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How dare he treat her so curtly!

Determined not to waste another thought on the infuriating man, Anna opted to try her hand at writing some more. After retrieving the items she had abandoned in her haste to follow the man to whom she was nothing, she sought out another tree. Beneath the tallest one on their land, she sat, enjoying its shade. The garden was nearby. Whenever she stumbled over the words a hero should confess to his lady, she would always stare at the beautiful flowers. Then, somehow, the dialogue would just come to her.

Now, her anger contrasting with the beauty around her, the words flowed, and she wrote swiftly. With care, she described in great detail just how vile and villainous the pirate, who looked remarkably like Lord Pershore.

Suddenly, she heard the thunderous pounding of approaching hooves. She watched, wide-eyed, as the horse reared suddenly. The tall, imposing, impressive figure of Lord Pershore was flung from the horse. The animal let out a loud neigh, stomped his hooves, and took off.

“Oh!” Anna gasped. She shoved her work aside, gathered her skirt in her hands, and hurried over to Lord Pershore’s side. “Are you all right?”

He sat up and brushed dirt from his hands. His clothes were wrinkled and spoiled, and they matched the frown creasing his lips. “I am. Just go about your business.” And he waved her away.

She had knelt beside him but now stood as he climbed to his feet. “I was merely trying—”

“Go on now.” Again, he waved her aside. “I do not need anything from you.”

“Such rudeness!” she fumed before she could stop to think if that was a wise thing to say. In truth, it was not, but it was too late to unsay the phrase.

“Such forwardness,” he countered. He made a show of looking around. “No chaperone that I can see.” He dipped into a low bow. “Leave me be.”

Speechless, she stayed there, rooted to the spot, watching as Lord Pershore walked away in the direction the horse had run. He moved gingerly, and she knew the stubborn man had injured himself, however slightly. Why had not he accepted her aid? Yes, there was no chaperone about, but helping someone in need could hardly be the source of scandal!

Furious with herself and with him, Anna once more gathered her items and returned to the house. She gave her pelisse to a maid and then hid in her bedroom until she heard the clomping of horses’ hooves. From the window, she watched their carriage drive off.

Goodbye.

CHAPTER4

Only a few minutespassed before there was a knock at her door. Anna turned to see her mother frowning slightly. “You did not come to see our guests off.”

“Forgive my rudeness,” Anna said stiffly. “I hope you made excuses for me.”

Her mother harrumphed. “I should not have needed to do so.”

Anna lowered her head. “I am sorry, Mother.”

“Anna.” Her mother took her hands. “Are you all right? You seem a little shaken.”

“I am fine.” She struggled to smile. “With your permission, I would like to go see Emily. We are meeting at the park.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “Very well, but we will speak more about this later.”

* * *

Emily’s mother, a good friend of Anna’s mother, came along to chaperone them. This fact Anna had deliberately kept concealed. Elsewise, her mother would have pressed to come as well, and Anna did not want to talk about the marchioness or her son. Especially the son!

Emily looped her arm through Anna’s. Their chaperone watched from behind them, far enough that they might be able to converse without being overheard.

“Are you certain you won’t come?” Emily asked.

“The house party does sound like a wonderful occasion,” Anna admitted, “and it is for two weeks, and perhaps I am only making excuses…”

“At least the duke will talk to you.” Emily sighed. “Lord Tipton does not even know I breathe. He clearly forgot we met at a ball last month. He does not talk to many ladies either so perhaps I do have a reason to hope. Charity is so much simpler than matters of the heart. You commit an act of good will, and all is done. But a smile, a dance, a fan… it might mean nothing, and yet it might mean everything, too.”

“Scowls mean something else altogether,” Anna said, scowling herself.

“Scowls?” Emily glanced at her, obviously puzzled, as they strolled along the gardens in the park. The weather was not overly chilly, but Anna felt like ice inside.

“Why, just earlier today, Mother invited over a friend and neglected to mention that the friend has a son. A most disagreeable son. Jasper Warwick, the Earl of Pershore. Do you know him?”