He wondered what Lady Anastasia Westcott was doing at this precise moment and whether she had any idea at all of what was facing her—apart from a life of ease as a very wealthy woman, that is.
And he wondered where exactly Harry was. It would not be difficult, though, to find him later and keep an eye on him. He would be in one of his usual haunts, no doubt. And in one of those haunts he must be allowed to remain until he had stopped laughing.
Poor devil.
Six
Mr. Brumford handed Anna down from the carriage outside Westcott House early in the afternoon of the following day, and Miss Knox climbed down behind her, unassisted. Anna, looking both ways along South Audley Street and up at the house before her, saw that it was not quite as imposing as the mansion she had been taken to yesterday. Even so, everything here had been built on a lavish scale, and she felt dwarfed.
She owned the house.
She also owned a manor and park and farmland in Hampshire and a fortune so vast that her mind could not grasp the full extent of it. Her father had inherited part of the fortune from his father, but he had become unexpectedly shrewd in his later years and had doubled and then tripled it with investments in commerce and industry. The investments were still working to her advantage.
The knowledge of her wealth had actually made Anna feel quite bilious and even more desirous of going home to Bath and pretending none of this had happened. But it had happened, and she had reluctantly agreed to stay at least a few more days to consult at more length with her solicitor, for that was what Mr. Brumford had called himself—not just her father’s solicitor, but hers. Her mind was all bewilderment. She had to stay at least until everything was clear in her head and she understood better what it was all going to mean to her. Her life, she suspected, was going to change whether she wished it or not.
This morning Mr. Brumford had sent a message that he would accompany her when she arrived at Westcott House and again encountered her family. If they were to meet her at the house, did it mean her half brother and half sisters had recovered somewhat from their shock, and were prepared to welcome her, or at least to converse with her in a more amiable manner? But what about their mother, poor lady? Oh, this was not going to be easy.
The door opened even as she set her foot on the bottom step, and a manservant dressed all in black bowed and stood aside to allow her to enter. The hall was rich wood and high ceiling and marble floor with a wide, elegant wooden staircase—was it oak?—rising at the back of it to fan out to either side halfway up and double back upon itself.
A lady was descending the stairs—the one who had sat at one end of the second row yesterday, the duchess. Anna recalled that she had declared she would kill her brother if only he were still alive. Her brother—Anna’s father. This lady, then, was her aunt? Behind her, descending at a more leisurely pace, came the man who had stood throughout the proceedings yesterday, the one she had thought both beautiful and dangerous.
He still looked both today.
The duchess swept toward her, looking regal and intimidating. “Anastasia,” she said, sweeping Anna from head to foot with a glance as she came closer. “Welcome to your home. I am your aunt Louise, your late father’s middle sister and the Duchess of Netherby. Netherby, my stepson, is no direct relative of yours.” She indicated the man behind her. She completely ignored Mr. Brumford and Miss Knox.
“How do you do, ma’am,” Anna said. “How do you do, sir.”
The Duke of Netherby was dressed in a combination of browns and creams today. He was holding a gold-handled quizzing glass in one hand, upon the fingers of which there were two rings, one of plain gold, the other of gold inlaid with a large topaz stone. He was regarding her, as he had yesterday, from beneath slightly drooped eyelids with eyes that really were as blue as she remembered them. He had a lithe-looking figure and was no more than two or three inches taller than she.
“That ought to be Your Grace and Your Grace,” he said. He spoke with a light voice on what sounded like a sigh. “We aristocrats can be very touchy about the way we are addressed. However, since we have a sort of step-relationship with each other, you may call me Avery.” He turned his languid gaze upon Mr. Brumford and Miss Knox. “You may both leave. You will be sent for if you are needed.”
Anna turned. “Thank you, Mr. Brumford,” she said. “Thank you, Miss Knox.”
The lazy blue eyes held perhaps a gleam of mocking amusement when she turned back.