Chapter Thirteen
All afternoon, Anna sketched—but she kept away from drawing faces.
Instead, she focused on clothing. Needing to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied, she drew and colored three new dresses, one of them a wedding gown.
She’d been sketching wedding attire since she was twelve, and each year, she chose her favorite design and secreted it away in a wooden chest. One day, she planned to take them all out and select the one she loved most, the one to be made just for her.
The other two sketches were day dresses—one a light cream, and the other a shade just shy of lavender, almost too bold for a debutante, but lovely nonetheless.
Bolder colors called to her imagination.
She dreamed of designing a gown sewn in red silk or royal blue—but that wasn’t a choice for the immediate future.
Sighing, she pulled out another sheet of paper and frowned as she tried her hand at men’s clothing.
She drew the line of the shoulders, the cut of the coat, the breeches and shoes, but paused when it came to the face.
Selecting a soft yellow pencil, she began sketching the features of Lord Devon.
He was dashing, even on paper—his charm and charisma bleeding through the lines.
Last night had been remarkable, watching the world cater to him …
and subsequently, to her. His golden personality drew others in. It had drawn her for years.
As she began to work on the eyes, she frowned. She’d chosen the right color—but something was wrong. They weren’t quite right.
Studying them more closely, she suddenly recognized them—and dropped the pencil.
She’d drawn Lord Allendale’s eyes on Lord Devon’s body.
Odd, that.
But it made sense. She could recall the shape, color, and intensity of Lord Allendale’s gaze—his every expression. Yet when she tried to picture Lord Devon’s eyes, she struggled. She remembered his smile, his posture, his presence—but not the exact hue of his eyes.
Crumpling the paper, she tossed it into the low-burning fire and watched the flames consume it.
This afternoon was her calling hour, and she was certain two callers in particular would arrive.
It promised to be an eventful day. Her chest tightened at the thought of standing between brothers, deepening a rift that, according to Pere, was already precarious.
It was a hard truth—but she didn’t know how to remedy it.
She wasn’t fully encouraging both … but she wasn’t fully discouraging either, was she?
Maybe that was the answer. Draw the line.
A knock startled her. With a quick shuffle, she stacked the sketches and slid the newest ones beneath a hastily drawn watercolor of flowers.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Anna rose from her desk. “You may enter.”
She adjusted her skirts as Sallie, her maid, curtsied and entered. “Miss, do you wish to change before receiving your callers?”
Anna glanced at her reflection in the looking glass. She wanted to look her best—especially for Lord Devon. But the dress she wore now matched the shade of Lord Allendale’s eyes far too closely.
With a small shake of her head, she replied, “Yes. I believe I’ll wear the yellow one.”
She walked to the changing room, scanning the row of dresses until her hands brushed the soft muslin fabric of her choice.
“This one.”
“Very well, my lady.” Sallie pulled the gown free and smoothed out any wrinkles.
In short order, Anna changed and was adjusting each seam with her fingers. After a final look in the mirror, she descended the stairs to the parlor.
“Lovely, my dear,” Duchess Kinfield greeted her daughter warmly. “I expect we’ll be just as enthralled with callers as we were last time. And I do believe Lord Devon will make an appearance, don’t you?” Delight danced in her eyes.
Anna glanced down at the carpet. She did expect Lord Devon … and his brother, she added silently. But at least her mother would help navigate the conversational landmines ahead.
Still, it wasn’t her battle to fight. She might be at the center of it, but it wasn’t her Waterloo.
And the more she thought of it, the more it rubbed her the wrong way.
Was this really about her? Or was it a competition? Was she just a prize to be won?
What if it had nothing to do with who she was inside?
The realization struck her hard. If that was the case, she needed to know—for her own self-preservation. She had to determine whether it was about her … or merely about winning.
“Don’t frown, my love,” the duchess said, gently smoothing the lines between Anna’s brows with a gloved hand.
“There’s nothing to fret about. You’re already a sensation.
Your father and I expect multiple offers for your hand within the week.
” She gave a small smile. “I knew you’d cause a stir, but even this is rather quick. ”
She led Anna to a seat in the parlor and rang for tea. Then, with a softer expression, she added, “And, my dear, please understand—your father and I will seek your opinion. I’m grateful my parents took my feelings into account when it was my season, and we’ll certainly do the same for you.”
Anna blinked, startled by the rare vulnerability in her mother’s tone.
It wasn’t often the duchess spoke of her own past, and the mention of her own season—her own choice—settled something uneasy in Anna’s chest. She wasn’t alone in this.
And though she was still unsure of everything else, that knowledge gave her a breath of comfort.
If she were forced to choose a husband at this moment, Anna fancied she’d select Lord Devon without hesitation.
Yet the thought brought a subtle pinch to her chest.
A whisper of warning.
Perhaps it was because Lord Allendale had told a very different story than his brother. Both accounts couldn’t be true. That meant someone was hiding something. And she couldn’t enter into a marriage—any relationship, really—where honesty wasn’t foundational.
Yet another reason to meet with these gentlemen. To ask questions. To listen.
The tea was brought in, and moments later, the butler entered with the first of the calling cards. Gentlemen trickled in, each vying for her attention. But she noticed the absence of the two she expected.
As the afternoon wore on and suitors began to take their leave, she glanced repeatedly at the clock.
Almost a half hour before visiting hours ended, the butler returned with two new cards.
Her breath caught.
Lord Devon and Lord Allendale.
As they entered, it was impossible not to compare them. Lord Devon bowed first, hiding his expression. Lord Allendale followed—his lips twitching with amusement, as if suppressing a private joke. His eyes met hers with a steady, unflinching gaze. Then he bowed.
Anna’s pulse quickened. She gestured for them to sit. With most other visitors gone, there were plenty of seats available.
Lord Devon watched his brother before choosing a chair. Lord Allendale didn’t hesitate, selecting one directly to her left—close enough to remain easily in conversation.
Anna turned toward him.
“Lord Allendale, thank you for coming. May I offer you tea?”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“Cream? Sugar?”
Before he could answer, she noted Lord Devon taking a seat—one much farther away than she expected. Odd.
“No, neither,” Lord Allendale replied.
Anna glanced back at him—his attention on his brother, that teasing smile still on his lips.
She served him, then turned. “Will you take tea as well, Lord Devon?”
He nodded once. His expression wasn’t quite a frown, but close. “Yes, thank you.”
“Same as last time?” she asked, trying to ease the rising tension.
Lord Devon blinked, then tilted his head, as if trying to remember. “Cream?”
She prompted again, “And a bit of sugar?”
“Ah—yes. A bit of sugar today, please.” His tone was charming, but his gaze toward his brother was ice.
Anna handed him his tea, watching them both closely.
“How are you this fine day, Lord Devon?” Duchess Kinfield asked.
“It had a lovely beginning—and it’s improving by the moment,” Lord Devon replied, smiling warmly at Anna.
Heat crept into her cheeks. She bit her lip and looked down.
“And you, Lord Allendale?” Anna asked.
“One of the few times I find myself in full agreement with my brother,” he replied smoothly. “It’s a lovely day indeed. Did you enjoy last night’s party?”
“I certainly found it interesting.” She arched a brow. “Parts of it were enjoyable.” She turned to Lord Devon. “What about you?”
“The highlight of the evening was dancing with you, of course,” he said lightly. “It’s rare to find both beauty and grace in one person.”
Anna gave a small nod in acknowledgment.
“Lord Allendale,” her mother interjected, “I heard from your mother last night that your family is hosting a house party? We were delighted to be invited.”
Anna snapped her head toward her mother. Why hadn’t she mentioned this before?
Lord Devon replied first. “Of course. We couldn’t possibly host without extending an invitation.”
Lord Allendale added, “Pere put your names at the top of the list.”
Anna turned toward him. “So, I’m to thank Pere for the invitation?”
He smiled. “If you’re offering thanks, I’ll take it. I approved the suggestion.”
“Your approval is very important,” Anna replied, tone light—but sharpened just enough to cut.
His brows rose.
Drat. He caught it.
“Noted. I rather like the idea that you care about my approval,” he said lowly, voice like silk against skin. “I was under the impression that wasn’t a task I could accomplish. I’m intrigued.”
“That was sarcasm,” she murmured, but her voice betrayed the heat curling through her when he leaned closer—close enough that his breath stirred the lace at her collar.
I know. He mouthed the words back, eyes intent, unreadable. “Which makes it all the more delicious. Besides…” He leaned in the barest inch. “I didn’t exactly cross off your name. I would’ve added it myself.”
“As if your brother wouldn’t have already done so,” she said, retreating into the stiff safety of her posture, smoothing her skirt like it was armor. End this. End it now.
“I may have suggested the house party in the first place.” He took a long sip of tea, eyes still on hers. Still waiting.
“What do you think, Lady Anna?” Lord Devon’s voice sliced into the charged silence like a blade.
Drat that man. She glanced quickly at Allendale—just in time to see him lower his cup with the smallest smug smile.
Her stomach flipped. He knew exactly what he was doing.
She turned to Lord Devon, trying to recall what on earth the question had been.
Her mother saved her. “We do love Bath, don’t we?”
“Yes! Yes, we do indeed,” Anna said a little too brightly. “The sea air is a favorite of mine.” She flashed a grateful look at her mother before facing Lord Devon fully.
“I’d love to steal you away for an afternoon,” Lord Devon said, smile smooth as polished stone. “To show you the sights by the sea. Our estate borders the water on one side.
“You’re welcome too, Lady Kinfield,” he added quickly, too quickly.
Lady Kinfield smiled warmly. “We’d love to,” she said for them both.
But Anna barely heard her.
Her heart thudded like a hammer, not because of Devon’s invitation, but because she could feel Allendale’s gaze on her—like the slow press of a question she couldn’t answer yet.
If she were given the choice now, she would choose Lord Devon.
After all, he had been the one her heart had been set on from the very beginning.
But something had shifted—an uncertainty coiled deep within her, rebelling quietly, whispering that perhaps Lord Devon wasn’t the man she had imagined him to be.
She had never truly considered Lord Allendale—until he had quite literally forced himself into the picture.
And now, all the qualities she thought belonged to Lord Devon seemed to belong instead to Lord Allendale.
She found herself caught between two worlds, unsure if her heart was leading her—or if it was simply trying to find its way.