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 whyhiswords 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.
