The duchess chuckled as she finished the story. "I must confess, though," she said, "that it is far more diverting to have such a thing happen to someone else than it is to have one's own plans thrown into upheaval. I had wanted to spend the whole of today getting to know you, my dear. You were so tired after your journey last night that the evening was quite wasted."
Anne smiled and sipped on her own second cup of tea. "But I have greatly enjoyed today, Your Grace," she said. "I thank you so much for spending time showing me the house. I had no idea that such a magnificent mansion existed outside the pages of a book. And the gardens are lovely. The rose arbor, in particular, has given me ideas for Redlands. I love the gardens there, but they are very open. They need a more secluded area where one can sit quietly during the afternoon."
The duchess rested her chin in the palm of her hand and regarded Anne steadily. "You are very different from what I expected, my dear," she said. "I must confess that my motive for inviting you here two days before the rest of the family was only partly to get to know you. I also planned to use the extra time to try to make you more fashionable. I assumed that after so long in the country, your appearance would be sadly out of date. I was mistaken, I see. And about other things, too."
"I have Bella to thank for my appearance," Anne said. "She scolds and bullies me until I allow her to style my hair and design my clothes according to her directions."
"And very glad I am to hear it," the duchess said. "I really cannot think what Alex has been about all this time. I shall have to have a good talk with him. Better still, I shall turn His Grace loose on him."
Anne's face lost its smile. "Please do not, Your Grace," she said. "He will be angry enough that I am here. I would not wish him to think that I have been complaining to you. Indeed, he has been quite a generous husband."
"Balderdash!" the duchess said. "The boy needs a good set-down. And call me Grandmamma, child."
Anne was much in awe of the duke. She had met him the night before in the drawing room soon after her arrival. He had sat in his chair by the fire, a great mountain of a man, his legs set apart, a large hand spread on each knee. His great neck had bulged over his neckcloth, and bushy eyebrows of a surprisingly dark shade of brown had jutted over sharp eyes. He had coughed and wheezed all the time she had been there, until the duchess had released her by announcing that she must be tired and should retire to bed. But he had said nothing after his first apology for not getting up.
"It's my gout," he had said, glaring at her fiercely, as if she were directly responsible for the state of his health.
She had taken an instant liking to the duchess, a diminutive bundle of energy who appeared to rule her household with a rod of iron. Perhaps the liking came because the duchess was everything she was not, Anne thought. She had perfect self-confidence. And she had done her best to welcome the estranged wife of her grandson. She had herself taken Anne to her room the night before, where Bella had already unpacked her belongings and turned down the bed. And she had hardly left her side during this day, but had shown Anne almost every room in the house, pointing out the remaining signs of the original Tudor manor, most noticeable in the high wooden beams of the dining-room ceiling, as well as the most recent additions, such as the grand marble chimneypiece in one of the state rooms.
Anne had particularly enjoyed the visit to the picture gallery, where were displayed portraits of the Stewart family for generations back. She listened attentively to all the names and relationships, realizing only then how strange her situation was. She had been married for well over a year, yet she knew almost nothing of her husband's family. It had been a very difficult moment, though, when they had stopped before Alexander's portrait. It had been a long time since Anne had been able to remember clearly what he looked like. She retained only a general memory of height and athletic build, of dark hair and blue eyes and overall beauty. Her heart seemed to stop altogether as she looked on him once more and then started again with a painful thud. Yes, of course, that was he. How could she ever have forgotten? She could not linger as she would have wished because the duchess chattered at her side and proceeded to the next picture almost immediately.
The newly arrived member of the family had won Anne's heart almost immediately. She did not share the duchess's annoyance at his early arrival. When Freddie had been introduced to her, he had bowed over her hand with courtly grace and kissed it.
"Alex's wife?" he had said, brows knit in concentration. "When did he tie the knot? Don't remember to have met you before. But, damme, yes, if I didn't hear something of the kind from Jack. Now what did he say?" Freddie had retained his hold on Anne's hand while the frown on his face indicated that he was deep in slow thought. "Damme if I can remember," he had said, "but whatever it was, he was dead wrong. Dead wrong," he had repeated, wringing her hand until she thought she would have to bite her lip from the pain of it.
"Your hand, Freddie," the duchess had said bluntly. "It belongs at your side, dear boy."
"Forgot," he had said, smiling affably at Anne. "I like you. Damme if Alex hasn't done an intelligent thing. Always was intelligent, you know, Alex. A real sharper. Saw him read a book once. Didn't even have to move his lips. I might have a wife like you, you know, if I had some of Alex's brains. Lucky dog." He had flashed her a smile of boyish charm.
"Your hand, Freddie," the duchess had reminded him, and finally he had relinquished his hold on Anne.
If only the other members of the family could be as unthreatening to her self-confidence as Freddie, Anne thought, she would endure any number of painful finger squeezes. But she spent an uncomfortable portion of that night wondering if she had done a foolish thing in coming to face them all in one splash. There would be no backing out of the ordeal, either. Tomorrow they would all arrive-a large number of them, to judge from the duchess's conversation today-and she would be forced to meet them and mingle with them for two whole weeks.
That, of course, was not her only, or even her chief, worry. Tomorrow Alexander would come. She would see him again. She would know him, at least; her sight of his portrait that afternoon had ensured that. But she did not know at all how she would behave. Would she be able to retain her poise, or would she blush and stammer and lose all control of her reactions? She did not know. And she did not know how many other people would be present during that meeting. It could all prove to be a great embarrassment both to her and to him.
Most of all, Anne was afraid of his reaction. He did not know that she would be here. She had not written to tell him that she had accepted the invitation. She had been too afraid that he would again send instructions forbidding her to do so. She was, if she really paused to admit the truth, feeling sick with fear. She had disobeyed one of his express commands. And it was no private matter, which he could have dealt with in his own way. She had flouted his authority before his whole family. She dreaded to imagine what he might say to her or what he might do. Perhaps she was foolish to worry about having to mingle with the guests for two weeks. This time tomorrow night she might well be on her way back to Redlands. But no! She reminded herself that the duke would surely not allow any such thing. It was at his direct bidding that she was here, and he was the head of the family.
When Merrick arrived at Portland House, it was already late afternoon, and he could see at a glance that several members of his family must be there before him. The huge double doors of the main entrance stood open, and several liveried footmen were busily carrying inside large trunks and boxes that had just been unloaded from an ancient traveling carriage that still stood before the entry. Some female was in the rose arbor: probably his second cousin Constance. She looked too fair and too small to be the older sister, Prudence. Freddie Lynwood was outside among the boxes, looking quite painful to the eye with a large expanse of canary-yellow waistcoat showing beneath an unbuttoned coat. He was good-naturedly trying to help the footman by gathering three bandboxes into his arms.