Chapter Two
Hampton House
Cavendish Square
Mayfair, London
Miss Anne Courtney stood at one of the windows in the drawing room.
Rain came steadily down with the copious droplets chasing each other on the glass.
Though it was about four o’clock in the afternoon and tea had just arrived, the skies were gloomy, for night would soon fall, and the descent into darkness of the night would be complete.
I detest the wintertime.
“Why don’t you stop scowling out at the world and come enjoy tea with me instead?”
The sound of her Aunt Mildred’s voice wrenched Anne from her musings. She turned about and gave the older woman a smile. “I apologize for woolgathering. I’m not best pleased that winter is nearly upon us again.” The folded paper she held in her hand crinkled when she gripped it too tightly.
“That is the way of things, dear. The calendar doesn’t stop turning pages merely because you are disgruntled about some of its days.”
When Anne joined her aunt on a low sofa, she accepted a porcelain cup of the amber liquid then promptly plunked a small lump of sugar within the steaming depths.
“Say you’ll move house to Rome, Auntie, and take me with you.
” The tinkle of her teaspoon against the sides of her cup echoed in the space as she stirred in the sugar.
“I don’t want to live in Rome. London is quite fine.”
“Except when it rains or is winter,” Anne responded with a frown as she contemplated the edible offerings on the tea tray.
“This is how it has always been in London and the whole of England, for that matter. And you are eight and twenty. Time for you to finally acclimate to where you are.”
“But what if I don’t feel as if I belong here?
” Truth be told, she hadn’t felt that way for more than a few years, since her twin brother—older than her by ten minutes—had died in a village in France so small it didn’t really have a name.
“When we were informed Alan was dead and that he wouldn’t come home again, I ceased to have a purpose that day.
It felt as if a part of my heart and soul had been ripped away. ”
She’d known something had been wrong a few days before the courier arrived at their door.
It was one of those odd connections between twins, but when the news was confirmed, she’d fallen into a depression of sorts and didn’t really climb out of it until the mourning period was well over.
There was a hole left behind, and since she’d heard the news, she’d attempted to fill that hole with thoughts of revenge.
“The two of you were always close, I agree, but it isn’t good for you to continue dwelling on it. Such things won’t bring your brother back.” Aunt Mildred peered at her from over the rim of her teacup. “You are here, and you need to focus on sorting your life.”
“Bah.” Anne shook her head. “By that, you mean bringing a man up to scratch.” It wasn’t a question, for it was something her father reminded her of whenever he thought of it.
So did her stepmother, or rather, her former governess.
Her aunt chuckled. “That is what young ladies should do, and you are well past the second bloom of youth.”
“Don’t remind me.” Anne pointed her gaze at the ceiling before landing it back on the other woman.
“I was engaged once, I’ll remind you.” Though it had been five years before, he’d perished in the war a year before her brother had.
It had felt as if she’d been in mourning for far too many years with her mother dying ten years ago, then her fiancé, then finally her brother.
“I’m well aware, but since that didn’t go anywhere, you should try again.” Her aunt flashed a smile that twinkled in her dark blue eyes that were so like her own. “When I was your age, I’d already been married for eight years.”
“I know, Auntie.” Her Aunt Matilda was sixty years old this year, and she’d outlived three husbands.
She’d informed the family connection that she was done marrying men, for they didn’t last, and any other man she invited into her life would be for a lover capacity only.
Otherwise, the legal complications were far too much of a headache.
“I think you were far prettier than I am, and you had much more luck.” She frowned at the folded paper she’d rested on the arm of the sofa next to her.
It was from one of her friends, whose maid had gotten a copy of the guest list for the ball tomorrow night from a maid in that household, and Anne couldn’t wait to take a peek.
I’d rather be prepared than ambushed by men on the prowl.
“Such gammon.” The other woman shook her head. “With your dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, there is no reason you can’t attract a man.” Then she snorted. “Except for your dogged focus on chasing revenge. Men don’t like that.”
“I can’t help it. We both know my brother was killed under suspicious circumstances, and there is one man in London who is directly responsible.
” Mr. Broderick Cunningham to be precise.
One of his calling cards had been recovered in her brother’s room at an inn with part of a bootstep half covering the card.
Had he inadvertently dropped it when he’d murdered Alan, or had it been on her brother’s person because they’d known each other before?
Regardless, it had been presented to her father when someone from the Regent’s office had come to call.
That card was now in her possession, tucked into one of her favorite books.
“We know nothing of the sort, and you are going to make yourself mad if you keep thinking of it.” Her aunt’s tone was harsher than usual. “I refuse to go ‘round with you about this subject again, so let us talk, instead, about the ball tomorrow night.”
“Ugh. The ball.” The last thing she wished to do was attend a ball that would essentially begin the Christmastide season in London.
Her stepmother and two younger sisters would also attend the ball, because they needed to be matched as well, but Anne was the only one out of the household who wasn’t looking forward to the event.
“I wish I didn’t need to go.” She eyed the honey cakes on the tea tray, but couldn’t trouble herself to reach for one.
“Christmastide in London is lovely, when you don’t possess the attitude of a wounded cow.” One of her aunt’s gray eyebrows rose in challenge. “And look at the bright side. Your family leaves for Hampsteadshire tomorrow.”
“So, am I a cow who is looking forward to being separated from my family until after Twelfth Night?” She didn’t care one way or another. It just wasn’t Christmas without her brother. Of course, she wasn’t fond of the holiday before that, but that was beside the point.
Aunt Mildred snorted. “Behave, girl.” She shook her head. “I’m staying with you to make certain the two cats are fed and looked after, but also because I don’t wish to pass the Christmastide season alone. You’re my only company, so best buck up.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’re plotting something?” Anne took a sip of her tea. “You have an indecent sparkle in your eyes.”
“Ha!” A cackling laugh escaped the older woman.
“You were always too clever for me, but yes, I am planning. I want to introduce you to a certain, eligible gentleman I believe will make a good match for you. He was a captain in the military—calvary specifically—and won a few medals and commendations. Also, his face and form are nothing to sneeze at; he won’t let you boss him either, I’ll wager. ”
“Oh, Auntie, I don’t wish to boss a man.” In fact, she wasn’t all that keen in going through the arduous process of weeding through society to find one who might fit. “Perhaps I’ve been alone for too long, but men complicate everything.”
And if she lost this one, she didn’t want to mourn for yet another life lost too early.
“That is a grand understatement, my girl. They are quite contrary at times and grumpy at others, but when it’s cold and you’re lonely, there is nothing quite like curling up against a strong, hard body in the dark.”
I wouldn’t know about that.
When she’d been engaged, her fiancé was away in the war, and he’d asked her to be his wife through a letter, besides.
Even included a plain silver band as a promise.
She’d been able to enjoy the status of being engaged for half a year before tragedy had struck.
No smiles, no kisses, no chance at causing a scandal.
Just… sadness.
“Why should I beholden myself to a man just to have someone lying beside me in the dark?” Anne shook her head. When she finished her tea, she rested the cup on the saucer then placed them both on the low table in front of her. “Besides, a man would only distract me from my mission.”
“Which is what?”
“Revenge. If only I could be in the same place as that man.” Taking up the paper, she unfolded it on her lap and searched the two columns of names scribbled in a simple hand. “There are many impressive names on the guest list for that ball tomorrow. Do you know the host and hostess?”
“Mr. Coatesville and Lady Charlotte?” Her aunt chuckled as she leaned forward to put a couple of tea cakes onto her saucer. “I have heard of them. The lady is well known in beau monde circles. She’s engaged to Mr. Coatesville again.”
“Again?” She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means they were married, then divorced, and after a slew of years, they came back together under questionable circumstances, and now they plan to marry for a second time on Christmas Eve.” Aunt Mildred shrugged.
“It’s an incredibly romantic story, but unfortunately, no, I don’t know either of them personally.
However, my last husband was a member of the club that Mr. Coatesville attends, and I remember him talking about some of the members there. ”
“A club?”
“Indeed.” Her aunt nodded. “Club Damnation.”
“Interesting name.”
“More interesting still are the men themselves,” she said with a wink.