Page 104 of The Trouble with Anna

Anna flopped down on her side. It was useless. Her happiness would not be squashed. How could it when there was the oddest ache between her legs and her insides felt jiggly, as if her bones had turned into bubbles?

It wasn’tsafeto be so happy. Except possibly about a horse, although even horses could break your heart. Anna yanked the pillow off her head and held it tight.

The door cracked open to reveal a froth of white lace and dark curls that tumbled wildly, like a mass of bouncing black question marks.

“Anna!Psst!Are you awake?” Charlotte whispered.

Blast. The Inquisition had arrived. Anna held herself perfectly still. Perhaps if Charlotte thought she was sleeping—

“Anna!Wake up!”

Anna laughed, turning over and presenting her back to the door. “Go away!”

Charlotte barreled into the room, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s with everything she burst to say. “Anna, we’re rich! I’m reeling! I’ll never complain to Gran about your boring horse stories again!”

Anna sat up. “You complain about how boring I am?”

Charlotte ignored her. “What a party last night! I saw Gran in the orangerie with Mr. Frith. Kissing! At her age, the saucepot! I tiptoed over for a better look when who should haul me off my feet? His Grace, the Duke of Warrick himself! Oh, he was in a fit, lecturing on and on about…” Charlotte frowned. “I’m not sure, actually. He’s solarge, you know, and he was so deliciously ruffled and brooding that I got quite distracted. So I said, ‘How dare you, sir!’—such a useful little phrase, good for all occasions—and flounced off, shooting him the filthiest looks over my shoulder. Oh, I never had so much fun! Now, you and my brother.” Charlotte dragged in a gulp of air. “Tell. Me. Everything.”

Anna flopped back and yanked the covers over her head. Charlotte hopped on the bed and burrowed in after her. “You can’t escape. I want to knoweverything.”

“It’s private,” muttered Anna.

“Ooh, promising! Did you—”

The door cracked open again.

“Darlings, are you in here?” said the Dowager.

Charlotte threw back the covers and sat up. “Yes, join us! We’re just getting to the good stuff.”

The Dowager, her white hair tied back in a loose braid, tiptoed over to the bed and perched herself lightly on it. “Charlotte, really! Have you been dashing about the house in your night shift? You’ll give the footmen an eyeful.”

Charlotte looked at her steadily. “Gran, you are also in your night shift.”

“I most certainly am not—” The Dowager looked down at herself and yelped. “Oh! How ridiculous! Never mind. Anna! I want to hear all about your evening.”

“Everything,” Charlotte said again. The little ghoul.

But Anna shook her head. Words were slippery little traitors at the best of times. She couldn’t possibly trust them with how she was feeling. Not now. Not with everything so bursting and new.

Charlotte frowned. “Right, Gran. Give me five minutes alone with her. She’ll crack like a walnut.”

“No! Wait!OOF!For god’s sake, Charlotte, get off me.”

“Well?” Charlotte demanded when Anna elbowed her way free.

“Well?” The Dowager leaned forward as if she might be next to pounce.

Anna eyed them and a smile sneaked up on her. Should she tell them? She wanted to hold the news tight, slither over it like a dragon with its gold. Joy should be hoarded, shouldn’t it? Except that was her old life, and perhaps she didn’t need to cling so tightly anymore.

More important, Charlotte looked fit to burst and the Dowager was about to topple over. She loved them and she wanted them to know.

“Julian asked me to marry him!” Anna braced herself for the squeals.

Charlotte frowned. “Of course he has. Only about a million times. He’s made quite a habit of it, from what I can tell.”

Anna smiled again, so wide she thought her face might split. “But you see—this time I said yes.”

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