Anna looked at Fynster-Allen. He looked at her, too, his eyes wide with alarm. Anna laughed and held out her hand. “I promise not to bite you, sir.”
“Oh! Of course not, Miss Addison, I never meant to convey that I thought you would,” he said quickly, and after another moment’s nervous hesitation, he thrust his forearm under her proffered hand. Anna did her best to smile at the poor man as she took it, and the two of them fell in behind her mother and sister and the insufferable Lord Deceit, following along like puppies.
As one might have guessed, Fynster-Allen was not much of a conversationalist, and Anna eventually tired of trying to gain more of a response than “Yes indeed” and “Can’t rightly say.” Besides, she was far too distracted by the gay laughter coming from the threesome ahead of her. Even her mother was beginning to look a little smitten, she thought with some disgust, and in a fit of pique for having been left behind—again—Anna asked of Fynster-Allen, “What is it, exactly, that brings Lord Ardencaple to London, of all places?”
Her question obviously startled her companion; he looked anxiously at her from the corner of his eye, his cheeks going red again. “Why… whatever do you mean, Miss Addison?”
Would that she had a pencil and a bit of vellum to spell it all out for him. “I mean, sir, what is it in London that draws the Scottish earl? Is he not missed at home? Surely he must think to return to Ardencaple, or whatever place he belongs.”
“Why Miss Addison, I would never be so…so bold to pry into another man’s affairs,” Fynster-Allen said instantly, apparently shocked that she would.
Anna frowned at his appalled expression. Oh why not? she wanted to ask. Everyone wants to know, and you really shouldn’t pretend you don’t! But instead she said, “I did not mean to imply that you should pry, sir—I just thought that he might have offered his reason for being here, that’s all.”
He glanced uneasily at Ardencaple’s broad back. “He’s not said, really…I mean, other than his desire to find Amelia.”
Find who? How intriguing! “Who, did you say?” she asked politely.
“Oh dear,” Fynster-Allen said instantly. “Perhaps I’ve said too much—”
“Is it a secret, then?”
“Not a secret, I shouldn’t think, as he has made several inquiries, really—”
“Of who?”
“Of who? Why, the Amelias, of course.”
The Amelias? What was Fynster-Allen babbling about? In an effort to help him, Anna suggested, “Do you perhaps mean Miss Crabtree?”
A thin sheen of perspiration appeared on Fynster-Allen’s brow. “Miss Crabtree. Yes. In a manner of speaking. But really not Miss Crabtree at all. Did she tell you so?”
“No. Did she tell you so?”
Fynster-Allen turned red. “She wasn’t offended, was she? I’d regret it terribly if she were, since I pointed him to her. She’s really a very kind girl and not experienced in the ways of the ton—”
“Mr. Fynster-Allen, of what are you speaking?” Anna demanded, a little too impatiently.
The poor man winced. “Oh all right, I can’t suppose it would hurt, would it? Ardencaple is looking for the lost daughter of his uncle, and the only thing he knows for certain is that her name is Amelia. Oh, and that she was acquainted with Lady Battenkirk, and as I said to him, how unfortunate it is that Lady Battenkirk is in Wales just now, for I’m certain she’d clear it all up and point him to his cousin straightaway.”
“Lady Battenkirk?” Anna exclaimed in disbelief. She knew the odd duck, had known her all her life. As it happened, Lady Battenkirk was distantly related to her father’s cousin. For years, upon the conclusion of the parliamentary season, her family would retire to the Whittington country house in Devonshire. Their estate abutted the estates of a number of loosely related relatives, and Lady Battenkirk, who resided somewhere there, had often been in attendance at family functions. Anna recalled that she was forever collecting strange little knickknacks and baubles of questionable taste. Worse, the woman talked so loud and long that one felt as if one could be blown clear across the sea with all the wind she generated.
As Fynster-Allen daubed his head with a kerchief, Anna tried to guess how Ardencaple, or whoever he was, could possibly know Lady Battenkirk.
And as to this ridiculous ruse about a long lost cousin named Amelia? It was preposterous! Patently ridiculous! And terribly, terribly intriguing.
Anna was not personally acquainted with any Amelia save Miss Crabtree, but she did recall that Lady Battenkirk’s niece, Mrs. Merriman, lived near Hampton Court. If Lady Battenkirk was fast friends with anyone named Amelia, Mrs. Merriman would be certain to know it, wouldn’t she?