“I have done what I can,” Anna said in a rush, “but I am afraid I have sullied your water jug.”
Beatrice came to take Anna’s place. “No matter. I never liked that jug anyway.” She offered the box to the younger woman. “Would you like to do the honors?”
“No, I should return to my brothers before Dickie declares the beginning of a game that will see your name in the scandal sheets.” Anna was at the garden doors before Beatrice could insist, but as she stepped out onto the velvet green lawns, she paused to catch her breath.
Moving out of sight of the windows, she rubbed the heel of her hand against her chest, puzzled by the wayward beating of her heart. It felt like a butterfly was trapped in there, fluttering wildly.
Just the heat, she told herself.Just the heat, and the relief that I did not kill a man today.
She would repeat that, over and over, until her addled heart calmed. For in that drawing room, there was nothing but a friend. A probably delirious friend who would forget or regret what he had told her. Meanwhile, something more was potentially waiting for her in the summer house. She would not keep Simon in suspense.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Head still pounding, Percy received a hero’s welcome as he made his way to the Orangery for the Countess of Grayling’s latest entertainment. The countess had urged him to rest for the remainder of the day, but he had refused, too agitated to consider retreating to his chambers.
What will she think of me now?The question circled without pause in his mind, answerless.
He wished he could blame the injury to the side of his face for the tale he had told, but it was something he had wanted to tell her for a long time. An explanation for all the occasions in which he had made her angry or seen hurt pinch her face, when she was younger and especially when she was older. Taunting her was something he should have grown out of when she had grown up, but it had only made things worse, somehow.
I suppose I relied more and more on that twisted comfort…
“Howwillyou explain that at the next ball?” Dickie breezed over and put an arm around Percy’s shoulders.
Percy gave a small shrug. “I gained it during a brawl, to defend a lady’s honor.”
“Perfection!” Dickie laughed. “You shall have a bride by the end of the month! Everyone, be gentle with this poor soul—he is likely still dazed from my sister’s atrocious aim.”
With a wry chuckle, Percy allowed himself to be led into the group of guests, but out of the corner of his eye, he searched for Anna. It took a moment, for she was seated while the majority were standing and mingling in the Orangery, waiting for the countess to instruct them to sit.
Anna was not alone.
She was perched on a chair at the front of the glass room, a short distance from the small dais where a string quartet were tuning their instruments. Next to her, Percy noted the golden hair and easy smile belonging to Simon. The pair were talking quietly but intently—so intently that Anna had clearly not noticed that Percy had come into the room.
They make a handsome couple.He could not deny that, as he could not deny how lovely it was to see Anna laugh and smile like that. So, why did the sight make him bristle? Why did it make his chest feel so strange and tight?
* * *
“They are exceptional, are they not?” Simon whispered, as sweet music tingled through the Orangery while sunset glowed, bronze and beautiful, through the glass. Almost as if the musicians were controlling the sun, singing it to sleep.
Anna nodded, the shivering notes of the violins and cello conjuring a visceral reaction in the very fiber of her being, coaxing tears from her eyes that she could not wipe away fast enough. “Exquisite,” was all she could say, her voice thick.
“I can play the violin, but not nearly as well. Perhaps, I might show you one day soon,” he said.
She turned to him. “I should like that very much, though I hope you will forgive my tears when you do. If I cry, it is not because you are a poor violinist. It… moves me.”
He drew out his handkerchief and passed it to her. “I would not be offended if I were honored with your tears, Lady Anna. It would be a… privilege to move you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking the handkerchief to dab away her own tears.
He was proving to be a very interesting gentleman, more interesting than she had expected. Throughout the musical entertainment, she had discovered that he was well-travelled and well-read. Indeed, she had been positively giddy when he had asked her if she likedLe Morte d’Arthur. They had almost missed an entire piece of the recital because of that particular discussion and might have continued if they had not been hushed by Max, who was sitting on the other side of her.
A short while later, the string quartet faded to a chillingly beautiful conclusion, the final notes lingering in the air like the crackle of Earth’s power before a storm. And as the guests began a round of applause, Beatrice stood to announce that the musicians would be taking a brief pause before they began again.
“There are refreshments to the rear of the room,” she added. “Please, help yourselves and make merry.”
Simon gestured toward the tables of drinks and delicacies. “Would you like anything?”
“A lemonade, perhaps,” she replied shyly, unaccustomed to such attentive company.
