“Lady Shrewsbury, that is a fine gown you are wearing,” Peggy spoke quickly, clearly trying to move on the conversation and rescue Annie from her awkwardness.
“Thank you,” Lady Shrewsbury said, smiling so much that the compliment had evidently meant a lot to her. “I am fond of your gown, too.” As the two exchanged compliments, Annie attempted to return the glass once more to the table beside Lord Yeatman. The moment she put down the glass, he picked it up again, his fingers brushing hers in such a way that she snapped her hand away.
This is not what is supposed to happen. I am supposed to be talking to proper gentlemen with good reputations, not brushing hands with a known rake!
“If I put the glass down again and you pick it up from the table, rather than my hand, would that then make it acceptable to you?” he asked in a whisper so only she could hear him. She narrowed her gaze, rather startled at the game he was playing. He clearly knew that she did not think a great deal of him, and rather than being ashamed of it or trying to hide the fact, he was calling her out for it.
“I am simply not thirsty anymore,” Annie said hurriedly.
“Very well, then tell me this. Who drinks claret because they are thirsty in the first place? It is a drying wine, do you not think?”
His logic irked her all the more. She stared at him, wide-eyed, searching for some retort as he pressed the glass toward her another time.
“Annie, your mother is calling us.” Peggy’s words gave Annie an excuse to look away at last. She glanced across the room to see her mother waving in her direction. Annie could even see in the rather mad way Barbara was waving her fan back and forth that she was scared, clearly worried as to why Annie and Peggy were talking to two such people with scandalous reputations.
“Ah, we must go. It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady, my lord.” Annie curtsied to them both, aware that Lord Yeatman was still smiling.
“You found it a pleasure, did you?” he teased, so quietly that she wasn’t sure she had heard him right. As she stepped away, glancing back to look at him, it was apparent that Peggy hadn’t heard him, for she took Annie’s arm and dragged her away rather quickly.
The two of them hastened across the room, slipping between groups of guests and wandering round the dancers in their attempt to get to Barbara’s side. When they reached her, Annie was unsurprised by the vice-like grip that Barbara took on her wrist and held down by her side, hiding it from the view of others. It didn’t hurt, but it was persistent, meaning that whatever Barbara was about to say, the words would brook no refusal.
“Why in the lord’s name were you two talking to such individuals?” she asked, looking between them. “I say this to protect you both. Miss Grove, you must take heed, as much as my own daughter.” She glanced around them, checking no one else was listening to their conversation. “You may both be expected to marry this Season, but speaking to a man like that and a woman with that sort of reputation will only damn you both.”
Annie looked too, only seeing that everyone else was too interested in their own conversations to take note of theirs. Some ladies fluttered fans in front of their chests, clearly trying to draw focus down to their necklines, and gentlemen had wandering eyes as they talked to ladies. Annie’s gaze drifted further away, until she saw Lady Shrewsbury and Lord Yeatman together.
Lady Shrewsbury was talking animatedly in conversation, but Lord Yeatman was staring straight back at Annie. Feeling those dark eyes upon her, she snatched her gaze away again.
“It was an accident, Lady Maybury,” Peggy hurried to explain. “Lady Shrewsbury bumped into Annie.”
“We extricated ourselves as quickly as possible,” Annie added to the explanation, rather relieved when her mother released her wrist and nodded in understanding.
“Good. I am sure they are perfectly nice people, of course. You know I do not judge others for what is said of them in the scandal sheets.” Barbara’s words made Annie bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Yet one must be careful who we associate with. After all, if others judge them, then they would judge you for associating with them, would they not?”
“Yes, Mama. I understand.” Annie tried to end the conversation quickly. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the discomfort after toppling so many glasses over that she wished to forget such an incident or whether it had something to do with that dark pair of eyes she feared were following her around the room. Either way, she was eager for the conversation to end.
“Good, now come, Annie, Miss Grove. I have people to introduce you to. Friends who I am certain it will help your standing to know.”
As Annie and Peggy followed after Barbara, Peggy had a smile she tried to hide by fluttering her fan in front of her face.
“Why do you smile so?” Annie whispered quietly to her so that Barbara could not hear the two of them.
“I was just wondering how your mother judges what a true friend is,” Peggy whispered back. “Does she judge them on kindness, their conversation, and other such virtues? Or do their virtues merely extend to their title and the vastness of their land?”
Annie failed to hide her own laugh. When Barbara glanced back at them with raised eyebrows in question, Annie cleared her throat.
“Apologies, a frog in my throat,” she explained, to which Barbara hurried off again. Annie and Peggy exchanged another glance before they followed.
Annie soon lost track of how many people she had been introduced to. There were many names, lots of titles, and so many mentions of grand estates that she began to muddle the names of the estates with the names of the people.
“Nightburn? That was the house, dear,” Barbara tutted once Annie had got one of the names wrong again.
“Oh, was it?” Annie asked, feeling her cheeks begin to blush with embarrassment as they extricated themselves from the latest group they had been introduced to.
“Mr Hughburns was the name of the man,” Barbara explained as Annie tried to exchange a pleading look with Peggy, to ask for her help. Yet when Annie glanced behind her, she found Peggy had been absorbed in deep conversation with a man she did not recognise.
“Mama? Who is that?” Annie asked, pulling on her mother’s arm to bring her to a stop. Barbara glanced before nodding with a small smile.
“Clever of Miss Grove to orchestrate an introduction. That is Mr Barton. Mr Adam Barton. No title that I know of, but he has a grand estate in Cornwall. I’ve heard he can be a little wild in manner, but do you not think him handsome?”