Searching through the house, she remembered Mr. Grey had mentioned going to the library. Regardless of what Miranda had said, Anne wondered if she simply hadn’t given Mr. Grey a fair chance.
Unfortunately, when she arrived, she found the library empty. Although Anne preferred more physical activities than reading, she reluctantly admitted that her unexpected dip in the lake had exhausted her, so perhaps a book might occupy her mind for a while and allow her to regain her strength.
A slim tome sat on a side table, and a lovely pink dahlia rested on top. She lifted the flower and inhaled deeply, the scent faint and a little bitter. Not at all like the sweet fragrance of her favorite—roses. Despite that, it was quite beautiful. Next, she examined the book.Emma. Hadn’t Honoria mentioned that very book toAnne, suggesting she would find the titular character much to her liking?
Who had left the flower on top like a gift?
A fizzle of excitement raced through her as she remembered why she had come to the library in the first place. Had Mr. Grey left this for her? Had Honoria mentioned the book to him and that she believed Anne would enjoy it?
With the flower and book in hand, she settled herself in a comfortable wingback chair. Before she knew it, the story had captivated her, although Mr. Knightley seemed exceptionally judgmental. Each time the nameMr. Knightleyappeared on the page, Anne envisioned the grump, Lord Manning.
“Aunt Anne! There you are!” Indira rushed in and closed the door behind her. “Please help me. We’re playing hide and seek again, and this time I’m the seeker. I hate this game!” She plopped down in the opposite chair and crossed her thin arms over her body.
Anne closed the book. Just as well, as she was beginning to nod off anyway. “And how am I to help?”
“Help me find where they’re hiding.”
“Wouldn’t that be cheating?”
“Not if we don’t tell them. And since you’ve been here before, you know all the good hiding places...” The impish grin on her niece’s face set Anne a bit on edge. What was the child up to?
“Very well.” Anne set the book back on the table and tucked the flower behind her ear. She’d keep that and hope Mr. Grey would notice that she wore it. “But only this once.”
“Let’s look in the ballroom!”
Anne shook her head. “That’s not a likely place to hide. It’s much too open.”
“Please, Aunt Anne.” Something in the girl’s insistence unnerved Anne, but she acquiesced. At least she wouldn’t be bored and thinking about Lord Manning each time she read about Mr. Knightley.
With Indira’s hand in hers, they went to the ballroom. Proving Anne right, the large room provided little opportunity for a person to hide. About to give up and suggest they trysomewhere else, Anne’s attention caught on a spot perfect for a small child to tuck themselves away.
She pointed toward the set of steps leading to a dais where the orchestra would assemble, then put a finger to her lips and whispered, “See the little gap under the stairs?”
Indira nodded, then whispered back, “But no one can see you, or they’ll know you helped me. You have to hide, too.” Indira grabbed Anne’s hand and led her back into the long hallway. “Here.” Still keeping her voice low, Indira pointed to a door much too narrow to be the entrance to a room. “It’s some sort of storage place. I hid in it yesterday before Cassie found me. It’s big enough for you.”
Before Anne knew it, Indira’s small hands pressed against her back and shoved her through the door and into the small room. The door slammed shut behind her, and a softclickfollowed. Darkness engulfed her. She wasn’t terrified of the dark, like a child, but she detested being in cramped places. An irrational fear that she wouldn’t be able to breathe slammed into her, and with her near drowning, she’d had enough of that for one day.
Something in the closet—that wasn’t her—moved! Instantly, her fear of not being able to breathe was replaced by one even greater. Rodents made her skin crawl.
Panic bloomed in her chest, inching up and constricting her throat.Not that, too!Hands pressed against the door, she felt for the doorknob and twisted. Hard. The darn thing wouldn’t budge.
“Indira. Let me out!” A rustling sound came closer, and she pounded on the door.
Thesomethingsnaked around her, brushing against her waist. Terror gripped her. Thesomethinghad climbed up her skirts. It was the last thought she had before everything went black.
Colin should have known better.
When Cassandra had begged him to play their game, he’d given his usual excuse of being busy, but his daughter persisted, her browneyes appealing to his renewed vow to be a better, more present father.
“Busy doing what?” she’d asked.
Failing miserably at finding his daughters a mother. But he couldn’t admit that to her, now could he?
With Lady Miranda no longer available, the only remaining unmarried lady present between the ages of twenty and forty who wasn’t a servant was the elfin menace. And she was out of the question. They’d kill each other in a month.
Resignation that he would have to go to London and face the ordeals of the Marriage Mart had left him in a foul mood.
He needed a diversion. The least he could do was appease his children and play with them.
