Harriet slid from her chair and sped around the table. Knuckling one eye dry, she propped her other hand on her waist. “Did you eat him?”
Harri’s red-rimmed gaze cut to Anne’s plate—where she’d covered the empty portion by creatively spreading the remaining pigeon. Anne answered in a whisper. “Of course not, dearest. Did Mama really lose two hundred pounds to you, teaching you whist?”
That had been the story, when Anne arrived home last week, sneaking in through the servants’ entrance near the kitchen and up to her room with haste, before her mother caught sight of the stranger’s coat, the stained dress beneath and the disheveled state of her elder daughter and called for the swooning-water. Or mayhap yelled loud enough to do Mr. Edwards proud.
Hiding his coat at the very bottom of her trunk. Denying to herself how she couldn’t stop thinking of him every time she lifted the lid and delved beneath the other contents to touch the heavy leather, wishing it surrounded her companion from that magical night.
“Actually it was closer to three hundred!” Harriet exclaimed, bringing Anne’s attention back where it belonged. Thankfully, her sister’s eyes had brightened. “Papa laughed in an upwar… Upwarious?”
“Uproarious?” Anne suggested.
“Aye, that. Uproarious manner when I told her I would graciously forgive her debt if I could avoid the nursery tonight.”
Anne chuckled, saw Lady Redford doing the same. Even Anne’s mother appeared to be fighting a smile at the absurdity of it all.
Though, if studied closely, both maternal parents cast anxious glances toward the open doorway, checked timepieces with a frequency bordering on obsession, even closed eyes and—it seemed to Anne—murmured a prayer or two.
So, both mothers fretted over the missing guest? As well they should, given what a huge to-do they had made of everything. What should have been a small, celebratory “welcome home” had turned into a winter party of epical proportions. As to Anne, since she’d already decided to decline the tardy, disrespectful viscount, come what may, she cared naught whether he showed his missing face and form, or whether he celebrated his Yuletide not at all.
Missingthe magnificent meal the mothers had arranged. For did an absent lord deserve such indulgences? The huge goose roasted and carved to perfection and taking up a significant portion of the center of the long table, the rest of it laden with vegetables and breads, desserts waiting just out of sight… Ratafia, port, brandy and other assorted beverages ready for toasting his inconsiderate carcass.
Anne would just as soon toss a few ounces of spirits on the fire, watch the flames flicker high and think of her quiet, firelit night a few days past… Her intriguing companion…the kisses they’d shared…
The kisses shared but not nearly completed—not to her satisfaction.
Did you not promise yourself you would think of him no more?
Yearning blazed through—
“But it’s dreadfully boring. I had no idea.”
While their guests laughingly continued to share tales of befriended table fodder, Harriet had leaned in to speak directly in Anne’s ear, startling her from the indecorous notions never far from her mind.
“Dreadfully boring?” Anne repeated, trying to gather her thoughts back into a sane semblance. “You mean here? With the adults?”
One absent adult in particular whose very presence would have comforted Anne to no end. Isabella, not permitted to attend. Because her father was an arse. Kept her shuttered away as though her blindness was a blight on his reputation. Had Spiderton even checked on Mrs. Timmons? Given her husband so much as a day of rest to mourn his still-born child?
“Yes!” Harriet said loudly. “I said yes! Why are you not attending?”
Because, like you, I surmise, I would rather be anywhere else.
Anne used her arm at Harri’s waist to draw her closer. “Would you rather join the children in the nursery?”
Harri nodded, her gaze slicing to their mother. “Only I want my vowels’ worth. Cannot have Mama thinking she need not pay her debts.”
At that, Anne thankfully laughed outright.
Her vowels’ worth? Just where did her sister pick up these things?
Waving off the governess, who stood several feet behind them waiting to assume responsibility for her charge, Anne’s better humor continued. “Ah… If it’s not seen as horridly neglectful of me,” she said, loud enough that their guests could hear while she focused on first her father and then her mother, “I shall escort Harriet to the nursery and rejoin everyone in the ballroom?”
Her parents traded a look, and then her father gave a nod.
She had put it off yet again—delayed meeting the absent Lord Redford. For there was still the dessert course to be consumed before the rest of the guests relinquished their dining chairs in exchange for the dancing chamber.
Why, at this rate, she might not have to bother with him at all this year. If the scoundrel even dared show his face.
“If you wish…” Once the trio reached the entrance hall, Harriet’s governess spoke to Anne, gesturing up the stairs. “I shall see to Harri from here.”