Page 7 of The Trouble with Anna

“Oh dear. More serious than Charlotte’s allowance?” A soft voice wafted down the hall and Julian looked over to see his grandmother, thinner than ever but straight as a pin, making her way toward him.

“Gran!” He strode down the hall toward her, took up both her hands, and lifted them up for a kiss, inhaling the deeply familiar scent of sweetbrier and newly turned earth, as if she were fresh from the garden. “I wasn’t expecting you for hours yet, and Charlotte didn’t see fit to mention that you’d arrived.”

He frowned over at his sister, who had the grace not to roll her eyes.

For once.

The Dowager smiled, as serene as ever. “That child is always highlyoccupied. Only at my age does one begin to understand that calm seas are infinitely better than turbulent ones. Now, may I join you, or is this a private matter?”

His mouth flattened.

“Ah. It’s dire indeed. In that case, you may need me.” The Dowager held out her arm to Julian, who tucked it into his elbow and escorted her into the drawing room, where he settled her into a well-cushioned chair.

Charlotte, in case her displeasure wasn’t clear already, heaved another loud sigh, tramped in after them, and propped herself moodily against the fireplace, her dark hair massing like storm clouds.

The Dowager arranged one of her shawls across her lap and nodded to her grandson. “Now then. You may begin.”

Julian summoned his patience. He adored his half sister and grandmother, but his life would be considerably easier if he could manage to adore simpler creatures. Like chickens. Or a herd of well-mannered cattle.

“Charlotte, my news concerns your friend. Lady Anna has been involved in something unsavory—”

“Oh, howwonderful!” Charlotte pushed away from the fireplace and clapped her hands. “A scandal is just the thing to cheer her up.”

The Dowager threw back her head and laughed, until she caught Julian’s look and make a weak attempt at a coughing fit.

“It isnotwonderful. Lady Anna is to inherit Chatham—”

Charlotte lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with a woman owning a little property?”

“Damn it!” Julian shouted. “She’ll only inherit if I marry her!”

Charlotte paled. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh dear,” said the Dowager.

Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t understand. Anna’s not to inherit Chatham until you marry her?”

“There is no until about it,” Julian snapped. “I won’t be tricked into marriage nor led with so paltry a bribe. Lady Anna is not to inherit Chathamat all.”

Charlotte sank down onto a settee. “Oh, that oldwartof a man! Oh, my poor Anna! What has he done?”

The anger banked low in Julian’s gullet sent up a howling flame. “What they’ve both done, you mean.”

Charlotte jumped to her feet. “I mean nothing of the sort! Anna would never agree to something so freakish.”

He forced himself to speak gently. “I’m afraid you have no experience with how far people will lower themselves for money.”

Charlotte paced the room, her skirts swinging wildly. All at once she whirled on him. “Tell me you didn’t get all lordly and terrifying with Anna, right after she received a great shock?” The answer must have been marked on his face, because her eyes narrowed to slits. “Oh dear. I’m afraid you and I are about to have a great many words, and not one of them pleasant.”

The Dowager Countess shook her head. “That’s no way to solve things, my darling. Now, Charlotte, you seem to believe the girl is a saint, and, Julian, you believe she’s a sinner. Which is it? Because the answer will determine a great many things.”

“Anna’s a saint!” Charlotte declared, although she looked instantly uneasy. “Well, I must admit that her tongue is sharp and her temper is uncertain. I wouldn’t place myself in pushing distance of a pond, for instance, if I had recently wronged her. But I canpromiseshe didn’t do this!”

“And Julian—why do you believe the girl is guilty?”

Julian thought back to the Viscount’s study, to Lady Anna’s dark head bowed in misery. Lady Anna was guilty because of course she was, because he’d seen enough of the world to know that people always were. “Ramsay is a great prize—”

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