Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Anna
Graham directed me around tables, then veered right to a quiet, secluded corner. He discreetly handed me his handkerchief, and I faced the wall, wrapping my arms around my middle and desperately trying to compose myself.
“Pay them no mind,” Graham said. “Their tongues are constantly wagging, yet they know nothing of what they speak.”
I buried my face in my hands. I’d thought everything would be well if only I’d removed myself from London, and yet Mr. Lennox and all his lies had followed me here.
I needed Papa. I had no idea how to navigate gossip when my name was at the center. They’d said such terrible things. Was I simply to grin and bear it?
“Maybe they do know.” I dropped my hands. “Perhaps I am as awful as they say.”
“Well, then, I feel much better about having thrown you into the sea.”
I scowled at his attempt at humor. He likely thought me an arrogant, emotional woman too caught in her feelings to see reason. “Think of me what you will, Graham, but you cannot possibly understand.”
He took a few steps near, until we were less than an arm’s length apart. “Believe it or not, I have endured my fair share from the gossipmongers over the years. Tell me.”
His eyes bored into mine, searching for answers, like he truly wanted them. All I wanted was a friend, someone to understand how I felt, to tell me when I was wrong about a person or a circumstance, even if I did not wish to hear it. Someone I could trust.
And Graham had trusted me.
He’d sat at every table in our house at one point or another. I’d given him my very worst in every way—the sharpest words, cruelest looks, most hateful snubs. And, yet, he’d told me everything about his past. If Society found interest in this ridiculous upheaval between Mr. Lennox and me, they must have been relentless over Graham starting his life anew. I’d been so newly out in Society, I must have missed it all.
Indeed, he could have offered to take me home, put me in my bed, tell his mother and sisters what a dramatic, overindulged thing I was.But he’d given me privacy. He’d stayed.
His gaze did not wander from my face.
I trusted him. I did.
Warmth splotched my cheeks, and I looked away. “Half of what they say is true. But they do not have the whole of it. Mr. Lennox and I ... We were on the cusp of a courtship until I learned he was secretly engaged to another.”
Graham’s jaw flexed, and his nostrils flared. “The scoundrel. Does your father know?”
“No. I’ve yet to tell him, and I’d appreciate being the first to do so. Mr. Lennox’s uncle paid the woman off, but I refuse to make amends.”
He nodded once. “I am sorry to hear how terribly he has abused you.”
“Fortunate timing, though. Can you imagine if I’d discovered his true nature later? After I’d given him my heart? I’d have surely lost my wits and marred him with ...” I let my imagination wander, then chose the most fitting of weapons. “His lion-headed cane.”
Graham’s eyes widened. He shook his head, a blend of terror and humor on his face. “Not the lion-headed cane. You ruthless woman.”
I smirked. “Do not cross me, Graham.”
He held a hand to his chest. “You have my word. And allow me to apologize again for every time I’ve wronged you.”
I rolled my eyes, and he feigned terror for another dramatic moment. We listened to the gentle hum of voices and distant melodies carrying from the music room.
I huffed out a breath, less shaky than before, but I still buzzed with the shock of Mr. Lennox and the cruel wave of gossip that had followed. “I think it best to forget about all this. To pretend no one knows that anything is amiss,” I said. “We should finish the day you’ve planned.”
Graham nodded, watching me like I might shatter. I did not want him to look at me like that, though perhaps I deserved it after such a humiliating display.
“For what it’s worth, Anna ...” Graham seemed to hesitate, then shrugged. “Fear and hairpins aside, no matter what lies they spread about you, I’m a friend for as long as you’ll have me. You know the truth, and that is all that really matters.” Then he offered his arm.
It was such a simple offering. So honest and good of him. I laced my arm through his, then teased, “Ah, the promise every man of my acquaintance has offered ... until my father walks in the room.”
Graham groaned and tugged me toward the music room.
“What?” I asked sharply.
He gave me a sideways glance. “You truly believe the only reason a man shows interest in you is because of who your father is?”
I pondered his question. “Seventy-five percent of the time, at least.”
“Seventy-five—?” He scoffed, then half laughed. “Where does that belief come from?”
“Men pretending to be my friend, and then abandoning me for my father’s attention. Jesting about my dowry with their friends when they think I am not listening. When they smile more broadly and talk more enthusiastically with him than with me.” Alexander Lennox had done every single thing. “I wish I could stop the spread of it. I am such a fool.”
“You were trying to follow your heart. There is nothing foolish in that.”
“Well. I am quite ready to follow it elsewhere.”
“Come,” Graham said. “Let us see where it leads you.”
We maneuvered through the growing crowd, around tables and booths, and nods of “Good day.” Then Graham said, offhandedly, “There is an assembly at week’s end, if your heart should lead you there. Plenty of locals and tourists alike will be in attendance. The music is always prime, as are the refreshments.”
He was buttering me for Papa, like I’d asked Cook to butter Papa’s French beans. I frowned at him. “Is that so?”
He shrugged innocently. “I’ve seen you dance. I know you enjoy it.”
“Oh?” My voice pinched. “And does your Miss Ryan enjoy dancing?”
Graham jerked his attention to me, eyes squinted. “My Miss Ryan?”
I scoffed at his attempt to deny it. “Good heavens, Graham, the way that woman looks at you is indecent.”
Graham snorted, utter shock evident in the way his jaw hung open in a grin. “Indecent? I daresay not one vulgar thought has ever passed through Arabella Ryan’s mind. She is innocent in every way of the world.”
“I highly doubt that,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose to ward off an impending headache.
“If you’d rather, we can rest today.”
“We do not have time.” I felt a gentle squeeze on my arm, and I looked up at him.
“Perhaps we should make time,” he said.
I huffed out a breath and pointed a glare aimed just for Graham. But he wasn’t sneering, wasn’t taunting or teasing me. He looked rather serious, and for a moment, I thought the crease in his brow might be concern. Care?
What would it be like to be cared for by Graham? To be the one he came home to with a hundred stories and ideas on his lips. Sharing a dinner that lasted twice as long merely because we had so much to say to each other.
Graham was studying me, his head tilted, eyes curious. “Whatever you wish,” he said. But this time it wasn’t to please me. This time, his voice was sincere, his smile encouraging.
“Do you concede so soon?” I teased—teased?—Graham. The hurt I’d been gripping so tightly seemed to ease with the growing grin on his face.
“Not a chance.” He narrowed his eyes. “I am, as I said, following your heart’s lead.”
My skin prickled with heat. Goodness, how his gaze burned into me. “Perhaps you should follow your own for a time.”
“Perhaps,” Graham whispered to himself, “I should.”
Our hearts were led by our hungry stomachs, and we walked down the Steine, Tabs skipping whenever her mother and Graham weren’t looking.
We picnicked on the beach, which was more spacious than at our hidden spot from the other day. People came and went in droves, running, chasing, walking, riding, some dipping their feet in the water, others sitting on blankets beneath parasols, delighted by simply observing the chaos.
Graham stayed quiet, his spectacles safely tucked away, eyes wandering the crowds. Occasionally, he lifted a hand of acknowledgment or nodded hello to passersby. Eventually, Tabs went off to explore the shoreline, and Ginny offered to accompany her. The remaining three of us sat in companionable silence, enjoying the sun and watching as the gulls flew up, around, and between the beachgoers.
A while later, I noticed Ginny nearby in a circle of young women and gentlemen. They were laughing, and she was saying something to a cheerful man beside her. Even from a distance I could tell from the set of her shoulders and the way she held her neck perfectly still that she was impressed with him and did not want to misstep. I poked Graham’s arm and pointed to Ginny. He looked over and huffed out a laugh. “That’s Mr. Anderson. Younger chap, heir to a nice estate. She’s had her cap set at him for months.”
“Have you encouraged a match?” I asked.
He lifted a shoulder. “In some ways. She does not like my involvement.”
Mrs. Everett added, “She is reticent. I do not think she is ready.”
“She looks ready to me,” I muttered to Graham, who finally smiled halfway.
Courtship. Such a ridiculous endeavor. Where two people present the best sides of themselves and try to impress one another. I grew tired of the game, tired of hiding my true thoughts. Why did we hide our excitement, our interest, even the first flutterings of feeling for another person? Shouldn’t we celebrate connection? Prioritize friendship and be enthusiastic over every potential?
Indeed, I could think of others who’d inspired me, others who’d made me feel those first inklings of wonder, and yet I’d disregarded them for the possibility of feeling something with Mr. Lennox.
Mr. Lennox who I’d carefully picked based on his handsome face, his popularity in Society, and his ability to turn a phrase. How coy I’d played.
Lud, I could be daft.
But I had learned from my mistake. I would not choose another man based on what I wanted him to be or what I hoped he might be. I no longer had time for pretenses or best smiles. I wanted a partner. Someone who prioritized me without fail. Someone who understood me and loved me despite the lashing of my tongue on occasion, whose very days and hours were spent building a life that reflected the love we felt for each other.
Never mind Papa’s secrets. Never mind Graham’s investment. I could endure Society’s gossip because eventually it would fade. But to find someone to laugh with—to enjoy life with—that I realized as I stared out at the rolling sea, was everything I wanted. And if no one would aid me, then I, like Ginny, would pursue this endeavor alone.
I would leave no stone unturned. I would welcome any and all attention unless instinct told me otherwise. And I would start this very day.
After we had taken in enough sun, Graham walked us a half mile or so to the land he meant to buy. A little stone house sat on the far right, looking over the sea; it was scheduled to be demolished, Graham said. The land would be divided into parcels, each to become an apartment that would be rented out over a lifetime. Though he didn’t say, it meant a lot of money for Graham, and in turn, his family.
Graham’s proposal sounded smart. As much as I hated to admit it, Brighton seemed to have a little of everything for tourists. What, then, would I write in my notebook tonight?
Perhaps instead of writing, I’d find a different distraction worthy of my time.
“Shall we, Miss Lane?” Graham stood a few paces to the side and swiped a hand through his hair. Good heavens, he looked like Adonis standing cliffside above the sea.
Graham?
I laughed, and instead of shoving the idea aside, scoffing, and turning away, I reminded myself of my new goal and relaxed into my true feelings. I wanted to watch Graham. A smile lifted my lips as the gentle breeze brushed his hair over his eyes once more, and he struggled to pile it all back atop his head. He glanced over his shoulder at something Ginny said and grinned so widely, his cheeks creased. I almost bowled over at the sight of him.
Good heavens.
No stone unturned, indeed.