Chapter 19

“We must have missed them,” Simon said, standing up on tiptoe, straining his gaze across the beautiful gardens below. “Do you see them?”

Anna braced her hands against the balustrade and sucked in deep breaths of the cool air. “I am afraid I do not. Although, my sight is somewhat blurry, so that might be why.”

There were others standing along the terrace in small groups, also seeking out the cooler air, but they paid no attention to Anna and Simon. Indeed, they all seemed to be fascinated by something happening out on the gleaming lawns, close to the fishpond. There were men diligently preparing something, though Anna did not know what; she was too busy concentrating on getting air in and out of her twisting lungs.

“I was certain I had seen them venture out here,” Simon mumbled, resting his hands on his hips.

Anna licked her dry lips. “Were you hoping to engage in a discussion with Daniel? He has been relentlessly popular since he married Phoebe; every man and their fathers coming to him for advice on matters of business.”

“Pardon?” Simon frowned, distracted.

Anna’s legs trembled, a cold sweat prickling down the back of her neck. “Is it Daniel you were specifically seeking?”

“Oh… um… yes, I suppose so.”

Anna peered up at him. “You do not sound certain.”

Simon turned and leaned against the balustrade, gazing back into the ballroom. The golden light danced across his face, illuminating the contortion of emotions that tightened and relaxed and creased his features. He folded his arms across his chest and dipped his chin, staring down at the flagstones.

“I had assumed that the Duke of Granville was interested in courting Lady Caroline. It was what I had heard,” he said quietly. “In recent days, seeing him show his affections to Lady Joan, and then dancing with you tonight, I realized I was mistaken. You must understand, Lady Anna—I am but an Earl. I could never compete with a Duke.”

A sweep of dizziness claimed Anna for a second time, and if it had not been for the stone balustrade in front of her, she would certainly have collapsed. “His Grace has no interest in me. He is not a competitor for my affections.”

“Lady Anna, you misunderstand,” Simon replied haltingly. “He was my competition, but now he is not.”

Anna swallowed past the lump in her throat. “What do you mean? Please, Lord Luminport, speak plainly.”

“I have… admired Lady Caroline since the very moment of her debut,” Simone explained stiffly, still refusing to look up from the ground. “The most radiant creature I have ever beheld. The sort of lady any gentleman would be fortunate indeed to have as a wife, but when I heard that the Duke of Granville had made his suit, I knew I was no rival.

“And you were charming and amusing. An exemplary dinner companion, and a lady who I knew to be a close acquaintance of Lady Caroline.” His throat bobbed, as he fidgeted with his cuffs. “I hoped to discover from you if Lady Caroline returned His Grace’s affections, but I could not find the right moment. Indeed, it has been impossible to have just a minute in Lady Caroline’s company, for she has a never-ending stream of potential suitors.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, a familiar sensation crept across her skin, as if icy fingernails were being dragged across her pale flesh. “You… used me to get close to Caro?”

“Now, do not say it like that,” Simon argued in a hushed whisper. “At first, that was my intention, but then I saw Lady Caroline and His Grace enjoying one another’s company in the Orangery, and I thought—well, Lady Anna is not so bad, and I have been greatly entertained in your company. Then, I realized my mistake, and… I am sorry, but I shall never forgive myself if I do not at least try to pursue Lady Caroline. She is unlike any lady I have ever seen.”

Embarrassment twisted in Anna’s stomach, a bitter blade she knew all too well. “I am the jester. She is the princess.” She clenched the inside of her cheek between her teeth, determined not to cry in front of Simon. “No, Lord Luminport, I am sorry for not realizing that, as a spinster of six-and-twenty, I am no one’s first choice. Please, go and pursue Caro. I agree, there is no lady like her.”

“Do not be disheartened,” Simon said, finally raising his gaze to her. “I truly am sorry if you thought… If I led you to believe that I meant to court you.”

“If His Grace and Lady Caroline had been something of merit, would you?” Anna needed to know, to twist that blade of embarrassment deeper, so there would be a scar so painful she never made the same mistake again.

Simon hesitated, sweeping an anxious hand through his hair. “I… well… Yes, of course I would have considered it.” He placed his hand upon hers. “I believe that you and I could be very good friends.”

“Alas, I do not need any more friends,” she replied, not curtly or angrily, but with a flatness to accompany the swift draining away of her last hope. “Please, do not mind me. I shall be quite well by myself. Go and find Caro.”

Though if her affections are not returned, The Matchmaker will see to it that you do not succeed. She would not thwart him out of spite, for she could not argue with any of his points, but she would ensure that Caroline was the happiest woman she could be. A young, beautiful lady with a beautiful love to match.

“I really am sorry.” Simon withdrew his somewhat clammy hand. “I did not mean to mislead you.”

Anna laughed drily. “I misled myself, Lord Luminport. Please, I insist, you should leave me.”

“Well, if you are sure.” Simon clearly did not need to be told twice, as he pushed off the balustrade and headed back into the ballroom without so much as a “Farewell.”

In his absence, Anna let the bitter tears come. She stared out at the moonlit lawns and let them trickle down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away. If anyone noticed her distress, they did not come to comfort her. Her friends would have, but they were inside, enjoying the ball with their husbands. As they should have been.

Taking a deep, choking breath, she descended from the terrace, deciding she would go and investigate what was happening by the fishpond. Anything to get away from the merriment and music of the ball, just for a short while, to compose herself.

It is not my first rejection, she reminded herself, but it will be my last.

She would not entertain the attention of a gentleman again. Her days of seeking romance were finished, at last. For her own heart, anyway.

“I will throw myself into my work,” she vowed as she walked, the music growing fainter and fainter. “I will draw my happiness from that of others. I will write love stories and happy endings with The Matchmaker’s letters. That will be enough.”

In truth, she did not know if it hurt more that she had been cast aside by someone she did not truly have any affection for, or if it hurt because of the finality of it all. Simon had said that she was “not so bad,” and she had felt the same way about him. A ‘decent’ prospect. A ‘satisfactory’ option. Not the powerful, poetic love she had dreamed of, but a passable choice.

I am not a girl anymore. It is time to end this silliness. Indeed, continuing on across the lawn, all alone, she knew she was in a better position than other spinsters of her age. She would always have her brother to take care of her, she would have her freedom, she would be at liberty to do all the matchmaking she pleased, and she would never want for anything.

Her heart would just have to get used to it.

“My lady, I wouldn’t come much further,” a voice said, from the darkness where a group of men were preparing something. “It’s not safe.”

Anna eyed the lumpy mass they were hiding beneath a black cloth. “What are you doing?”

“Her Ladyship wants it to be a surprise,” the man replied.

Anna nodded. “Of course. Apologies for disturbing you.”

And I have the Countess, too. There were certainly worse situations to be in, and a husband might interfere with her passion for matchmaking. It would be a rare individual who would allow her to continue in her exploits.

“Are you well, my lady?” the man asked hesitantly.

Anna put on a smile. “Very well, thank you. Please, carry on.”

She glanced toward the grand manor house, shuddering at the sight of the glowing lights spilling out from the ballroom. Trailing her gaze along the vast array of glinting windows, she spied candles flickering in the Orangery that jutted out from the farthest end of the manor.

Sanctuary. She straightened up, wiped the tears from her face, and set off through the gloom toward those beacons of peace and quiet.

Reaching the glass structure and peering in to ensure there was no one there already, she slipped inside. It still held the warmth of the day within its walls, and the scent of the potted orange and lemon trees greeted her.

The chairs from the music recital were gone, but there were wooden benches lining the windowed walls. She perched on one and closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scents and the utter, blissful silence. For a moment, she imagined she was in the greenhouse of her childhood home, listening to the gardener explain how to care for the orchids.

“What do you think you are doing?” A stern voice cut through the quiet, jolting her out of her peaceful reverie.

A blur moved toward her out of the dim light of the room, seizing her by the hand, tugging her up onto her feet. It took a second for her vision to adjust, her alarm transforming into confusion as she peered up into intense green eyes, flaring with anger.