The door clicked open. Philip paused, squeezing his eyes shut before he had to climb back into his seat. Could she feel the heat radiating from him as he arched his body over hers? Or was she too young and pure to know the effect she had on him?
The mischievous glint in her eyes told him she was acutely aware of what she had done. With a satisfied smile, she ducked beneath his arm and opened the door. She leaned back inside the coach long enough to bid him goodbye.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good luck,” he replied.
The door closed softly. Philip moved over to sit where she had, his fingers splayed on the bench, his head leaning against the back of the seat in defeat.
There was nothing pure about Anna Walford.
* * *
Anna hugged her knees to her chest at the top of the stairs. Morning light streamed through the windows on either side of her, dappling the sides of her face with warmth. Her pale pink muslin skirt pooled around her on the carpet as she looked morosely down the steps to the entrance hall.
George had arrived half an hour ago to have a chat with her father. That night, she had stayed awake, tossing and turning, trying to convince herself that George would realize his mistake before he could make it and leave well alone. She would come up with a plan to avoid this betrothal that didn’t implicate him—or anyone else—and save herself. So it was a disappointment, but not a surprise, when her cousin arrived that morning ready to confront her father.
Anna rested her head on her knee and squeezed her eyes shut. Every moment since she had been presented to Ashwicken had been worse than the last. With the exception of last night in the carriage, with Philip.
The sound of the heavy study door opening jostled her from her thoughts. She rushed to stand, tilting her head to listen for the strains of an incoming conversation. But the door slammed shut almost immediately, having remained open just long enough for her father to banish George into the corridor.
He appeared at the bottom of the stairs, turning in a semi-circle with his hands on his hips.
“George,” Anna whispered, alerting him to her presence above him.
“I’m sorry. I tried,” he mouthed, putting her out of her misery.
He climbed up the stairs slowly. Anna met him halfway, forcing a thankful expression while her legs threatened to give way.
“He is adamant, Anna, and will not be persuaded to change his mind,” George explained, grabbing the banister tightly. This close, it looked like he hadn’t slept either. “Let us get the lie straight now—I told him that you sent me a note last night in distress, and I divined the rest myself. Your father appeared to believe me. A small mercy, all things considered.”
“I didn’t hope for anything more,” Anna said, leaning against the banister. “You are a kind if not foolish man, cousin. Thank you at least for trying.”
“I did glean a few things about Ashwicken. He is forty-eight, has fathered no children, and his formal title is Viscount Ashwicken. His sister married a marquess and is said to have great influence in society, though I have never crossed paths with her.It seems Ashwicken and Magnus met through a joint venture in wagonways abroad or some such thing. Though, of course, it is all hush-hush.” He sighed. “He is wealthy, that much at least appears to be true. So if there really is nothing we can do to fight this betrothal, you will at least be comfortable when it comes to term.”
“That is all well and good,” Anna said derisively, “but what explains his interest in me? If he is as rich and influential as he is purported to be, could he not secure a wife who would genuinely want him?”
“It is anyone’s guess what has compelled him to ask for your hand. I did try asking Magnus, but he said that Ashwicken was like him—knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth—and left it at that. Do I believe that he wishes to marry you merely because he is looking for a young wife and Uncle had one to give him? Not for a second. There is something more at play. And if I had to guess, it has something to do with their investment. Perhaps Magnus tied up your dowry in it? Who knows?”
“Father has more wealth and, dare I say, more sense than that.” Still, Anna was not convinced that it didn’t involve money in some way. “I shall have to uncover his reasons through other means. Maybe I will find something that will release me from this engagement entirely.”
George looked concerned, staring off into space. Anna took a step closer, pulling on the sleeve of his coat to get his attention.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I fear you won’t have long to find the advantage you’re seeking,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Your father intends to announce the betrothal at the Ratley ball next week.”
“That’s not possible. He would not do that, not without?—”
“Not without consulting you?” George interrupted, looking behind him to make sure that no servant was eavesdropping. “Of course, he would. That was the point. He intended to hide it from you. The sooner he announces the engagement, the sooner you are forced to accept it. He and Ashwicken will not consider your refusal an obstacle to their plans. They mean to proceed at their own pace.”
Anna’s heart sank to her stomach. The banister pressed painfully into her back as she sought purchase against something solid.One week. She had one week left until she was forced to become someone’s wife.
“I am so sorry,” George sighed, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “I knew better than to trust your father would do right by you, and yet?—”
He cut himself off. They had both been fooled. “It is not too late. I could take you somewhere safe. We could exile ourselves to the continent. I would protect you.”
“You know I would never allow you to make that sacrifice,” Anna said, squeezing his hand back. “You love England. You love your life here. And you still have to find a wife.”
