Anthony crossed his arms over his chest and, with some effort, wiped the grin from his face. He was a wicked man, but he couldn’t help taking his revenge on the two females who would no doubt lead him a merry dance for the rest of his life.
And thank God for that.
“Ah, Lady Paget, come to collect your errant child. I’m amazed you allow her to wander about town like a street urchin. You really shouldn’t unleash her on the unsuspecting citizens of London without any warning. Mayhem would no doubt ensue.”
Marissa pokered up, just as he had known she would. “I beg your pardon, Captain,” she said in a cold voice. “She won’t trouble you again. Come, Antonia.”
Antonia resisted her mother’s efforts to drag her from the room. “Mamma, I don’t want to leave yet. Papa and I were just getting acquainted.”
Marissa stumbled to a halt. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She looked stunned, anxious and defiant, all at the same time. But mostly, she looked like the woman he loved.
He couldn’t tease her any more, not even for the fun of it. Crossing the room, he took one of her trembling hands in his. “My love, I’ve been a brute, and I beg your forgiveness. But why didn’t you tell me about Antonia last night?”
Her beautiful eyes filled with remorse. “I wanted to. But I was afraid you would hate me for the lies I told. And for not remaining true to you all those years, no matter what the consequences.”
When her voice broke, Anthony pulled her into his arms. She put up a token struggle before relaxing against his chest.
“And I didn’t know what to tell Antonia,” she whispered. “What would she think?”
He nodded grimly. “You were ashamed of me. Of what I had become.”
“Never!” she exclaimed, giving him a fierce hug. “You’re the finest man I’ve ever known.”
He let out a tight breath. “Then what were you afraid of? You should have known I would never let anyone hurt you — either of you.”
She looked woeful. “I was afraid Antonia would despise me. My life was a lie, and I made hers a lie, too.”
Antonia propped her hands on her hips and gave her mother a severe look. “Mamma, I worry that your mind is as disordered as Papa’s. How could you think such a thing? I love you more than anything in the world.”
Marissa extracted herself from Anthony’s embrace and gently grasped her daughter’s shoulders. Mother and child gazed into each other’s eyes, seeming to communicate in some mystical, female way.
“Then you don’t mind that you have a new father? Your real father?” Marissa finally asked.
Antonia looked puzzled. “Why would I? He seems nice, and you love him. Plus, he’s rich. You are rich, aren’t you, Papa?” she asked, suddenly looking worried. “Mamma and I wouldn’t be happy if we had to live with Uncle Edmund, instead of with you.”
Anthony pulled the two most important people in the world into his arms. Each fitted snugly against him, as if they’d both been there from the beginning of time.
“No man could be richer,” he said.
And with the prizes he had captured, no man ever would.
Lady Invisible
Patricia Rice
Cotswolds — 1816
“‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife,’” quoted Mrs Higglebottom, the vicar’s wife, reading from the novel on her husband’s desk.
Ill at ease, Major Lucas Sumner stretched his shoulders against the confinement of his civilian attire. He had hoped Reverend Higglebottom might be available for consultation. He did not remember the vicar’s wife being quite so … enigmatic … in her younger days. They’d both grown up here among the rolling hills of Chipping Bedton, but Lucas obviously had been away too long. He must adjust his military sense of order to village idiosyncrasies.
“My fortune is a major’s pension and a small inheritance,” Lucas corrected. “I am in want of a wife because I have a daughter in need of a mother.”
Mrs H. — Lorena, as he’d known her — waved a careless, plump hand. “The extent of your fortune does not matter these days. The village has lost most of its available young men to war and to the city and to marriage. You can have a choice of ladies, from fifteen to fifty, I daresay. The task is to find the right one.”
“Well, yes, that is why I thought I would consult with Edgar—”
“Edgar did not grow up here as we did,” Lorena admonished. “My husband has a worthy, virtuous mind, but not necessarily one connected to the realities of life. Women are far better at matchmaking than men.”
Lucas granted that possibility. He’d married in haste as a young man, and the result was currently uprooting daffodils from graves in the churchyard, if he did not mistake.
With an apology, he rose, pushed up the vicar’s study window, and shouted, “Verity! Stop that at once. Where is your aunt?”
His seven-year-old hoyden waved a bunch of yellow flowers and dashed off. Lucas could only hope it was in the direction of his much-put-upon sister.
“I have a lot to account for in this life,” he said, striding back to the chair. “Verity’s mother died far too young, and I’ve neglected my daughter’s upbringing. Now that the war is done and I’ve come home, it’s time I find a mother for Verity who can teach her to be a lady and turn my bachelor household into a home.”
Lorena nodded and consulted the list she’d evidently drawn up in anticipation of his visit. “Jane Bottoms is still unmarried. She’s a bit long in the tooth, but a very respectable, proper sort.”
Lucas tugged at his neckcloth. He remembered Jane. Thick as a brick, they used to call her. “My daughter needs someone a little more—”
Lorena cut him off, as she seemed to do regularly. “Yes, yes, of course. Verity would tie her to a tree and forget about her. How about Mary Loveless? She’s a bit plump and her mother tends to dictate …” She caught Lucas’ eye and hurriedly looked at the list again.
Impatiently, Lucas snapped the paper from her hand and scanned the names. “Harriet Briggs is still unmarried?” he exclaimed in amazement. “How is that possible? She’s the Squire’s daughter and had a dozen beaux before I left, but she was much too young to be interested in any of them.”
Lorena crossed her plump hands on the battered desk. “She is still not interested in any of them. She has not changed since the child you remember. You need a mature, proper lady to teach your daughter manners. Harriet is totally unsuitable.”
This time Lucas was the one to interrupt. “I remember her as a spirited little thing. Perhaps she was a bit of a tomboy riding to the hounds because her father never told her no, but she could argue intelligently. Verity needs a smart woman to guide her.”
Lorena vehemently shook her head. “Now that her mother has passed on and all feminine influence is lost, Harriet has become quite impossible. Rumour has it that she called off two perfectly respectable arrangements while she was in London, even though her looks are nothing to brag about.” She shook her head and cut herself off. “Her father has refused to give her another season.”
Lucas conjured a mental image of Miss Harriet Briggs the last time he’d seen her, when she wasn’t quite sixteen. He had been twenty and sporting his newly purchased officer’s colours. He’d been home to say farewells to family and strutting about in hopes his new uniform would impress the ladies.
The Squire’s daughter had been sitting on the doorstep of one of the village houses, showing a youngster how to feed a baby pig. She had not been impressed by his uniform but had appreciated his aid when the pig had squirmed free. They’d had a rational discourse on the care and feeding of abandoned farm animals, a conversation that he could not imagine having with any other female of his acquaintance.