Dickie squinted. “Is that…?”
“It is,” Percy murmured.
The ballroom did not fall silent, but the din of chatter and laughter faded to hushed whispers. At least, that was how it seemed to Percy, as blood rushed in his ears, blocking out the noise of anything else.
In that moment, Anna was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen: a majestic revelation, sparkling like a diamond. He had seen queens look less regal than her, poised despite her obvious nerves. It was the green twin to the gown she had worn on the day of their arrival to the countess’ week-long house party, with one significant difference—the billowing sleeves had been replaced with short, capped sleeves, revealing her slender, pale arms. And woven into her blonde hair was a tiara of darkened silver, decorated with emeralds to match her gown.
He might have wondered what sorcery had made her appear that way, her ethereal beauty drawing every eye toward her, but perhaps she had always been that way. Maybe he had not seen it because she was too familiar to him, like walking past an exquisite painting that hung in the halls of one’s home, so accustomed to the sight that, eventually, it went unnoticed. Unappreciated. Maybe, it was because he knew her too well. Or, he had thought he did.
“The Countess of Grayling is doing wonders for her wardrobe,” Dickie remarked.
Max chuckled. “Although, I do not think such gowns would be very practical for all the walking in the gardens that she likes to do. They would be quite filthy by the time she was finished tending to Mother’s flowers.”
The brothers continued to banter back and forth, but Percy did not hear a word; he was transfixed by that vision in green… and by the gentleman who rushed toward her as if she were the only woman in the room. The woman he had been waiting for.
I do not care how ‘nice’ you are, or how kind you are, or how respectable you are, Lord Luminport. She is not for you.
He observed the ensuing conversation, failing to figure out what they were saying through the movement of their mouths. An animated discussion, undoubtedly, but there was something in Anna’s manner that stood out to Percy. She had retreated into herself again, casting her eyes down, fidgeting with each response she made, generally appearing ill at ease. A world away from how she had behaved with Simon before.
Has he hurt you? Has he upset you?He cursed himself for not paying closer attention the past couple of days. Yet, it was the only reason he could think of for the sudden change in her reaction to Simon.
“If you will excuse me,” he said brusquely to Dickie and Max, making his way through the crowd toward the dazzling woman at the heart of it.
Approaching Anna and Simon, he heard their conversation at last.
“I thought, perhaps, you and your brothers, and your array of friends might like to visit my residence next week, if they are able? There is a new foal that is yet to have a name, and I hoped you might be willing to do the honors,” Simon said, his voice rather tight and anxious, like someone desperately coming up with an excuse.
Anna stared down at the floor. “You would have to ask my brothers. It is a busy summer for them both—countless invitations to countless gatherings and excursions. That is the peril of having such popular siblings; one is always going somewhere and doing something. My friends, too.”
Her words were still witty, but her tone had changed entirely. She was so quiet, so uncertain of herself, so shy despite—orbecauseof—the fact she was wearing such a striking gown, and looked so remarkable.
This is not you, Anna. This is not the woman I know.
Percy walked right up to the pair and bowed his head. “Lady Anna, if your card is not yet full, would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me?”
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but Lady Anna and I are in the midst of something,” Simon said, in a voice that grated with annoyance. “And I had intended to ask her to dance the next set myself.”
Percy shrugged. “That is no concern of mine. You should not have hesitated.” He put out his hand to Anna. “Lady Anna? What do you say?”
“I… do not know,” she replied haltingly, still as quiet as a mouse. He could not bear it. It was not so much like seeing a candle that had been snuffed out, and more like witnessing a summer sky without the sun, or the night without the moon or stars. This was absolutely not the Anna he knew.
He gently took her hand, ignoring Simon’s frown of outrage. “Dance with me, Catchweed.” He offered a small smile, speaking that nickname as if it were something precious and delicate.
A dim ember of light ignited in her eyes. “Very well, Barnacle.” She glanced at Simon. “Apologies, Lord Luminport. I fear it would be discourteous of me to refuse a duke and a friend.”
“Yes, I suppose it would,” Simon relented, dipping his head. “You look beautiful tonight, Lady Anna.”
Her chin dropped to her chest in response. “You are too kind, Lord Luminport.”
Percy pulled her gently toward him and ushered her in the direction of the dance floor, just as the orchestra was fading to a close, ending the previous dance. In that moment, he realized what a terrible idea this was.
He had watched her dance on rare occasions, and she had undoubtedly seen him dance, but they had never danced together before. It was, in essence, the prelude to potential courtship. An act between possible suitors and interested ladies, so why was he standing there with her instead of Lady Joan? Why had Anna not refused him in favor of Simon?
Before he could question it and talk himself out of the dance altogether, the call came for new dancers to take to the floor, and those who were not remaining to depart.
“Well?” Anna said, her eyes wide and worried. “Are we doing this or not?”
With a breath, Percy whispered, “We are,” and led her onto the dance floor.
