Anna glanced down at her hands, which had been mindlessly pinching the seam of her skirt.
She relaxed her fingers, gave them a stretch, and released a slow breath.“Apologies.”
“Remember, they are here to impress you.While I know you wish to make an impression yourself, you hold more power in this situation than you think.Odd as it may seem, you do.Use it.Calm yourself with the knowledge of it.”
Anna turned to her mother.“In what way—”
Her inquiry was cut off as the door to the parlor opened and the butler entered, silver tray in hand.He approached her mother and presented the calling cards.Anna leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the names, but only one truly registered.
And if she were honest, it was the only name that mattered.
Lord Edwin Rosewood, Earl of Devon.
She bit back a smile, heart quickening, and waited expectantly for the earl to darken the parlor door.
“Don’t appear too eager,” her mother whispered.“Here, take this.”
She handed Anna a book.Gratefully accepting the distraction, Anna flipped it open somewhere in the middle, thankful to have something in her hands besides the temptation of her skirt seam.Her brow furrowed at the chapter heading.
Blessed are the poor in spirit…
Blinking, she closed the book just enough to glimpse the title.
Fordyce’s Sermons.
She turned to her mother, about to ask why on earth—no pun intended—she had been handed a book of sermons.
But the butler reappeared before she could utter a word, leading three gentlemen into the parlor.Setting the book aside, Anna stood, her gaze immediately falling on Lord Devon.His tall frame bowed low in greeting, obscuring his expression.
She glanced to the other two gentlemen and offered a welcoming smile.
“Lord Highglen and Lord Voxly,” her mother said.“And Lord Devon.”
Anna caught her mother’s pointed glance toward the tea service.
“May I offer you gentlemen tea?”Anna asked.
Her gaze flicked from the teapot to Lord Devon.Her skin flushed as she caught his grin—a single dimple flashing—and oh, dear Lord, no wonder she couldn’t look away.His eyes met hers, held, and then he nodded, glancing away almost shyly.
“Yes, please, Lady Anna.”
She resisted the urge to sigh at the deep timbre of his voice.“Cream, sugar?”she asked, turning her attention to the tea service.She dared not look up for fear she’d spill everything.
“No, thank you.”
She nodded and kept her focus on the teacup.Her mother’s voice followed.
“Please, have a seat, gentlemen.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Anna noted the men taking their places.Belatedly, she looked up.
“Lord Voxly, Lord Highglen, would you care for tea as well?”she asked, doing her best to appear warm and gracious—and not like she’d just forgotten they existed.
“Of course—two sugars, Lady Anna,” Lord Voxly said.
“Only cream for me, please,” Lord Highglen added.
As Anna poured the tea, the weight of the moment settled around her.How many times had she poured tea before—practicing for this very scene?For the day it would matter?
