A Gentleman of Worth – Chapter 2

Happy Thursday! We’re on Chapter 2!  I’m going to throw out June 10th as a release day at this time. If things move faster than I think they will, then I’ll move that day up, but with everything going on, I am certain I can make the 10th (crossing fingers and toes!). If you missed last week’s post, this is Book 2 of The Montford Cousins,  a sequel to An Endeavour to be Worthy, so while Darcy and Elizabeth are in the story, they are not the focus. If you missed last week’s post, you can find it here.

Let’s get to it!

Chapter 2

Anthony’s mount snorted, the stallion’s breath creating frosty clouds in the frigid morning air. Few rode Rotten Row this early and fewer walked through Hyde Park, allowing him to steer his horse along the Serpentine without notice.

He squinted at a figure on horseback on the other side of the lake and cued Ceres to trot. Was that Amelia? She often rode with the company of either one of her male relations or a groom. Her seat was excellent, sitting tall and proud while trotting her horse while she put her horse through his paces. It had to be her.

As he approached, her head turned, giving him a full view of her lovely face. Her green eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and faint dark circles marred the underside. Had she been crying over last night? His heart plummeted into his stomach.

“Miss Montford, I am pleased to see you this morning.”

A movement to his side made him turn. Her groom had guided his horse closer. “Miss Montford?”

“I am well, Ian. Sir Anthony is a friend.” The groom nodded and backed his horse to its previous position.

He did his best to ignore how she referred to him, but the appellation “friend” still stung. “The park is perfect for riding this morning.”

She glanced around at their environs. “All of London was at the Marquess’s ball last night. They would not be out so early after such a late night. My brother and grandparents were not down yet when I departed this morning for my ride. Mr. Gideon claimed they arrived home not long before sunrise.”

“The ball sounds as though it was a huge success, then.”

“Yes, I imagine it was.” His heart ached at her soft, sedate tone. She was never so reserved with him.

“I should like to speak about what happened last night.”

She glanced to him before she resituated her reins in her hands. “Riding brings me peace. I hoped to lose myself in a good gallop down Rotten Row before it becomes too crowded and too dangerous, but the swans glided so gracefully across the surface of the water that I stopped to watch.”

“They are beautiful. I have seen them swimming even on the coldest of days.” He cleared his throat and pulled his shoulders back then released them in an attempt to relieve the tension. “Would you object if I joined you for your ride?”

She shook her head. “I do not mind. The avenue is wide enough for us both.”

“It is, but I should not want to intrude if you wish for solitude.”

“What if I fancy a race? Would you accept a challenge from a lady?”

He allowed a small smile. “I would indeed, though I believe I possess the advantage.”

“How is that?” she said with her brows drawn down a little in the middle.

“Well, I am allowed to ride astride while you are forced to sit side saddle. Perhaps we should establish some rules so our competition would be fair.”

Her back stiffened, and her eyebrows rose high. “Are you saying I cannot win riding side saddle?”

He swallowed hard at the change in the pitch of her voice. “No, I had not meant anything of the sort.”

One side of her lips quirked. “I should hope not.” She steered her horse towards the pathways, and he followed, allowing her to lead the way. As soon as their horses found purchase on the soft dirt of the Row, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes holding a wicked gleam, then she took off down the avenue in a gallop.

“Blast,” he muttered and cued his horse to follow. He sat forward in his saddle and gripped with his knees, relishing the sting of the cold air against his cheeks. Amelia and her horse were holding the lead, so he squeezed his mount’s flank, urging him forward.

Ceres caught up to the rear of hers and began to gradually overtake her grey as the end of the King’s Private Road came into sight. They had not set an ending place for the race, so how were they to determine the victor? At the last footpath, Amelia sat up and slowed her stallion to a trot, turning and heading back in the direction from whence they came.

He did the same and drew alongside her. “We never set an end point.”

“Nicholas and I always race to the last footpath.”

“Ah.” The end made sense. “You handled your horse exceptionally well. How long has he been your mount?”

“He was a gift from Nicholas three years ago. I had proven I could handle Nicholas’s stallion and hoped for more of a challenge. My grandfather was wary of me riding such a spirited animal, but Nicholas chose well. He has a smooth gait, and I love riding him.”

Lord Richmond and Hatton bred horses with excellent bloodlines. No doubt, this was one of their foals. He was a large stallion with a muscular conformation that Anthony would have no reservations selecting were he seeking to purchase a similar steed.

“If we had gone much further, you would have overtaken me.” She watched him with a hint of something in her eyes. What was she seeking?

As soon as his gaze met hers, he leaned a little in her direction. “I do not believe so. You were still holding your mount back.” Just before she had slowed him, her horse was straining against the bit. She had been wise to rein him in some, particularly so close to the end of the path.

“You noticed that,” she said, her head tilted a little to the side.

“I did. Do you ever let him go?”

“Not often, and only in the fields at Richmond Castle. The last time I raced Nicholas, I let him have his head, but my grandfather saw us. He gave both of us a scolding neither of us is likely to forget.”

“Should the horse, or even just you, take a fall at that speed, you could be gravely injured.”

She sighed. “You sound just like him.”

“I do not. He has a bit of roughness to his voice I do not possess.”

After she gave a slight huff, she gave him a side-long look. “’Tis not what I meant.”

He chuckled. “I know. I hoped to make you smile.” She had a smile that could not only lighten any weight upon his shoulders but also give cheer any room she inhabited, and her laugh was magical. He could arrive at a ball in a sour mood, but her happy countenance and laugh had the ability to alter his disposition for the better. How many times had he departed an event beaming as a result of her good humour?

“Will you be making calls with your grandmother today?”

“I should hope not. I would prefer to sit in my favourite nook of the library and read. Calls on the day after a ball are always a recounting of the evening before. Since I departed early, I have naught to offer on my perspective. It would only bring attention to what occurred and my prompt departure, which I have no desire to do.”

“I apologise for my part.”

She stared straight ahead, blinking, while her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. “How can I fault you when I have been so wilfully blind—and uninformed, it seems? I suppose I missed the gossip of your situation, but I do try to ignore the rumours that run amuck—so much of it is salacious and mean-spirited.”

“I agree.” He surrounded himself with friends and acquaintances who were not of that ilk. The Montfords were known to be an upstanding family. He had known Darcy at Oxford and knew well his reputation, though Darcy rarely attended balls and routs. He spent a great deal of time at Pemberley rather than town, until his marriage at least. The Darcys were known to be principled and fair.

When they reached Hyde Park Corner, they turned left. “When you are ready, I should like to speak of what happened last night. I only want to understand why my suit causes you such distress.”

Miss Montford sighed but continued to watch the road ahead of them. “I convinced myself long ago that you desired no more than friendship from me. Pray, attribute my response to the surprise of it all and nothing more.”

His chest squeezed painfully. “Are you decided against me then?”

“I do not know. This has been confusing. If you would allow me some time to consider what I want, I would appreciate your patience.”

He tried to breathe, but the air failed to fill his lungs completely. She had not refused him outright. Some hope existed, though it was difficult to credit at the moment. “I can deny you nothing that is in my power to provide.” The words were forced from his throat and tasted bitter on his tongue.

“I thank you.” She spoke so softly he had to strain to make out the words.

They exited the Grosvenor Gate and crossed into Kings Mews. “I should go,” she said pointing to the Richmond House stables.

“How shall I know when you wish to speak to me?”

“I shall have my grandfather send word. Nicholas knows naught of what happened. I have no desire to be teased as he certainly would.”

“He will not hear of it from me.”

She nodded and held up her hand. “Good day, sir.”

He waited while she entered the stable followed by her groom, then, assured of her safety, continued down Upper Brook Street. What he would not give to have Amelia as his wife and accompanying him home to Audley Place. His house was not as impressive as Richmond House, but it was comfortable, even if the decoration was outdated. He had waited to make Audley his own. Aside from the debt, wives enjoyed making a home their own, did they not? He had no experience in that quarter since his mother had lived in the dower house at Dereham or in Bath for as long as he could remember.

He shook himself. Enough of this! Apparently, he needed to learn patience. How could he have known that lesson would come from Amelia?

“Anthony?”

His head jolted up from his ledgers. He had not been attending them, not really. His mind was still too full of a certain lady with auburn hair and green eyes. How could he not think of her? His hopes had centred on none but her for the past few years, and after what occurred last night and this morning, he could not purge her from his thoughts.

“Anthony?” His sister’s head poked inside the door. “Thank goodness you are here.”

He straightened and frowned. Why was her tone so urgent? “What is amiss?”

“Have you not heard the latest talk about town?”

With a heavy exhale, he dropped back into his chair. “Is that all? You know I do not listen to what the harpies of the ton have to say. I have no interest in whatever tittle tattle you heard on your calls.”

Phoebe stepped inside and crossed her arms over her chest. “Even if it has to do with you, Brother?”

“Me? I have done naught to inspire gossip. Someone was teasing you.”

“I was in the same drawing room as Lady Richmond, who had already heard the same rumour during her prior visits to two other ladies. I made two calls after that one, and the talk was the same. It is all over London. Miss Montford’s reputation is in tatters.”

His heart dropped. “Which Miss Montford?”

“Miss Amelia Montford, of course. I would not be here if it was Miss Jane Montford. She never left the dance floor last night. Her reputation is safe.”

He stood and leaned across his desk, his palms supporting him upon the hard oak surface. A knot was forming in his throat. “What could people be saying of Miss Montford? She has done naught to invite scrutiny.”

“Did you not follow her into the gardens at the Marquess of Ormonde’s last night?”

He gasped and straightened with a jolt. “We were not alone. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were also in the gardens. They can attest we did no more than talk.”

“Mrs. Darcy was with Lady Richmond, and she said as much but you must understand that the rumour has gone too far to be contradicted. All of London believes you to have had an assignation with the young lady. She is ruined. You must act. If you do not, Miss Montford will face censure wherever she goes.” No, no, no! This was not happening! Yes, he wanted to marry Amelia but not like this. He wished to propose and have her happy countenance gaze up at him with love in her eyes, accepting his offer of his hand. After her response to his declaration last night, how was he to do this? He had no wish to see her forced.

“Well?”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned before raking them through his hair. “I shall go to Richmond House. I cannot leave her to suffer when I should have had one of her family accompany her to the terrace last night instead of following her myself.”

“You have been so careful all these years. What came over you?”

“Somehow, she failed to understand my sitting with her at church. I had spoken of my intentions to her grandfather since he surely knew of my father’s debts, and I wished to reassure him. However, when Miss Montford and I spoke last night, she had not considered why I had begun joining her for services and became overwhelmed. I meant to explain myself, but I could not leave her in the garden alone. We were both unaware of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s presence until after we had been on the terrace for a short time.”

“That explains why all and sundry believe the two of you were not chaperoned.”

“I suppose. Good God, she will never forgive me.”

“You are exaggerating. She cannot remain angry with you for the rest of your lives. Besides, she is as much to blame for this as you.” Phoebe stood and walked around the desk, facing him while leaning her hip against the edge. “Your feelings for her have been writ upon your countenance for the past two years, but you had to be so noble—the opposite of our father—and ensure you paid his debts first. You could have afforded to take a wife when she came out had you chosen to do so.”

He gave a growl and pushed himself to his feet. “I would never have done her the disservice of marrying her then expecting her to live with the economy I was forced to endure. You do not know the extent of his losses nor the toll it took on the estate. The true state of Dereham has been a well-guarded secret since his death—and for good reason.

“The lease on Dereham ends at the end of May, and the housekeeper here is seeking to replace the servants we have lacked these past few years. I used a portion of my savings for an investment, which is seeing an excellent return. Amelia will not want as she would have before.”

Phoebe scoffed. “She may have had to make do without a few luxuries, but she would not have wanted as you put it. You ensured I never wanted.” Phoebe’s companion had done well to find excellent fabrics at a reasonable price, as well as a dressmaker who sought a higher clientele and was willing to work within their budget. Since the dressmaker called, took measurements, and conducted fittings at Audley Place, Phoebe had never realised the extent of his economy. His sister also appeared as well turned out as any of the other young ladies.

“True, but I tightened my purse strings further after you wed Lord Goderich. I no longer needed to purchase your gowns or other necessities, and I spoke to Cook of how to save funds on my meals. She was overjoyed when I informed her we no longer required such strict economy. She has run the kitchens with only one scullery maid for so long. She is interviewing for two assistants to help her. I thought it prudent should I take a wife as I planned. We would surely entertain, and Cook cannot prepare for an event without another servant or two.”

“I had not realised you had all but retrenched,” said Phoebe in quiet tones. “You never said a word. You could have lived with Benjamin and me and not required such severe strictures.” He had managed, though he despised having his valet tailor his father’s suits to fit him—at least the ones that he could make resemble the latest fashions. His father’s tastes were too expensive to let moulder away in the attics.

“No, you and Goderich deserved to have your time alone after you wed. I would never even consider intruding upon your solitude.”

“You must marry her.”

“I must consider that she may still refuse.” Just speaking of the possibility made him nauseous. He stepped from behind the desk. “Well, will I do, or should I wear my best suit and have Stevens trim my hair?”

“You looking your best may take some of the sting out of the situation. Perhaps she may realise she could be betrothed to Lord Dunbar or Lord Rutledge.”

“That was uncharitable, Phebes.” Her words gave him no respite from the tightening of his gut.

“You do not hear the ladies speaking of those two gentlemen. Lord Dunbar’s personality is as sour as his countenance, and Lord Rutledge, though not unpleasing in looks, pays too much heed to his mother’s opinions. She is all he speaks of. If only you had to stand up with either man for a full set, you would wish by the second dance to escape their presence by whatever means necessary. I heard one lady compare the desire to flee to an animal chewing off its own limb to save itself from a trap.”

“Very well,” he said with a hand raised. “I see your point. You have a perspective I could never imagine.”

“Why do you believe this will go poorly?”

“I happened upon Miss Montford riding this morning with a groom. She was not angry but requested time to sort out her feelings.”

She winced and sucked air through her teeth. “Then I wish you luck, Brother. Benjamin and I shall host a dinner or ball in honour of your engagement should all be settled in that direction.”

“Let me manage today before you begin making plans. If her reputation is too damaged, we may be marrying without delay.”

“My advice would be to wear your best suit. Make the effort. Do not let this seem any less of an honour than her willing acceptance.” Phoebe kissed his cheek and moved towards the door. She paused in the doorway and faced him with a slight tilt to her head. “Also, do not trim your hair. The talk amongst the ladies is that you are quite dashing when your hair is longer.”

His chin hitched back a little. Ladies really preferred his hair unkempt? How odd.

As soon as Phoebe departed, he hastened to his dressing room and rang for Stevens, who appeared without delay and had him in his best suit in a trice.

Upon reaching Richmond House, he rapped upon the door with the knocker and stepped back. When the butler appeared, the servant opened the door wider and allowed him inside.

“Good morning, Sir Anthony. I hope you are well this afternoon.”

“I am, thank you. I had hoped to call upon Miss Montford. Is she available?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Gideon, gesturing to the drawing room. “If you will await her here, I shall tell her of your arrival.” The servant bowed and hurried away while Anthony paced in front of the fire.

His stomach rolled and turned, and it was all he could do not to cast up his accounts. This waiting was interminable! What would he do if she turned him down? How would he recover knowing she would rather live in shame than be wed to him?

What if she never came to love him? Could he manage a lifetime of friendship with the lady who had captured his heart? Somehow that seemed the worst punishment imaginable. How did one survive such polite affections? He prayed he would never know.

Okay, I’d love to know what you’re thinking!