Page 4 of The Trouble with Anna

Anna watched the faint hint of empathy on Lord Ramsay’s face flicker out, replaced by boredom. “I’m afraid I must insist you return to—”

He was interrupted by a woman’s voice, low and urgent, coming from just beyond the door.

“I won’t ask him again, Freddy! I can’t, when he’s already given you so much. I’ll sort out something from my allowance, of course, but—”

“You expect me to be satisfied by my sister’s pin money?”

“No,” the woman said softly. “I don’t expect you to be satisfied by anything.”

There was an ugly laugh. “That brooch of yours will satisfy me, at least for tonight.”

“Freddy, you can’t—no!” cried the woman.

There was a ripping sound and anger surged through Anna, so clean and glorious that it swept all her hesitation away. Ramsay’s whole body went tense behind her, like a fist clenching for a fight, but she couldn’t pay attention to that, not when she could hear the man on the other side of the door walking away. He took one heavy footstep, and then another, and Anna knew she had only seconds to act.

She gave a battle cry and slammed her shoulder into the swinging door. The solid oak hit the man with a satisfying whack, and he went down with an odd broken yelp and a wall-shaking crash. Triumph howled through her, and then horror, because she couldn’t control her momentum. The floor rushed toward her with dizzying speed and—

“Oof!” Anna’s abdomen connected with the warm muscle of Ramsay’s arm as he hooked her and pulled her against him, knocking the breath out of her. Once again she was flooded withthe scent of clean linen and… was that peat? Her shoulder and stomach both smarted like hell, but all she could think was that the damned man smelled impossibly good, as if he slept each night in a freshly made four-poster bed at the top of some faraway Scottish mountain.Stop it!she scolded herself, aware that this line of thought wasn’t helping her breathe.

Lord Ramsay turned her in his arms. She could feel him searching her face, as if he’d never looked at her properly before. “Are you all right?”

Anna gulped down some air. “Perfectly!”

“You’re not injured?”

Anna ignored her shoulder. “Of course not!”

“No, of course not,” he said gravely, even as his mouth twitched.

Ramsay set her gently aside, scooped up a little diamond wreath, and stepped over the man still writhing on the floor. “Mrs. de Lacy, I believe? You seem to have dropped your brooch, and, oh dear—you’ve torn your lovely gown. Lady Anna will escort you to the retiring room.”

The tiny, dark-haired woman looked near to tears, but she nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Lady Anna. I’ll remain here and deal with the mess on the floor.”

Mrs. de Lacy’s brother groaned and she flinched, looking down at him with doubt and fear. “I really should—”

“You should come with me. Shall we?” Anna offered her arm.

Mrs. de Lacy, with a worried glance over her shoulder, allowed Anna to lead her away. As Anna passed by Ramsay, he dropped his voice into a whisper.

“Nicely done, firebrand.”

After Anna brought Mrs. de Lacy to the retiring room and found her mother for her, and then found her dear friend Lucretia who was handy with a needle, she circled back to the ballroom for what she considered a well-deserved lemon sorbet. The night hadn’t been too tragic, had it? She dipped her spoon into the tart ice and considered. No one had asked her to dance, but that was more relief than tragedy. Her shoulder felt like a big, aching bruise, probably because it was. But somehow she’d survived the ball with her spirits intact, buoyant even, and that seemed a minor miracle.

Oh, don’t lie! You’re merry as a cricket and it’s all because Lord Ramsay noticed you.

Anna ignored that thought, shoveling another big bite of sorbet into her mouth.

Just then came a muffled thump from the far corner of the room. Gasps went up and a low rumbling of voices, and then the urgent call of “Doctor! We need a doctor!” The music screeched to a stop.

Oh dear, Anna thought, licking her spoon,what now?

She craned her neck but couldn’t see over the tight knot of people gathered in the corner. One by one, their faces turned, strangely solemn, searching for someone. The crowd gave an odd, shuffling ripple and parted to form a path from Anna to the person lying on the floor, unnaturally still.

Anna’s spoon clattered on the parquet as the room receded and a footman made his solemn way over.

“Lady Anna, it’s your grandfather.” The footman’s voice echoed in her bones. “Come quickly.”

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