by Linda Cajio
“That’s very nice of you,” she said while privately deciding she’d be damned before she did. She handed over the reins. “He needs attention, James.”
“I know.” He looked around the field. “The groom should have come for him by now. But I figured this might happen. That’s why I can spare only a minute. You’ll be at the dance tonight, right?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, ruthlessly forcing away a flush of embarrassment. She knew she shouldn’t feel embarrassed that she’d pointed out his horse needed attention.
“Yes, she is going,” Lettice corrected her.
Anne glared at her grandmother. She had forgotten about the damn dance tonight. She couldn’t go now. “I know I agreed to come to the match, Grandmother, but I shouldn’t be away from the farm at this time of year—”
“Nonsense.” Lettice glared right back. “You have very competent people working for you. They know you are only a phone call away. Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you? Or James.”
Anne gritted her teeth, knowing she was caught in a social trap. “Of course not.”
“Good,” James said. “I’ll see you there. It’s important.” He stared at her for a moment longer, then gulped back the last of his champagne and shoved the glass into her hands. He turned to Lettice. “I’ll take Monroe to the stables, then come back for the trophy presentation. They’ll want you at that too, Lettice. After all, you arranged this match.”
“I’ll go with you to the stables,” one of the other women volunteered.
“Thanks, Buffy,” James said, “but it’s hectic back there. And very dirty. I wouldn’t want you to ruin that beautiful dress.”
Buffy looked both shocked and grateful, and Anne hid a smile. She had made a sure bet with her trust fund. Buffy did look … enchanting. Anne forced away the urge to shred the Gibson Girl hat the woman was wearing. It was a silly thought. Anyway, Lettice would kill her if she did.
It was then she realized all of the women were scowling at her as if she had deliberately forced the horse to ruin her dress and draw James’s attention from them. She arched her eyebrows and gazed at them in cool defiance.
James took the horse to the stables, Buffy and crew electing to forgo that pleasure.
“So much for your ideas about James, Grandmother,” Anne said in a low voice as the other women departed.
“Nonsense. A little competition is good for the soul,” Lettice said. “James is an attractive boy. You certainly wouldn’t want someone who scratches himself every ten seconds, now, would you?”
Anne eyed the other women sourly as they teetered away, their ridiculously high heels sinking into the ground. She also admitted her grandmother might have a point.
“No comment,” she finally said.
“Naturally, you wouldn’t,” Lettice said. “I better get over to the presentation. Then we’ll go home and change for the dance.”
As her grandmother headed for the knot of officials on the playing field, Anne shook her head and began to pack up the remains of their picnic.
“There is no way I will be at that damn dance tonight,” she muttered to herself. After her gaping schoolgirl reaction to James, she’d be stupid to expose herself again to his charm.
Incredibly stupid.