Chapter 22

“Do you want her to be ruined?” Max hissed. “I knew it was a mistake to invite you to stay at Harewood Court while your own estate was being repaired. I knew something bad was going to happen. I could feel it brewing, and yet I let my sympathy for you cloud my judgment.”

Percy bristled at the reprimand. “I have never wished harm upon your sister. The last thing I want is for her to be ruined.”

Which is why I should not have kissed her, not when she was in such a state of confusion. He still did not know what had possessed him to press his lips to hers in that moment, but it was as if he would have gone mad if he had not. And though he knew his actions were shameful, he did not regret what he had done. It was the circumstance he regretted, and the haste and anger in which she had departed.

“If you would just permit me to go after her, I can remedy this,” Percy added, gesturing to the still-open door.

Max shook his head, looking every bit the powerful duke he had become. “You have done quite enough for one evening. Fortunately, I do not think this will cause any lasting harm to Anna’s character, for I only overheard Lord Luminport whispering to a few old friends. Gentlemen do not gossip nearly as much as ladies. But I suspect the true extent of this evening will be revealed tomorrow.”

“What makes you think I do not care for her?” Percy said suddenly, incensed by the fact that his dearest friend had not even considered it.

Max narrowed his eyes. “Because I know you, Sinclair. We have spoken at length, throughout our friendship, about your preferences and your problems.” He jabbed a finger at the Orangery doors. “My sister is a… delicate creature. She is like a flower and her years in society have taken petal after petal from her, and I will not allow you to be the one to finally make her wilt. You do not want what she wants.”

“Can a man not change what he wants?”

“Some can, but you are both alike and utterly opposite to my brother in that regard—you are too embedded in your ways to ever change much.” Max squared his shoulders. “More to the point, I have seen your arguments with my sister, Sinclair. You do not care for her. If you did, you would not speak to her that way.”

Percy balked. “And what of the manner in which she speaks to me? Do you think I would accept that from just anyone?”

“Are you saying that you do care for her?” Max said bluntly. “I suggest you be very careful with your answer, for it may dictate the rest of your life.”

Breathing hard, nerves writhing in his belly, he let his mind drift back to the moment he had held Anna in his arms: the softness of her hair, the scent of jasmine and citrus, the press of her face against his chest, and the tight grip of her arms around his waist. How small and precious she had been, and how dearly he had wished to do anything to protect her in that instant.

From there, his mind wandered to the way in which she had kissed him back, nervous but eager, her palms resting against his chest, no doubt feeling the thud of his heart beating fast. How swiftly she had relaxed in his embrace, as if she too had been waiting for that moment.

But then, his mind darted elsewhere, to the afternoon in which he had revealed the secrets of his past to her. Something had changed after that. She had softened toward him, as he had softened toward her. But what if it was mere pity that had caused the change?

With a breath, he returned his thoughts to just before they kissed. She had told him she was confused, she had told him she was heartbroken, she had been at her lowest ebb, and had asked him to leave her alone. She had told him that kissing her was not what a friend should do, and the more he thought about it, the more confused he became.

“I care for her,” he said stiffly.

“In what way?” Max pressed.

Percy swallowed. “As a friend. As someone who has known her for years. As someone who is invested in her happiness, in seeing her gain what she deserves.”

“Do you think that is you? Are you who she deserves?” Max frowned, hands balled tightly into fists.

Percy shook his head. “No, I am not.”

“At least we can agree on that,” Max said, puffing out a breath. “Allow me to make one thing very clear to you—this is your first and last warning to stay away from Anna.”

Keep your distance. The Countess had said the same thing, and if the two people who loved Anna the most were in agreement, Percy did not know if he could disagree anymore.

“You are my dearest and oldest friend,” Max continued, “but my sister will always be my priority. Even before our father passed, it was my duty to protect her. I can see now that I have been remiss in many ways, but I shall not let her down again.”

Percy clenched his jaw. “I said it before; I have never wished harm upon her, and do not want to see her disappointed either.”

Which is why I am not right for her. I understand that. He kept that to himself, figuring it would only muddy the water if he said it out loud.

“I would like you to be gone from Harewood Court before we return. You ought to leave tonight,” Max said flatly. “And unless you wish to be challenged to a duel for risking my sister’s reputation again, you will stay as far from her as possible.”

Percy hated that it had come to this, his actions driving a wedge between himself and the people he adored the most in the world. But he had been taught from a young age that reckless behavior had consequences, and that weakness was rewarded with pain and rejection. He had also learned that love—or anything like it—made fools of even the wisest individuals, and though he did not know what the aching, twinging sensation in his chest was, he had acted like a fool that night.

His punishment was just and deserved.

“I will return to Harewood Court tonight,” he promised. “By the time you return from here, it will be as if I was never there. And I will stay away from An—Lady Anna. Indeed, I do not think it will be long until I have a wedding to announce, so you can rest easy in the knowledge that your sister is safe, her reputation unmarked.”

Max sniffed. “I will send congratulatory flowers.”

With that, he turned and departed the Orangery through the interior doors, leaving Percy to stand alone in the room, wondering why his heart felt so heavy. And as he looked around at the potted orange and lemon trees, he could have sworn he smelled the faintest hint of jasmine, still lingering in the air. Like a farewell from the woman he would probably never see again.

At that moment, fireworks exploded into the night sky, and despite himself, he wished he could have been watching them with her.

* * *

“I apologize. I should not have done that. It was improper of me. Goodness, I do not know why I did that. It was shameful.” Percival’s words spun around and around in Anna’s head like a carousel, whirling faster and faster until she felt nauseated again.

But she could not stop herself from thinking about that sweet, longed-for first kiss, regardless of the thoughts it conjured afterward. He had kissed her as if she meant a great deal to him, and she had kissed him back with the abandon of someone to whom he also meant a great deal. She had barely hesitated, despite their former quarrels and misgivings. And that gentle graze of their lips had been… so beautiful and so wonderful that the aftermath almost pained her less than the prospect of never feeling that again.

If I knew I was going to lose everything because of that, I would have made more of it. I would have stolen a few more minutes. It seemed like a ridiculous notion to even consider, but she could not help it. To have everything taken away by revealing the truth to Dickie, she should have been allowed to keep something in return.

“Anna! There you are!” A voice brought her out of her reverie as she waited on the porch for the carriage to appear.

Anna turned to find Beatrice emerging from the grand front doors of the manor, looking very worried indeed. “I have never been very good at hiding, though I suspect I shall have to learn quickly.”

“Nonsense,” Beatrice replied, coming to take hold of Anna’s hands. “You must do the very opposite. Do not hide from this. Please, accept the advice of someone who knows scorn; it retreats when it is challenged directly.”

Anna smiled. “So, you have heard?”

“I will not lie to you; your secret is circulating around the ball, and though I can make no promises, I am doing all I can to ensure that it remains within these walls.”

Pulling a face, Anna forced a chuckle. “Do not have anyone killed on my account. It was silly of me to think I could keep it a secret indefinitely.”

“It is not silly to do kind things without any desire for reward or accolades,” Beatrice insisted. “It is the most honorable thing a person can do, and I, for one, could not be prouder of you. There are ladies and gentlemen out there right now, ladies and gentlemen who are even at this ball, who are hopelessly in love because of you. That is not nothing, dearest Anna.”

Anna shrugged. “But it is over now.”

“Not necessarily.” Beatrice sighed. “There will be a storm to weather, undoubtedly, but your success speaks for itself. Blast all those who think you cannot do something because you are unwed. I have built an empire, and I am unwed.”

“An empire?”

Beatrice put her finger to her lips and flashed a wink. “You should see me in my gentleman’s attire. Not even my own mother, rest her soul, would recognize me.” She lowered her voice. “I have whiskers glued to my face and everything.”

“You do not!” Anna gasped, gazing at that formidable woman in astonishment of the best kind.

Beatrice nodded. “Once, they almost came off, and I had to pretend I had an aversion to the flowers in the room. I spoke through a handkerchief the entire time, pressing those wretched whiskers against my face so they would not give me away. No one was any the wiser. I made one of my finest, and most rewarding, speculations that day.”

“If you are trying to make me feel better, it is… reasonably successful,” Anna admitted, trying to imagine the beautiful countess dressed in a tailcoat and trousers, masquerading as a man. Considering the elegant gown she currently wore, and her radiance, Anna could not do it.

Beatrice squeezed Anna’s hands gently. “I am so very sorry that I misjudged Lord Luminport. I truly thought he was interested in you. He behaved as if he was, and you should know that I do not tolerate deceptive men well.” She smiled. “I can ruin him, if you would like me to?”

“There is no need,” Anna hurried to say, fully believing that her powerful friend could and would if she but said the word. “It was my mistake. I cannot blame him for wanting to pursue Caro instead.”

Beatrice pulled her gently. “Come back into the manor. You do not have to go near the ball, but do not leave now. Stay until tomorrow, when everyone else will be leaving.” She paused. “Do not let them see you run, dearest.”

“You swear I will not have to go into the ballroom again?”

Beatrice smiled. “Not if you do not want to.”

Anna glanced into the darkness, listening out for the sound of the carriage arriving. She did not want to inconvenience anyone, and hoped it was not too late to put the carriage and horses back into the coach house and stalls, respectively.

“I already apprehended your brother,” Beatrice said, chuckling. “He is awaiting your decision in the drawing room, though I suspect he will be relieved to avoid the journey tonight. It will give him—all of us—the opportunity to reduce any damage that might have been done by the unexpected news of your secret life.”

Anna sighed and weaved her arm through Beatrice’s. “What would I do without you?”

“Oh no, my dearest, what would society do without you?” Beatrice patted her hand. “You will survive this; I promise.”

“What of heartbreak?” Anna whispered, following Beatrice into the manor.

Beatrice glanced down at her, eyes gleaming with a bittersweet sorrow. “How severe?”

“I do not know.”

The countess nodded in understanding. “Whether it is a shattering from love or from hope, I will not lie—you will be forever changed, but you will survive it. Indeed, heartbreak is the most vicious of wounds, and takes the longest to heal. But do you know what happens to skin when it scars?”

“It looks odd?”

She chuckled. “No, it becomes stronger.”

“And what if I do not want to be stronger?” Anna replied, for though she was small and thin, and did not look particularly fierce, eight years in society as an unmarriageable had forced her to be very strong indeed. And she was tired of being tough, tired of enduring the constant “one day, it will be your turn,” tired of having no one to rest her head against at the end of the day, tired of looking forward and seeing only solitude and spinsterhood.

Beatrice expelled a soft breath. “I shall let you know when I have the answer to that.”

I felt safe with Percival, Anna realized. I felt, for just a moment, like I did not have to be strong anymore.

But there was nothing to be done about that, just as there was nothing to be done about the spreading gossip. It was all out of her hands. Even the letter she had intended to send to Lady Joan, though she doubted she would have been able to write it anyway. Not until her memory of that sweet kiss faded from her mind altogether, and all thoughts of Percival went with it.

Between that and convincing the ton to trust her, she did not know which would be the more impossible task.