The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

A T TEN THE NEXT MORNING , Julian spurred his horse down the drive and Chatham slouched into view, a squat and sullen structure with thick walls of rough-hewn stone and sunken windows topped by heavy lintels, like thunderous eyebrows over a frown.

In fact, the building looked much like the old Viscount.

Much like Lady Anna, who had an impressive scowl of her own.

No , Julian told himself firmly. Lady Anna was his ward now, a young woman whose whole life had just been swept out from under her feet by the person she trusted most. He understood only too well what that felt like.

This damnable business.

It left him unsettled, oddly rattled, as if long, spindly arms were trying to pull him back to those long, dark nights at Clare with his father sitting upright across the polished dining table.

If his father had one drink at dinner, it was easy to breathe.

If he had two drinks, clouds gathered on the horizon and the creeping bands of tension began to tighten.

But when the Earl raised a finger to signal for a third glass, real trouble began. The air grew heavy, hot, thick enough to drown in.

Julian used to be sure his father would die of drink, from a tumble down the stairs or simply sputtering under a river of alcohol. Instead, he’d died of influenza.

The summons came at school, followed by a hell-for-leather ride to Clare to find Gran hollow-eyed in the drawing room, five-year-old Charlotte sprawled asleep in her lap. Charlotte’s mother had been there as well, in full black already although her husband was not yet dead. She’d run her hands over the pearls at her neck again and again, the strands clicking faintly as she stared into the fire.

“You’ll be the earl now,” she’d said when Julian came into the room. The words landed on his shoulders, heavy as weights. “Look at you, just a boy. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.”

She’d sounded strangely excited.

Julian shook off the old ghosts and brought himself grimly back to the present. He leapt off his horse and tossed his reins to a wide-eyed footman. “Lady Anna?”

“At the stables, my lord. I’ll call for her.”

“No need. I’ll find her myself.” Julian squared his shoulders and crunched down the drive. As he crested the slight hill, the bustling enterprise of Chatham’s racing stud unfolded before him. He had a clear view of the stable block with the busy main yard and boxes, the hayloft, granary, and farrier’s corner, even of the carriage house, though it was shunted off to one side in keeping with Lord Barton’s famed reclusiveness. In the paddocks and rings, a small army of grooms worked yearlings or two-year-olds, the fully grown racers, or retired dams and studs, all of them glossy and well-muscled. Everywhere Julian looked, there were horses and men.

But not a single small, troublesome woman.

All right, then. Duty done. Head home and put your feet up.

It was tempting, but an earl’s duty was endless.

What would he do with a ward, now that he had one? Make amends, of course, settle some money on her, and perhaps let Charlotte trick some poor sap into marrying the girl. He’d have to take Chatham in hand for the next six months, but that was no bother.

Julian scanned the scene again, narrowing in on the slight, grimy figure of a stableboy running sprints far off down the track on a fine-boned chestnut. A stableboy with telltale black skirts bunched up around the figure’s knees.

Lady Anna? He gave a low whistle. She was shockingly fast.

And muddy.

He grinned. A rather grubby lightning bolt.

She cantered past him into the cooldown, leaning forward to give the horse a big pat. “Yes, I know. We’re badly off pace. I’m afraid my form has fallen to pieces. Can you forgive me, Caesar?”

Ah. So she did speak then, and rather charmingly. But only to horses. And sisters, he supposed.

“He doesn’t look as if he holds a grudge,” Julian called, and strolled down toward the fence.

Lady Anna’s spine went poker stiff as she pulled up her horse, and he could see her ribs expand at the shuddering breath she took. Such a strange little thing, she had to brace herself even to look at him. His conscience thwacked him hard on the back of his head, like a schoolmaster with a straight rule. Why shouldn’t she feel awkward? She’s just lost everything and you were awful to her.

Julian bowed deeply. “I’m here to apologize, Lady Anna. Charlotte assures me you had nothing to do with your grandfather’s will. I spoke to you unforgivably yesterday, but I hope we can move past it and come together as friends.”

She turned her horse vaguely toward him but kept her gaze trained on her saddle. “There’s no need, my lord.”

“There’s every need, but you mustn’t worry,” Julian said gently. “I’m here now. I promise to take everything well in hand.”

That brought her head up, as he knew it would, though her expression was rather cold in his estimation. He didn’t expect her to fall off her horse in gratitude, but he also didn’t expect her strange dark eyebrows, straight as rules, to come together quite so thunderously as she stared down at him.

“What, exactly, do you plan to take in hand?”

“Chatham, of course, for the six months before your cousin inherits. And your future as well, my lady.”

“I see. On what authority?”

It was Julian’s turn to frown. “On my own authority. As you may recall, your grandfather named me your guardian.”

That only seemed to make her choke. At least, her small mouth fell open and it took her what seemed like ages to find words. “You can’t mean to take any of that seriously?”

“Quite seriously.” Julian felt his patience began to fray. “If you’re too shocked to speak sensibly today, I understand. Please direct me to Chatham’s bailiff and I’ll begin my review of the books.”

Lady Anna drew herself up. “ I am Chatham’s bailiff. I run the estate and I have no intention of opening my books to—”

Someone shouted from the meadow, high and frantic, and she whipped toward the sound. “George? George! What is it?”

A young boy barreled toward them, his face a gulping mess of sweat and tears. “H-Henry! Henry’s in the well.”