Page 76 of The Trouble with Anna

“Indeed!”

Anna winced at how high her voice went, then winced again over the series of shocking images that flooded her mind and reminded her why she was squeaking like a kettle.

Had she squeaked with Julian? Oh god. She had definitely squeaked, and made all sorts of other mortifying noises when his thumb flicked her—

She leapt to her feet. “I’ll count our vouchers! Where’s your reticule?”

Charlotte waved a hand vaguely toward the floor.

Anna rummaged through it and looked up brightly. “We collected almost twenty pounds tonight!”

“That’s not bad.” Charlotte yawned. “I could buy a dress for that. Oh, don’t look at me like that! A simple dress, perhaps not one from Josephine. I’m only saying twenty pounds is nothing to scoff at.”

“It’s not five thousand pounds each, though, is it?” Anna triedto think. It was more urgent than ever to figure out Chatham and the stables, now that she and Julian…

Because she and Julian…

Anna squeaked again.

All she knew was that if she and Julian were starting fresh, she had no intention of coming to him as some hopeless case. She’d come to him as an equal, or not at all.

Charlotte propped herself up on an elbow. “Did Hartley agree on a sale price? I hope you gouged him badly.”

“No. He was surprisingly formidable. I’m not sure we’ll come to terms.” Though of course, Hartley wasn’t the least bit formidable. If he’d been a dog, he would have rolled over and shown her his belly. But the idea of selling off the horse Julian had given her wasn’t half as appealing now that…

No! This is too important. You must focus!

Her eyebrows firmed into a black line of resolve. “I’ll speak to Lord Hartley again tomorrow. We’ll have the funds as soon as I can manage it.”

Two days later, the deal was done. Anna, her stomach churning with misgiving, sent Charon off late in the evening with a bag of apples and one last wistful pat on his glossy gray rump. But strangely, save for a searching look from the Dowager over breakfast, no one mentioned the horse or his absence from the stables. And soon Anna was much too busy to worry over the matter.

The string of parties, routs, dinners, dances, trips to the opera, trips to the theater, musical nights, salons, carriage rides, morning rides, and afternoon promenades flew by in a bewildering whistle. Each night, Anna whirled around a glittering city, and each morning, after she waited for the household to drag itselfout of bed, she huddled with Charlotte to count their growing pile of loot.

Charlotte studied her list. “We should approach Maharaja Singh. He’s very private, so Marby will have to take his bets and enter them anonymously. The Maharani’s too. She won’t want her husband to know when she beats him. On to Lord Dreyfus! You’re sure his horse will lose? He’s been blowing on and on about what a fearsome creature it is.”

Anna made a face. “Quite sure. That horse is all chest and no hindquarters.”

“Just like his mistress, then. I’ll put quite a large bet to him directly, in front of his gouty old friends. He’ll risk twice as much if he’s challenged by a woman, and I’ll have twice as much fun collecting when we win.”

So Anna and Charlotte swanned around the drawing rooms and great salons of London, trading vast sums right under the Dowager’s and Julian’s noses. It was exhilarating and scary all at once, a bit like being on the back of a runaway horse. At any second, Anna knew she either would take a bad fall or the sheer thrill would cause her heart to explode.

Although perhaps that last part was Julian.

When she stumbled in society—as she often did—he was by her side to pick her up, dust her off, and send her back into the fray. He kept his face scrupulously straight through scrape after scrape, such as when Anna was caught poking around in the potted plants at Almack’s for her slippers, or when she pointedly turned her back on Viscountess Notterbridge and gave a deep curtsey to Viscountess Notterbridge’s governess instead.

“Lady Anna is still in mourning,” Julian explained firmly to the many astonished people Anna left in her wake, dragging her off before she could get into more trouble.

“Perhaps someone ought to die so I can use that excuse,” saidCharlotte, when they took a rare break for afternoon tea. She darted a wicked look at her grandmother. “Not you, Gran.”

The Dowager choked on her tea. “How generous!”

“In my defense,” Anna said hotly, “my feet were hurting dreadfully and Charlotte regularly takes off her slippers and hides them in a potted plant. Only I forgot which one. As for the governess, Miss Whaley wasmuchkinder than her employer and more interesting too. Should nothing derive from merit?”

Julian leaned back in his chair and draped one arm lazily across the top. “Your education is most extraordinary. Surely you’re aware the aristocracy itself is based on merit? Or perhaps you didn’t know that families are elevated because of their service to the crown?”

“Of all the vain, pompous…” Anna sputtered. “History, I’ll have you know, has very little good to say about aristocrats. Earls in particular. What did your family do to earn the coronet? Was it pillage? Rape? Perhaps a massacre in the name of the King?”

“No.” Julian picked up his newspaper and hid his laughter behind it. “My family earned our earldom the time-honored way. We bought it.”

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