Anna said nothing.
Her mother was already smoothing her shawl, adjusting her hair. “I told you he’d call. He’s very steady. Thoughtful. Not dazzling, of course, but then, one can’t eat off dazzle.”
Anna stood slowly. Her feet felt heavy. “I’ll speak with him in the blue salon.”
‘Good,” her mother said. “Keep him waiting just a minute, not too long. And Anna?”
She paused at the doorway. “Yes, Mama?”
Her mother offered a mild smile, smoothing her skirt. “This could be a new beginning for us. A chance to finally move forward. Be a smart girl. Do make the most of it.”
Anna nodded. Not in agreement. Just acknowledgement.
Then she turned and left the room.
The blue salon had once been beautiful. The wallpaper had faded in the sun, and the rug was worn smooth along the path to the window. But the chairs were still proper, and the mantel had been recently dusted. A dish of lemon wafers had been set out on the tea table, untouched. The fire had been lit, though Anna suspected it was more for appearance than warmth. One side of her shawl kept slipping down her shoulder, and the cushion beneath her was too thin, the wooden frame pressing into her spine.
Anna sat very straight in the chair nearest the hearth, as if good posture might keep her from unraveling. Everything about herposture was composed. Except her hands, which gripped the arms of the chair too tightly.
The maid had only just announced him when Matthew entered. He entered with the confidence of someone who believed the outcome was already decided.
“Lady Anna,” he said with a mild smile, smoothly inclining his head.
“Lord Vaun,” she said, rising.
“You look well,” he said, eyes scanning her face. “London agrees with you.”
“I’ve only just arrived.”
“All the same,” he said, “there’s a calmness about you now. A certain... clarity.”
Anna resumed her seat slowly, carefully. She didn’t touch the tea tray.
Matthew looked around the room, his expression composed. “I’ve always liked this house. Modest, but tasteful. You’ve done well to keep it.”
“We do what we can.”
“Indeed.” His eyes returned to her face. “It must be strange, after such a full season. So many impressions made. So much promise to sift through.”
“I’m quite used to it.”
He walked to the settee across from her and sat down without invitation, one leg crossing over the other. His gloves rested loosely in his hand. She caught the faint scent of starch and pomade.
“Still,” he said, “you must feel the pressure. So many eyes on you now. Expectations.”
Anna looked at him, unblinking. “Was there something you wished to say?”
Matthew smiled. “You’ve never liked being handled, have you?”
“No,” she said. “Nor threatened. Nor claimed.”
He leaned back. “This isn’t a threat. It’s an opportunity.”
She went still.
“I wondered,” he said, “if you expected I wouldn’t call.”
“No,” Anna replied. “I knew you would.”
