Page 45 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

‘You…wouldn’t consider staying on with Papa?’ she asked. At Ashton, where in future, she’d at least have excuse and opportunity to chat with him.

He paused for a long moment before replying, ‘I think it would be wiser for me to…go elsewhere.’

So she wouldn’t tempt him to folly again? Or had her presence—or absence—nothing to do with his plans? Oh, how she wished she dared ask! But with this strange sense of disquiet squeezing her chest, she couldn’t seem to recapture the warm intimacy they’d shared that night in the library, when she’d felt free to make the most personal enquiries.

He’d fallen silent, too, and now stood simply looking at her. That intense, compelling gaze travelled from her face down to her slippers and back up, as if he were memorising her every feature. ‘I’m glad you’ve found your heart’s desire,’ he said at last. ‘Goodbye, Amanda.’

His tone was soft, almost like a caress, but there was a finality about it that suddenly made her fear she would never see him again. Before she could speak or call him back, with the powerful, sinuous grace with which he always moved, he walked swiftly through the door and closed it behind him.

She stood motionless, irresolute, half-wanting to follow and call him back. But what could she say? He obviously had business elsewhere. Seeing her couldn’t have been that important to him, if he had planned such a short visit in London. He was moving on with his life, leaving her to move on with hers.

Was she really ready to do that? All her memories of Ashton Grove came rushing back: Papa on horseback, consulting with the tenants; the hills rising purple in the mist beyond Mama’s garden; even argumentative Althea, tossing her head at Amanda. A wave of homesickness more acute than anything she’d felt so far swamped her.

Then there was Greville, walking and riding with her, advising her about Althea, diffusing the tension between Papa and George. Longing welled up, sharp enough to bring the tears to her eyes. She dare not even think about Neville Tour.

He was turning into an excellent manager, Papa had written her; the household staff had reported back compliments they’d received about his work from the tenants. He had a talent for engaging people, her father observed…hardly surprising to her, whom he’d engaged from the very first.

Praise Heaven that Papa was feeling better and might soon be able to resume his duties. After which, Greville Anders would leave to take up a new challenge at some other grand estate, perhaps even one of his own.

By the end of the Season, when she returned to visit Ashton, he might be on the other side of England. She might just have shared the last conversation she would ever have with him.

‘Goodbye, Greville,’ she whispered, the burn of tears at the corners of her eyes intensifying.

Her heart’s desire—had she truly found it in London? Or might she just have watched it walk out the library door?

Later that evening, Amanda took her place beside Lady Parnell to greet their guests. Candles illumined the room with a golden glow, enticing odours emanated from the supper room, and every immaculate, waxed and polished inch of the public rooms was reflected a million times over by silver trays, sparkling goblets and crystal chandeliers. But as she stared across the room, a smile pinned to her lips, Amanda saw none of it.

The evening was to be the triumphant culmination of her presentation, with everyone who was anyone answering Lady Parnell’s summons to honour her ward. Conscious of the honour—to say nothing of the expense and effort her hostess had expended—Amanda tried to focus on greeting each guest. But as the hour grew later, she found her smile becoming more and more automatic, her attention wandering as her eyes darted towards the entry.

Mr Anders had told her he was leaving London. There wasn’t the slightest chance he would attend the ball tonight. Still, knowing he was still in town, she couldn’t seem to keep herself from hoping that, just maybe, he would appear.

An urgent sense of expectation rose with each new visitor, then fell as Kindle announced a name that was not Greville’s. Absently she agreed to save Lord Trowbridge and Mr Hillyard each a waltz, glad now that her duties receiving guests prevented either from being able to whisk her away for dancing or refreshments.

Midway through the evening, he still had not come. Lady Parnell had just told her she was released from her duties when a tall, dark-haired gentleman appeared, a golden-haired lady on his arm and Kindle intoned, ‘The Marquess and Marchioness of Englemere.’

A shock zipping through her, Amanda jerked her gaze to the doorway. It took only an instant to ascertain that Greville had not accompanied his cousin.

Still, this was the man who had arranged for him to stay at Ashton Grove. Another bolt of excitement energised her. He’d told her he’d come to London to consult with his cousin. Perhaps the marquess might know more about his future plans.

After greetings were exchanged, Lord Englemere said, ‘My heartiest thanks to you, Miss Neville, for your hospitality to my cousin, Mr Anders. He seems to have made a very good recovery, which I attribute to your family’s good care.’

‘You are most welcome. I understand Mr Anders just visited you.’ At the marquess’s look of surprise, she added hastily, ‘He paid me a brief call this morning. To give me a report about my father’s improving health.’

Englemere exchanged a quick glance with his wife. ‘Yes, Greville visited us as well. We’d hoped to induce him to spend a few days, but he seemed quite anxious to get on with his affairs.’

Though conscious of Lady Parnell’s raised eyebrow, for it was not usual to detain guests in a reception line, Amanda couldn’t help asking, ‘You were advising him, he said. About the possible purchase of some property?’

‘My dear,’ Lady Englemere said to her husband, ‘other guests are waiting to speak with our hostess. Lady Parnell, would you mind if we kidnapped your lovely ward for a few moments?’

‘Not at all. I was about to release her anyway,’ her sponsor replied politely, her puzzled gaze following them as Amanda walked away.

‘Did Mr Anders tell you anything about his service aboard the Illustrious?’ Englemere asked.

Wondering what that had to do with Greville’s future, Amanda said, ‘He recounted some amusing incidents.’

‘Nothing about his own service?’

‘Not in detail. He told Papa most of it wasn’t fit for a maiden’s ears.’

Englemere laughed. ‘Just as I thought. Mr Anders is quite the hero, Miss Neville! A few weeks ago, we had the opportunity to host his commanding officer, Captain Harrington. The captain sang his praises, especially his courage during the battle with privateers. He credited Mr Anders with saving both his life and that of his first officer.’

‘I knew he’d been wounded in the action, but—why, he never said a word!’ Amanda exclaimed.

Englemere chuckled. ‘My cousin seems to have become a modest man, as well as a responsible one. For his efforts during that skirmish, he will be receiving a significant sum of prize money. He wished to have my advice on purchasing an estate to manage, an occupation for which your father has been giving him valuable experience and advice.’

‘Where do you think he intends to purchase property?’ she asked.

By now, Lady Englemere was looking at her as curiously as Lady Parnell had. Amanda knew she’d already passed from polite enquiry to an inquisitiveness that bordered on the ill mannered. But she couldn’t seem to help herself, so driven was she to discover as much as she could about him.

‘That has yet to be determined.’

‘I see,’ she said in a small voice. So there was no telling where in England he might end up. ‘Perhaps he will settle not too far distant from Ashton Grove,’ she said without much hope. As far as she knew, there weren’t any properties for sale in the neighbourhood. ‘I know Papa would enjoy continuing their association.’

‘I’m sure your father—and you—will encounter him often,’ Lady Englemere said evenly.

Amanda murmured a polite assent, but she didn’t believe it. With the Navy Board releasing him, he’d leave as soon as Papa recovered, which, she devoutly hoped, would occur long before her Season ended. By the time she went back to Ashton, he would be gone.

She might well never see him again.

As desolation chilled her to the soul, Mr Hillyard appeared, claiming her for the waltz she’d promised. Repeating the familiar politenesses by rote, she took leave of Englemere and his wife, and numbly let Hillyard lead her away.

Anxious to be on his way and back at Ashton Grove, at first light Greville rode out of London. Travelling by horseback, he hoped to reach Blenhem Hill within a few days and return to Devon in no more than a week.

Leaving early also removed the temptation to call again upon Amanda Neville—senseless as that action would be. Finding her alone, a circumstance he hadn’t anticipated, he’d seized the chance to ask the only question that mattered: whether the world she’d dreamed of entering had fulfilled her expectations. The enthusiasm on her face when she replied had been unmistakable.

She was well on her way to establishing herself in the position to which she’d always aspired, a hostess in a social realm that would never be his. Assured of her happiness, there’d been no need to say any more, to embarrass them both confessing a love that would make no difference. All that remained was to say goodbye, and he had.

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