Page 1 of The Trouble with Anna

CHAPTER1

LADY ANNA RESTON STOOD ATthe bottom of a wide stone staircase, wearing a borrowed dress and a grim expression.

The great house at Mayne was lit up and glowing in the cold, with lanterns splashing light over the mellow limestone walls to bounce between the building’s crown of fanciful spires, and thousands of candles winking in clusters along the drive. Music, lively and quick, skipped down the steps toward her, and underneath it, Anna could hear the chatter of hundreds of thoroughly overexcited guests. Even the stars seemed to twinkle their brightest in the ink-black sky, as if they wanted to join the party.

Tonight’s ball was already a smashing success, destined to be talked about for years to come. Which was why, Anna thought bitterly, there was absolutely no reason forherto attend.

Two rows of footmen resplendent in navy and silver stood at the top of the stairs, blinking down at her as if wondering at her hesitation.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much for you?” she asked her grandfather, the Viscount Barton, standing ramrod straight beside her.

“I don’t plan to die just yet, girl! But for god’s sake, must we dawdle out in the cold? It’s bad enough that you dragged me here.”

Anna shot him a look. Only someone with the intelligence ofa squirrel could thinkshewanted to be here, swaddled in a ridiculous confection of silk.

“We’d best get it over with,” she said, and took her grandfather’s arm.

The Viscount patted her hand. “Now you’re talking sense.”

Anna squared her shoulders and marched resolutely forward.

Gifford, the butler at Mayne, stood still as a statue at the entrance to the ballroom. He puffed out his chest, heavy with silver braid, and bellowed, “The Right Honorable Viscount Barton! Lady Anna Reston!”

As Anna passed through the door, Gifford whispered, “Lady Charlotte will be delighted to see you.”

“Thank you, Gifford,” Anna whispered back. “May I say howsplendidyou look tonight?”

The Viscount jostled his way into the crowd and Anna pushed after him, staring around the room. Charlotte had crammed it full of real orange trees, which Anna had to admit looked spectacular and smelled even better. Candles hung from the trees and lined the gallery where the musicians played, and the enormous chandelier overhead sparkled bright enough to blind her. Four long refreshment tables seemed to quiver under the weight of the food laid out on them, and in pride of place was an enormous iced copper bowl from which footmen scooped pale mounds of sorbet into what looked like—good lord, could those be hollowed-out lemons?

Still, Anna’s shoulders crawled up toward her ears, as if she were a turtle in need of a shell.

“Ah! At least there’ssomeonehere worth talking to,” the Viscount cried, well within earshot of most of his neighbors. “Ramsay! Lord Ramsay! I must tell you about my horse.”

Anna turned hot, then cold.

Oh no. Not him! Not now!

Julian Aveton, the Earl Ramsay, turned around and Anna’s chest cracked open. She dropped her eyes to the gleaming floor, but it didn’t help—the sheer force of him still hit her like a slap. He was tall, with shoulders that were almost alarmingly wide, and thick chestnut hair cut a little long, a little unruly. He was handsome, almost insultingly so, as if the stark planes and angles of his face were designed expressly to muddle her senses. But it was his air of command that undid her completely—the sweeping intelligence of dark eyes that saw so much and were impressed with so little. Anna might have found him cold, or a little remote, except every once in a while something caught his attention and he sparked with laughter.

Lord Ramsay bowed. “Good evening, Lord Barton.”

“Ramsay! I have a horse I particularly wanted to—”

“Good evening to you as well, Lady Anna.”

Anna’s cheeks stained themselves red, her tongue tied itself into knots, and any scrap of brain that hadn’t already melted gathered itself up and scuttled away.He’s Lord Ramsay!she reminded herself firmly. He was miles above her. Miles above everyone, in fact. A man swooned over by society’s daughters, and mamas, and a shockingly large number of young society matrons. Swooned over by a good number of the men as well, from what she could see.

“Good evening,” she managed, though she fixed her gaze firmly on her slippers. She could feel him searching her face and squirmed, knowing he must wonder—if he thought of her at all—why his sister Charlotte had ever bothered to befriend her. Anna knew she was plain to look at and prickly to deal with, but she never felt it more sharply than whenhewas around.

“Ramsay, it’s about my Archer,” said the Viscount. “You’d be a fool not to put your mare—”

Lord Ramsay turned his attention to Anna’s grandfather and she took the opportunity to walk briskly in the other direction. Itwasn’t convenient, it wasn’t sensible, and it certainly wasn’t pleasant to feel this way, yet Anna’s heart did giddy flips in her chest.

Stop it!Anna ordered her heart, but it thumped back at her rudely.

You barely even know the man!she argued, but her heart thrummed a ridiculous song about the lick of impatience in his eyes.

Oh, go stuff—

---