"Are you all right?" Sybil's tone suggested she knew perfectly well that Anthea was not all right.
Anthea scoffed. "Perfectly fine. Why would I not be?"
"Because you are currently glaring at Lady Millicent as though she has personally insulted you."
"I am not glaring." But Anthea was glaring. She could feel the tension in her face, the way her hands had clenched at her sides. Gregory was perfectly entitled to walk with whomever he pleased. He had proposed a practical arrangement, and she had not yet given him an answer. If he chose to explore other options while waiting?—
He turned, and his gaze swept across the crowd.
Their eyes met.
For one breathless moment, the animals, the people, the noise, all faded. She saw surprise flash across his features, followed by something else. Something that looked almost like relief.
He raised his hand slightly, a gesture that might have been a wave or an acknowledgment.
Anthea deliberately turned her back on him.
"Oh dear," Sybil murmured.
"I do not wish to speak with him," Anthea said, her voice tight.
"Because he is with another woman?"
"Because I am here with my sister, and I have no desire to be introduced to his—his—" She could not finish the sentence.
"His what?" Sybil prompted gently.
"I do not know! Whatever she is. His alternative option. His emergency plan. His?—"
"Anthea." Veronica touched her arm. "Are you certain you are all right? You seem rather..."
"I am perfectly fine," Anthea lied. She turned determinedly toward the elephant enclosure, willing her heart to slow its frantic pace. "Shall we observe the elephants now? I believe that was your original intention."
But as they walked, she could feel eyes on her back. Could imagine Gregory making his excuses to Lady Millicent Perfect-Bloodline and following them. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he would continue his delightful promenade with the Earl's daughter and forget Anthea had ever been there.
The thought made her furious. Which was irrational. She had no claim on him. They had an arrangement—or rather, they had discussed an arrangement that she still had not agreed to. An arrangement that was practical and sensible and devoid of any emotional entanglement whatsoever.
So why did seeing him with another woman make her want to throw something?
"Look," Veronica said suddenly, her voice taking on a note of genuine interest for the first time that afternoon. "That gentleman is sketching the elephant. How lovely."
Anthea followed her gaze to a man standing slightly apart from the main crowd. He was perhaps thirty, dressed simply but well, with an artist's portfolio balanced against his knee and a piece of charcoal moving swiftly across paper. His entire focus was on the elephant before him, his expression one of complete absorption.
"His technique is quite good," Veronica continued, moving closer almost unconsciously. "See how he captures the texture of the skin? The way the light falls across—oh, I am sorry. I did not mean to interrupt."
The man looked up, and his face transformed with a smile. "Not at all. Are you an artist yourself?"
"I—a little. Nothing of consequence." But Veronica's cheeks had flushed pink, and her voice held more animation than Anthea had heard from her all day.
"Would you like to try?" He pulled a spare piece of paper from his portfolio and offered it along with a piece of charcoal. "I find elephants rather challenging subjects, but perhaps you will have better luck."
"Oh, I could not?—"
"Please. I would enjoy the company. It becomes rather lonely, standing here sketching while everyone else chatters about taxonomy." His eyes held gentle amusement, and he glanced briefly toward where Mr. Thornbury could still be heard holding forth to Sybil about lion subspecies.
Veronica hesitated, then accepted the paper and charcoal with a shy smile. "Thank you. That is very kind."
They bent their heads together over their sketches, falling into companionable silence broken only by occasional quietcomments about shading and proportion. The artist said something that made Veronica laugh—actually laugh, light and genuine—and Anthea felt her chest tighten with relief and something bittersweet.
