Page 78 of The Trouble with Anna

“Certainly not! It’s a question for Charlotte, not me. Save your scowl for her, too. I won’t be bullied into giving up your sister’s secrets.”

“I see.” His face went stern. “And if I try to kiss them out of you?”

“Are you threatening me, my lord?”

“How you wound me, little fiend. I thought it was a bribe.”

“Charlotte doesn’t need you togiveher anything, Julian. She has position, clout, and soon we’ll both have plenty of—” She went abruptly silent.

Julian cocked an eyebrow. “Plenty of what?”

“Plenty of unwanted advice from men! If you want to do something for Charlotte, perhaps notice what’s there already.”

Julian barked a laugh. “I watch my sister like a hawk, little good it does.”

“Yes, but—how can I explain?” Anna folded the letter she’d been reading and set it down. “For instance, it always bothers me that Charlotte has an allowance. She has funds of her own, why not let her manage them?”

He sat back. “I never considered it.”

“Perhaps you should! Something else—do you spend much time in your grandmother’s orangerie?”

“Not lately. Why?”

“Everyone says how beautiful it is, but I’ve had the most fascinating conversations with her about horse breeding, related to what she’s done with hybrids and ferns.”

“I am aware of her work, Anna. Whose ships do you think carry her letters and specimens?”

“Then why do I hear everyone say what a wonderful gardener she is, but never what a talented naturalist? By rights, she should be a member of the Horticultural Society.”

He frowned. “She’s never said she wanted to be.”

“Of course not. It’s tiring to insist on your place the whole time. It wears you down to be called grasping when you ask for what is simply your due. You begin to wonder if you’re selfish, or you tell yourself the pleasure of work should be enough—”

Anna broke off. Any hint of agitation would only be used against her, as if emotion were something to run away from, instead of a guide. But no one ever listened to her about these things, except Charlotte.

“I see.” Julian shook his head. “Or rather, I’m beginning to realize I don’t see. You’d best explain it to me.”

Much to Anna’s astonishment, he stood up, closed the door, and scooped her onto his lap.

“Oh!” she said, startled by the acres of intriguing male chest suddenly beneath her fingertips.

He gave a rough laugh and gathered up her wandering hands. “No. I want to understand. You run Chatham and the stables—surely that’s enough?”

Anna sat back. “The stables are enough. Until I win a race and someone tells me it’s a fluke, or explains my own strategy back tome. Until someone looks over my head to Soussi with a question about a horse I trained, or until I remember that I must conduct all my correspondence with the Jockey Club under the name Mr. John Strongman because they won’t reply to a Lady Anna Reston.”

Julian’s voice went deceptively soft. “I can make the Jockey Club reply to you.”

“Yes,youcan.” Anna’s hand cupped his face. “ButIcan’t. That’s exactly my point.”

“What if I—”

“No.”

“But I could easily—”

“No! I don’t want your help!”

“Am I to do nothing, damn it?”

---