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Chapter 11

"Fetch me The New Peerage, Helen, if you please. I want to look for him in there. Isn't it exciting?" Anne said, as soon as she had taken off her bonnet and shawl in the hallway.

As they had walked by the riverside that day, Anne had thought of nothing else but William, and the chance encounter outside the inn. She felt certain the hand of providence had provided, and now she was determined to discover all she could about the man she would next encounter at the Charlton Lodge ball.

"It seemed a strange place for a gentleman to be staying, my Lady. Doesn't he have a London house if his father's so wealthy?" Helen asked.

Anne rolled her eyes. She knew Helen's opinion – her maid had made her disapproval of Anne meeting a stranger in the market quite clear. But William was no longer a stranger. They had met on two occasions now, and Anne dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand.

"Nonsense, lots of gentlemen stay in inns. Not everyone has a London townhouse, not if they're from Lancashire. I'm sure his father's not in London enough to warrant one. They're economical, I'm sure," she said, entering the drawing room and settling herself in a chair by the window.

Helen retrieved the copy of The New Peerage from the library, and Anne clapped her hands together in delight, excited to learn with whom the family of the Bakers might be associated.

Whilst William had made no claims to nobility, she felt certain a wealthy father would be listed, and was bound to have aristocratic connections.

"Is there anything there, my Lady?" Helen asked, and Anne looked up at her, narrowing her eyes.

"Don't be so hopeful there won't be, Helen," she said, and her maid smiled.

"I just wonder, my Lady…is he really suitable? And your parents, haven't they already made a decision regarding your marriage?" Helen replied.

As far as Anne was concerned, this was a minor detail. She had made her feelings concerning Maximilian very clear, and she hoped her parents would take heed. Her godmother would complain, but she would soon find another enterprise to concern herself with, and Anne felt certain she would not be held ransom to a vague suggestion of marriage to the son of the Duke of Lancaster.

"It's strange they're both from Lancashire," Anne said, not entirely answering her maid's question, as now she searched under "B" for "Baker."

"I'm sure, my Lady. But I don't think Lord Maximilian will move in quite the same circles as Mr. Baker," Helen said.

Anne ignored her. She did not care what circles William moved in. He was different from other men. There were no airs and graces about, and no sense of him being anything other than he was. He had come to her aid at the market, and now she felt excited at the prospect of him accompanying her to the ball.

"Badbury, Bacleshall, Baker…ah, yes. Here we are – Lord Sotheby Baker, of East Grinstead, married the Countess Fortescue of Ebrington, Gloucestershire. Issue – Lady Mary Baker, Viscount Timothy Baker," Anne read, nodding approvingly.

"But that's surely just a coincidence, my Lady. It doesn't prove a connection to Mr. William Baker," Helen said.

Anne's face fell. She had hoped to find William's name listed amongst the associates, or his father, in some esteemed position. But there was no mention of either of them. Helen was right – the Bakers of East Grinstead surely had nothing to do with the gentleman accompanying her to the Charlton Lodge ball.

"Well…yes, I suppose so. But it doesn't matter. These things are never up to date. Mother was looking for someone only the other day – Lord Sinderby of Blythe. It listed him as being dead, but we'd only seen him the day before at a dinner. She wanted to write and thank him for his kindness in keeping us company when father was discussing business," Anne replied, as though this justified the fact of William's absence.

"New money, I suppose, my Lady," Helen said, shaking her head, as she removed the offending volume from the table Anne had been examining it on.

"You just don't like him, Helen," Anne retorted, folding her arms sulkily.

Anne did not understand why anyone could dislike William – he was charming, sweet, and kind. He had done nothing but behave honourably and with good intention towards her. It pained Anne to think her maid and closest confidante should think ill of a man for whom her own affections were growing ever stronger.

"It's not that I don't like him, my Lady. But we don't know him, do we? And I doubt your parents will approve," she replied.

Of that, they could at least agree. Anne knew precisely what her parents would say. They would do the same as she had done – consult The New Peerage and find their connections lacking.

"It's not a suitable match, Anne," they would say, and Anne would be forced to continue considering the attentions of Maximilian as desirable.

But she did not find them desirable, nor did she intend to be told whom she should marry, and with a sense of defiance about her, Anne went down to dinner that evening intending to make clear her intentions. It was times like these she wished she had a sister to confide in, someone who could share her frustrations over what was expected of them. But Anne was an only child, and as she entered the drawing room for sherry, she found her parents deep in conversation.

"We'll speak about it later," the earl said, looking up as Anne entered the room.

"What are we going to speak about?" she asked, taking a glass of sherry from the tray the footman proffered her.

"Tell her now, Beverley. She'll be pleased, I'm sure," Anne's father said, and Anne looked inquisitively at her mother, who sighed.

"Sit down, Anne," she said, beckoning Anne to join her on the chaise lounge.

Anne was immediately suspicious. It was never her mother's practice to discuss a matter. Discussion implied choice, and Anne was never given a choice. What was about to happen was the imparting of a decision, one made on her behalf. Anne knew it, even before her mother spoke.

"If it's about the heir to the Lancaster dukedom…" she began.

"That's precisely what it's about, Anne. But you'll be pleased to know we've made a decision on that matter," her mother said.

Anne looked at her in surprise. The decision had surely been made, and it would certainly not do to renege on it. Anne could only imagine the look on her godmother's face if it were to be so.

"What matter? I thought the matter was settled," Anne replied.

Her parents exchanged glances.

"Well…nothing was truly decided, no," her father said.

In all matters, Anne's father remained somewhat aloof. He was kind – to a point – but had never been the sort of man to delight in familial matters, and he had always made clear his sorrow at having no male heir.

"You mean you're calling it off?" Anne exclaimed, a sudden shiver of delight running through her.

It was a marvellous news, and despite the obstacles she knew would be created by the introduction of her parents to William Baker, a glimmer of hope was now presented.

"It seemed pertinent to do so," her father said, and Anne leaped to her feet, hurrying over to her father, and throwing her arms around him.

"Thank you, Father. The thought of moving all the way to Lancashire for a man I didn't care to meet, let alone love – it was too dreadful to comprehend," Anne said, her mind already racing with possibility.

"Well, we'll keep the possibility open, but for now…well, it's better this way," the earl said.

"But I can't move to Lancashire, Mother. Please…it's much better this way," Anne replied, for there was at least a glimmer of hope in this new suggestion.

Her mother smiled and nodded.

"Which is what your father, and I, thought, too. It was hardly fair on you, Anne. You've grown up in London, your friends are here, and to send you away like that…it wasn't fair," her mother said.

Anne was failing to hide her obvious excitement, and she was about to tell her parents all about her encounter with William, when her father interjected.

"Which is why we've made more suitable arrangements," he said.

Anne turned to him in surprise.

"What…sort of arrangements?" she asked, and the earl cleared his throat.

"Lord Peter Ulverston. A fine man, and with an excellent head for business. I intend to make an introduction for you. He's coming here tomorrow afternoon. You'll meet him then," he said, as Anne stared at him in disbelief.

They say "the better the devil you know," but in this case, Anne was certain she was faced with a choice between two men of similarly unfortunate reputations. Lord Peter Ulverston was well known as a rake and a womanizer. He had scandalized society on several occasions, though his connections to well-placed aristocrats – Anne's father included – meant he rarely found himself punished for long.

"But I…I don't want to meet him," Anne exclaimed, and her father tutted.

"Think sensibly, Anne. Wouldn't you rather make a match here in London? Your father knows his Lordship well, and if he thinks the match a suitable one," the countess said, but Anne shook her head.

"And what about me? What am I to make of the match?" she exclaimed, for it seemed to Anne as though she had been thrown from the frying pan into the fire.

"He's coming tomorrow," her father said, as though that was the end of the conversation.

"And if I refuse to see him?" Anne replied.

"You won't," the earl said, just as the gong sounded for dinner.

It seemed Anne had no right to protest, though she ate her dinner that evening in resolute silence, determined to make her parents understand her displeasure in being handed between suitors at whim. After the coffee had been served, Anne went straight to bed, resolute in her determination not to marry Lord Peter Ulverston, or any man her parents deemed suitable.

"I won't do it, Helen. I won't," Anne said, folding her arms as she sat at her dressing table.

Her reflection was one of sadness, even as she knew her flirtations with William had been a folly. A woman of her own position had very few choices. She had no right to choose her own husband, and her father's exercising of that right was not to be challenged.

"Perhaps he'll change his ways, my Lady," Helen said, but Anne shook her head.

"I doubt it. Not for me, he won't," she said, and it was in the throes of despair she went to bed that night, feeling certain she would have no choice but to marry the man she already despised.

* * *

"You can't keep this up any longer, Anne," the countess said, as Anne sat in silence by the window in the drawing room the following day.

She had eaten her breakfast in silence, and refused to reply to any questions, either from her mother or her father. The earl had grown so angry as to storm out of the dining room muttering about foolish girls. But the countess had taken a more conciliatory line and was now trying to persuade Anne as to the suitability of Lord Peter Ulverston, who was due to call on them that very hour.

"I know of his reputation, Anne. But people change, don't they? Are we to be held captive by our past in all things?" her mother said.

Anne shook her head.

"Then at least allow him the chance to call on you. Speak to him, discover what he's like," her mother continued.

"How many chances does a man deserve? I know what he's like. I know just what he's like," Anne thought to herself.

There had been the incident with Lady Georgiana Painswick in the shrubbery at the rotunda, then the scandal of Duchess Mann's maid. Trouble followed Lord Ulverston, and it was trouble Anne had no desire to involve herself in. Her first thought that morning had been of William, and she wondered what he would think of her if he saw her on the arm of a man like that at the ball at Charlton Lodge.

"He'll want nothing to do with me, that's for certain," she thought to herself, sighing, and shaking her head.

"Please, Anne – for me, won't you do just this one thing? Make a good impression," the countess pleaded, and now Anne relented, even as her anger spilled over.

"You know I love you, Mother. But am to do this "one thing" for the rest of my life? You're asking me to consider marriage to a man with a dubious reputation, and who'll no doubt continue in his rakish ways even after our vows are pronounced," Anne replied.

Her mother was somewhat taken aback – either by Anne's relenting of silence, or her disparaging words about Lord Peter.

"Well…your father speaks very highly of him," the countess replied.

Anne rolled her eyes. Her father spoke highly of anyone with whom he had conducted successful business. That with Lord Peter had involved the importing of brandy from the continent, and substantial profits had been made on both sides.

"I'm sure he does, but that doesn't make much different to me, Mother. I'm the one he expects to marry him. At least I had time to get used to the idea of Maximilian. But this is all very quick. And what if I've made a decision elsewhere?" she asked.

Her mother's eyes grew wide with the implication, but before she could reply, the door was opened, and Lord Peter Ulverston was announced. He was as Anne remembered him – a short man, with a long nose, curled black hair, and a rotund figure, squeezed into an ill-fitting frock coat and tails. He gave a curt bow, stepping forward and holding out his hand.

"Lady Anne, how pleased I am to see you again," he said, as Anne took his hand and forced a smile to her face.

"I'm sure it's my pleasure, Lord Peter," she said, glancing at her mother, who now instructed tea to be brought, and offered Lord Peter a seat by the hearth.

What followed was less a mutual exchange of pleasantries and instead, an exercise in self-congratulation. Lord Peter explained the many and varied ways in which he was admirably suited to be Anne's suitor, and Anne listened, without opportunity to interrupt. When the diatribe was concluded, Anne's mother smiled, thanking Lord Peter for his words, and imploring Anne to say something about herself.

"Oh, I don't think there's much to say, is there?" she replied.

"Oh, nonsense, Anne. You could tell Lord Peter about…your…interest in music," the countess replied.

"I like to listen to music. But I much prefer reading," Anne replied.

Lord Peter looked at her and smiled.

"Ah, yes, your father told me about your reading. It seems an idle pursuit to me. Why waste one's time in the pages of a book? Isn't it better to live one's own life, rather than spending time in the lives of others?" he said, his tone one of smug superiority.

Anne returned his gaze defiantly.

"On the contrary, I think it far better to learn from others, rather than assuming oneself to always be right," she replied.

Lord Peter cleared his throat, nodding, as he now rose to his feet.

"Well…I'd better be going. I've got some business to see to. I'm glad we've had this meeting, Lady Anne. I'll see you at Charlton Lodge, won't I?" he said.

Anne had feared he would say this. She had avoided the topic of the ball, in the hope he would not make the connection, but now she could only smile and nod.

"You will," she said, and Lord Peter took his leave of them.

As the drawing room door closed, Anne let out a heavy sigh. He was everything she had thought him to be – and more. There was nothing about Lord Peter Ulverston she found redeeming. He was just as his reputation suggested, and now she glanced at her mother, who had an unsettled expression on her face.

"Well…at least he's closer than Lancashire," she said, and Anne rolled her eyes.

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