I Know You Page 2

  The mention of her areas of interest sent a shiver up her spine. But just because he was interested in the same things she was didn’t mean he would wish to discuss them with her. Very few gentlemen believed that women could hold any measure of intelligence. Very few gentlemen were like Geoffrey…

  Anne looked around the dining room. This was the first time she’d been to the London townhouse since she’d entered the schoolroom. Her parents had decided to cease bringing her to London for the Season at that point for some reason or another that she’d never really questioned at the time, but suddenly she was curious.

  The dining room was spacious and well situated, silk wall coverings featuring hand painted garden scenes. To anyone else it would look like an extravagance that bespoke money and decadence. To her, however…

  She recognized her mother’s talent in the artwork. Her mother, Louise Marie duMont, had been renowned in France for her talent. But she’d fallen in love with a lowly financier and had accepted his hand when he’d asked her to return to England with him. She’d never regretted her decision, but female artists were not granted admittance in the Royal Gallery, which meant she had been forced to set aside her art - at least in the eyes of the ton.

  Her biggest fear was having to be disregarded just like her mother. Not that her father ever truly disregarded her mother, but he’d been ill placed in society to help her retain her notability. Seeing the silk paintings now just made her sad and angry at the same time.

  “You will have a chance to meet Ridgely tomorrow night.”

  Anne tore her gaze away from the walls and stared at her father dumbfounded. “Are you presenting me to him so soon?” She cringed at the acid in her tone, but she couldn’t help the bitterness she felt.

  Her father shook his head and sighed. “Anne, please try to be understanding. Things move far differently in the ton than they do in Yorkshire. And it is not like I have sold you to a slaver. His Grace’s estates are vast, and Lord Ridgely controls a great many of them himself. He is a busy man, but the Duke mentioned that the Marquess often prefers company when traveling, so it is likely you will not be left to your own devices.”

  Again, her father spoke to her heart. She hated feeling left out of anything. When she’d been young her father had often taken her along on business trips when it could be assured that she’d be welcome at their destination. It was how she’d met Geoffrey…

  She closed her eyes and counted softly to herself. She couldn’t keep bringing him up in her mind. Geoffrey was all but lost to her now. Secily had told her this past Christmas that when Geoffrey had finished school he’d entered into service as a valet to one of his classmates and that had been the last any of them had heard from him. She couldn’t even be certain which family he’d been connected to as he’d never mentioned the classmate in any of his previous correspondence.

  Feeling defeated, she sighed and resigned herself to at least conceding this battle for the night. She would agree to meet the Marquess of Ridgely and his father, the Duke of Marshbane, and she would agree to do so with an open mind. She would not, however, do so uninformed.

  “Very well, what can you tell me of his Lordship?”

  If her change in demeanor surprised her father he didn’t let on. He simply smiled and began rattling off accomplishments. “He took a first at Cambridge in History before joining the Army. He wasn’t the heir at the time, so that wasn’t so unusual. His Grace spoke highly of his Lordship’s resolve to fight off Old Boney’s forces. However, when he came back from the fighting his brother was dead and he became Ridgely.”

  “How awful for him.” Though she hadn’t yet met him, she couldn’t help but feel badly for the young lord, returning from what was probably a horrible experience only to discover that his brother had been taken from him as well.

  Suddenly something her father had said sunk in. “Did you say he went to Cambridge? Do you know what years he attended?” Perhaps he had known Geoffrey and would be able to assist her in locating him. Though her dream of marrying him was all but dashed, if she could at least assure herself that he was well…then maybe that would be enough.

  “I’m not quite sure of the years, but he is five and twenty, so his university days were over some time ago. Maybe three years.”

  Three years. Could it be possible? She wasn’t even sure what degree Geoffrey had taken. And she was almost positive that underclassmen were the last things on the minds of those finishing up their studies. But if there was even the remotest of possibilities, shouldn’t she ask?

  “Does this interest mean that you are amenable to meeting his Lordship and presenting at least a semblance of pleasure at this match?”

  And there was the father that she remembered of old. One who was more clued in to her moods than he’d shown since the passing of her mother. She rose from her seat and walked the length of the table to stand at his side. He rose and caught up her hands as she offered them.

  “Papa, I know you are doing your best. I shall trust you and endeavor not to make a fool of our family tomorrow night. You have my word.”

  “That was not the declaration of pleasure I was hoping for, but I will take it nonetheless.” He surveyed the table and took in the now chilled final course. “Perhaps we should adjourn to the parlor for a cozier repast of tea and biscuits before bed?”

  Smiling, Anne kissed him on the cheek and turned to allow herself to be led from the room. All the while her mind still spun ideas of exactly how she could convince the man she was promised to marry to help her discover the fate of her long lost love.

  That night her dreams were, as usual, filled with memories of her time with Geoffrey: her walks with him in the dales, their many afternoons fishing and talking and laughing, and their quiet evenings after dinners, sitting together in one of their drawing rooms, simply enjoying each other’s company. But tonight her dreams took a rarely trodden path to their last stolen moments.

  The kisses were still familiar even after three years. They felt burned into her soul with a fire so hot it reached past time and distance. Yet there was something different about this memory. Something added. There was a shadow over them. Not a menacing one - like a storm or anything dangerous - but instead it felt like a covering. A protection or blessing. This shadow was promising a chance at happiness that hadn’t been clear to her in quite some time.

  Under the gaze of the shadow Geoffrey’s kisses grew even hotter. Anne’s skin burned with a desire she couldn’t remember feeling even at the moment of completion in Geoffrey’s arms. She panted for breath and felt her heart racing to keep time with the thrumming of her need.

  Suddenly a burst of white hot fire shot through her core and her eyes snapped open as her channel spasmed on its own. For minutes she lay there in her bed, riding her completion to its end. Once her breathing and heartbeat finally settled out she was aware of how eerily quiet her room was. Praying that she’d not called out in her haze of desire, she rolled over onto her side and tightly closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep once more.

  A summons from his father…

  Well, really it was an invitation, but rarely were invitations optional in the mind of His Grace, the Duke of Marshbane. Yet for the life of him David couldn’t imagine exactly what his father wished to discuss with him.

  It had been nearly three years since he’d become Ridgely and the title still didn’t sit well on his shoulders…or in his mind. Actually, nothing sat well in his mind. It was the curse of being mad.

  As he alighted from his carriage outside his father’s townhouse on Berkley Square, he noticed several strolling ladies giving him the eye and whispering to their companions. Though he couldn’t hear their words he could imagine what their conversation entailed.

  There he is, the Marquess of Ridgely! They say he is mad!

  They say he killed his brother and mistress in a fit of jealous rage.

  He never should have been released from the asylum.

  He should be in Bedlam.

/>   The last one was the most disconcerting of the accusations to associate with his name. He knew the veracity of all of the other accusations - which ones were true and which ones were simply ignorant gossip. But the last one…that was a toss-up.

  His soul wished it to be false. He deeply wanted to defend himself from the curses that followed him around polite society. However, he couldn’t very well deny the fact that something was deeply wrong with his mind. And the place for mad people…

  He shuddered. No! He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on that. By some unknown miracle he’d managed to not end up in the hell hole that disguised itself as a place of help and care. No person - sane or otherwise - wished to even visit Bedlam, much less reside there.

  Shaking his head clear of the unnerving thoughts, David marched up the steps and raised his hand to knock just as the door opened to admit him. The butler, Henry, greeted him with his typical stoic nod, and extended his arm to accept David’s hat, coat and walking stick.

  “My Lord. Your father is in his study and would like to have a word with you before you proceed to the drawing room.”

  The drawing room? Good grief! David should have read the invitation closer before jumping in his carriage. Was he actually arriving at a dinner party?

  “Who will be in attendance tonight, Henry?”

  The old butler looked at David sadly and he had to squelch the urge to blush like a ten year old under the scrutiny of a disapproving or pitying servant. He was far too used to both of those situations.

  “Your father has invited Mr. Timothy Edwards and his daughter, Miss Anne Edwards, to dine with you this evening.” It wasn’t said but the it was in the invitation was implied.

  Henry handed his affects to the footman and led the way to the study in order to announce him like some pompous Lord who was too aware of his own credence. “His Lordship, the Marquess of Ridgely, Your Grace.”

  “A simple ‘Your son has arrived’ would have sufficed, Henry,” his father intoned. “But thank you all the same.”

  As usual, David could not tell if his father was joking or not. The Duke was almost as stoic as his butler, which was probably why the two rubbed along so well. With his younger brother and sister away at their respective schools, the townhouse must get awfully quiet.

  “Father? You summoned me, and I have answered.” He raised his hands in a mock presentation before bowing and then folding himself into the stiff leather chair his father had for guests. “What is the happy occasion we are celebrating?”

  “Your betrothal.”

  It had been a sarcastic barb, and he in no way had expected his father to answer in an affirmative manner. So the curt reply garnered his complete attention.

  “Excuse me?”

  Shuffling the papers he had been signing upon David’s entry, the Duke looked upon his son with a cool assessment that never failed to make David feel like he was ten years old again. It was the same blue-eyed stare that he had given him when his brother Michael had died falling from a tree at the age of nine, and seven year old David had become the spare to Gregory, the heir.

  He was fairly sure the explanation he was about to hear was probably just as detrimental to his peace as losing his brother had been.

  “Mr. Timothy Edwards is a brilliant financier. He is an investment genius whom I have consulted on many occasions over the last decade. His daughter, Miss Anne Edwards, is nineteen and just now making her come out. She is comely, intelligent, and talented in many areas that young ladies ought to be. However, what makes her exceptional is that she is used to traveling with her father on business affairs, so she would not be averse to traveling with you on your frequent excursions.”

  Oh good God! He couldn’t believe it was coming down to this. Once, when asked directly why he did not wish to take a wife, he’d responded that he’d yet to meet a lady intelligent enough to converse with and willing to stand his presence for days on end inside a coach as they traveled to oversee his many estates. Apparently his father had taken him by his exact words.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers he counted slowly to ten and took a deep breath. “Father, have you not considered that I am not fit…”

  “Your health is impeccable. Your moods are a bit dodgy that is true, but you and I both know that the rumors are simply gossip that you have allowed to blossom.”

  “You do not know…”

  “I know enough!” His father slammed his hand down on his desk, rattling the ink well. “I will not allow you to shunt yourself aside into oblivion for the sake of an imagined demon. You. Are. Not. Mad.” The last four words were punctuated by more pounding on his desk.

  All David could do was shake his head sadly and meet his father’s heated gaze head on. “Even you cannot command away this, Your Grace.”

  “This is not open for discussion, David.” If the formal address had hurt his father, he didn’t let it show. “When Mr. Edwards and his daughter arrive you will be in the drawing room to greet them. You will dine with them and present yourself cordially to Miss Edwards. Her father and I have already begun the preliminary negotiations of a betrothal contract. If tonight goes well, we will make the announcement at tomorrow night’s ball. Your aunts will be thrilled to know that their ball will be the most talked about event of the Season.

  David rolled his eyes at the last pronouncement. His aunts, sisters who had married his father’s twin brothers, loved nothing more than planning events for their widowed brother in law. It was often joked that neither of them wished to be duchesses, but only to have the capacity to act in her stead without the political duties it entailed.

  “I see you understand the gravity of the situation.” Obviously his father had seen the eye roll. Surprisingly, though, there was a slight upward quirk of his father’s lips. “We mustn’t disappoint the aunts.”

  The dinner wasn’t as painful as he’d imagined it would be. Miss Edwards was, indeed, a pleasant conversationalist. In fact, she’d somehow discovered his education in History and was full of questions about the topics he found most interesting in his studies.

  His interest in her however, was stubbornly limited to her attractive countenance. Comely was a vast understatement. The candles around the room reflected enchantingly off of her golden curls, which were caught up in a loose crown atop her head. Her face was heart shaped, with cheekbones that cut gradually toward a pert nose. He couldn’t tell for sure from the other side of the table, but he almost thought he saw a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Though some women would have bemoaned their existence and covered them up, Miss Edwards seemed not to be bothered by them, which made them all the more enchanting. Her eyes, which were often filled with mirth at his stories of university, were the oddest color he’d ever encountered. They looked brown, but when the light caught them just right he could swear that they were the color of a dark forest or maybe even an Indian jungle.

  “My Lord?”

  He shook his head and refocused on the conversation they’d been having. “I’m sorry, my mind got stuck on a point. What was it we were talking of?”

  “I asked you if you really saw the Parthenon?”

  “I did. Greece is not the best place to travel at the moment, but my company traveled through Athens on the way to the coast to meet the Navy.”

  “Was it as beautiful as the stories say?”

  He thought about it for a moment before answering. “To me, it was sad. So much destruction has been wrecked around those walls. Can you imagine all of the wars it has seen over the centuries?”

  “The tales it could tell.”

  “Precisely! Thousands of years those stone pillars have stood. The dynasties they’ve seen rise and fall. Even the mighty Ottoman Empire saw its defeat in the shadow of that great monument.”

  Suddenly David looked around the table and realized that his father and Mr. Edwards were also listening to him wax poetic about a two thousand year old marble ruin. He felt heat creep up his neck and
he coughed to cover up his embarrassment.

  “My Lord?” Mr. Edwards inquired. “Where else did your company take you on your marches?”

  David closed his eyes, trying desperately not to feel horrified by the question that always took him by surprise, no matter how many times it was asked.

  “Many places, sir. Not all of them pleasant.”

  He feared that the all too astute financier wouldn’t let the subject go, but his daughter, equally astute it seemed, jumped in. “Did you get a chance to see Egypt at all?”

  “No.” David sighed with the easy redirection of the topic. “Not from land at least. I did glimpse the coast from a distance on our way to Gibraltar, though.” Gibraltar had been a milder campaign. Peace keeping for the most part, and not a very long excursion. He had no problem telling tales of Gibraltar.

  As the night wore on, David found himself becoming more and more enchanted by Miss Edwards. She truly was everything his father had claimed, and that was where the problem lay. Could he really attach himself to a lady so pure in her motives and discourse? Could he risk the threat that his father so blithely ignored?

  Just before the guests departed for the evening, Miss Edwards begged a moment to speak with him alone.

  “My Lord,” she said as she placed an envelope in his hand. “I know this is…unusual. But if you could read this before tomorrow night it might make things…clearer.”

  It was such an odd statement that it sincerely made David hesitate in opening the missive. What if whatever she wrote caused him to rethink the entire arrangement? She’d said “clearer”, though. Making it sound as though she knew what she had to say would change things, but hopefully not their plans.

  Sitting in the carriage, he slowly opened the envelope and read the earth-shattering words they contained.

  My Lord,

  I want you to know right away that my decision on the matter I am about to discuss is on no account your responsibility. If you wish to assist me I would be thankful, but I also would understand if you did not feel so inclined.