The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

L ADY ANNA, PLEASE !” THE DANCING master, thoroughly exasperated, stopped mid-step. “You must not drag me around the room so!”

Anna plastered a smile on her face. She was grateful, she reminded herself for the thousandth time, that the Dowager had taken her so firmly under her wing. But gratitude was proving to be a damned slippery emotion—Anna never managed to hang on to it once dancing lessons began.

It’s just for a little while longer , Anna reminded herself. She and Charlotte had put their heads together and planned to launch their expanded gambling racket in one week’s time, at a dinner party the Dowager was hosting to introduce Anna to society.

“I apologize, Monsieur Gion,” Anna said, careful to keep her voice even. As the Dowager reminded her frequently, young ladies mustn’t growl. “It’s only—you’ve chosen such a leisurely pace. Can’t we hurry up and be done?”

Monsieur Gion’s hand flew to his chest, as if he’d taken a mortal blow. “Chosen? I do not choose! I follow the rhythm. The music chooses—”

“You dance most excellently, Monsieur Gion,” the Dowager called from her seat in the corner of the salon. “Perhaps let’s end early, just for today?”

The dancing master, his long French nose quivering with outrage, gave a curt nod, spun neatly on his feet, and strode from the room.

“He’s quite right, you know,” said the Dowager. “A woman mustn’t lead.”

“And look at the state of the world because of it,” muttered Anna.

The Dowager bit back a smile. “Please don’t start your revolution from my drawing room! Now, one last etiquette question and we’ll finish up for the day. To whom do you curtsey first, a sovereign’s daughters or the wives of a sovereign’s sons?”

Anna knew the answer, but she wrinkled her forehead in mock concentration, just to buy a few seconds of peace.

“Anna?” the Dowager prompted.

“To the wives of a sovereign’s sons, but only if their husbands are present. Which once again reduces women to nothing without a man.”

Charlotte lifted her head from her book. “Exactly!”

“Really, why must we know all this?” asked Anna. “Surely it’s more practical for ladies to study estate management?”

“Much more practical!” cried Charlotte. “Especially as we don’t have a true sovereign currently, only the Prince Regent. Who is very fast with his hands, by the way, so be sure to look sharp when he’s around.”

The Dowager choked. “Charlotte! Never say he put his hands on you?”

“Not after I dealt him a well-timed pinch. I should write a guide to all the real things a young lady needs to know in society.” She peeped over at her grandmother. “No need to look so appalled, Gran. I’d write it under a pen name, and think what a sensation it would cause.”

“Exactly my concern,” shot back the Dowager.

A footman, splendid in the Ramsay navy and silver, hurried into the room. “I beg your pardon, Lady Anna. A rather large delivery has arrived for you.”

“The gowns!” Charlotte jumped to her feet. “Have them brought up to Lady Anna’s room at once, Fletcher.”

The footman shifted uncomfortably. “It’s more of an outside delivery. Apologies, my lady. I have strict instructions from his lordship to bring Lady Anna directly to the horse.”

“That devil dared to send me a horse?” cried Anna. She slapped her hand over her mouth and stared at the Dowager in horror. Oh, why did her mouth do these things? Where did it get its vile independence?

A half-smile tugged at the Dowager’s lips. “I prefer ‘scamp to ‘devil,’ but far be it from me to interfere when you children fight. Go see about your horse.”

Anna, stiff with embarrassment, sidled toward the door. “I apologize again, my lady.”

The Dowager’s laughter chased her out of the room.

The front door opened, and Anna caught her breath. The horse’s neck arched over the jostle of top hats surrounding it, its eyes fine and intelligent, its ears alert, and its coat a luminous, cloudy gray. A famous gray.

Anna could only stare, wide-eyed and unbelieving, until sheer joy snapped her out of her trance and she bounded down the stairs.

“Not so fast.” Charlotte hooked Anna’s elbow and anchored herself neatly to her side.

“It’s a Lipizzaner, you fathead! Let me go!”

“You see a horse, but I see the very large crowd of people around it, all of whom would love to catch a glimpse of Julian’s fiancée.”

“I’m not his fiancée!”

“Yes, but London doesn’t know that yet and we’re not ready to present you. Let the groom take the horse to the mews so you can drool in peace.”

But Anna, with such a beauty in her sights, was in no fit state to listen. She twisted and broke free, elbowing her way smartly through the crowd toward the gray.

“Aren’t you splendid!” Anna reached up to give the lovely fellow a good scratch below his forelock, which he accepted with a gracious swish of his tail. He stamped his front foot, not in impatience, but as if to show himself to the greatest advantage.

“Take him to the mews,” Charlotte called to the groom.

The crowd groaned.

“Steady on, Lady Charlotte!” cried a young man with a mop of brown hair and impossibly round cheeks. “I’ll have you know my father was prepared to make Petersham a very handsome offer for this horse.”

“Pasha Efendi is always prepared to do things,” Charlotte called as she waded through the crowd toward Anna. “Perhaps he should prepare less and act more?”

Anna trotted alongside as the groom led the horse away. “What’s his name?”

“Charon, my lady.”

Anna gasped. “As in one of the moons of Pluto? He’s not from Pluto’s line, is he?”

“Exactly right, my lady. He—”

Someone jostled Anna before she could hear the full answer. “Watch yourself!” she cried, with a hard glare at the crowd.

A tall gentleman bounded over. “Clear off, you dogs!” he called. “Let the ladies through.”

“I say, Hartley! Unfair!” the Pasha’s son complained, but the tall man was unmoved by this bit of eloquence, and slowly the crowd, muttering and grumbling, began to thin.

“Well done, Lord Hartley. Thank you!” Charlotte said when they were safely in the mews.

“I only drove the bounders off so I could get a good look myself.” The man beamed and little wrinkles appeared around his eyes. He was young but well-weathered, as if he spent a lot of time outside on bluff days, whistling for his hounds. “A Lipizzaner, and such a beauty!”

Anna ran her hands down Charon’s muscled shoulder and followed the line of his leg down to where his dappled coat turned a darker gray, like snow meeting ash. A Lipizzaner out of Pluto himself, one of the great founding stallions of the line. Charon was a perfect example of the breed, his haunches thickly curved with muscle, his neck arched below a strong jaw. There were very few Lipizzaners in the world, most of them seen at the Spanish Riding School in Vienna, where some of the finest horsemen in the world took the breed through a challenging training program that could last more than six years. Anna itched to toss a saddle on Charon’s back and take him through his paces.

The groom bowed to her. “My lady, his lordship asked me to present Charon to you with his compliments.”

Oh, right. The bubbles fizzing inside Anna all popped at once. She pointedly ignored the slim ivory envelope the groom held out to her.

Charlotte swiped it. “At least open the note.”

“Fine!” Anna snatched it back, and Charlotte nudged up to read over Anna’s shoulder.

Anna –

You wreck my good sense. I hope this fellow will wreck yours enough to forgive me.

—Julian

Charlotte bounced on her toes. “Well, I call that pretty. And a Lipa-whatzer is a marvelous present, isn’t it?”

“Marvelous,” Anna said flatly.

“Marvelous for you, perhaps,” said Lord Hartley. “Petersham and I had just agreed on terms when Ramsay swooped in with a truly outrageous price. You’re a lucky young woman indeed, Miss—?”

Charlotte blew an unruly strand off her cheek. “Lord Hartley, may I present Lady Anna Reston? Though how two people so horse mad don’t know each other, I can’t imagine.”

Anna gave a cry of delight. “Lord Hartley! I’m terribly sorry—I wasn’t paying attention when Charlotte first said your name.”

“Lady Anna, of course! How splendid!”

A thick crease appeared on Charlotte’s forehead. “You two are acquainted?”

“We’ve never met, but we’ve corresponded for years. Lord Hartley bought Sally’s second foal, you see, and tried to buy Archer.”

“I’ve always said Archer would be the only horse to challenge my Eclipse.”

Anna went pink. “What a handsome compliment! How kind of you! Charlotte—imagine!—Eclipse hasn’t lost a single race.” She turned back to Lord Hartley. “Would you care to join me when I take Charon out?”

He beamed again. “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more! Shall we say tomorrow morning?”

Anna’s conscience gave her a sharp kick. She had a particularly snippy conscience, worse than any of the Dowager’s thick books of etiquette. But while of course she couldn’t keep Charon, certainly she could ride him once or twice before she sent him back. Couldn’t she?

Before Anna could work it out, Charlotte pushed herself forward, her smile dangerously sweet. “Dear Anna! You forget—it’s not the thing to ride out alone with a gentleman.”

Hartley bowed. “Of course. Lady Charlotte, would you care to join us?”

“How perfect!” Anna widened her eyes at Charlotte. “There’s nothing Charlotte adores more than an early morning ride. Does daybreak suit?”

Once they were back inside the Dowager’s townhouse, Anna turned to her friend. “What did you mean by that nonsense with Lord Hartley?”

“I don’t know! Lord Hartley smiled at you in such a way and I lost my head. This isn’t easy for me, you know. Or Gran! We hardly know what to think. I keep embroidering horses with coronets on their heads and then tearing them out again.” Charlotte peeped speculatively at Anna from beneath her lashes. “Lord Hartley is terribly eligible, you know. It might do Julian a world of good to see—”

Anna’s mouth tightened.

“—it would do your social standing a world of good to be seen out with him,” Charlotte amended quickly.

“The devil take my social standing!”

“Hmph! It’s not the least bit flattering when you purse your lips like that. You look just like a camel.”

“It’s not the least bit flattering when you bully me. You’re positively demonic!”

Much to Anna’s surprise, all the energy whooshed out of Charlotte and her face fell. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being a terrible pest.”

“Charlotte?” Anna said tentatively. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Anna frowned. “Something’s happened.”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Out with it!”

Charlotte’s mouth flattened into a mutinous line.

“Charlotte Louisa Aveton! I’ve done nothing but bleat my troubles at you for weeks now, and only now do I see you’re carrying a weight of your own. Please tell me what’s wrong?”

Charlotte brightened. “Well, your troubles have been considerably worse. It gives me a world of comfort to compare my situation to yours.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Now, please. Tell me what’s wrong?”

“If you must know, I got a letter from Mother a few days ago. She’s returning from Paris.”

“Oh!” Anna’s lungs deflated. “I thought she was planning to stay away for another Season?”

“She claims to be feeling better, whatever that may mean. Never mind! I’ve had two years to prepare. Perhaps I’ll be better equipped this time. Perhaps she’s changed.”

Anna regarded her steadily. From what she’d seen, Lady Ramsay changed only for the worse. “Must you see her?”

“She’s my mother.”

“She doesn’t deserve you. Not a bit.”

The two young woman lapsed into silence, until Anna reached for Charlotte’s hand and squeezed it once, hard. “We’ll get through it together. We always do.”

Charlotte squeezed her hand back. “Always.”