Chapter 17

“What is your estate like?” Lady Joan asked, as she walked the reed-bordered shores of the fishpond with Percy.

He heard her, but it was as if she was speaking to him underwater. “Hmm?”

“What is your estate like? Does it have grounds as splendid as this?” Lady Joan repeated, smiling up at him.

He nearly laughed. “Alas not. My estate is… in the midst of a refurbishment, but it has a rugged sort of charm.”

“Ah, it is in need of a woman’s influence.” Lady Joan nodded as if that answered everything.

“I would say it is more in need of an architect and a horde of laborers’ influence,” he corrected, for he would not be accused of purveying false promises.

Lady Joan shrugged. “No matter. I have a considerable dowry, and I saw you conversing with the Earl of Westyork the other evening. Evidently, you are either a gentleman of business, or you intend to be. I think it a wise endeavor. I know there are some peers who balk at the very idea of working for one’s fortune, but, to me, it shows determination and an adaptable nature. All very attractive attributes.”

Percy did not know how to feel about her abrupt confession of having a considerable dowry. To his knowledge, that was information given only to suitors or gossiped about in the scandal sheets.

Then again, I suppose I have been behaving like a suitor.

Not with any ill-intent or desire to trick Lady Joan, of course. After his encounter with the Countess of Grayling, he had merely decided to choose someone suitable, and Lady Joan had been his choice. She was intelligent, she was under no illusions, she did not mind a marriage of convenience, and she was pretty in an ordinary sort of way—no moles or freckles or huge, enchanting eyes to distract him from his purpose.

So, for the past two days, he had concentrated on her. And as Lady Joan’s group did not seem to fraternize with Anna’s group, it had been somewhat easy to exist in the same manor without seeing much of one another. There were breakfasts and luncheons and dinners, of course, but the Countess of Grayling had taken action with her words and had continuously placed him as far from Anna as possible.

“Your Grace?” Lady Joan prompted, and Percy realized he had not responded to her. “Have I been too forward?”

Percy smiled politely. “Not at all. I was considering your words.” He paused. “You would not be averse to residing in something of a ruin until it can be repaired?”

“Certainly not.” Lady Joan seemed pleased. “My father’s manor was half destroyed in a storm when I was younger, and it has only just been restored to its former glory.”

They had circled back to the small wooden jetty where they had begun their wandering, tailed by Lady Joan’s chaperone. As they paused there for a moment, colorful dragonflies skimming across the green-hued water, she seemed to be waiting for something. A confession? A proposal? An official request to court her?

He opened his mouth, intending to compliment her on her lack of judgment, when an almighty gong sounded from the front of the manor house. A warning to all who were still promenading and enjoying the summer sunshine that it was but four hours until the evening’s ball would begin.

Lady Joan’s head whipped toward the sound. “Goodness, is that really the time?”

“It does tend to pass quickly when one is in diverting company,” Percy replied. He did not mention that his hour with her had felt a great deal longer, for that would have been unkind, and not at all her fault. He was distracted, though he was trying not to be.

Lady Joan dipped into an elegant curtsy. “I must retire to primp and preen.” She laughed warmly. “Shall I see you this evening, Your Grace?”

“Of course.” He bowed his head. “Please, do leave space for my name upon your dance card.”

She nodded and took off without another word. Watching her departure, he glimpsed a cluster of ladies heading in the same direction, coming from the west of the manor. The Spinsters’ Club, reunited, all in high spirits, joined by a gaggle of children.

Anna had a little girl on her hip, both pulling silly faces at one another. Even at a distance, Percy heard the little girl’s wheezing laughter as Anna prodded up her own nose and snorted like a piglet.

Truly, she is unlike any lady I have ever met. The thought pierced Percy’s skull like a bolt of lightning, and as his cheeks began to ache, he realized he was smiling. A full, heartening smile, coaxed onto his lips by Anna and her silly faces.

Watching them all head into the shade of the manor house, Percy could not help wondering what it would be like to be part of that tight-knit group, what it would be like to see Anna with a child of her own, lavishing that lucky boy or girl with her unyielding love and affection. The kind of childhood that Percy had only been able to dream about.

She would be an exceptional mother.

And that might have been the most attractive attribute he could think of… not that he would ever be the equally lucky husband. They were just friends, after all, and he had made his choice.

* * *

“You ought to make the announcement quickly, or you will surely lose her to Viscount Sherbourne,” Dickie teased, nodding in Lady Joan’s direction.

She was dancing a lively country dance with the Viscount, and though she was, perhaps, not the most gifted dancer, her vigor and enthusiasm more than made up for her lack of natural talent. She was a woman of endurance and fortitude, that was clear—exactly what Percy had thought he was looking for.

“We have not yet begun a courtship. There are procedures to follow,” Percy replied with a tired smile. “That is something you ought to learn.”

But she does seem to be enjoying herself. In the past two days, he could not recall ever seeing Lady Joan so bright-eyed and giddy in his company. Theirs was a more serious, practical acquaintanceship. A means to an end for both of them.

Max stifled a yawn. “Do you like her?”

“She is agreeable,” Percy replied.

“But do you like her?” Dickie parroted, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“She is—” Percy’s words died on his lips as a vision in emerald green stepped shyly into the ballroom, accompanied by the Countess of Grayling, and all the members of the Spinsters’ Club with their respective husbands.

Dickie squinted. “Is that…?”

“It is,” Percy murmured.

The ballroom did not fall silent, but the din of chatter and laughter faded to hushed whispers. At least, that was how it seemed to Percy, as blood rushed in his ears, blocking out the noise of anything else.

In that moment, Anna was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen: a majestic revelation, sparkling like a diamond. He had seen queens look less regal than her, poised despite her obvious nerves. It was the green twin to the gown she had worn on the day of their arrival to the countess’ week-long house party, with one significant difference—the billowing sleeves had been replaced with short, capped sleeves, revealing her slender, pale arms. And woven into her blonde hair was a tiara of darkened silver, decorated with emeralds to match her gown.

He might have wondered what sorcery had made her appear that way, her ethereal beauty drawing every eye toward her, but perhaps she had always been that way. Maybe he had not seen it because she was too familiar to him, like walking past an exquisite painting that hung in the halls of one’s home, so accustomed to the sight that, eventually, it went unnoticed. Unappreciated. Maybe, it was because he knew her too well. Or, he had thought he did.

“The Countess of Grayling is doing wonders for her wardrobe,” Dickie remarked.

Max chuckled. “Although, I do not think such gowns would be very practical for all the walking in the gardens that she likes to do. They would be quite filthy by the time she was finished tending to Mother’s flowers.”

The brothers continued to banter back and forth, but Percy did not hear a word; he was transfixed by that vision in green… and by the gentleman who rushed toward her as if she were the only woman in the room. The woman he had been waiting for.

I do not care how ‘nice’ you are, or how kind you are, or how respectable you are, Lord Luminport. She is not for you.

He observed the ensuing conversation, failing to figure out what they were saying through the movement of their mouths. An animated discussion, undoubtedly, but there was something in Anna’s manner that stood out to Percy. She had retreated into herself again, casting her eyes down, fidgeting with each response she made, generally appearing ill at ease. A world away from how she had behaved with Simon before.

Has he hurt you? Has he upset you? He cursed himself for not paying closer attention the past couple of days. Yet, it was the only reason he could think of for the sudden change in her reaction to Simon.

“If you will excuse me,” he said brusquely to Dickie and Max, making his way through the crowd toward the dazzling woman at the heart of it.

Approaching Anna and Simon, he heard their conversation at last.

“I thought, perhaps, you and your brothers, and your array of friends might like to visit my residence next week, if they are able? There is a new foal that is yet to have a name, and I hoped you might be willing to do the honors,” Simon said, his voice rather tight and anxious, like someone desperately coming up with an excuse.

Anna stared down at the floor. “You would have to ask my brothers. It is a busy summer for them both—countless invitations to countless gatherings and excursions. That is the peril of having such popular siblings; one is always going somewhere and doing something. My friends, too.”

Her words were still witty, but her tone had changed entirely. She was so quiet, so uncertain of herself, so shy despite—or because of—the fact she was wearing such a striking gown, and looked so remarkable.

This is not you, Anna. This is not the woman I know.

Percy walked right up to the pair and bowed his head. “Lady Anna, if your card is not yet full, would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me?”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but Lady Anna and I are in the midst of something,” Simon said, in a voice that grated with annoyance. “And I had intended to ask her to dance the next set myself.”

Percy shrugged. “That is no concern of mine. You should not have hesitated.” He put out his hand to Anna. “Lady Anna? What do you say?”

“I… do not know,” she replied haltingly, still as quiet as a mouse. He could not bear it. It was not so much like seeing a candle that had been snuffed out, and more like witnessing a summer sky without the sun, or the night without the moon or stars. This was absolutely not the Anna he knew.

He gently took her hand, ignoring Simon’s frown of outrage. “Dance with me, Catchweed.” He offered a small smile, speaking that nickname as if it were something precious and delicate.

A dim ember of light ignited in her eyes. “Very well, Barnacle.” She glanced at Simon. “Apologies, Lord Luminport. I fear it would be discourteous of me to refuse a duke and a friend.”

“Yes, I suppose it would,” Simon relented, dipping his head. “You look beautiful tonight, Lady Anna.”

Her chin dropped to her chest in response. “You are too kind, Lord Luminport.”

Percy pulled her gently toward him and ushered her in the direction of the dance floor, just as the orchestra was fading to a close, ending the previous dance. In that moment, he realized what a terrible idea this was.

He had watched her dance on rare occasions, and she had undoubtedly seen him dance, but they had never danced together before. It was, in essence, the prelude to potential courtship. An act between possible suitors and interested ladies, so why was he standing there with her instead of Lady Joan? Why had Anna not refused him in favor of Simon?

Before he could question it and talk himself out of the dance altogether, the call came for new dancers to take to the floor, and those who were not remaining to depart.

“Well?” Anna said, her eyes wide and worried. “Are we doing this or not?”

With a breath, Percy whispered, “We are,” and led her onto the dance floor.