by Julia London
She could not possibly have been more appealing.
Around the room they went, several times more, and Grif discovered, in the course of making ridiculous conversation that afternoon, that Anna was well-read on a variety of subjects, and her opinions ventured far outside the usual debutante’s reply of paying no attention to this or that important event. She did pay attention to the world around her, and she seemed to have many different interests, which made her far more interesting in comparison.
“Thank you,” she said, after his thorough examination of the rituals of the Season, from which she was still unable to catch her breath from laughing. “I believe I do understand what you mean about smiling and laughter and will endeavor to do more of it.” She pulled her hand from his, and still laughing, walked around to the divan where she’d laid her pelisse.
“But…” Grif said, watching as she picked it up. “What are ye doing, then?”
“Oh! I really must be on my way. We’ve a tea we’re to attend,” she said as she put one arm in the coat.
“But we’ve no’ finished our lesson yet!” he exclaimed, feeling oddly perturbed that she would deign to end their lesson so soon.
She laughed, put her other arm into the coat. “If I didn’t know better, sir, I would think you desired me to stay!”
Grif shoved his hands in his pockets. “No. Of course no’,” he muttered.
She smiled, fastened her pelisse, and picked up her bonnet. “Shall you call on Lucy tomorrow? It’s been three days now, and I am certain she’s wondering why you haven’t called.”
Lucy? The last thing on his mind at the moment was Lucy.
She paused in what she was doing and looked at him. “Shall I see you on the morrow?”
This agreement was beginning to grate for reasons Grif did not really understand, had him feeling a bit rudderless, and he scowled. “How can I know ye actually have what ye say it is ye have, Anna?”
She blinked as she fit the bonnet on her head. “Because I gave you one of the rubies.”
“Aye, that ye did, but for all I know, ye’ve gone and sold the blasted thing.”
She laughed roundly at that. “Of course I haven’t! First, where could I possibly sell something as hideous as that, and second, why should I? I’m certainly not in need of money. And third, as long as I have it, you will do what I ask, isn’t that so?”
Grif glared at her, his lighthearted feelings for her having suddenly evaporated.
Anna smiled, tied her bonnet in a bow beneath her chin. “Very well, then. On the morrow, you will call on Lucy, and perhaps we might meet in Hyde Park afterward, at Rotten Row. Lady Worthall makes me terribly anxious. She’d ruin me if she saw me coming here unescorted.”
“What a tragedy that would be,” Grif drawled, and got a dark frown for it.
Seventeen
A nna wasn’t certain if she was imagining it or not that Grif had seemed rather perturbed when she took her leave, instead of being entirely happy to be done with her, as was typical.
But she had no time to dwell on it, for today the family was calling en masse on the Lockharts for tea.
She arrived home in just the nick of time; her family was gathered in the drawing room, waiting for her as she came breathlessly through the doors, a smile on her face.
“Darling, where have you been?” her mother cried. “We shouldn’t want to keep the Lockharts waiting!”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I was detained at the milliner,” she said quickly, and fussed with the buttons of her pelisse to avoid her mother’s gaze.
“The milliner?” Lucy asked, her voice full of suspicion. “I had no idea you were interested in millinery! Honestly, I always thought quite the opposite.”
“I’m as interested in millinery as any young woman.” Anna lied.
“What does it matter?” Father politely interjected before Lucy could question her further. “She’s here now, and I do think we must be going or be late. Shall we?” He gestured for the ladies to quickly precede him out the door.
The ride to the Lockhart mansion was filled with Father’s chatter about the goings-on of Parliament, for which Lucy could not have possibly cared less, and therefore she stared out the window. And Anna was a bundle of nerves, having convinced herself that she could stop Drake from offering for Lucy, with just the right smile and the right amount of laughter. Exactly as Grif had said. Grif. An image of him popped into her mind, an image of him smiling that devilish smile as he spoke of purple moons. She smiled a little—she couldn’t help admiring him on a certain level, for it took a different sort of man to smile when his back was against the wall.
When they arrived at the Lockhart mansion, the family was in the grand salon, where a very elaborate tea service had been laid. They looked idyllic, the four of them, as if someone had arranged them for a portrait. Drake was standing at the mantel, looking majestic, his sister Barbara seated at a writing desk, laboring over some sort of missive, and his lordship and lady seated together on a settee.
“Ah, here they are!” the elderly Lockhart called out, waving a hand at a footman. “Now we might have a spot of whiskey, eh?” he exclaimed, and gestured to an underbutler to pour one.
Everyone exchanged the usual pleasantries— Mother and Lady Lockhart pairing off instantly, Father and Lord Lockhart each with a tot of whiskey. Drake came forward straightaway, all smiles. “Miss Lucy,” he said, beaming. “Miss Anna. How good of you to come.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Anna said, smiling brightly. Drake smiled warmly, and then turned to speak to Lucy.
“Aaaaaaaana!” Barbara trilled with delight, forcing Anna’s attention away from Drake. She leaned in, kissing the air near Anna’s cheek.
“Good afternoon, Barbara.”
“It looks as if we’ll be partners once again!” Barbara cried happily, and grabbed Anna’s elbow and turned her slightly, as she put her head next to Anna’s and whispered, “As those two shall undoubtedly be together, then so shall we!”
Anna’s heart sank; in the moment that she had turned to greet Barbara, Drake had taken Lucy by the arm to escort her to a seat, then, flipping out his coat, he took the seat next to her.
Barbara linked her arm through Anna’s and pulled her closely into her doughy side. “We’ve the most delightful biscuits today! I confess I sampled one when no one was looking.” She pulled Anna to the tea service, away from Drake, and Anna was forced to politely listen to Barbara babble on about Nigel’s stay in Bath until the tea was drunk, at which point, the Lockharts were keen to hear sweet Lucy play the pianoforte. They were not, notably, so keen to hear either Anna or Barbara play.
Anna was standing behind the settee where the Lockharts were seated, and as Lucy daintily took a seat at the pianoforte, Anna was delighted to see Drake moving casually toward her, smiling and nodding as Lucy began her performance. It was with even greater delight that Lucy peeked up just as Drake reached Anna’s side.
“Anna,” he whispered below the admittedly lovely chords of Lucy’s playing. “You look lovely.”
A rush of heat filled her instantly. “Thank you,” she whispered back.
“That gown makes you particularly…”
He paused; she glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he boldly let his gaze dip to her bodice.
“… radiant,” he said in a near growl.
Anna did what Grif had taught her and laughed softly. “It’s not the gown that has made me radiant, sir.”
Drake smiled and lifted a brow as he stole a glimpse of Lucy and the others. “Pray tell, then, what has?”
“A friendly smile,” she whispered coyly.
Drake chuckled appreciatively as a polite round of applause went up when Lucy ended her song. “I shall keep that in mind,” he said, and with a nod, he turned and walked around the couch, applauding louder than anyone.
Blast it! She’d had him here and had lost him, and now he was sitting next to her mother, laughing and holding court. Laughing and sm
iling were alluring, Grif had avowed! A hint of flesh was impossible to resist, he’d claimed! A more likely truth was that Lucy had not been lying when she said Drake had touched her breast. Perhaps he wanted to touch more of it. Well, then, perhaps Anna would redouble her considerable efforts.
The next afternoon, Anna was waiting for Grif, secreted away in the small drawing room when he came striding through the front door, hat in hand, on his way to make a call to Lucy.
As he followed the butler down the hall, Anna stepped out of the small parlor, clearly startling him, as he exclaimed his surprise in his native tongue, along with the butler, who was likewise startled.
“I beg your pardon, if I may, sir,” she said politely, “but if you’ve come to call on my sister, she is taking the sunshine in the garden. I’d be happy to walk you there.”
“I beg your pardon, miss, but Miss Lucy is—”
“Ah…” she said quickly, holding up a finger, “Actually no, Duckworth. She… moved.” This much she knew to be true, since she had sent a parlormaid to tell Lucy that Drake was in the gardens. She flashed a dazzling smile at Duckworth. “I’ll show Mr…. ah, Lord Ardencaple to the garden.”
Duckworth colored slightly, but had the good sense to click his heels and bow. “Of course, miss,” he said, and instantly turned and strode away.
Anna grabbed Ardencaple-Lockhart-whoever by the arm and yanked him toward the small parlor. But he was stronger than she and resisted her attempts as he looked down the corridor toward the sitting room.
“We are to meet at Rotten Row,” he reminded her through clenched teeth, “after I call on Miss Lucy.”
“Yes, but there has been a change of plans,” she said, tugging at his arm. He reluctantly allowed her to pull him inside the small parlor, but once inside, he refused to move from the open door, so Anna had to push him.
“What in God’s name are ye about?” he asked, hands on hips as she shut the door and leaned against it.
“Sssh!” she hushed him, waving her hand at him anxiously, and turned so that she could press her ear against the door, listening for any sound. After a moment, she heard the familiar click of Duckworth’s shoes on the entry’s marble floor.
She whirled around, her back pressed against the door. “We haven’t much time. All right, then, I know what you’ve done! Mr. Lockhart—the real Mr. Lockhart—oh, blast it all, shall I call you Grif?” she demanded in a near fit of hysteria.
He blinked. “Aye. Grif.”
“All right, then… Grif,” she said carefully, unaccustomed as she was to calling men by their Christian names. Particularly, tall, handsome…green-eyed men who frowned quite a lot. “You promised me that smiling and laughing were perfectly sufficient to entice him, but as it happens, when we attended the Lockhart tea yesterday, and I smiled and I laughed, he paid me not the least bit of mind!” she cried.
“What did ye say to him, then?”
“He said the gown I was wearing made me radiant. And I said, ‘It’s not the gown that has made me radiant, sir, it is a friendly smile,’ or some such nonsense.”
“Aha,” Grif said, and put his hand to his chin, and looked very thoughtful.
“Aha… what?”
“And what did the rake say to this?”
“Drake said he’d keep that in mind!” she exclaimed, punctuating the air with her hands.
“Ah. Well, then. I think it quite obvious. He’s really rather obtuse, isn’t he, then?”
“Stop that!” she insisted. Grif opened his mouth to respond, but Anna was not quite finished. “So it would seem now that I really haven’t any time, as Barbara avows he will offer for Lucy soon, before the Season’s end, and in spite of my parents’ words to the contrary—they promised they would not accept an offer for Lucy until I had been properly offered for, but as that seems to be an impossibility that grows more and more certain with each day, I suppose they shall accept it!” she cried, the words coming out of her in such a rush now that she couldn’t stop them. It panicked her, and she suddenly darted to the window overlooking the street and drew the sun shades closed.
“All right, then, calm yerself, lass,” Grif said soothingly, although he watched her warily. “I think it is time that ye consider the game is lost.”
Anna’s mouth dropped open in stunned disbelief. “Lost? How could you say such a thing? Lost! I haven’t even begun to try for his attentions! I’ve only just started these blasted lessons, which, I might add, you hardly seem adept at providing—”
“I never claimed to be!”
“And you proclaim my chances lost?” she continued, ignoring him. “You sorely misunderstand me, sir, if you think I shall give up at the least bit of adversity, for I—”
He startled her out of her rant by grabbing her elbow, and only then did she realize he had crossed the room. “All right, then, Anna,” he said softly but firmly, “take a bloody breath ere ye go flying across the room.”
She took a breath.
“Now, then. Before we are discovered and create the Season’s most infamous scandal, what is it ye want at this particular moment, pray tell? For if it is to tell me that I’ve failed ye miserably when it was ye who sought me out, I believe I will bloody well excuse meself and call on yer sister!”
Anna released her breath and glared at the door. “All right,” she said, her voice low and calm. “I have a rather important question. And I beg you, sir, for once, please be truthful.”
“Mary Queen of Scots! Aye, I think he’ll offer for Miss Lucy!” he said angrily.
“NO!” she cried, slapping away his hand from her arm. “That is most certainly not what I intended to ask! I want to…I would like…” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t bring herself to string the words together to ask the question on her mind.
But then Grif looked impatiently at the door. “Anna—”
“Is it true, do you think,” she blurted, squaring off, “that if a man puts his hand on an unmarried woman’s bare breast, he will, in all likelihood, offer for her?”
The question stunned him into silence. Grif did not move. The clock did not move, the air did not stir, nothing—it was as if the entire world stood still for a moment, and Anna couldn’t help but bite her lower lip as myriad emotions skimmed across Grif’s green eyes. He stared at her for an interminable moment, his expression turbulently confused, as if he didn’t know who she was, could not quite seem to place her, did not know what to make of her.
And then his brows dipped low over eyes that flashed with an expression so hard she could not name it. “Have ye lost yer bloody fool mind?”
He suddenly whirled away from her. “Criosd, what have I done to deserve this?” he exclaimed. “What bloody curse brings this on me head?” He pivoted around to her again, his expression gone very dark. “What is it about this man that has ye so enamored?” he demanded. “Will ye tell me what it is, then? For the life of me, I canna see why a lass as bonny as ye are would toss away all that she has for the likes of him! He’s a rotten bastard, Anna! He cares no’ a wit for ye—how can ye no’ see it?”
Although the truth in his words jolted her, she lifted her chin and folded her arms defensively. “You’ve no idea what you are saying!”
“Aye, but I do!” he said sharply, striding to her again. “He doesna care for ye, Anna! What allure does such indifference as his have for ye, then?”
The question burned her, for it was a question that had taunted her from the fringes of her consciousness, whispering answers like jealousy, salvation, fear. And now, the question spoken aloud, brought to life by a man who would just as soon see her die a spinster as marry a bastard, burned in the back of her eyes. “Just tell me!” she demanded hotly.
“All right, I’ll tell ye,” he said roughly, and suddenly grabbed her on either side of her head, forced her to look up, so that she’d have to look him square in the eye. “If ye present yer breast to him and invite him to touch it, he will take ye for a whore. Do ye understand what I say to ye, las
s? Ye will have carried yer silly game too far!”
She angrily shoved against his chest and out of his grip, and said imperiously, “Thank you.”
He reared back, still staring at her, obviously appalled. “Ye are a bloody fool,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “For a woman as intelligent as I think ye are, ye’re a bloody fool.”
His censure knifed her, and she looked at her hands, which, she couldn’t help noticing, were shaking slightly. But she lifted her head and smiled, walked to the door. “It is not necessary to meet at Rotten Row. I shall call on you on the morrow, as we previously planned.”
Whatever he might have thought, she would not know, because she opened the door and stepped behind it. She heard him mutter beneath his breath and stride to the door and out, his boots echoing down the corridor.
She shut the door behind him, walked to a chair, and fell into it, feeling all at once ashamed for having let him see the strange desperation she was surprised to realize she felt, ashamed for having asked such a bold question.
Ashamed for having asked it… but not for having thought it.
Eighteen
W hen Grif entered the room where Lucy was receiving, he was filled with so much fury that he scarcely heard her usual litany of platitudes. It was one thing for Anna to impose herself on him as she had, but it was quite another for her to impose herself and then have the absolute gall to ignore his advice! And frankly, he wasn’t certain what made him more furious—that she ignored his advice or that she intended to offer her body, or any part of it, to the likes of Drake Lockhart.
This he mulled over until he thought his head might very well explode from his shoulders, and when he merely nodded at Lucy’s insufferable remarks about the bloody weather, she cocked her head and studied him prettily. “Would I be mistaken in perceiving you to be a bit out of sorts, my lord?”
Grif turned a startled glance to her—was it so obvious? He drew a breath, pushed his irritation down, and forced a smile. “Ach, no, Miss Lucy. Please forgive me ill manners.”