Free Marrying Miss Hemingford by Nadia Nichols Page A

Gosforth stood beside the piano to turn the page of music as Anne played her piece. ‘Splendid, Miss Hemingford,’ he said, when she finished and everyone applauded. ‘I heard you had a prodigious talent and now I know it to be true.’
    Anne laughed. ‘No one but my aunt could have told you that, and I do believe she is biased.’
    â€˜She is a very vivacious lady. I did not like to ask, but how long has she been a widow?’
    Anne looked at him sharply and smiled. ‘Nearly two years, Captain. It was a very happy marriage…’
    â€˜Oh, I do not doubt it,’ he murmured. ‘Someone more agreeable than Mrs Bartrum would be difficult to find.’
    â€˜I could not agree more,’ she said, hiding a smile. ‘Shealso has a very pleasant singing voice. Shall I prevail upon her to sing for us?’
    â€˜Oh, please do. I will be delighted to accompany her on the pianoforte.’
    The whist game was drawing to a close. Lady Mancroft was gratified to have won and her rather haughty expression had softened. Anne approached the table and was in time to hear her aunt telling Major Mancroft that her niece had been laid very low by the old Earl’s death, but she would soon be in spirits again. ‘She is a considerable heiress,’ she said. ‘And very independent in mind and spirit, which cannot be altogether good for her. I think she needs someone to guide her, someone as strong as she is—’ Seeing Anne, she stopped in mid-sentence.
    â€˜Aunt, we should be pleased if you would sing for us,’ Anne said. stifling a desire to laugh at her aunt’s less than subtle hints. ‘Captain Gosforth has said he will accompany you.’
    â€˜In that case, of course I shall oblige. Major, do you take a turn about the room with Miss Hemingford.’
    â€˜Delighted,’ he said, rising and bowing to Anne.
    â€˜You know, Major,’ she murmured as her aunt went to consult Walter Gosforth about the music and they moved slowly round the room, ‘I do not need someone to guide me, my aunt is mistaken in that.’
    â€˜I did not think you did, Miss Hemingford. But it does no harm for your aunt to think so, does it? She is a delightful lady and truly devoted to you.’
    He was a kind man, she realised. ‘I know. I would not dream of contradicting her.’
    Mrs Bartrum sang one solo and one duet with the Captain, which had the effect of sending Major Mancroft to her side, offering to play a duet with her. She declined and suggested he should ask Anne.
    It was all very amusing. Anne could see that the Major and the Captain were vying with each other to be noticed by her aunt and yet the lady herself seemed unaware of it. Not for a minute did Anne think either of them were rivals for her own hand, which meant she was saved the business of having to discourage them. By the time the party broke up with everyone promising to meet on The Steine after attending morning service next day, she was feeling exhausted. It had been a long, long day.
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    The front pews of the parish church of St Nicholas were full of the beau monde, dressed in their finery, intending to see and be seen. At the back, also in their Sunday best, were the working people of Brighton: fisherfolk, bootmakers, chandlers, harness makers, candlemakers, hatters, seamstresses, all the people who worked in the background to cater for the visitors who flocked there every summer as soon as the London Season was over. Sitting alone, neither with the elite nor the artisans, was Dr Tremayne. He was wearing a plum-coloured frockcoat, grey pantaloons, a clean white shirt and a white muslin cravat starched within an inch of its life. He held a tall beaver hat on his knees. Everything about him was neat and clean; he had even made an attempt to control his dark curls.
    Anne and her aunt arrived late and most of the pews were full. Anne touched Aunt Bartrum’s hand and indicated the vacant