“I would certainly hope not. But I am not in your boots, so I do not know how I should react.”
Percy turned and started toward his horse.
“You are going to see Anna, looking like that?”
Turning back, Percy said, “I will tell her I fell off my horse and seek her sympathy. Does that not always work on a lady’s delicate feelings?”
“You are a scoundrel, Percy Garvey.” But he was concerned and worried about his friend.
* * *
Percy was dressed in his regular day wear. He had not spruced up to call on Anna, because he wanted it to seem as if he was calling to console her not to woo her. The alcohol had mostly worn off and Percy seemed to be no longer intoxicated.
Warrick said he would have to see if Miss Anna was accepting visitors today, and led him to a small parlor with a view of a corner of the formal garden.
“Mr. Percy, you wanted to see my sister?” It was Dorothy, most surprising dressed in black. Not surprising because she was wearing it, considering her loss, but surprising because it so unsuited her usual bright and airy demeanor.
“Might I speak with her?”
“She is currently with Maria. The three of us are in the process of preparing for the after-service reception. She asked if I might help you instead.”
Oh, Maria was here. This unsettled Percy for he did not want her to know that he was calling on Anna. But she would know eventually, in any case.
“I just wanted to pay my respects and see how the two of you were holding up in your time of grief.”
Dorothy looked at him strangely—as though he had come to the wrong house.
“As one might expect,” she said a bit impatiently. “You have been invited to the memorial service, I am certain we shall see you then. However, right now we are engaged and not really receiving visitors at this time. I hope you will excuse us. We do not mean to be rude.”
“I quite understand. Then please give my regards to your sister and tell her I will see her at the service. And forgive my intrusion. But it was only out of the greatest concern for the two of you.”
He was holding his hat in his hands and he bowed slightly as he turned to leave.
“Mr. Percy,” Dorothy said, stopping him. “I am sorry if I seemed abrupt. I know my sister will be grateful of your call. Good day.”
“Good day,” he said, and left—devastated that he would have to face his father and report that he had failed to even see Miss Anna this time. Or would he? His father need not know they had not met. Best to string the old man along with what he wanted to hear, until the time when Percy would propose and be accepted. He did not want to suffer another blow to the head.
Chapter 22
It was late Friday afternoon with just a few hours to go before Harry would take the carriage to visit Miss Fitzwalker for supper. However, as lovely as she was, he was also apprehensive, for her letter hinted that she might be open to more than just a thank you for caring for her after her, supposedly sprained ankle.
His valet was offering him a choice of cravats, but Harry was not paying attention. His mind was still on his conversation with Percy and the revelation that Percy was now actively pursuing his beloved Anna. Why was Anna always on his mind? He knew she had feelings for Percy. Why could he not rejoice that she might find happiness with him?
Firstly, because he knew that Percy really preferred his sister and secondly, because, as hard as he tried, he could not squelch his deep and abiding feelings for her.
“The blue one, Your Lordship?” the valet asked, trying to elicit a decision.
“Oh, yes, that will do fine,” Harry replied.
“But the green one might be better suited,” he said, reexamining the several cravats in his hand.
“Oh, Littleton, I do not care. Either damn one,” he said testily.
“Then the green one, Milord.”
“As you wish. Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“No apology necessary.”