a bad sort, but Anthony could already feel Lady Putnam’s eyes boring through him, and the Misses Putnam were eyeing him like a prize bull. Miss Harriet Putnam, the eldest, wasn’t much younger than Louisa, but the years hadn’t been as kind to her as they had his sister. Miss Charlotte Putnam had always been a silly girl, and it appeared maturity hadn’t changed that aspect of her personality, although she was relatively harmless—he hoped.

  After greeting each member of the family, Anthony opened his mouth to make polite conversation before moving on—they were neighbors, after all—but Lady Putnam beat him to the punch.

  “Lord Halford,” she said loudly enough for the entire room to hear. “What a joy it is to have you back among your bosom friends! I cannot tell you how it made us feel when we heard the news! We were all in raptures, were we not, girls?”

  “Oh, yes, Mama,” Miss Harriet exclaimed, clasping her hands dramatically against her overly exposed bosom. Anthony suspected it was a tactical maneuver, however badly it failed. “Absolute raptures!”

  Miss Charlotte giggled behind her gloved hand.

  “Yes, well, I was quite in raptures myself to return home,” Anthony managed as politely as possible. “If you will excuse us—”

  “And I said to Harriet,” Lady Putnam continued. “‘Harriet,’ says I, ‘we must have that young man over to tea soon and welcome him back properly to the village.’”

  “That is very kind of you, my lady,” Anthony said, glancing at his mother, but she was intentionally ignoring him and smoothing down her skirts.

  It appeared he would have to rescue himself.

  “Harriet has gotten very good on the pianoforte,” Lady Putnam said. “Everyone compliments her. I am certain you would enjoy listening to her perform her latest Haydn sonata.”

  Anthony glanced frantically about the room. “I am sure I would,” he said. “I shall make a note of it. I have many new responsibilities requiring my attention that take precedence over everything else, unfortunately, but I shall endeavor . . . Mother,” he added, hoping he didn’t sound desperate. “Who is that young lady seated in the chair by the window? I must take you to task for not introducing me to such a lovely guest.”

  “But she isn’t a young lady,” Charlotte Putnam piped up. “She is as old as a crone.”

  His mother looked up. Finally. “But of course, son,” she replied smoothly, ignoring Charlotte’s remark. Even Lady Putnam managed to look embarrassed. “Please forgive us, Lady Putnam. I have neglected my duties as hostess and must introduce Halford to Lady Walmsley.”

  Anthony made a point of bowing over each of the Putnam ladies’ hands and left with great relief. Lady Putnam had hardly spoken to him in his youth, and the girls had been indifferent. Alex had been the heir, not he, so Alex had been the object of their fawning attention. Anthony suspected Harriet was holding out for no less than an earl. She would probably be married with children of her own, like Louisa, if she and her marriage-mad mama hadn’t cared more about the title than the man. Harriet was not for him.

  And Charlotte Putnam would drive him mad in a week with her silly comments and incessant giggling.

  When they reached the silver-haired lady in the chair, Anthony realized Miss Clarke was seated next to her, looking especially lovely in a pale-green muslin gown.

  “Lady Walmsley,” his mother said, “may I present my son, the Earl of Halford.”

  Anthony took Lady Walmsley’s hand in his and bowed low over it. “An honor, my lady,” he said, remembering that it was she who had given Miss Clarke her reference.

  “Welcome back from the grave, young man,” she said. “You have returned from a place I may soon make my residence. Perhaps you can share your knowledge with me so I will get along better once I arrive there.”

  “Oh, but you must not speak so!” Miss Clarke exclaimed, taking the hand Anthony had relinquished and kissing it fondly.

  He had felt those lips on his own and knew they were full and soft and—devil take it! His thoughts seemed to travel in that direction no matter what he did. And to complicate matters further, he was finding it a great pleasure to feast his eyes upon her now. Her simple green evening dress was modest and not quite in the latest fashion but still very pretty, and the color of it matched her eyes and set off her auburn hair nicely. It was the first time he had seen her in anything but gray.

  His father had called an end to the year of mourning beginning this evening, what with Anthony’s arrival home and the celebrations and all, and Anthony could not be sorry. If Alex could see Miss Clarke right now, may he rest in peace, he would not be sorry either.

  “Halford,” Lady Walmsley said forcefully, bringing him out of his thoughts. “I have decided I shall be staying here as your guest for the next fortnight at least. Perhaps longer. My own companion was in need of a vacation, but instead she chose to visit her relations in Yorkshire, foolish woman. She’s due back any day now, but she will be that much the worse for wear, so I am writing to say I am staying here and ordering her to Bath for a long rest when she returns from the north. Ashworth Park appears to have plenty of diversions to keep people from being bored silly”—she paused and gave a speaking glance at Charlotte Putnam—“well, some people at least.”

  Anthony bit the inside of his cheek in order to maintain his composure. “You are welcome to stay as long as you wish, my lady,” he replied in a solemn voice. Lady Walmsley seemed the sort to keep an entire household merrily on its toes. “We will enjoy getting to know you better, and I am sure Miss Clarke is looking forward to spending more time with you.”

  “Oh yes,” Miss Clarke said. “Did you know, Lord Halford, that Lady Walmsley was a friend of your grandmother’s? And her niece and my mother
were at school together. That is an amazing coincidence, do you not agree?”

  “Amazing indeed,” Anthony said. In fact, it was another piece of the puzzle, he thought. He seemed to recall that Lady Walmsley was the daughter of an earl, and her niece, therefore, the granddaughter of an earl. And Miss Clarke’s mother had been at finishing school with her . . . It must have been a fairly elite school, then, and helped explain how Miss Clarke had arrived at her own impeccable manners and speech.

  “That is all fine and good,” Lady Walmsley said, waving her hand about. “But it is a conversation for a different time, when we may sit comfortably away from all and sundry and talk freely about such things. I do not share my history with the undeserving public.” Anthony coughed, and Lady Walmsley narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you, young man?” she asked pointedly.

  “Do I what?” Anthony had lost the thread of the conversation somehow.

  “Share your personal history with all and sundry,” she replied impatiently. “Lady Ashworth, you did not tell me your son returned home from the war without his wits.”

  Lady Ashworth looked at her son.

  “I retained my wits, I assure you,” Anthony replied. “I am merely dazzled by your beauty and find myself tongue-tied as a result.”

  “Ha!” Lady Walmsley cackled. “I daresay you do have your wits after all.”

  “But promise that you will share your stories with us—I mean, me,” Miss Clarke said, casting a furtive glance in Anthony’s direction. “I should dearly love to hear anything you can tell me about my mother, even if it is not much.”

  “I have stories, my dear,” Lady Walmsley said, patting Miss Clarke’s hand. “But I see that dinner is to be served. Not a moment too soon either. Help me to my feet, Halford.”

  “Of course,” Anthony replied, noting that his mother and Miss Clarke were both fighting not to smile at Lady Walmsley’s command.

  Buxton had indeed entered the room to announce dinner. Anthony assisted Lady Walmsley to her feet, though she wasn’t as frail as he’d originally thought. “You, my lady, are a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Flatterer,” she said, cackling and smacking him with her fan. “If I were a decade or two younger, I would be hot on your trail.”

  Terrifying thought, that.

  He wished he could escort Miss Clarke, but it would be bad form. As host, he was required to escort the lady of highest rank, which happened to be the Duchess of Marwood. His brother-in-law, Farleigh, arrived to escort Lady Walmsley. Anthony glanced around for an escort for Miss Clarke, reluctant to leave her on her own, and was relieved when his father’s physician, Dr. Samuels, stepped forward.

  Samuels was older, probably in his fifties, but Anthony recalled that the man was a widower and had spent a great deal of time at Ashworth Park attending to his father and, therefore, would be well acquainted with Miss Clarke.

  Suddenly the idea of Samuels escorting her didn’t seem like such a good idea.

  Anthony could not help his impulse to protect Miss Clarke. And yet any attention he paid to her would be perceived as the lord of the manor dallying with a subordinate, taking advantage of his position. It simply was not done.

  “Farleigh, I need your help for a moment,” his sister Louisa said from across the room, drawing Anthony’s brother-in-law away from Lady Walmsley momentarily. Anthony opted to stay with the elderly woman. The Duchess of Marwood would simply have to wait a moment for his escort, if she wished it.

  “You are woolgathering again, boy,” Lady Walmsley murmured to him. Only someone like Lady Walmsley could get away with calling him ‘boy.’ “Pay attention,” she said.

  “Forgive me. I shall try to be more attentive.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “Now, if I were a young man, I would be keeping an eye on her too.” She gestured with her fan in the direction of Miss Clarke and Dr. Samuels. “Lovely girl, unlike most of them here. Levelheaded, with a kind heart to boot.”

  “What are you suggesting, my lady?”

  “You could do worse. The evidence of that will be sitting around the dinner table with us. Oh, the Marwood chit is well enough, if only her father would loosen his grip on her. She has almost lost what spirit she has. But the Putnam girls”—she snorted in disgust—“there is only one brain between the two of them, and unfortunately most of it belongs to the eldest, who only uses it for her self-serving ends. And that mother of theirs . . . Well, I have said enough for now. Ah, there you are, Lord Farleigh.”

  Anthony left Lady Walmsley in his brother-in-law’s capable hands and went to offer his escort to the duchess and then led the way to the dining room.

  He seated himself at the head of the table, his mother seated opposite. The other guests for the evening, in addition to Lucas, included the Reverend Villiers and his wife, Alice; old Fawcett; and Christopher and Phillip Osbourne, neighbors and particular friends of both Anthony and Alex. He had not been able to greet them earlier, having been commandeered by Lady Walmsley, but he would be sure to speak with them at length later.

  If he remembered correctly, their father had died while Anthony was gone, and Christopher—Kit to his friends—was the Earl of Cantwell now.

  If there were any two people alive who would understand Anthony’s position at the moment, it would be the Osbourne brothers.

  Miss Clarke, he noted, had been seated between Dr. Samuels and Mr. Fawcett. Anthony, on the other hand, had Lady Elizabeth seated at his left and her mother at his right.

  It promised to be a dull evening.

  He rose from his seat and delivered the speech he’d mentally prepared while Lucas—who’d insisted—had shaved him for the second time that day. “On my father’s behalf, may I welcome you all to Ashworth Park and hope your stay with us will be an enjoyable one. I am happy to report that he is getting stronger and is determined to join us for part of the day tomorrow—”

  A round of “Hear! hears!” erupted, and some of the men raised their goblets.

  Anthony continued. “Additionally, I would like to say that I am gratified to be home and reunited once again with family and friends and am humbled by the celebration that has been planned for tomorrow in my honor. But I cannot allow things to proceed further until I have raised a glass to my brother, Alexander, who left us all too soon. I was spared a similar fate while in Spain, but I would not have had it thrust onto him.” He raised his goblet. “To my brother, Alexander.”

  “To Alexander,” the others at the table echoed.

  * * *

  Amelia found herself seated between Dr. Samuels and Mr. Fawcett, which did not bode well for an enjoyable dinner. She might have found it interminable if not for her conversation with Phillip Osbourne, who was seated across from her at the table. She had a previous acquaintance with Mr. Osbourne and his brother, Lord Cantwell; they had been frequent visitors to Ashworth Park two years ago, visiting even more so during the days immediately following Lord Alexander’s death.

  They had ridden over frequently during that terrible week to console the family and to be consoled. Their estate was nearby, and the four boys had been the best of friends. Amelia had been privileged to hear them tell stories of the antics they had got into. Even Lady Louisa had tearfully shared jolly anecdotes of her childhood attempts to be included in the band of four.

  Amelia could not help but be distracted by the conversations at the other end of the room, however, where Lord Halford was.

  “I have suggested, my dear Miss Clarke,” Dr. Samuels said, “that Lord Ashworth allow me to bleed him daily, but he has refused. If he does not listen to my advice, I cannot vouchsafe his continued return to health.”

  “And yet, sir,” she replied as patiently as she could, “if his health is improving as you say, he may not require such extreme methods.” She really did not wish to discuss Lord Ashworth’s blood—or anyone else’s, for that matter—at a form
al dinner party. Lord Ashworth himself would be appalled.

  “The subtleties inherent in the practice of medicine are many, dear lady. Perhaps we may stroll on the terrace following dinner and I can instruct you further.”

  The type of instruction Amelia was sure Dr. Samuels intended to provide, if the way he was ogling her was any indication, had nothing whatsoever to do with the treatment of patients, and she was determined to avoid it at all cost. “Thank you for your generous offer, Dr. Samuels,” she said, “but I shall be retiring shortly after dinner. Tomorrow promises to be a busy day, and as I have much responsibility for it, I must be well rested.”

  “My dear Miss Clarke!” he exclaimed. “Your own health will be at risk if you are not careful. I shall speak to the marchioness on your behalf and set the situation to rights. It simply cannot be borne.”

  Could the man not take a hint? “I beg you, do not, sir. I will be happily occupied with my tasks tomorrow. I volunteered for them.” In a last-ditch attempt to extricate herself from Dr. Samuels’s attentions, she looked determinedly at Mr. Osbourne. “And what of you, Mr. Osbourne? May we hope to see you participate in the cricket match tomorrow afternoon?”

  “That you will, Miss Amelia,” he said, his eyes twinkling. The scoundrel. He’d used her Christian name intentionally to get under Dr. Samuels’s skin, as Amelia had not given the doctor permission to do so. “And I plan to be involved in the tug-of-war I’ve heard rumors about,” he added. “I hope you will be there to see me at my impressive best.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” she said.

  Dr. Samuels grumbled about impertinent young men as he drained his goblet and gestured at a footman to refill it.

  Mr. Osbourne winked conspiratorially at Amelia.

  She smiled and took a bite of pheasant, then glanced around the table while she savored it. Lady Ashworth was engaged in conversation with the Reverend Mr. and Mrs. Villiers; Mr. Fawcett was busy refilling his plate. At the other end of the table, the duke and Lord Cantwell conversed with Lord Halford. Amelia had stolen glances at him during dinner, but this time he looked up and caught her at it.