Page 62 of The Trouble with Anna

A watery nod.

“And you agree that an abrupt end to the engagement would only rile the gossips further?”

Anna frowned. “I’m not at all sure—”

“Iam. You will stay on for the Season and we’ll drop subtle hints that things aren’t quite decided. By summertime, the Ton will forget there was ever an engagement in the first place.”

It was a lie, of course, but the Dowager waited a moment and no bolt of lightning struck her down. Perhaps heaven had a soft spot for grandmothers.

Anna’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that exactly what I was trying to do last night?”

“Very wise, darling. But we must all do it with a united front, andslowly.”

Anna, thoroughly baffled by now, gave one last nod, and the Dowager tried not to look too smug. She’d send Anna and Julian to balls together, she’d force them to partner each other at dinners, and she’d stuff them into as many darkened carriages as she could manage. If Julian was too foolish to make use of his opportunities—well, she washed her hands of him.

At least, until she thought of another plan.

Julian sat across from his grandmother in her drawing room, her very best lecture sailing past him. His fight with Anna played out over and over in his head, consuming him too completely to allow him to concentrate on anything else. Even the words in the morning paper had rearranged themselves into a series of viciousI hate yous until he’d thrown the paper across the room with a cry of disgust.

How had he bungled it so badly?

Julian’s head throbbed and his chest ached. Worst of all, his heart—

He stopped himself. It didn’t matter what his stupid heart did, because Annahatedhim. And for good reason! He’d won her trust and affection and then killed it stone dead, as sure as if he’d lifted his rifle and let a bullet fly.

The pain in his chest got worse, as if great muscles were pulling themselves apart. Could he walk away? He couldn’t see another option, yet how could he bear—

“Julian?” called the Dowager. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Yes. We’ll end the engagement after the Season. Anna agrees? I won’t have her bullied.”

“The things you say, Julian! As if I would bully anyone.” The Dowager kept her expression perfectly bland.

Julian narrowed his eyes. “I find I’d like to speak to Anna directly.”

“She’s out riding with Lord Hartley at the moment.” The Dowager paused, much struck. “Such a kind man, and so handsome. With any luck they’ll make a match and take the whole problem off our hands!”

CHAPTER28

THE DOWAGER’S DOOR KNOCKER RAPPEDout yet another rhythm, and Anna’s eyelid twitched along with it. Tea at Chatham had been a time to collapse into a settee with a good book and a scone piled high with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Tea in London was a blood sport. When the grand salon’s door cracked open to reveal yet another trio of women, Anna almost expected them to yell “Tallyho!” and come at her with hounds. But they’d only come to stare at Ramsay’s odd fiancée, of course, which made Anna’s eyelid twitch even harder.

Anna was spoiling for a fight and she knew it. Tension turned her nerves to wires, rage boiled low in her belly, and sadness clogged her throat and made it hard to swallow. But worst of all was hurt, that sneaky little feeling sitting heavy in her chest and seeping slowly through her during the bustle of the day, so that when she finally made it to bed at night, even her elbows ached. All Anna wanted was to curl up and close her eyes. But the second she did, hurt came slinking into the quiet.

Charlotte flopped down next to Anna in an explosion of skirts. “You’re a sensation! Everyone wants a look at you! I’m so jealous I could spit.”

“I’m going to spit at that Baroness if she doesn’t stop staring at me.”

Charlotte craned her neck. “No, not poor Baroness Dumfries. She’s shortsighted—she can’t help it. Everyone thinks you’re dreadfully snooty and standoffish, by the way. They’re all fizzing over it.”

Anna slumped back into the plump upholstery. “I’m sorry! I’m no good at any of this.”

“On the contrary! London loves an eccentric. Now, on to our enterprise. How did you make out yesterday at Dame FitzHerbert’s card party?”

Anna perked up. “I took bets from Lord Dickerson, Prince Sultan Selim, Mr. Rhys-Jones, and quite a number from Mr. Rhys-Jones’s grandmother. What was your haul?”

“Let’s see.” Charlotte rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out a small book bound in powder-pink leather, withA Young Ladies’ Handbook: How to Be Thoroughly Proper and Morally Uprighttooled in handsome gold letters on the cover.

“Upright morals?” Anna frowned. “Never say you’re backing out of our scheme?”

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