The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

T HE DOWAGER’S DOOR KNOCKER RAPPED out yet another rhythm, and Anna’s eyelid twitched along with it. Tea at Chatham had been a time to collapse into a settee with a good book and a scone piled high with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Tea in London was a blood sport. When the grand salon’s door cracked open to reveal yet another trio of women, Anna almost expected them to yell “Tallyho!” and come at her with hounds. But they’d only come to stare at Ramsay’s odd fiancée, of course, which made Anna’s eyelid twitch even harder.

Anna was spoiling for a fight and she knew it. Tension turned her nerves to wires, rage boiled low in her belly, and sadness clogged her throat and made it hard to swallow. But worst of all was hurt, that sneaky little feeling sitting heavy in her chest and seeping slowly through her during the bustle of the day, so that when she finally made it to bed at night, even her elbows ached. All Anna wanted was to curl up and close her eyes. But the second she did, hurt came slinking into the quiet.

Charlotte flopped down next to Anna in an explosion of skirts. “You’re a sensation! Everyone wants a look at you! I’m so jealous I could spit.”

“I’m going to spit at that Baroness if she doesn’t stop staring at me.”

Charlotte craned her neck. “No, not poor Baroness Dumfries. She’s shortsighted—she can’t help it. Everyone thinks you’re dreadfully snooty and standoffish, by the way. They’re all fizzing over it.”

Anna slumped back into the plump upholstery. “I’m sorry! I’m no good at any of this.”

“On the contrary! London loves an eccentric. Now, on to our enterprise. How did you make out yesterday at Dame FitzHerbert’s card party?”

Anna perked up. “I took bets from Lord Dickerson, Prince Sultan Selim, Mr. Rhys-Jones, and quite a number from Mr. Rhys-Jones’s grandmother. What was your haul?”

“Let’s see.” Charlotte rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out a small book bound in powder-pink leather, with A Young Ladies’ Handbook: How to Be Thoroughly Proper and Morally Upright tooled in handsome gold letters on the cover.

“Upright morals?” Anna frowned. “Never say you’re backing out of our scheme?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s our betting book—I had it specially designed with blank pages inside.”

Anna gave a choked laugh. “Your gran might wonder if you show a sudden interest in being proper.”

“Gran has many wonderful qualities, but her eyesight isn’t one of them. She’ll think I’m reading dirty novels again and stay well away.” Charlotte ran her finger down a neat row of figures. “Look at this! I took nineteen bets last night. Makes your four look rather paltry, no?” She blew a curl off her nose. “It’s slow going, with these low-stakes bets. The real money is at gentlemen’s clubs, and we’re not allowed in. Men! They’ll bet on anything dreadful, but they do it from the privacy of their wretched clubs where women aren’t allowed.”

Anna clucked sympathetically. “You’d love to bet on something dreadful.”

“Of course I would!”

“But you have plenty of money? Your allowance quite shocks me.”

“I don’t have five thousand pounds. Anyway, my allowance is from my brother. It’s not mine . I’m not free to do as I wish.”

Anna barked a laugh. “Many would bless the fact.”

Charlotte snapped the betting book shut. “Don’t say that! How tired I am of hearing such things. Oh, Charlotte, how spoiled she is. Oh, Charlotte, how outrageous. ”

Anna’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. I only meant to tease.”

“I’m tired of teasing! I have ideas of my own, you know. Sometimes I think I’ll burst unless I do something. ”

There was real hurt in Charlotte’s voice, and Anna knew it all too well. She’d lived with that same suffocation her whole life, trying to squeeze herself into smaller and smaller spaces. “Charlotte, I apologize. You have the best ideas of anyone I know, truly.”

Charlotte let out a huff. “I’ve tried to explain it to Gran. You know how she is, so traditional. She keeps telling me to find a husband and make what I want out of him.” She made a rude noise. “I want to make something of myself. ”

Anna leaned closer. “What would you do if you had your own money? Real money?”

“Start a silk mill with Josephine.” Charlotte clapped a hand over her mouth and looked over at Anna with wide eyes.

“But that’s bloody brilliant!” Anna exclaimed into a sudden hush. The two young women, their betting book between them, found themselves the center of a circle of slow-blinking attention.

Charlotte blinked slowly once herself, then dropped the hand from her mouth and gave the room a wide smile. She flashed the cover of her pink book at their audience. “Etiquette. Fiery stuff, you know. We were just discussing how wicked it is to eavesdrop.”

The Dowager gave a dark harrumph and conversation began to rumble through the room again.

Anna dropped her voice. “A silk mill would be marvelous! You know everything about fabric and no one has better taste than you.”

“I’ve thought about it for ages and even sketched out patterns. Josephine too! She knows the business and she’s wildly clever, and of course, I know everyone. And we would only employ women. No more men controlling the purse strings. No more men controlling anything!”

“Exactly. It would be yours , from the floor to the rafters.”

Charlotte nodded. “Mine, whether it’s a success or a failure.”

Anna’s eyebrows squished together as she thought it through. “We’d need a lot of money, though. Can we up our stakes?”

Charlotte consulted her little pink book again. “We don’t have the funds to cover larger bets yet.”

An idea came to Anna, impossibly bold. “I’ll sell a horse.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Oh, hurrah! Except that you’ve only said a million times that if you sell Chatham horses, the money belongs to Chatham.”

“I have another horse in mind. A rare, expensive one that belongs entirely to me.”

Charlotte frowned. “What other horse could you possibly—” Her mouth dropped open. “No!”

“Oh yes.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Indeed, I would.”

Charlotte looked quite dazed. “All right. We’ll sell your Lipizzaner. But if Julian disowns me, I’m counting on you to make me rich.”