Page 10 of The Trouble with Anna

She shrugged. “Many of the oldest fortunes come fromthievery. Or from gambling. You can’t imagine the sums I’ve made on your racing tips.”

Anna perked up. “Really? How much?”

“I’m quite good at gambling and you’re quite good at picking horses. Let’s just say the combination is highly satisfactory.”

An idea winked at Anna, demanding attention. She felt like lying down in her own grave, but that was no way forward.

“Ooh! You’re looking quite steely-eyed,” said Charlotte. “Do you have a scheme in mind?” She clapped her hands. “Does it involve disguises? I have the most adorable black mask with black paste diamantes, and I’ve been saving it for just the right occasion.”

“I do have alittlebit of money set away. Perhaps with my racing knowledge and your skill at gambling…”

Charlotte straightened. “Yes! Absolutely! I know just the person to place bets for us in London, and I’ll throw in a bit of my allowance too. Oh, how delicious!”

Anna had to laugh. “It’s just a spot of mischief. It won’t solve anything.”

Charlotte shook her head, suddenly solemn. “Never doubt the power of mischief. You’re onto something, I can feel it.”

CHAPTER5

AT TEN THE NEXT MORNING, Julian spurred his horse down the drive and Chatham slouched into view, a squat and sullen structure with thick walls of rough-hewn stone and sunken windows topped by heavy lintels, like thunderous eyebrows over a frown.

In fact, the building looked much like the old Viscount.

Much like Lady Anna, who had an impressive scowl of her own.

No, Julian told himself firmly. Lady Anna was his ward now, a young woman whose whole life had just been swept out from under her feet by the person she trusted most. He understood only too well what that felt like.

This damnable business.

It left him unsettled, oddly rattled, as if long, spindly arms were trying to pull him back to those long, dark nights at Clare with his father sitting upright across the polished dining table.

If his father had one drink at dinner, it was easy to breathe.

If he had two drinks, clouds gathered on the horizon and the creeping bands of tension began to tighten.

But when the Earl raised a finger to signal for a third glass, real trouble began. The air grew heavy, hot, thick enough to drown in.

Julian used to be sure his father would die of drink, from atumble down the stairs or simply sputtering under a river of alcohol. Instead, he’d died of influenza.

The summons came at school, followed by a hell-for-leather ride to Clare to find Gran hollow-eyed in the drawing room, five-year-old Charlotte sprawled asleep in her lap. Charlotte’s mother had been there as well, in full black already although her husband was not yet dead. She’d run her hands over the pearls at her neck again and again, the strands clicking faintly as she stared into the fire.

“You’ll be the earl now,” she’d said when Julian came into the room. The words landed on his shoulders, heavy as weights. “Look at you, just a boy. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.”

She’d sounded strangely excited.

Julian shook off the old ghosts and brought himself grimly back to the present. He leapt off his horse and tossed his reins to a wide-eyed footman. “Lady Anna?”

“At the stables, my lord. I’ll call for her.”

“No need. I’ll find her myself.” Julian squared his shoulders and crunched down the drive. As he crested the slight hill, the bustling enterprise of Chatham’s racing stud unfolded before him. He had a clear view of the stable block with the busy main yard and boxes, the hayloft, granary, and farrier’s corner, even of the carriage house, though it was shunted off to one side in keeping with Lord Barton’s famed reclusiveness. In the paddocks and rings, a small army of grooms worked yearlings or two-year-olds, the fully grown racers, or retired dams and studs, all of them glossy and well-muscled. Everywhere Julian looked, there were horses and men.

But not a single small, troublesome woman.

All right, then. Duty done. Head home and put your feet up.

It was tempting, but an earl’s duty was endless.

What would he do with a ward, now that he had one? Make amends, of course, settle some money on her, and perhaps letCharlotte trick some poor sap into marrying the girl. He’d have to take Chatham in hand for the next six months, but that was no bother.

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