Chapter 7

Before Percy could even think of striking up a conversation with the young lady he had formerly considered for his bride, Dickie had taken hold of the reins and was walking along at Caroline’s side, talking amiably and easily about her experience of her first season. Daniel’s horse trotted alongside, leaving Percy and Anna to walk behind.

“Do not envy him too much,” Anna said quietly. “Everyone has their gifts—his just happens to be wooing every lady he encounters, accidentally or deliberately. It is more of a curse, in truth.”

Percy had not expected Anna to initiate conversation, nor in such an amenable tone. It proved to be a not unwelcome surprise.

“I am not envious. I have no reason to be, when I already have you pursuing my match on my behalf.” He gestured around himself. “But I do find myself compelled to ask—where is she?”

“Who?”

“My bride.”

“I am not a sorceress, Percival. I cannot pull a bride out of thin air.” She sighed. “However, there is a house party at the Countess of Grayling’s residence in a few days’ time. That is where my hunt shall begin properly, for everyone who is anyone will be in attendance. You must have received your invitation this morning.”

Percy stiffened. “I received no invitation.”

“But there was a letter for you on the post tray.”

“It was not an invitation. It was… something else, and I would urge you not to intrude on my privacy by looking at my personal letters.” Discomfort pinched down his spine, his palms clammy.

She flashed him a pointed look. “You have become an authority on invading the privacy of others? Might I remind you that it took me hours to put everything back the way it was, and that is without mentioning the worst part, which cannot be put back as it was.”

“I… apologize,” he said tightly. “But you are prone to eavesdropping. That could also be considered an invasion of privacy.”

Anna pursed her lips. “I was also taught that if a ‘but’ follows an apology, it is no apology at all.”

“Very well. I apologize.” He paused. “It was… bad behavior.”

She eyed him as if he had something on his face. “Are you feeling unwell? Shall I check you for a fever?”

“Most amusing,” he remarked drily. “There is nothing wrong with me.”

“I am not convinced, but I shall take your word for it.” The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of her lip, and a strange shiver danced through his chest, as if he were close to winning some kind of prize. For he had never been able to make her smile before, not since they were both children.

“So,” she continued, “you are a passable horseman. I have seen your dancing, and that is also… adequate. What else do you do well? What are your likes and dislikes? What sort of bride do you have in mind?”

He cast her a sideways glance. “Are you not supposed to know this already?”

“I told you, I am not a sorceress. Nor am I a clairvoyant. I research, I gather information, and I use that to pair people,” she explained in a hushed, slightly impatient voice. “To match you, I must know more of you. And rather than go to the trouble of finding information about you, as I normally would, you are perhaps the only person I can simply ask.”

He nodded slowly. “I see.”

They walked on for a while in the most companionable silence they had ever shared, as Percy contemplated the question. He had not been asked such things before and, as such, he did not know how to answer. Indeed, he had to keep reminding himself that she was not actually interested in what he liked and disliked; it was all for her work, not mere conversation.

“I suppose I enjoy the theater, though I have only been a handful of times,” he began. “I can sing well enough. I like dogs, though I was never allowed one. I?—”

“Perfection!” Anna yelped, gripping onto his arm.

He balked at the sudden touch, his eyes fixated on her hand, now tugging on his sleeve. From anyone else, he might still have been shocked by the gesture, but from Anna, it was like snow falling in August.

“What is?” He sifted through the things he had said, but could find nothing that suggested perfection.

“Lady Eleanor,” Anna whispered, tilting her head toward a cluster of far-off oak trees.

In its shade stood a young lady of perhaps three-and-twenty, with hair the color of spun gold that gleamed like a halo atop her head. She was willowy and tall to the point of hunching her shoulders to make herself appear smaller, but no taller than Percy himself. Aside from her hair, she was somewhat plain, with pretty features, but nothing he had not seen countless times before.

“Second daughter of the Earl of Monkswell. Her older sister was recently married to the Earl of Harlowe, so there will be a good deal of pressure upon her to follow suit.” Anna grinned and flashed him a wink that baffled him. “One of my more successful matches, but do not tell a soul.”

Percy rubbed his chest with the heel of his hand, trying to loosen the tight feeling that had begun to knot there. “Does she favor the theater?”

“Do you actually care about that?”

Percy shrugged. “Not particularly.”

“I will be frank with you—she does not care about love, only wealth and status, so you will have to ensure that your estate is in a grander condition when she sees it, but the title of ‘Duchess’ will be tempting enough for a lady like her.” Anna surprised him again by pushing him toward the oak trees in the near distance, though her feeble shove did not move him much. “She cannot abide me, so I will leave the rest to you. Go and introduce yourself.”

Anna began to walk toward her brother, who was still deep in conversation with Lady Caroline, while Caroline’s brother seemed half asleep in the saddle.

“This was not our agreement,” Percy hissed, bringing Anna to a sharp stop. “You said you would help me. So, help me.”

She made her way back to him, eyebrow raised. “You spoke to Lady Caroline confidently enough. Surely, you do not need me to accompany you.”

“Lady Eleanor will likely be more comfortable if you are there—another lady she knows.”

Anna sighed, fidgeting with the sleeves of her pelisse. “Did you forget to clean your ears the last time you bathed? I told you; she cannot abide me. I am more likely to hinder your success than help it.”

“Dickie!” Percy shouted.

Anna’s brother glanced back, dragging Caroline’s attention with him. “Is something the matter?”

“Your sister has seen a friend of hers. I am going to escort her,” Percy replied, giving Anna no opportunity to avoid the interaction. If he had to struggle through an introduction, it seemed only fair that she should struggle with him.

Dickie nodded. “Very well! Do not get her into any trouble, or Max will kill us both!”

“I will do what I can, but you know how wayward spinsters can be!” Percy smiled, pleased as he noticed Dickie’s laughter.

As he turned back toward Anna, however, there was not even a hint of amusement upon her face. Indeed, her scowl was so severe that it almost made him jump, for it was like catching sight of a gargoyle.

“You simply cannot help yourself, can you? And here I was, thinking we might be civil at last, now that we are in a conspiracy together,” she grumbled, marching on toward Lady Eleanor.

A prick of guilt popped the joy of making Dickie laugh, as Percy strode after his matchmaker. Still, even now he could not understand how what he said was any different from the things Dickie and Max said when teasing her. She never scowled at them, and on the rare occasion she scolded them, it was always with a lighter, more playful tone.

But there was no time to apologize or ask her why his words antagonized her more than her brothers’ words, for he soon found himself face-to-face with Lady Eleanor.

* * *

“Your Grace, I am honored,” Lady Eleanor said for the tenth time in two minutes, fluttering her pale eyelashes, her cheeks rosy with—undoubtedly—the thrill of being approached by an eligible duke. “Yes, I simply adore the theater. Have you seen any of the season’s performances yet?”

Percival was his usual, charming self—charming to everyone except Anna. “I have not, though I intend to.”

“Nor have I, though I also intend to,” Lady Eleanor replied, smiling with feigned shyness.

Percival nodded. “Well, you must tell me if they are worth the visit to London.”

Anna wished the ground would crack and swallow her up, for though she had dealt with many ladies and gentlemen who were hopeless in the art of flirtation and courtship, she usually had her letters to solve any such shortcomings. With Percival, however, it was unbearable to watch him miss rather obvious cues.

She had assumed he was good at this, for she had seen him dance and converse with enough ladies over the years, and the ladies in question had seemed to enjoy the encounter. But, perhaps, she had been mistaken.

Taking a small step backward, she elbowed him quite hard in the ribs, as if to say, you fool, she is seeking out an invitation!

All she gained in return for her efforts was a sharp look from Percival, who had missed the even more obvious cue. Either that, or he was deliberately ignoring it.

Aloofness only works when you are not in immediate need of a wife, she wanted to tell him.

“Perhaps, it is something you could discuss at the Countess of Grayling’s house party,” Anna said instead, hoping she did not sound as frustrated as she felt. “Will you be attending, Eleanor?”

The haughty young woman gave her a disapproving stare. “Of course, I shall be attending. I was one of the first to receive an invitation.” Her cold expression warmed into a fawning smile. “You will be there, Your Grace, will you not?”

One word to Beatrice, and I could have you uninvited. Anna held her tongue, remembering that the sooner she could get these two married, the sooner she would have her summers back.

“I had not yet decided,” Percival replied.

Anna jabbed him in the ribs again. “He will be there,” she said in earnest. “The Countess invited him personally, for she is a dear friend of mine, and His Grace is a dear friend of my brother, the Duke of Harewood. He is currently residing at Harewood Court, and I know you do not live far, if you would care to visit one day?”

“I apologize, Lady Anna, but I cannot hear the dear duke speak when you are chattering so incessantly,” Eleanor said, still wearing that fixed, false smile.

Percival bowed his head. “That is my doing, Lady Eleanor. I did not want you to feel uncomfortable when I approached you, as we have never been introduced before, so I thought you might prefer to have Lady Anna present.”

“Well, we have been introduced now.” Lady Eleanor chuckled, fanning her face in a manner that she likely thought was flirtatious, but made her look half mad. “Lady Anna, perhaps you ought to return to your brother. I should hate to keep you standing in the sun, lest its brightness cause another mole to grow on your face.”

A jagged lump swelled in Anna’s throat, her eyes stinging with the effort of blinking back tears. She knew she should have been accustomed to such jibes by now, when she had heard them all her life from strangers and unkind ladies at balls, but she had never quite grown a thick enough skin to be invulnerable to mean remarks.

Percival glanced at Anna, and she looked away sharply. He was the last person she wanted to see her hurt by the comments of a silly, vapid woman.

“Moles close to the lips and eyes are supposed to be a symbol of good fortune and prosperity,” he said. “As Lady Anna has both, and knowing her as I do, I must say that the myths are true. There is no one close to Lady Anna who has not been blessed with good luck and prosperity. Have you not heard of the Spinsters’ Club?”

Lady Eleanor’s eye twitched. “Certainly, I have.”

“Of her four dearest friends, three are now duchesses, and one is a countess. And she played no small part in their unions, so there must be some truth to her luck,” Percival continued, much to Anna’s growing astonishment. “Personally, I find moles and freckles more interesting than a face that has no ‘flaws’ whatsoever.”

Lady Eleanor nodded so hard that her neck would undoubtedly be stiff later. “I could not agree more, Your Grace. I cherish my own freckles for that very reason. Some of my friends will not spend five minutes in the sunshine, for fear of them, but I think they look pretty.”

Percival leaned in. “Apologies, Lady Eleanor, but I do not see any freckles whatsoever. Yes, it seems you have the most perfect skin. Not so much as a small scar or a blemish.” He sighed. “What a pity.”

“A pity?” Lady Eleanor blinked, clearly confused by the strange remark: a compliment and an insult in one.

He offered his hand to Anna. “I desire a wife who is unafraid of the outdoors, especially in the summertime,” he said. “I am sorry to have wasted your time, Lady Eleanor.”

Equally bewildered, Anna gingerly placed her hand on top of his, and allowed him to lead her away from the stunned figure of Lady Eleanor, who would have looked less shocked if he had slapped her with a freshly caught cod.

When they were far enough away, splitting the distance between Lady Eleanor and Dickie, Anna finally asked the question that danced on the tip of her tongue. “Why did you do that? She would have been ideal for you. I could have stepped away—she said nothing I have not heard before.”

“I have few requirements for my future bride,” he replied flatly, “but someone who insults a friend can be no bride of mine.”

“A… friend?” Anna coughed out, taken aback by the word.

She had never considered them to be friends of any kind. Even when she was younger, and he was kinder, she had viewed him as her childhood hero, not her friend. And later, he had become a thorn in her side.

“After the letter I sent to Caro,” she continued, forcing a more ordinary, teasing tone, “I find it hard to believe that you consider me friendly.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It was slyly done, but that does not mean it was not the right thing to do. I do not want my wife to have any delusions about our marriage, nor do I want my wife to have any delusions about herself. Lady Eleanor is unpleasant. That is all I have to say about that. Nevertheless, it was a decent attempt, and I look forward to seeing who you have me approach next.”

“Speaking of next time—might you be a little more… invested?” Anna replied, still trying to figure out if this was some trick of his that she had not understood yet. “You missed several opportunities to elaborate and invite.”

“Did I?” He arched an eyebrow. “Or did I simply not wish to seize said opportunities?”

She waited for him to tell her which, but he did not.

They walked the rest of the way to Dickie, Caroline, and Daniel in a peaceable silence. As they did, Anna realized it was the longest they had gone without sniping at one another, and it was the most comfortable she had ever felt in his company.

“Did you make up that business about the moles,” she asked, just before they neared the others.

Percival glanced down at her. “No.”

“Do you believe it?”

He returned his gaze to what lay ahead. “That you are lucky to be around? There are many who would believe it.”

“But do you?” Anna hated having to repeat herself.

He covered her hand with his, his eyes softer than she had expected. “I suppose we shall see soon enough.”