Lady Hastings’ gaze settled on Lady Rose, and although Anthony did not look at his cousin, he sensed that she was staring at him, waiting for him to offer an introduction.
He cleared his throat. “Lady Hastings, this is my ward, Lady Rose.”
Lady Hastings smiled. It was a hollow gesture that did not reach her eyes, and Anthony dryly thought that, perhaps, he deserved some of her coldness. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise,” Lady Rose replied.
Before he found love with Anastasia, Anthony’s heart had belonged to Lady Hastings, who was then Lady Abigail. Or so he had thought. He had been young and foolish, as had she. Anthony had taken liberties with her that a respectable man would not have, but Lady Hastings had always responded so eagerly to his affections.
Their affair ended once Lady Hastings’s father learned of it and insisted that his daughter marry Lord Hastings, a man who was old enough to be her grandfather. Shortly after her marriage, Anthony had met Anastasia and learned what love truly was.
“How is Lord Hastings?” Anthony asked.
The smile tightened. “He has taken ill of late,” Lady Hastings said.
“That is most regrettable,” Lady Rose said.
Anthony doubted that Lady Hastings was all that upset about her husband’s failing health. She had not wished to marry the man at all, and years of marriage to him had bred an unparalleled disdain for Lord Hastings.
“Indeed,” Lady Hastings said.
“I hope his health recovers quickly,” Anthony said.
He tried to bury the spark of guilt that always threatened on the rare occasions when he encountered Lady Hastings. Although his affair with Lady Hastings had been a youthful indiscretion, an error that any young man might make, he still felt as though he carried the blame for her unhappy life.
Anthony thought of Lady Bridget, who faced her own potential marriage to a man much older than her, a man she did not desire in the least. Lady Hastings had not desired that fate, and nor did Lady Bridget. Maybe Anthony could ensure that Lady Bridget, at least, received a kinder outcome. It wouldnot amend his earlier mistake, but it would ensure that a young woman was happy, at least.
“Are you very fond of art, Lady Hastings?” Lady Rose asked. “I had wanted to show His Grace a piece that I think we should acquire for Hamilton House.”
Anthony inwardly winced. He wondered if Lady Rose noticed that Lady Hastings’s civility was so forced. Likely not. Lady Rose was not one of the ton, and she would not recognize the danger that might be hiding behind Lady Hastings’s polite façade. Lady Hastings could be vindictive, too. It was best to keep Lady Rose far away from this woman.
“We should not delay,” Anthony said. “Otherwise, someone else may acquire the piece before we do.”
Lady Rose laughed. “Lady Emily promised she would accept no offers on the piece until I had shown it to you.”
It seemed that his cousin also did not notice his discomfort at Lady Hastings’s presence.
“Nevertheless, I do not wish to delay you,” Lady Hastings said. “Enjoy your evening, Your Grace. Lady Rose, it was a pleasure.”
“And you, also,” Anthony said.
When Lady Hastings left, it took all the strength of Anthony’s will not to sigh in relief. It was not that he disliked Lady Hastings, exactly. It was not even that her presence was a reminder of one of the worst errors of his youth. Rather, it was that Lady Hastings was bitter, and although Anthony blamed himself for her misfortune, trying to make amends would be too little and too late. He also knew the lady loathed him. It was uncharitable of him to think, but there was no purpose to engaging with her. Their conversations would always be stilted and awkward, and he doubted either of them would ever come to any semblance of agreement about anything.
“She seemed lovely,” Lady Rose said innocently. “How do you know her?”
“She is an old family friend.”
That was not entirely a lie.
Lady Rose hummed and nodded, seemingly content with his answer. Anthony furrowed his brow. He was certain that any lady of the ton would have noticed the displeasure that Lady Hastings exuded. Obviously, Lady Rose was not quite one of them yet, and it would take some time until she was. Still, Anthony felt a dull sense of worry that this young woman might be taken advantage of due to having such naïveté.
“Where is this piece that you are so eager for me to see?” he asked.
He did not especially want to think about his responsibilities as Lady Rose’s guardian or about Lady Hastings, and art would be a good distraction. Paintings reminded him of Anastasia.
And Lady Bridget.
“This way,” Lady Rose said, lightly gripping his arm. “I really do adore it. It reminds me of my father and all the long nights he would spend in his study.”
