Annalee made herself sit up; drawing her knees close, she folded her arms around them. “A gentleman accosted me. Wayland interfered . . . beating the baron quite viciously.”
“Good,” Valerie said without hesitation.
And shamefully, in that moment . . . it . . . had felt good to have someone who believed her worthy of defending. Even if she wasn’t. Wayland had. And she’d ruined him.
“You do know staying in here will not undo what’s happened?”
“I know that.” That was, however, not the reason she was here. Not really.
There was only one certainty. She couldn’t remain on Waverton Street. She had to leave. At least until Sylvia returned. And coward that she was, she didn’t want to climb out of this bed and go down to the meeting and share this with the friends she’d come to love. Women she now needed to protect. Why, if Wayland, who’d once loved her, refused to let his sister join their ranks, what chance did they have for the others?
And so Annalee made herself get out of bed and, with Valerie’s help, rushed swiftly through her ablutions and made her way downstairs.
The moment she stepped inside . . . Annalee froze.
Her eyes went to the figure in the middle of the room, engaged in a discussion with the Kearsley sisters.
“Kitty is here,” Annalee whispered.
“Should she not be?” Confusion wreathed Valerie’s query.
As though she’d sensed she was being discussed, the other young woman looked over. The girl’s entire face lit as she waved at Annalee and then quit the side of the Kearsley sisters to join Annalee and Valerie.
“It is . . . so very good to see you,” Annalee said. For now. For as long as she was able to remain without her family’s interference. “I didn’t expect you would be here.” Another wave of guilt twisted at her belly.
Kitty’s brow wrinkled. “And whyever not?”
“Because . . . because . . .” Annalee floundered, caught between not wanting to say too much as to what she’d suspected about Wayland, and also not wanting to be responsible for creating a potential rift between brother and sister.
Understanding filled Kitty’s brown eyes. “Ahh, you mean you thought I wouldn’t come today because of Wayland.”
That was precisely what she’d thought. It really wasn’t her place to question and yet . . . “You defied him, then.”
“My brother?” Kitty snorted. “Hardly. Not that I wouldn’t if the situation required it,” the spirited young girl tacked on. “But it was not necessary.” Her smile widened, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “This time. This morning, Wayland sent me on my way with his blessing and an urging to have fun.”
Annalee’s heart slowed, then resumed a rapid rate. “He . . . did?” Annalee couldn’t contain the breathless quality of that question that slipped from her. She felt Valerie’s eyes form pinpricks as she narrowed her gaze upon her, but couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d . . . not tried to interfere as so many oppressive papas and brothers had?
“Oh, yes,” Kitty said, and proceeded to fish around inside her reticule, only half attending to Annalee. And turned upside down by the information the young lady now shared, Annalee was grateful for her distracted movements. “And not only that, he also even offered to distract Mama, falling on the sword so I might make my escape. And if that isn’t a sacrifice, I don’t know what is,” Kitty said, adding that last part under her breath. “Ah, here it is!” She produced her notebook, and waved it about.
Let it go.
It doesn’t matter that Wayland hadn’t proven as overbearing and insufferable as most of the other male figures associated with the women in the Mismatch Society.
All that mattered was that Kitty was here now and they were free to begin the day’s meeting.
Only, Annalee could not free herself of the curiosity. “But . . . I believed Way—the baron did not approve.” Or perhaps it is only you whom he takes exception with . . .
“Oh, Wayland does not want me to take part in”—the girl rolled her eyes—“scandalous activities. He’s concerned because, well, you know how he now worries after his reputation and our reputation. But no . . . for all his commitment to propriety, he remains more committed to not attempting to live my life for me.” The younger girl leaned in close, whispering, “In fact, I believe Wayland likes to think himself different from how he used to be. But he’s not. He’s the same man who always appreciated a good challenge to the rule of order and inequity in the world.”
With every word uttered, Annalee’s heart pounded all the harder, her pulse beating loud in her ears. And he’d also known his sister was suffering for friends.
Cora Kearsley joined them.
“Cora, you remember Miss Kitty Smith,” Annalee said.
The young ladies exchanged greetings, and in a moment it was as though they were fast friends. “You must borrow my copy,” Cora was saying. She waved the little leather volume and gave a sly look. “Why, I’ve already read it.” She grinned. “Twice!”
And as they laughed, Annalee’s heart continued swelling at Wayland’s having supported her society, and for his having supported Kitty and their friendship.
“I am ever so . . .” Kitty’s words slowed. “Whatever is she doing here?” she blurted.
Perplexed by that abrupt turn, Annalee followed the other woman’s focus to the front of the room. Or rather, to the tableau at the front of the room. Wearing white silk skirts with an enormous train, and a tiara stuffed with a feather that gave her height an ostrich would envy, a young lady with a bevy of servants entered the parlor, ushering in a brief, noticeable silence followed by whispers. Annalee’s stomach muscles clenched tight.
Valerie rushed off to greet the elegant guest.
“Whoever is that?” Cora asked.
Kitty lowered her voice. “That is none other than the Lady Diana Regan . . .” Wayland’s sister pointed her eyes toward the ceiling.
The Lady Diana Regan.
Kitty slid closer, angling her body in such a way that she turned her back to the woman in question and conversed in private with Annalee and Cora. “Surely you know of her . . .” As Kitty spoke to Cora, her voice wove in and out of focus for Annalee with only certain words periodically registering.
From her lungs on down to her toes, every muscle clenched and squeezed in a shock of unexpected pain. Having seen her before, having conversed with the young lady in the modiste’s, proved so very different from this. Now.
That day, Annalee and Wayland had gotten on as they’d always done before Peterloo, teasing and so very . . . comfortable with one another. She’d not let herself imagine anything more between him and the young woman.
Mayhap it was because it had been easier not to. Mayhap she’d let herself be blinded to that which her eyes had no wish to see.
But now, with Lady Diana laying command of Annalee’s parlor and Mismatch Society, there could be no hiding or escaping. Particularly not in light of Wayland’s rejection.
“King’s goddaughter, and she takes care to be sure that everyone knows it,” Kitty was saying. “Do you know what I think?” she whispered loudly.
Cora leaned in. “Yes?”