Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Graham
I woke to her laughter.
Anna had risen early, and for the first time in a long time, I’d slept late. I rolled over to face the door. Just outside my room, her and Ginny’s laughter carried as they reached the top of the staircase.
“What’re you supposed to do with all those?” Tabswhispered-yelled.
I levered myself up on an elbow, ears perked to their conversation.
“I’ve never seen such a lovely bouquet. He is sooo romantic!” Ginny squealed.
He, who? What?
“Hush.” Anna laughed, and I froze as a door opened. I could hear my own heart beating in my ears, waiting for her to say something more.
More squealing.
“Does this mean you’re in love, Anna?” Tabs sounded annoyed. “Will you marry him?”
I jumped out of bed, tugged on a shirt, stockings, and yanked up my breeches, throwing a banyan on over my clothes. Who on earth were they talking about?
“Not quite,” Anna replied, but I could not match her tone to an expression.
A door closed.
I tugged on my boots. Something had transpired, and as their brother, and as Anna’s host, I ought to know! Daresay, I needed to know! But by the time I opened my door, they were already downstairs, and the doors—notably, Anna’s—were all shut.
Dash it all.
Fully dressed, I found Roland and an otherwise empty house.
I rubbed a hand over my forehead.
“A headache, sir?”
“Not yet,” I replied, though I could feel one brewing.
I headed toward my study. A freshly drawn note waited on my desk, from Mother, saying they’d left for a walk before breakfast.
I drew in a long breath as I raked a hand over my face. Anna’s business was not my concern. A slow, deliberate exhale. Her heart was not my concern. Another long, deep breath in. As long as she was safe, my duty toward her was fulfilled. My priority was the Brighton investment.
Time to work.
A stack of letters waited under Mother’s note. The topmost held a familiar scrawl—Mr. Lane. I drew out my spectacles, and a quick tear of the seal revealed a short missive:
E—
I plan to leave Bath tomorrow and shall arrive the day following for Anna. I hope all is well. More soon.
L
Excellent. We would have time to speak of the investment and arrange the purchasing of land. No need to respond to that one. I set aside Mr. Lane’s note and moved to the next.
I answered each missive in turn, then penned a letter to Tom about a few minor changes to my accounts, then wrote myself a few notes to keep my thoughts and priorities organized. Finished, I set my pen down and stretched my arms above my head.
My door swung wide. “Graham, come for breakfast!” Ginny said.
Finally.
“Who were you talking about this morning?” I asked, rounding my desk and pacing toward her. “Outside my door with Miss Lane and Tabs?”
Ginny’s eyes grew round, and a slight pink colored her cheeks. Then she wiggled her brows and turned on a heel.
“Ginny!” I called, impatient and annoyed, but she’d raced to the dining room, casting me a sly grin over her shoulder.
I took long steps that felt too eager, bounding into the room.
Anna had a plate she’d filled with fruit and eggs and toast, sitting next to my mother.
Tabs watched her every move, kicking her legs back and forth while she chewed on toast.
I picked out a slice of ham and filled my plate before taking a seat opposite Anna. “Your father wrote. He should arrive the day after next, as he’d hoped.”
She took a bite of egg and nodded.
“How was your walk?” I asked.
“Lovely,” Anna said brightly. Curiously brightly.
Ginny grinned.
I narrowed my gaze. “Not too cold this morning?”
Anna looked like she was trying desperately not to laugh, her eyes bouncing from Ginny to her plate and back. “The sun warmed us adequately.”
“More than adequately,” added Ginny.
I huffed out a breath, already exhausted by their mystery. “Dare I ask?” I looked to my mother.
She smiled as she forked a square of egg. “Miss Lane received a lovely bouquet this morning.”
“From Mr. Cross!” Ginny declared happily, wiggling in her seat.
“Ah,” was all I could think to say, despite the sudden boiling of my insides. Anthony Cross was every woman’s dream with enough generational wealth to rival the Lanes. He must’ve seen Anna’s name in the papers declaring her arrival. I focused on spearing a bite of plum cake.
Ginny sat back in her chair. “His card said he hopes to see us tonight at the assembly.”
I sniffed, then on instinct, looked to Anna for her reaction. She watched me, waiting.
Ginny could not temper her extraordinary enthusiasm. And for what? She didn’t even know the man! “He offered his carriage should Miss Lane wish to attend the assembly alone.”
My spine stiffened, fork poised midair. That cod-brained, loose in the haft—
“What do you say, Graham?” Mother prompted.
What did I say? A resounding no to Cross. How dare he direct his intentions to Anna and not write to me, her host. A cut, if ever I’d seen one. To me, and to my family. He wanted Anna without having to go through me, without the association of my family.
Anna took small bites, decidedly avoiding my gaze. Did she see it? Or did she simply not care?
I clenched my teeth and inhaled a solemn breath to relax my jaw. “Should we all wish to go, there would be no need for Miss Lane to travel alone.”
Ginny scoffed. “Of course we want to go. All of us, together. Don’t we, Anna?”
“Perhaps Miss Lane would like the chance to go alone?” Mother asked innocently.
Anna looked up and smiled. A frustrating smile I could not decipher. Did she fancy Mr. Cross?
She seemed to feel our stares and startled. “Oh. No. We can attend, all of us, together.”
Did she wish to? I did not want to force her hand for my sake. “We don’t have to,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could. I even shrugged a shoulder for the full effect. “If you’d rather take Cross’s offer.”
Mother cleared her throat, and I could’ve sworn she hid her own grin.
“We could dress together!” Ginny added generously. She had not touched her food as though her appetite depended on Anna’s answer.
“I hate him,” Tabs said from her end of the table. “Mr. Cross.”
“Tabitha,” Mother scolded.
Every muscle in my jaw worked against a smile. Me too, Tabs.
Anna speared a bite of fruit. “Miss Ryan would be happy to see you, I am sure, Mr. Everett. She wanted you to attend, remember?”
I raised a brow at her, our stares holding as we both took our respective bites. Why should I care about Miss Ryan? Why should she? “I shall have to ask her to dance.”
Mother’s foot stepped lightly on mine under the table. “What fun!” she said.
But, after a few bites, when I looked up, Anna was frowning.