Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

Flashman

Oscar watched Anastasia fumbling with a handkerchief in the car, Mr. Collins by her side. Rowan was up front, a scarf nearly pulled up to his ears. Oscar had offered to ride up front, but Anastasia had insisted he stay. She blinked, looking to him. "You're certain this will work?"

He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but Mr. Collins was hovering over her like a protective father. Even Gareth hadn't glared at him like that, so Oscar simply smiled. "It will, if there's anything I've learned about men of his class, if you say the right words and do the right things, you're accepted as one of them. There's few secrets between men in clubs like that."

"But what if he doesn't accept you as one of the boys?" Mr. Collins raised an eyebrow.

Oscar snorted, "One of my relatives has already married into the nobility, I'll be accepted for my name alone. In addition, plenty of them would like a financial gift. These country houses are money pits."

Anastasia grinned, "Don't I know it."

"Oh, you're looking into one?"

She nodded, "One in Scotland, so that after all this is done, Will and I can come back and visit his family, with our children." Her voice was firm on that, and Oscar much preferred her determined rather than weepy. "It's been quite the process, I wouldn't mind one in need of repair, but they usually are quite extensive."

"It comes with the house being older than your country." Mr. Collins chuckled, "Perhaps it would be better to get one in need of repair, plenty of men coming back from the front are skilled with their hands."

"I'll consider it." Her smile was warm, and she quieted as she looked out the window. Oscar settled back, joining her. The country rolling by them was truly gorgeous, lush rolling fields with dark woods lurking just beyond. Cows and sheep dotted the fields, the only mark of the war being that women were tending them instead of men.

Ever so slowly they got closer to their destination, the great country house of Freemantle Manor stretching its grounds out far from the house itself. English oaks lined the drive up to the manor, a Georgian pile of pillars, brilliant ochre stucco and glittering windows. He could see Anastasia staring at it and breathing quickly out of the corner of his eye. He gave her a cocky grin, "It's three days, you'll be fine."

"Three days seems awfully long." She muttered, her hand tight around his as he helped her out. A footman led them through the main hall, out towards a garden between the wings of the house where a reception was being held. He watched as Anastasia drew herself up, placing a smile on her face and stepping forward to join the ladies that were enjoying champagne around a fountain.

The footman gave a cough, "If you would like to join the other gentlemen, they are above."

Oscar followed his gesture to the balcony that overlooked the garden, occupied by a number of men in suits, sharing drinks and cigars. He took the steps slowly, keeping an eye on the composition of the group. All of the men were gathered around a single man, slicked back blonde hair, easy blue eyes and a crisp jaw singled out Lord Robert, who lounged with an easy confidence against the balustrade as he gazed at the ladies.

The footman coughed again, "Oscar Vanderbilt has arrived, my Lord, the guest of Anastasia Murdoch.

If there was any question about Anastasia bringing a guest, it was quickly wiped away by Oscar's last name. Instead he waved Oscar to join him, the footman returning with a whiskey for the both of them. Robert lifted his chin toward the ladies below. "Ah, Vanderbilt. Quite a pretty flock of birds, isn't it?"

Oscar quickly assumed the playboy role he had played far too many times before. "Yes, well with all their sweethearts off fighting, doesn't leave much for them to do."