For a split second she looked as if she might protest, or perhaps suggest an alternative plan. But in the end she nodded.
“I will see to a special license right after I see to Chervil,” Daniel said.
“A special license?” Anne echoed. “Aren’t they terribly extravagant?”
He nudged a little closer. “Do you really think I’m going to be able to wait a proper engagement period?”
She started to smile.
“Do you really think you can wait?” he added huskily.
“You’ve turned me into a wanton,” she whispered.
He pulled her against him. “I can’t quite summon the will to complain.”
As he kissed her, he heard her whisper, “I can’t, either.”
All would be right with the world. With a woman like this in his arms, how could it be otherwise?
Chapter Twenty
The following day, after getting Anne settled as a proper guest in his household, Daniel set out to pay a call upon Sir George Chervil.
As expected, it hadn’t been difficult to find his address. He lived in Marylebone, not far from his father-in-law’s Portman Square residence. Daniel knew who Viscount Hanley was; indeed, Daniel had been at Eton at the same time as two of Hanley’s sons. The connection was not terribly deep, but the family would know who he was. If Chervil did not come around to his way of thinking with appropriate speed, Daniel had every confidence that a call upon his father-in-law—who undoubtedly controlled the purse strings, including the deed for the tidy little Marylebone home upon whose steps Daniel was now ascending—would do the trick.
Within moments of knocking on the front door, Daniel was ushered into a sitting room decorated in muted shades of green and gold. A few minutes later, a woman came in. From her age and attire, he could only deduce that she was Lady Chervil, the viscount’s daughter George Chervil had chosen to marry instead of Anne.
“My lord,” Lady Chervil said, offering him an elegant curtsy. She was quite pretty, with light brown curls and clear, peaches-and-cream skin. She could not compare to Anne’s dramatic beauty, but then again, few could. And Daniel was, perhaps, somewhat biased.
“Lady Chervil,” he said in return. She looked surprised by his presence, and more than a little bit curious. Her father was a viscount, so she must be used to receiving high-ranking visitors, but at the same time, he imagined it had been some time since an earl had called upon her in her own home, especially if it had been only recently that her husband had become a baronet.
“I have come to call upon your husband,” Daniel told her.
“I am afraid he is not home just now,” she said. “Is there anything with which I may assist you? I am surprised that my husband did not mention your connection.”
“We have not been formally introduced,” Daniel explained. There seemed no reason to pretend otherwise; Chervil would make as much clear when he returned home and his wife mentioned that the Earl of Winstead had paid a call.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, not that there was anything for which to apologize. But she seemed like the sort of woman who said I’m sorry whenever she wasn’t sure what else to say. “Is there anything with which I might assist you? Oh, I’m so sorry, I asked that already, didn’t I?” She motioned to a seating area. “Would you care to sit? I can have tea brought out immediately.”
“No, thank you,” Daniel said. It was an effort to keep his manners polite, but he knew that this woman bore no blame for what had happened to Anne. She likely had never even heard of her.
He cleared his throat. “Do you know when your husband is expected back?”
“I shouldn’t think it would be too long,” she replied. “Would you like to wait?”
Not really, but Daniel didn’t see any other alternative, so he thanked her and took a seat. Tea was brought out, and much small conversation was made, interspersed with long pauses and unconcealed glances at the mantel clock. He tried to distract himself with thoughts of Anne, and what she must be doing at that precise moment.
While he was sipping tea, she was trying on clothing lent to her by Honoria.
While he was tapping his fingers impatiently against his knee, she was sitting down to dinner with his mother, who had, much to Daniel’s pride and relief, not batted so much as an eyelash when he announced that he planned to marry Miss Wynter, and oh, by the way, she would be staying at Winstead House as their guest, since she couldn’t very well continue on as a governess to the Pleinsworths.