Maybe that was the answer.Draw the line.
A knock startled her.With a quick shuffle, she stacked the sketches and slid the newest ones beneath a hastily drawn watercolor of flowers.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Anna rose from her desk.“You may enter.”
She adjusted her skirts as Sallie, her maid, curtsied and entered.“Miss, do you wish to change before receiving your callers?”
Anna glanced at her reflection in the looking glass.She wanted to look her best—especially for Lord Devon.But the dress she wore now matched the shade of Lord Allendale’s eyes far too closely.
With a small shake of her head, she replied, “Yes.I believe I’ll wear the yellow one.”
She walked to the changing room, scanning the row of dresses until her hands brushed the soft muslin fabric of her choice.
“This one.”
“Very well, my lady.”Sallie pulled the gown free and smoothed out any wrinkles.
In short order, Anna changed and was adjusting each seam with her fingers.After a final look in the mirror, she descended the stairs to the parlor.
“Lovely, my dear,” Duchess Kinfield greeted her daughter warmly.“I expect we’ll be just as enthralled with callers as we were last time.And I do believe Lord Devon will make an appearance, don’t you?”Delight danced in her eyes.
Anna glanced down at the carpet.She did expect Lord Devon…and his brother, she added silently.But at least her mother would help navigate the conversational landmines ahead.
Still, it wasn’t her battle to fight.She might be at the center of it, but it wasn’t her Waterloo.
And the more she thought of it, the more it rubbed her the wrong way.
Was this really about her?Or was it a competition?Was she just a prize to be won?
What if it had nothing to do with who she was inside?
The realization struck her hard.If that was the case, she needed to know—for her own self-preservation.She had to determine whether it was abouther… or merely about winning.
“Don’t frown, my love,” the duchess said, gently smoothing the lines between Anna’s brows with a gloved hand.“There’s nothing to fret about.You’re already a sensation.Your father and I expect multiple offers for your hand within the week.”She gave a small smile.“I knew you’d cause a stir, but even this is rather quick.”
She led Anna to a seat in the parlor and rang for tea.Then, with a softer expression, she added, “And, my dear, please understand—your father and I will seek your opinion.I’m grateful my parents took my feelings into account when it was my season, and we’ll certainly do the same for you.”
Anna blinked, startled by the rare vulnerability in her mother’s tone.It wasn’t often the duchess spoke of her own past, and the mention of her own season—her own choice—settled something uneasy in Anna’s chest.She wasn’t alone in this.And though she was still unsure of everything else, that knowledge gave her a breath of comfort.
If she were forced to choose a husband at this moment, Anna fancied she’d select Lord Devon without hesitation.
Yet the thought brought a subtle pinch to her chest.
A whisper of warning.
Perhaps it was because Lord Allendale had told a very different story than his brother.Both accounts couldn’t be true.That meant someone was hiding something.And she couldn’t enter into a marriage—any relationship, really—where honesty wasn’t foundational.
Yet another reason to meet with these gentlemen.To ask questions.To listen.
The tea was brought in, and moments later, the butler entered with the first of the calling cards.Gentlemen trickled in, each vying for her attention.But she noticed the absence of the two she expected.
As the afternoon wore on and suitors began to take their leave, she glanced repeatedly at the clock.
Almost a half hour before visiting hours ended, the butler returned with two new cards.
Her breath caught.
