Page 28 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)
Chapter twenty-eight
Grace
The atmosphere at Apsley Court was solemn. My uncle had not been in the best of health since we arrived, but the confirmation that he would never get well sat heavily on all of us. The drawing room, which I had once found comfortable even amid the many suitors, conversations, and familial teasing, now felt depressing in its abundance of silence.
Rus had been absent since Rowe informed us of the family’s intent to leave, and I worried about him. As heir to the title, and given his lax personality, I imagined such news would weigh on him most keenly. Rowe had also been absent more often than not, undoubtedly seeing to his father’s business, as requested. He would likely stay busy the remainder of our stay in London, which I did not mind overly much. Without Lady Paxton and Annette here, I would not be able to attend many social functions, and I found that suited me.
I would not risk running into Phillip or Miss Rigby if I did not go out.
Annette, too, was not in the drawing room when I came in after breakfast. I decided grabbing a book and taking it to my chambers would be the best way to spend the gloomy day, and I had just made for the stairs when my cousin stormed through the door, surprising our poor butler so thoroughly that he fell back against the wall.
Annette lifted her skirts to take the stairs at a fast pace, her eyes trained on each step. I moved to the side to make room, hoping she would stop to speak with me, but as she hurried past, I noted the trails of tears on her cheeks and the red around her eyes.
She had been crying. My cousin did not cry. Even when I had seen her fall from trees or scrape her skin climbing on the ruins near Kenwick, she had never shed a tear.
I followed, calling out her name before she reached her bedchamber. “Annette?”
She paused long enough to look at me, then proceeded into her room. She left the door open, however, which I took as an invitation. I joined her inside, closing the door behind me. Annette sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly together.
I sat down next to her. She trembled, and while she was not crying at present, she was near it.
“Annette, what happened?” I whispered. “Where did you go this morning?”
It had not escaped my notice that she had not returned with a chaperone.
“The lieutenant returned to Town,” she said. “I met him in…” Her head lifted, and her eyes met mine, a sort of pleading swirling within them. “Where I met him is not important. Nothing untoward happened between us…mostly.”
“Mostly?” I raised a brow.
Her expression turned cold. “Nothing that means anything. I simply needed to speak with him. To inform him our agreement is at an end because I am leaving Town.”
I massaged my temple. “Your agreement? Whatever do you mean?”
She turned to face me, the look in her green eyes hard as stone. “You will not speak of this to anyone?”
I nodded. Having Annette’s confidence meant a great deal to me, but besides that, she had kept my matchmaking scheme from Rowe. I owed her a secret.
Annette heaved a sigh. “The lieutenant and I had come to an agreement, an understanding, if you will. He was finding the amount of attention he received from debutantes a bit cumbersome to his political ambitions. He was not ready to look for a serious courtship and was desperate for something to put the women off his scent.”
I recalled that day at Gunter’s. The lieutenant had been surrounded by admirers, and for a time, I had assumed he enjoyed it. But then, there had been a weariness about him when he joined us and relief when he finally escaped them.
“So,” I prompted. “You agreed to help him?”
“During the Morrison’s ball we realized we had a similar problem,” she said. “At the time, Rus, in his unfailing wisdom, thought it fun to give me a parade of suitors. I was so exhausted by it all—playing the kind hostess, the receptive lady who would not dream of turning down an admirer. I had no choice, as you know, and it grew rather burdensome to endure call after call. Dance after dance.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “Lieutenant Paget and I agreed to a ruse, pretending to court. The both of us were desperate for a reprieve.”
I swallowed my disappointment. Annette had never claimed to have changed her mind about the lieutenant, but part of me had hoped for an attachment. None of the other callers seemed a suitable match for her. The lieutenant had complemented her wit and was not dissuaded by Annette’s obvious disdain.
My cousin’s chuckle drew my attention. Annette smiled at me. “Do not be so disappointed, Grace. I can see it clear as day on your face. We had an arrangement, that is all. There were never feelings involved.”
“If that is true, then why…” My words trailed off as I looked over her face. She could deny it all she wanted, but something had upset her. Something to do with the lieutenant.
“Why what?” she asked, then pointed to her face. “The tears? They are not for him. I find I am emotionally overwhelmed at present. He made me angry, as he is quite known to do, and after everything with my father…well, I am a bit of a mess, I should think. Do not hold it against me.”
“Of course not.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and we exchanged smiles. I understood all too well what she was facing. It had not been but two years since I lost my father, and oftentimes, the pang of that loss felt as fresh as the day it happened.
“How is he doing?” I asked. “Your father.”
“He has been better the last two days. I think the idea of going home has brightened his spirits. Still, I cannot escape the worry. Even when I manage to put it from my mind, I see it in the eyes of my brothers. My mother. We’ve no hope to truly cling to, only time. I should not be so ungrateful when I at least have that.”
“No one would call you ungrateful,” I said. “You are mourning the time you stand to lose, and that is perfectly acceptable. You love your father very much, and he you. There is no shame in feeling sorrow for what is to come.”
She nodded absently. “Mother sent word to Jack, asking him to return home. I think she fears he will not make it in time.” Annette tilted her head, her smile wry. “Or he will choose to ignore it.”
Jack, the youngest of the male siblings, was presently touring the continent. He and Lord Paxton had always possessed a strained relationship, one I never completely understood. Jack was rebellious and much like Annette in his distaste for being controlled in any way. He valued his independence, and the way he chose to act on that independence often caused squabbles with his father.
I took Annette’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Jack and your father may not always get along, but I am certain he will come.”
“I hope you are right.” She shook her head and sighed deeply. “This Season has been far too eventful. I am quite glad to be going home. I am sorry to leave you behind, especially as I am so invested in the outcome with you and your beau.”
“I do not have a beau,” I said. “You know Phillip was my client. He is to marry Miss Rigby, and so, the remainder of the Season will be far less thrilling now. At least the drawing room will no longer fill with suitors.”
She did not smile as I had hoped. “They were not all for me, you know. Mr. Willoughby was quite taken with you. He is not the man I would choose for you, of course, but he is not so bad. He seems kind and attentive if nothing else.”
I scoffed. “He only spoke to me to get to you, undoubtedly.”
Annette’s brows furrowed. “Not at all. He looked at you with much fondness. Perhaps if you had not snubbed his attempts, he would have made his intentions more clear.”
Had I? It had not been my intention. Merely an assumption the man’s interests rested elsewhere. The more I thought on it, the more I wondered if she was correct.
“It seems I have been oblivious to a great many things.” I heaved a sigh. “This Season has been a disaster, hasn’t it?”
Annette grimaced. “Perhaps the remainder will fare better.”
Optimism I did not possess. “I am sure it will be grand, and I will tell you all about it once it's over.”
A day that could not come soon enough.