The Heart That Lies Read online

  This time he helped her mount and Anna did not object. It was the first time he had touched her since she had sat with him in the coach.

  “Do you wish to return to the house or may I show you more of Meldon?”

  “I should like to see more, please.”

  If he was aware of the ambiguity of what they said, he gave no sign, but Anna saw more of the man that morning than she saw of his land.

  The man she had met in London was but a shadow of the man she saw now. His reserve disappeared and she saw the passion that gave his life meaning.

  He reigned in his horse at the top of a hill and she followed suit.

  “All this land has been in my family for generations. Edward III gave it to us in gratitude for our support against Queen Isabella and Mortimer and we have held it ever since. Royal houses have come and gone, but we have remained. One day I will hand this over to my son as it was handed to me by my father.”

  Here again was an echo of James. Their family did not have quite the same history as Meldon’s, but James had had the same feeling of holding something in trust for future generations, not just his own descendants, but those of his tenants. Now it all belonged to someone else, to a man who had not been brought up in the same way and Anna suspected there would not be much of the estate left for future generations when he was finished with it.

  “Until then,” continued Meldon, “I will protect it to the last drop of blood in my body.”

  “Against the French?”

  “Or anyone else who threatens harm. At the moment, though, that does seem to be the French,” he conceded. “Come, we should return or my mother will think I have been press ganged.”

  “May I come out with you again?”

  “Of course.” He seemed surprised that she could think he would refuse her request.

  “And you will not try to make me ride side saddle?”

  “Don’t you think I have already learned that it is futile to try to make you do something you don’t wish to do?”

  He smiled, then frowned. “But will you trust me where your safety is concerned?”

  “Yes.” It was an easy enough promise to make, but she wondered how hard it would be to keep.

  Meldon wondered how sensible it had been to bring Anna here to Meldon Hall. His mother was polite to her, but cold. He could not spend as much time with her as he wished, for there was estate business to be dealt with and his neighbour to be investigated. Carstairs had left the county the day before he and Anna had arrived. Meldon refused to put Anna and himself through the trials of another journey by returning to London, so he had set about finding out as much as he could about Carstairs from his neighbours and tenants. He had just received a message from Finch to say that Carstairs was expected to return towards the end of October.

  Meldon started planning his ball for the end of October to take advantage of the full moon. By then Anna would be well enough to join in, was probably well enough now, if her prowess in riding was anything to go by. She had seemed enthusiastic enough when he had mentioned the ball to her.

  He would invite some friends from London who would stay in the house as well as all the local gentlemen and their families. Whilst Meldon hated balls in London, he enjoyed them here in Hampshire. In addition to the ones he gave he attended those given by his neighbours. He did not dance, but passed the evenings pleasantly talking about crops and yields and whose bull was the most potent.

  Lady Meldon had also greeted the news of the ball with enthusiasm. If Miss Smith was not to marry her son, and she was determined that she would not, the young woman would surely meet someone presentable enough at the ball. Meldon foresaw a real danger here. Many of his neighbours were wealthy and at least four of them were looking for wives to his certain knowledge. Anna’s lack of fortune might deter them, as would rumours of her riding around the estate in breeches like a man. Meldon still saw no sign that his own courtship would be well-accepted, quite the reverse, as he remembered her tears as she had spoken of the man she loved. No wonder he had not been able to work out which woman Jonas Smith had favoured at the supper in his house. It also explained why Smith had spent more time with him and the other men. Even though he now knew that the object of Anna’s affections was unmarried, it did not help to narrow the possibilities, as most of the men he had invited that evening were unmarried.

  They went riding together each morning and passed each evening drinking whisky and playing cards together, much to his mother’s horror, but he still felt that he didn’t know Anna. There was so much that she kept back from him and it was more than simply the reason why she had wanted to kill him.

  When he had asked if he might read what she was writing, she had refused and had asked him for somewhere where she might lock her poems away and retain the key. He had protested that he would never read them without her permission, but she had replied that it was for her own protection as she might be tempted to show them to him.

  His response was to be more open to her. He shared his hopes and dreams with her until he was certain that she knew everything about him except that he was a spy and that he was in love with her.

  Knowing that Anna would probably come to the library at some point during the morning, Meldon waited for her there. It had become her habit lately to spend the morning and the early afternoon here and the late afternoon sewing with the countess. He glanced idly at her supply of ink and paper and made a mental note to send someone to Southampton to buy more for her. He understood that she would get through a great deal of paper with errors and rewriting, but the high consumption of ink could not be explained.

  After he had arranged her materials for the fourth time, he sat in the chair by the fire. He felt as if he were invading her sanctuary. He had given orders that when Miss Smith was in the library no one was to enter unless sent for. Each morning the fire was laid and lit and enough wood left for her to manage it herself.

  Tea was brought to her when she rang for it, but otherwise the library was her territory. She wrote here morning and afternoon, except when he told her he was going for a ride, calling on his neighbours or when he took her to Botley in the carriage to visit the few shops there. However much she might prefer life pretending to be a man, she could still be won over by a pretty bonnet or some ribbon. She had not wanted to accept his gifts and he had understood this, but he had explained that she could not walk around his house or his estate naked and he was wealthy enough that her few needs barely made a dent in his funds. He would gladly have bought her diamonds and pearls, but contented himself with gloves and ribbon and bonnets. She had good taste and he found that he was dressing in accordance with it. Perkins approved of her influence in this at least and Meldon was spending more on his own clothes than she would let him spend on hers.

  “Oh! Lord Meldon, I didn’t expect...”

  Anna stood in the doorway.

  “I apologise for invading your sanctuary, Miss Smith, but I have to leave for a few days. Is there anything you need before I go?”

  “Oh. I don’t think so.”

  Perversely, her disappointment cheered him.

  “Will you be gone long?”

  “A week or two. I shall be back in time to greet my guests when they arrive.”

  Finch had been clear that this would only be a short mission. He was, himself, on the guest list and could not afford the comment his late arrival would cause.

  “You leave it to your mother to finish the arrangements for the ball.”

  Meldon snorted. “The arrangements are made. My mother is under orders not to interfere, but,” he said thoughtfully, “if you should see anything that needs to be done, Simpson will see that your requirements will be met.”

  This was as close to a declaration of love as he dared go. Anna blushed prettily and he was encouraged.

  “Oh, I’m sure I wouldn’t want to change any of your arrangements.”

  “Nonetheless, I trust your good taste and good sense. One thing only I would ask while
I am gone.”

  “Don’t leave the house alone?”

  He nodded, afraid to look at her. She was so certain of her invulnerability that he was sure she would refuse and he could not leave if he thought she might not be here on his return.

  “I am not a fool, my lord. You may have faith in my good taste, but I have a greater faith in your desire to protect me.”

  “Truly?” He took a step closer to her.

  “It was hard to believe that you cared for my safety after you shot me, even though it was an accident. Ah, you blush.”

  Meldon felt the heat on his face, no wonder she had refused his advice.

  “I regret more than I can say that I caused you harm.”

  “I know.” He had not noticed her move closer to him, but now she was only inches away. “I am sorry that I ever doubted your desire to protect me. While you are gone, I shall not leave the house alone. You know I have not left it unaccompanied since I arrived?”

  He nodded. In this, at least, she had been true.

  “You will be here when I return?”

  “I think I just promised that, but just to be absolutely clear, I promise that I will still be here when you get back.”

  “You could leave, if you wanted,” he persisted.

  She smiled at him. “If I had been willing to steal one of your horses and bear the pain, I could have left almost from the moment I arrived. Now, please leave. I am working on a poem that you should be able to read when you return.”

  “A good poem?”

  “I have always written some good poetry. They were the poems that weren’t always suitable for publication or another’s eyes.”

  As Meldon followed her orders and left, he understood that she had told him something important about herself, if he could only work out what it was.

  Anna spent more time with the countess while Meldon was away. She felt that the older woman missed her son, so she trimmed her bonnets and embroidered her gown for the ball whilst they sat together. Her poem for Meldon was finished. She had tried to describe the landscape she saw through Meldon’s eyes. It was a new style of poetry for her and it did not come easily, but she thought he would enjoy it. She had searched the poetry books in the library to find which ones were the most worn for these must be the ones that he enjoyed. There were few enough of them. He often read aloud to them in the evening while they sat in the drawing room, but it rarely seemed to be for his own enjoyment. She, however, took great pleasure from what he read. He could change his voice to match the mood of the poem and he always brought out more than just the words on the page. The outpourings of her own heart were safely under lock and key and Meldon would never see them. They were her best work and would never be published. She didn’t understand how Mr Wordsworth and the others allowed their love to be sullied by allowing their poems to be viewed by others. Anna wrote for Meldon’s eyes alone and he would never see them.

  From the first she had known that Jonas Smith must starve if he relied on his poems. No man could publish poetry that so obviously showed his affection for another man. Disguising Meldon as a woman had proved impossible. He was so completely masculine that he had become unrecognisable to her when she had represented him as a woman in her poems and thus impossible to love. She had even tried imagining how he might write about her, but in these poems Meldon’s affections were so clearly for the boy he believed her to be that she had ended by crying for a love that could never be.

  Admitting to herself that she loved Meldon had caused further complications. He had killed James over a woman, that’s what his letter informing her of James’ death had said. He had been vague about the reason, but James could not have done anything to make Meldon call him out, so Meldon must have insulted James. Meldon, therefore, was at fault and should be punished. Her plan had been good. She had imagined Meldon to be a rake of the worst kind, forgetting that James had called him friend and had trusted him. In person he had turned out to be amiable, respectable and even honourable. His good character was told to her by anyone she spoke to about him. So she had loved him and despaired.

  The battle between her love and her desire to avenge James had kept her awake at night, until she had known that she would become ill if she did not challenge him soon. Her only hope as she had met him that morning was that they would both die. Anything else would be meaningless. Yet they had both survived and she was still in love with him. Since she was certain she had not mistaken his affection for Jonas Smith, she could only conclude from his recent behaviour that Anna Smith did not appeal to him as much. Meldon was both kind and remote. She reflected that her confusion whenever she thought about Meldon had not been relieved by revealing her identity as a woman and living in his own house.

  She could not explain why he had brought her here. Even less could she understand why he kept her here, when her presence was so clearly a burden to him and so resented by his mother. Surely Lady Caroline would have taken her in; they had quickly become friends and she had seemed to be a woman of sense. It would have been easy enough to slip away from her and resume life as Jonas Smith somewhere out of Meldon’s reach. Now she would have to marry and Meldon would discover who she was. It was a while before she could admit to herself that it was the thought of marrying another man that displeased her; marriage to a man of honour whom she loved would surely be wonderful. Honesty, however, compelled her to admit that Meldon felt nothing for her, so marriage with him would be the same as marriage with any man who neither loved nor respected her.

  She wondered where he was and what he was doing. Going to Kent to look at sheep had seemed reasonable. Meldon kept two separate flocks for their wool and the sheep on Romney Marsh were famous for both meat and wool. They had spoken many times about his desire to build up his flocks and his plans for the future.

  He had sent two letters from Kent. One was to his mother, explaining that he would return in plenty of time for the ball and forbidding her to make any changes. “As if Simpson would let me,” muttered the old lady. The other was to Anna, containing details of the sheep and telling her that he had seen a bonnet that was perfect for her and that he would bring it back with him. Anna was more interested in the sheep. Meldon’s taste in bonnets was not good. She smiled when she realised that most of the letter was about the sheep and the bonnet almost an afterthought. Despite his wealth and the obvious enjoyment that he took from giving her things, she had managed to persuade him to keep his gifts to the minimum. Unless she married well, she could not pay him back when she left.

  The ball was her opportunity to meet people; no, it was her opportunity to meet men. It wasn’t lost on her that, just as Meldon had gone to inspect the sheep for their ability to breed and to produce wool, so men would be coming here to inspect women capable of giving them heirs.

  Until Jonas Smith, she had always accepted that this was her lot in life, but now she felt out of place. Even with Meldon such a life would be intolerable. Now she began to regret her promise to wait for his return.

  Anna put down the letter, before she screwed it up so much that it was unreadable.

  “Does my son tell you about the sheep?” asked the countess.

  “Yes, it seems they are to his liking.”

  “He doesn’t appear to be much in society. Perhaps there is none there.”

  “Or he wishes to return home soon and does not wish to entangle himself with new acquaintances.”

  “It has been some time since I have seen as much of him as in these last few weeks.” The countess was thoughtful. “Does he have any other news?”

  Anna held out the letter to the countess. “He talks of a bonnet.”

  Lady Meldon held up her hand in refusal. “We may at least commend him for the thought, though the execution will doubtless leave much to be desired.”

  Anna laughed. “Lord Meldon is very generous and not just to me. I see it in the way he treats his tenants and his servants.”

  The countess smiled, as she did whenever her son was pra
ised in her presence. “It is not the wealth that makes him so. He has a good heart and cannot be otherwise.”

  “I believe he learned it from you, Lady Meldon, for you have made a stranger welcome in your home.”

  “It is my son’s house.”

  “But your home.”

  Lady Meldon signed. “I will confess to you, Miss Smith, that you are correct. My son lives here, but he is not at home here. He has made it comfortable and welcoming. He is known for his hospitality. But he is more at home in his woods and his fields than he is here. I believe he would rather live in the hunting lodge than here.”

  Anna had seen the hunting lodge on her excursions with Meldon, although they had never gone in. It was very old, but well-maintained. Meldon had explained that it was never used now, although he sometimes spent the night there when he wanted to be truly alone.

  “I can understand why he might want to live in the lodge, but he knows his place too well to do so.”

  “Perhaps that explains why he supports your eccentricities.”

  “Do I embarrass you, Lady Meldon?” Anna had not considered this before and was truly sorry to think she had pained the older woman. If Meldon didn’t mind her riding out dressed as a man, she had assumed it would be acceptable to the rest of the household.

  “Of course not, my dear.” The countess smiled; they had grown close in Meldon’s absence. “There are far worse things you could do, but it might be better if, while there are guests here...”

  “Lord Meldon and I have discussed in detail what would and would not reflect badly on his lordship when the house is full. My riding habit is ready and I will ride Lady Caroline’s mare.”

  Anna had been the one to bring it up; Meldon had not seemed to care, except for her reputation. Anna had replied that someone called Anna Smith could not be expected to have a reputation that needed protecting. He had agreed, since Anna Smith did not exist. Anna would not be drawn. It was not that she did not know how to behave, it was that the moment she showed that she did, Meldon would begin to suspect more than he already did.