Chapter 20

Anne had been waiting for this moment all evening – and ever since she had first suggested William accompany her to the ball at Charlton Lodge. He was shy – nervous, even – but she found his company a delight. William was so different from the other men – the likes of Lord Peter and his friends. He displayed nothing of the rakish guile she was so used to, seemed entirely honest in his disposition. As they stepped out of the throng, she smiled at him, their hands clasped together.

"That was wonderful," she said, breathless from her exertions.

William had danced well, and Anne was looking forward to dancing with him again, even as she looked down at her dance card in despair. Lord Peter had signed himself at every opportunity, and Anne knew he would be looking for her amidst the throng of ladies and gentlemen now descending on the refreshment tables before the musicians struck up the next dance.

"What a marvellous spread of food – all these dainty delights. It's a far cry from the meat pies and roasted chestnuts of the market, and the stews and broiled meats of The Spaniards Inn," William said, helping himself to a delicate creation of pastry, sweet cream, and fruit.

"Do you frequent such places? I was surprised to learn you've no lodgings in London of your own, though I suppose it's not necessarily economical. Doesn't your family own somewhere?" Anne asked.

Her own father owned several houses in the capital, along with his estate in Hampshire – Fulham Grange. It was normal for members of the aristocracy to move between houses, and it had surprised Anne to learn William was lodging at an inn in the shadow of Saint Paul's – albeit a respectable one. William looked suddenly embarrassed.

"Ah…well, you see…it was easier to stay at an inn. The house was all shut up, you see. There's no permanent housekeeper," he said, and Anne nodded.

"It can be hard to find reliable servants," she replied, quoting her mother, who was always complaining about those who served her.

"Certainly," William said, shaking his head.

Anne helped herself to a glass of punch, glancing over her shoulder lest Lord Peter appear to take her away. She was finally enjoying herself, and in William's company, Anne felt a sense of freedom, such as she had not known before in the company of other men. She was free to say what she thought, and not to feel belittled or foolish. William was different, and she found his shyness endearing.

"And how long do you think you'll remain in London? I suppose your responsibilities might return you north," she said, but William shook his head.

"I'll stay as long as… I can," he replied, smiling at her, and Anne was glad to hear it.

She wanted to know him better – this was her opportunity, even as she feared it would be swiftly taken away from her. In suggesting their rendezvous at Charlton Lodge, Anne had not entirely thought through the consequences. It had been a romantic notion – a snatched liaison, just like those in her penny novels. But now they were together, and Anne wondered what would come next, even as she turned to find her mother looking pointedly at her across the refreshment table.

"Mother… I…didn't see you there," she said, and her mother raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sure you didn't, Anne – I'm certain you didn't," she replied, glancing at William, who swallowed the dainty pastry he was eating with a nervous gulp.

"Mother, this is Mr. William Baker. William, this is my mother – Lady Blakeley," Anne said, feeling terribly nervous as to what her mother would do or say.

The countess looked William up and down with a disapproving expression.

"And where's Lord Peter?" she asked.

"I don't know," Anne answered truthfully.

"I see," her mother replied.

"But Mr. Baker was kind enough to assist me in the street some days ago. He behaved in a most gentlemanly manner. I was…accosted, and Mr. Baker saved me. He was very chivalrous." Anne said, inventing a lie as justification for her and William being together at the ball.

Her mother's eyes narrowed. Anne felt certain she did not believe her, even as she held out her hand to William, who returned her compliment with a nervous expression on his face.

"Accosted? Goodness me – and you didn't think to tell me anything of it? And what of Helen. Wasn't she with you? But it seems we owe Mr. Baker a debt of gratitude," the countess said, and Anne nodded.

"We certainly do, Mother," she said, just as Anne's father appeared from the throng.

The earl did not enjoy such occasions, and would usually retreat into a corner with his associates, bemoaning the state of empire and nation, whilst imbibing copious amounts of punch. His red face and slight sway suggested this had been the case that evening, and now he looked from Anne to William, and then to the countess.

"That isn't Lord Peter," he said, and Anne's mother gave a curt nod.

"No, it's Mr. William Baker. Anne was just telling me he rescued her from an accostment in the street. Did you know anything about this?" she asked.

The earl shook his head.

"How dreadful. But no… I didn't know anything about it," he replied, as William looked even more uncomfortable, faced with both the earl and countess at once.

"Well…it was nothing, you see," he said, glancing at Anne, who felt terribly guilty for having led him into a lie – whatever would he think of her?

"William Baker, you say? I don't know the name of Baker – not in London, at least. Are you a businessman? A politician? A diplomat?" he asked.

William shook his head.

"I…" he stammered, but Anne interrupted him.

"Mr. Baker's come from Lancashire to make his fortune. He's a businessman," Anne said, speaking on William's behalf.

She was not about to allow her parents to be snobs. William was not an aristocrat. But London was filled with self-made men – men with fortunes far surpassing that of the aristocracy. The advent of the empire had created vast opportunities for wealth, and men like William were the future. He may not have a title, but he was certainly not to be looked down on.

"And what business are you in?" Anne's father asked.

This was a question Anne herself could not answer. It was Digby Kirkpatrick who had boasted of William's achievements, which were considerable, despite his youth.

"Oh… I'm in…exports, imports, I mean…imports, yes," William stammered.

"What do you import?" Anne's father continued.

"Anything I can… I import things, and sell things, and…that's how it works," William said.

He was not giving a good account of himself, even as Anne felt certain he was intimidated by her father's stern questioning.

"Does it matter, Father? Why must we talk business?" Anne asked, and her father turned away.

"As you wish. I'm going back…" he said, glancing towards the corner of the room, where his fellow aristocrats were guffawing over glasses of punch.

Anne breathed a sigh of relief. Her father could be a bully at times, and she was not about to have William scared off by his overbearing ways.

"Don't linger too long by the refreshment table, Anne," her mother said, raising her eyebrows, as Anne slipped her arm through Williams, hoping the two of them would dance again.

"We're just enjoying ourselves, Mother," Anne said, and her mother looked at her angrily.

"Don't enjoy yourself too much, not when…" she began, but before she could finish, the approaching figure of Lord Peter interrupted them.

He, too, had imbibed rather a lot of punch, and was swaying slightly, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He looked at William disdainfully.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"William Baker. A pleasure to meet you," William replied, holding out his hand, and smiling.

Lord Peter ignored it, turning now to Anne, who held his gaze defiantly.

"You missed the last dance. I was looking for you. They'll start again in a moment. Come along," he said, but Anne shook her head.

"I don't want to dance," she replied.

Anne was adamant in this – she had no intention of dancing with Lord Peter again that evening. He was drunk and would only step on her toes. But her words brought his anger to the fore, and he stepped forward, lunging out to grab her arm, even as William stepped between them.

"If the lady doesn't want to dance, she doesn't have to," William said, and Anne's heart skipped a beat, fearful of Lord Peter's response, even as she admired William for his chivalry.

"Who are you to tell me what she wants or doesn't want? I intend to court her! She's to be my betrothed," Lord Peter exclaimed, and he struck out at William, who dodged his fist, even as Anne let out a cry.

"Really, Lord Peter, that's quite enough," Anne's mother exclaimed, looking in horror at Lord Peter, who snarled at Anne, even as William put his arm around her.

"If you don't want to dance with me, so be it – but I'm your betrothed. I'll have satisfaction," he said, slurring his words, even as Anne's mother interjected.

"Remember to whom you speak, Lord Peter," she said, and to Anne's relief, Lord Peter waved his hand dismissively.

"I don't care – dance with whom you want," he said, scowling at Anne, who was only too glad to hear him say this.

"Lord Peter, won't you…" Anne's mother began, but Lord Peter had disappeared back into the throng, making his way towards a group of chattering young ladies standing at the other end of the ballroom.

Anne looked at William apologetically – she really had not thought the matter through, and now she realized she had put William in a very awkward position, indeed. He had lied for her, and she had lied about him to her mother – it was surely not the ideal basis for any future relationship, even one as impossible as theirs was seeming now.

"How terrible," Anne said, feeling as though William was certain to wash his hands of her after such a spectacle.

"Well, that's a fine thing, Anne – what a way for him to behave," her mother said, and Anne sighed.

"I…you know what I think, Mother," she said, glancing at William, who appeared thoroughly embarrassed.

"And I think the same, too. I never expected…for him to lunge out like that. It's quite disgraceful. I'll tell your father – and I'll be sure to tell him of Mr. Baker's chivalry, too," the countess replied, and Anne now wondered if the unfortunate situation might have worked in her favor…

* * *

William had not expected to find himself the subject of an interrogation at the hands of Anne's mother and father. His lies had only been perpetuated – he knew nothing of business, nothing of exports and imports, and as to for an accostment in the street…

Just lie after lie, he thought to himself, as he watched the retreating figure of Lord Peter disappear into the throng.

William had not expected to meet Anne's betrothed, even as he had known it was a possibility, and he had certainly not expected to find himself the subject of such an attack. Her circumstances were complicated, and it was hardly the done thing to pursue a woman betrothed to another man – even as that man was entirely odious in every way.

"I'm surprised at Lord Peter. I never thought…well, I'm sorry, Anne," the countess said, and William looked up in surprise.

Anne did the same, glancing over her shoulder to where Lord Peter was now enticing another young lady to dance.

"Are you, Mother? Didn't you know what he was like? It's hardly surprising, is it? He's drunk, and doesn't know what he's doing," Anne replied, and the countess tutted, glancing at William, who hoped he had at least made a good impression – even as his nerves suggested the opposite.

"I suppose…it was your father. Thank you, Mr. Baker – you behaved very chivalrously. It seems we owe you our thanks – for this, and for helping Anne in the street when she was accosted," the countess said.

William did not know what to say in reply. He had done nothing, save for acting in what he believed was the right way. Anne smiled at him and slipped her hand into his.

"Shall we dance?" she asked, for another waltz was striking up, and the floor was filling with couples.

William smiled back at her, glad to have proved himself, even as he was uncertain as to precisely what he had done.

"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you?" he replied, and Anne laughed.

"Then ask me, won't you?" she said, rolling her eyes.

William cleared his throat, wanting to do as he had seen the gentlemen do around him.

"Lady Miller, might I have this dance?" he asked, glancing at the countess, who seemed to approve.

"You may," Anne replied, curtseying slightly, and William now led her into the throng of dancers, delighted to have her in his arms once again.

The music played, and the two of them danced, and it seemed to William as though all the lies, the risks, the thing he had done had been worth it. Anne was beautiful – her eyes, her smile, her soft skin. William wanted to tell her as much, but he was unsure how to say so without sounding quite ridiculous. He knew the situation was complicated – he had told so many lies, and now he would have to remember them all if he was to be consistent in his dealings with the earl and countess.

"I hadn't expected to meet Lord Peter in such a…blunt manner," William said, as he spotted the rakish aristocrat dancing with another woman.

"He hardly matters, does he? I didn't ever want to marry him, I assure you," Anne said, and William smiled at her.

"No… I'm sure you didn't. I can't imagine anyone wanting to marry such a man. He's completely odious. But was there no one else?" he asked, for he could not imagine there were no other suitors for a woman such as her.

But Anne shook her head.

"None that mattered," she said, and he smiled at her.

"Then I… I'm so glad to be here with you now," he said.

This was the truth. He was falling in love with her, and despite the difficulties, and the lies he had told, William knew the truth in his heart. His feelings were sincere, and he could only hope Anne felt the same.