The Trouble with Anna

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

ASCOT

SIX MONTHS LATER

F OUR FIGURES STOOD ON THE roof of the Prince Regent’s box at Ascot and surveyed the action, with the grandstand to the right of them and the track slicing through the green field below.

“It doesn’t seem quite done for ladies to attend Ascot.” The Dowager clutched the white railing with a nervous glance at the jostle of top hats beneath her.

“Of course it’s not done.” Charlotte looked almost as bright as the warm summer sunshine. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Anna shot her a withering look. “The racing is what makes it fun. Really, Charlotte, this is Ascot. If you don’t care about the horses, I don’t know why you bothered to come.” Something on the track caught Anna’s attention. “Oh, look! It’s Sir Richard!”

“No! Really?!?” Charlotte nearly fell over the railing. “I thought he shot his brother in a duel and had to flee the country?”

“Sir Richard is a horse , you fathead. Quite a famous one,” said Anna. “Oh, but there’s Villiers! Please excuse me, I must go see him.”

“Where is she dashing off in such great haste?” asked the Dowager.

Charlotte shrugged an elegant shoulder. “It’s about the baby, I expect.”

The Dowager opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words she produced a gasping wheeze. She clutched at Charlotte’s hand, breathing in great gulps of air that lifted her shoulders up and down alarmingly.

“Good heavens, Gran, are you all right?” said Julian.

“A baby!” the Dowager managed at last. “Julian! Charlotte! Why did nobody tell me?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! The baby horse— Villiers is the veterinarian,” said Charlotte. “Archer’s latest, expected any day now? Anna hasn’t talked about anything else for weeks.”

Gran deflated and shot her granddaughter a cross look. “Have you no care for my heart? A baby horse is called a foal .”

Julian shook his head, much amused. “Anna informs me that it’s a fetus when it’s unborn, and a foal when it’s born, yet I notice she uses the term ‘baby’ for any offspring of Archer’s or Sally’s.”

“Hmph! A horse is not my idea of a baby.”

Charlotte pressed a kiss on the Dowager’s cheek. “Poor Gran, it’s quite a trial. You so dearly want a child in the family and all of Julian’s will have four legs.”

Julian reached into his pocket for his candy pouch and pulled out a toffee twisted up in pink-and-gold paper. He unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. “Anna’s having such fun expanding her stables that she’s not quite ready for children yet. Perhaps next year, or the year after.”

“But you will have a child eventually?” the Dowager pressed.

“Eventually, God willing.”

“Well, all right, then.” She sniffed. “So long as you are happy, I shall be content.”

“Wise of you, Gran.” Charlotte leaned over, sparkling with mischief. “In the meantime, we can always see how the new foal looks in the Ramsay christening gown.”