Chapter 23 #2
“Oh, I didn’t simply hear it, my dear.” He chuckled, moving his checker. “I saw the fellow in the silk quarter of Lyon. Haggling like a fishwife over bolts of silk.”
She studied the board. With one move she could easily take two of his men, but that would shorten the game and possibly Sir Edmund’s temper.
She wanted to keep him talking. Haggling and fishwife were not words Anne had ever thought she’d hear in association with the character of Rafe Harcrest, Earl of Moreham.
She moved her checker into an exposed position.
“You should be more careful, Lady Anne.” He waggled a plump finger at her. “Now I fear I must be most ungentlemanly and take your piece.”
“How could I not see that?” She flipped open her fan and fluttered it, as if covering her embarrassment. “But I was so distracted by the notion of the earl haggling. Are you certain he was not purchasing silks for his wife?”
“This was long before he married.”
“His stepmother Louisa, perhaps?”
“Haven’t seen the woman, I admit, but I think I’d have heard if she were the size of ten or eleven women.”
“He was buying that many bolts of silk? Mightn’t they have been for decorating purposes?
” Anne thought of the renovations Rafe had done to his London home, Moreham Hall, last winter, the renovations she’d thought had been in preparation for his marriage to her.
With difficulty, she stifled her sudden urge to topple the checkerboard.
She slid a checker into a safe position.
“Clever girl.” Sir Edmund smiled across the board at her. “It was the wrong sort of material for upholstery or drapes.”
“You seem to know a great deal about fabrics.”
As she hoped, he took her words as a compliment and continued talking. “I have been doing some renovations at Hamcroft, of the private rooms.” He paused, a sly smile coming into his pale-blue eyes. “I’m thinking that a wife would want a less masculine, less Spartan decor.”
Anne fluttered her fan; she was having trouble imagining that any aspect of Sir Edmund’s life might be Spartan. “Indeed.”
“Indeed,” he repeated with emphasis.
“And what has brought on your sudden desire for matrimony, Sir Edmund? I had heard tell you were a confirmed bachelor.”
He leaned back in his chair, folding his heavy hands over his stomach.
“Up until a year ago, I, too, believed myself to be a confirmed bachelor, content in my solitary ways. But then I attended the wedding of my favorite nephew, Rupert Fenwinkle. He asked me to stand up with him, his father having passed away of a winter vomiting sickness. I found myself strangely moved when I saw his bride, Annabella Norcroft, coming down the aisle toward him. And it seemed to me when the minister spoke the words of the ceremony, binding those two young people together, that I was hearing them for the first time. I resolved there and then that I should be married, too.” He unfolded his hands and leaned forward.
“It would be selfish of me not to share all that I have to offer with the right woman.”
“Such a romantic tale.” Anne snapped open the fan that hung at her wrist. “I believe it is your move, Sir Edmund.”
His eyes shifted from her to the board. “Yes, it is.” He moved his piece. “She is with child.”
“Your nephew’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations.”
“She is lying in at her mother’s. A bit peculiar if you ask me, but then I imagine most women like to be with their mothers at such a delicate and emotional time.”
She nodded absently. Anne rarely allowed herself to think about what daughters did with their mothers. She didn’t need a mother; she didn’t need a father. They managed quite well by themselves, she and James.
“Hartsdale,” he continued. “It is near your estates in the country, I believe.”
“A ride of a day or two, depending on whether you go by carriage or by horseback, and the weather, of course.”
“Mrs. Norcroft has invited most of the family to visit, to keep the young lady company, while she awaits the big event. First grandchild, you know. She’s certain it will be a boy.”
Anne smiled politely, wondering how she could steer the conversation back to Moreham and his doings in France.
She found it difficult to imagine Moreham involved in trade, and yet his fortune had taken an extraordinary turn for the better since he’d inherited what little had remained of it from his sot of a brother, George.
“With the season coming to an end, you and your father and your cousin will, no doubt, be planning to return to the country soon. And since my family will all be gathered so nearby, I was wondering, Lady Anne, if you and Miss Agatha might honor us with a visit. Of course, your father, His Grace, is welcome, too, if his health and interests permit.”
Her mind on Moreham, she’d lost the thread of whatever it was Bogglesworth was rambling on about.
While the man had glimmers of intelligent conversation, most of the time he was interminably long-winded.
Anne glanced up at him, smiling prettily.
“I’m so very sorry, Sir Edmund, but my mind was on the game.
Would you be so kind as to repeat yourself? ”
“I was wondering, Lady Anne, if you would honor me, honor my family, by paying a call upon the home of my cousin, your neighbor, Mrs. Frederick Norcroft.”