was something about the elegant gentleman’s declaration, however, that tugged at her heart quite as much as had Sally’s quiet sobbing during the first few nights she had spent here. And who are you, Anne Darlington, to be feeling sorry for the likes of him? she chided in self-derision.
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to join me?” Ian Sinclair continued. “I can’t tell you how excited my servants are at the prospect of having a guest for the holidays. My existence of late has been far too sedate for their tastes, I’m afraid. They were counting on your arrival to give them an excuse for a full-blown, old-fashioned Yule celebration.”
My existence of late. Slowly Anne was beginning to put all the small, yet telling clues together. Ian Sinclair had confessed to knowing her father on the Peninsula. And if he had returned to England while the British forces were still engaged in the war for control of Spain, there could be only one reason. A reason that explained both the lines of suffering in his face and perhaps even that nearly inaudible gasp of reaction when she had careened into him.
If there was anything more likely than a sobbing child to stir a response in Anne Darlington’s heart, it was a creature in pain. If it were not for Mrs. Kemp’s strictures, during Anne’s years here the school would have become a refuge for every homeless cur or injured squirrel in the district.
In spite of the headmistress’s injunctions, it had secretly sheltered a variety of carefully hidden invalids. Unknowingly, and without any conscious intent on his part, Ian Sinclair had issued an invitation that would have been almost impossible for Anne to refuse.
“Then I should hate to disappoint them,” she said bravely, “especially in this joyful season.”
Not exactly what he had bargained for, Ian thought, as he waited in Mrs. Kemp’s office for his ward to pack.
And Anne herself had willingly provided him with the perfect excuse not to take this farce any further. For some reason, however, perhaps nothing more than what he had indicated to her about his staff’s excitement at the prospect of a Christmas visitor, he had insisted that she come back to Sinclair Hall with him. He could only imagine their reaction when he returned, not with the child they all expected, but with a young woman in tow.
“…shall miss her dearly, Mr. Sinclair. Not that I would begrudge Anne her chance,” Mrs. Kemp said, his name bringing Ian’s wandering attention back to the subject at hand. “She is a most intelligent and deserving young woman, with the kindest heart I have ever known. I am delighted she will be able to take her proper place in society. I was so afraid that her father had not realized the importance of seeing that Anne has her Season.”
The words were chilling. Ian had left home at dawn this morning, expecting to bring a little girl back with him for the holidays. Suddenly, without warning, he had been propelled instead into the role of introducing a young woman into society. And it was a role for which he could think of no one less suitable.
After all, his contact with the ton had been severely limited by his military service and his prolonged convalescence. He had acquaintances within that elite circle, of course, but the implications of being called upon to provide a proper Season for George Darlington’s daughter went far beyond anything he had been thinking when he began this harebrained journey.
Sentimental idiot, Sebastian would have chided. And Dare would have been the first to warn that if he ended up in his grave as a result of driving halfway across the country in a snowstorm, then there would be no one around to see to Anne Darlington’s upbringing. Not, Ian admitted, that she needed much “seeing to.”
In actuality, she was already a woman grown. Most girls her age were married and producing the requisite heirs for their husbands. Just because this one had been hidden away behind the imposing doors of Fenton School for years didn’t mean that society wouldn’t consider her a woman.
“Her Season?” he repeated, his mind considering with near-horror what he knew about such things.
It was little enough. He had danced with his share of debutantes, of course. That was expected of every man about town, but he had never had the responsibility of bringing one out. And it seemed that Mrs. Kemp was now suggesting that he should.
“But of course,” Mrs. Kemp said. “Her mother’s family was quite respectable. Her grandfather was a viscount. And I believe the Darlington name to be equally honorable. Now, Anne’s father…” Mrs. Kemp paused delicately, one brow raised in question. “Was he a friend of yours, Mr. Sinclair?”
“An acquaintance,” Ian said carefully.
He had determined to keep his feelings about Darlington to himself. Airing them would serve no purpose but to rebound unfavorably on his daughter, who did not deserve that stain.
“Ah…” Mrs. Kemp said softly. “I did not think the two of you…” Again she paused, her eyes meeting Ian’s in perfect understanding. “He neglected Anne dreadfully. If it were not for the character of the girl herself, due to his financial neglect I should have been forced to send her away years ago.”
“I understood from the solicitors that her fees had been paid,” Ian said, feeling another surge of anger at Anne’s father.
“Her fees, but nothing else. That poor child has been dependent on our charity for the very clothes on her back.”
“I assure you, Mrs. Kemp, that what is owing to you will come first out of whatever estate Darlington has left. However, knowing his penchant for gambling and other…vices, I’m not sure of how much that consists. You will be repaid for your kindness, I assure you, even if it comes from my own pockets.”
“I don’t want the money, Mr. Sinclair. Especially not yours. I do, however, want Anne to have the chance at the happiness she more than deserves. She’s a good child, with a warm and generous spirit. I want someone to see to it that she is settled into a situation more appropriate to her birth than we can provide for her here. Will you promise me that you will do your very best to give her that chance?”
Ian had come north on a fool’s errand, drawn by sentiment and by the thought of giving a lonely child a festive Christmas. Now he was being asked to make a very different commitment. He might know little about providing a Season for a young woman, but he certainly knew the stated intent of such an endeavor.
Mrs. Kemp was asking him to find Anne Darlington a husband. As her guardian, Ian knew that, in reality, he could do no less for the girl and fulfill the obligations inherent in that post.
“You have my word,” he said softly.
“Such a chance, Anne. An unbelievable opportunity. You must promise me, my dear, that you will do everything you can to take advantage of it,” Mrs. Kemp said.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. I mean…it’s only a Christmas visit,” Anne said doubtfully, smiling at her headmistress, who had been the closest thing to a mother she had ever known. Her own had died when Anne was four, shortly before she had been sent to Fenton School.
“Perhaps that was Mr. Sinclair’s intention at first, but I believe I have made him see his responsibilities to you run much deeper than that. He is, after all, your guardian. It’s up to him to see you suitably settled.”
Anne shook her head, still not sure what Mrs. Kemp was talking about. “Suitably settled?” she repeated. “I thought we had agreed I should have a teaching post here next term.”
“Oh,
