Page 22 of The Trouble with Anna

“I quite agree,” said Charlotte. “Let’s prove it to him!”

Julian lounged against the balustrade on Chatham’s back terrace later that afternoon, waiting for Lady Anna. He’d expected to be left at least a half an hour to cool his heels before their promised walk, but she appeared in front of him on time, in a black morning dress that was much too big for her. She was small, and seemed to dress herself to look smaller, as if she was trying to hide right in front of him. Julian had the strangest urge to put his hands on her waist, to trace her outline beneath the yards of ugly fabric.

Anna shifted and she wasn’t quite looking at him, which was nothing new. But why did she look almost guilty?

“Out with it, Lady Anna. What have you planned—treason?”

She bit her bottom lip. “You might prefer treason.”

“Now I am alarmed.”

“Well, it rained last night so it’s a good time to go. But—are you very fond of that coat?”

Julian lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s just that we may get quite muddy.”

“Ah, I understand. You’ve dug my grave. I had hoped we could resolve our differences without murder.”

She laughed. “If you won’t be serious, I won’t reveal our destination. My conscience is clean.”

Lady Anna led them across the back terrace, down the long slope of the lawn toward the meandering tree line, and onto a small path, not often used to judge from the tangle of brush. They clambered over the long, twisting roots of the beeches and oaks and made their way deeper into the woods. She walked fast, but she didn’t seem to be trying to gallop ahead of him for once, and they found a silent, steady pace together.

It wasn’t long before Julian threw back his head and laughed. “You warned me of mud but have you seen your skirt?”

Anna twisted to inspect the broad stripe of brown at her hem.

“Oh well.” She brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and left a small streak of mud there as well. “It’s not an easy walk after the rain, but it’s the best time to go. You’ll see.” She looked over at him and her mouth fell open. “You’re clean!”

He looked down at himself. “I’m afraid I tend to be.”

“But how is it that I have mud up past my ankles, and you’ve only got the slightest smudge on your boots?”

“You’re significantly closer to the ground,” he offered helpfully.

Anna had no response to that and they marched on silently, covering what Julian judged to be about two miles. He found he liked the quiet, liked being able to hear the swish of the leaves and the sudden dart of squirrels. When they reached a small clearing, she turned to him. Her cheeks glowed from the exertion of thewalk and wisps of hair had come loose and softened the angles of her face, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

She was smiling.

At him.

He’d seen her small and ghastly social smiles, the kind usually reserved for disliked relatives. He’d had more than enough of her polite and faintly haughty nods, and very occasionally he’d surprised her into laughter, the slight, reluctant sound more satisfying than it had the right to be. But never once had she looked right at him and smiled openly. No hesitation, no wariness, no barriers between them.

It was a small smile, but he’d earned it.

Anna Reston, the future Countess Ramsay.

Perhaps the notion wasn’t entirely absurd.

Julian frowned.You’re supposed to woo her, damn it, not the other way around.

She tilted her head toward the slight slope to their left, her face bright with mischief. The slope wasn’t steep, but it was thick with mud under a cover of dead leaves. “It’s time to leave the path, my lord.”

“Why does walking up a hill suddenly sound menacing?” He made for the rise, but paused after a few steps and extended a hand. “Are you coming?”

The slightest blush warmed her cheeks. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you.”

Lady Anna brushed past him, her back as straight as a queen’s. Two steps later she slipped, landing with a squelch on one knee.

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