Beatrice nodded. “Once, they almost came off, and I had to pretend I had an aversion to the flowers in the room. I spoke through a handkerchief the entire time, pressing those wretched whiskers against my face so they would not give me away. No one was any the wiser. I made one of my finest, and most rewarding, speculations that day.”
“If you are trying to make me feel better, it is… reasonably successful,” Anna admitted, trying to imagine the beautiful countess dressed in a tailcoat and trousers, masquerading as a man. Considering the elegant gown she currently wore, and her radiance, Anna could not do it.
Beatrice squeezed Anna’s hands gently. “I am so very sorry that I misjudged Lord Luminport. I truly thought he was interested in you. He behaved as if he was, and you should know that I do not tolerate deceptive men well.” She smiled. “Icanruin him, if you would like me to?”
“There is no need,” Anna hurried to say, fully believing that her powerful friend could and would if she but said the word. “It was my mistake. I cannot blame him for wanting to pursue Caro instead.”
Beatrice pulled her gently. “Come back into the manor. You do not have to go near the ball, but do not leave now. Stay until tomorrow, when everyone else will be leaving.” She paused. “Do not let them see you run, dearest.”
“You swear I will not have to go into the ballroom again?”
Beatrice smiled. “Not if you do not want to.”
Anna glanced into the darkness, listening out for the sound of the carriage arriving. She did not want to inconvenience anyone, and hoped it was not too late to put the carriage and horses back into the coach house and stalls, respectively.
“I already apprehended your brother,” Beatrice said, chuckling. “He is awaiting your decision in the drawing room, though I suspect he will be relieved to avoid the journey tonight. It will give him—all of us—the opportunity to reduce any damage that might have been done by the unexpected news of your secret life.”
Anna sighed and weaved her arm through Beatrice’s. “What would I do without you?”
“Oh no, my dearest, what would society do without you?” Beatrice patted her hand. “You will survive this; I promise.”
“What of heartbreak?” Anna whispered, following Beatrice into the manor.
Beatrice glanced down at her, eyes gleaming with a bittersweet sorrow. “How severe?”
“I do not know.”
The countess nodded in understanding. “Whether it is a shattering from love or from hope, I will not lie—you will be forever changed, but you will survive it. Indeed, heartbreak is the most vicious of wounds, and takes the longest to heal. But do you know what happens to skin when it scars?”
“It looks odd?”
She chuckled. “No, it becomes stronger.”
“And what if I do not want to be stronger?” Anna replied, for though she was small and thin, and did not look particularly fierce, eight years in society as an unmarriageable had forced her to be very strong indeed. And she was tired of being tough, tired of enduring the constant “one day, it will be your turn,” tired of having no one to rest her head against at the end of the day, tired of looking forward and seeing only solitude and spinsterhood.
Beatrice expelled a soft breath. “I shall let you know when I have the answer to that.”
I felt safe with Percival,Anna realized.I felt, for just a moment, like I did not have to be strong anymore.
But there was nothing to be done about that, just as there was nothing to be done about the spreading gossip. It was all out of her hands. Even the letter she had intended to send to Lady Joan, though she doubted she would have been able to write it anyway. Not until her memory of that sweet kiss faded from her mind altogether, and all thoughts of Percival went with it.
Between that and convincing thetonto trust her, she did not know which would be the more impossible task.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Percy had traveled down many a lonely road, but he could recall none as lonely as this one. He had arrived at the Grayling Estate with Max, Dickie, and Anna, and he had left under the cover of darkness, as quiet and furtive as a thief. To add insult to injury, he had been forced to rely upon Max’s carriage in order to make his departure from the Dennis family’s lives.
As it rattled and juddered along the country roads, he thought back to the day of their arrival, and how Anna had bemoaned the heat in the carriage. She had called them enormous, sweating in the floor-length cloak she had refused to remove.
“It was worth the surprise,” he said to the empty squabs opposite, where she had been sitting that day. “I should have known then that I was in trouble. I should have known eight years ago that I was in trouble.”
He tried to remember her debut, turning his mind all the way back to her first ball, her first entrance into society. He pictured himself, standing with Max and Dickie outside the Assembly Rooms, when she emerged from the carriage, wearing the most excited smile.
“I did not know they made gowns that minuscule,”he had said.“Rather fitting for a church mouse, is it not, Catchweed?”
She had scowled at him, and if his memory served, that wide, excitable smile had not reappeared on her face throughout the entirety of her first ball. Max had danced with her as his official escort, but no other gentleman had asked if she would honor them with a dance. She had been a wallflower before she had even had a chance to be the belle of the ball.
Was it my fault?At every turn, where she had deserved a compliment or a kind word, he had chosen to tease and taunt. Every time he had longed to say something nice, he had been reminded of his father’s scathing admonishment and the dried orchid that he had destroyed.
