“Did we pass my brothers on the way?” She stretched out her arms, grimacing as a tight muscle in her leg sent a ripple of pain down to her foot.
The footman shook his head. “I don’t believe so, M’Lady.”
“No matter.”
Her brothers had chosen to ride ahead on their horses, Dickie claiming that if he was forced into the confines of a carriage, he would undoubtedly be sick. Max had agreed to accompany him in case he got lost or fell from his saddle during a surge of nausea, while Percival had been nowhere in sight, much to her satisfaction.
Still, she had expected her brothers to be back before her. Had hoped for it, in truth, so that they might spend some time together—just the three of them.
They must have stopped more often than intended,she mused with a smile, and went into the manor.
Climbing the rickety staircase to the upper floor, the ancient boards creaking underfoot, she was already looking forward to having a bath while she waited for her brothers. She had not slept well at Westyork, her mind churning with ideas on how to deal with Percival, and her body ached from the carriage ride, but now that things had been set in motion, she could relax for a while.
She knew Caroline had received the letter. She had seen it poking out of the top of the younger lady’s pinafore pocket that morning, at breakfast.
Reaching her bedchamber, Anna halted. The door was wide open. She never left it open, obsessive in her desire to keep it closed. It was a habit from childhood, when she had wanted to retire into the world of her beloved books, shutting herself away from anything that could shatter the illusion each page conjured.
She edged closer and peered around the doorjamb.
A figure sat at her writing desk, the drawers all wrenched open, all of her keepsake boxes ransacked. It was not merely the desk, either. The side-tables, chests of drawers, and wardrobes had been thoroughly raided, as well as the heavy trunk at the end of her bed.
She would have preferred it if the culprit had been a thief, but she knew the identity of this intruder. He was not there to steal anything but her privacy.
“Whatdo you think you are doing in here?” she seethed, stepping into the room.
Percival whipped around, lacking the common decency to look even a little bit guilty. “I might ask you the same question, Catchweed.” He held up a short, round cylinder. “You see, I happened to see this stamp pressed into the seal of a letter that has just ruined my future plans.”
“Well, that is notmystamp. I have never seen it before,” she replied, a note too quickly.
He smiled coldly. “Do not begin with lies, Catchweed. They will not serve you well. Iknowthis stamp belongs to you, and I know what you have been doing. Silly of you, really, to make your seal a buttercup, but you have always been far too sentimental.”
“I have no notion of what you mean.” Panic shivered through her veins, like ice freezing across a winter pond.
She had often thought—especially as her success had increased—that she should change the emblem on her secret letters, in case someone put two and two together. But as only one person called her “Buttercup” and anyone else who knew that name would likely never be a recipient of her talents, she had decided to wait a while before she altered her symbol.
He cannot know. It is not possible.No sooner had she thought that than his previous words finally registered in her head: “I happened to see this stamp pressed into the seal of a letter that has just ruined my future plans.”
“As I see it, there are two explanations to this,” Percival said, rising from her chair with the stamp still gripped in his hand. “Either you are this fabled matchmaker that I have been hearing and reading about, or you have pretended to be her in order to trick Lady Caroline into rejecting me.”
Anna’s heart thundered in her chest, her brow beading with cold droplets of sweat. Maybe, he did not realize it, but he was offering her a way to get out of the situation by simply claiming that she had pretended to be The Matchmaker. Yet, something about his tone of voice and bitter smirk made it feel like a trap.
“I did not know your handwriting before, but I have spent some time studying it,” he went on. “If you are not The Matchmaker, you should know that you share the same writing. Near identical phrasing, too: It is better to be a wallflower or a dreamer than shackled to a life of misery with an unsuitable gentleman. Would you not agree?”
Anna abandoned any hope of convincing him that she was not what he thought she was. Strength and pride poured into her chest, making her stand taller in defiance. She would not allow this oaf to make her feel guilty about the one sincere change she had made to the world, even if it was just the world of theton.
“There was no trick, Barnacle,” she said coolly. “I did what I thought was right for Lady Caroline. I do not force anyone to do anything they do not want to. I do not make demands of people; I merely make suggestions. If she rejected you, she came to that conclusion of her own free will.”
“Do not take me for a fool.” He walked toward her. “She was not in need of a matchmaker who helps hopeless women, and I suspect you would have stopped at nothing to ensure that my plans were thwarted.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he came closer, the sheer size of him both thrilling and intimidating in equal measure, particularly to someone of her stature. There was a gleam in his intense green eyes, which continued to hold her gaze, as if they were locked in a challenge as to who would look away first. She would not give him the satisfaction.
Anna scoffed. “You thwarted your own plans, Percival. My dear friend Caro is seeking a love match, not a marriage ofyourconvenience.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but she put up a hand. “I am not finished, Percival!”
“Finished or not, you will not speak to me in such a tone. Certainly not after what you have done,” he growled.
She gulped, proceeding anyway. “You said that all you cared about was her brother’s influence and talent for business. You do not care about her at all. It would be a match that is beneficial to you, not her, and I was not going to stand there and let you make her miserable just because a few rafters at your estate are falling down and you need a wealthy, well-connected bride to fix it.”
