"No," Anna said as she backed away, finally finding her voice and footing. "No, I didn't mean–"
But Charlotte was loud now, drawing attention to the mess. All Anna could do was back away, stuttering apologies. She wished to disappear beneath the floor.
A strong hand on her shoulder steadied her, and her father's voice said, "Terribly sorry, Lady Charlotte. Accidents happen at these events. I'll ensure a new gown is paid for. There's no need to make a fuss."
For a moment, it looked as though Charlotte would continue her tirade, but her own father appeared swiftly. In an exceedingly proper voice, he said, "That would be appreciated, Lord Windham. You know how excitable these girls get."
With that, the interaction came to a diplomatic end. Anna's father led her to the carriage. Their time at the ball had ended because her appearance, her lack of friends, and her uncertain prospects had made her a target.
"There's no need to look so sullen," her father said kindly. "That was nothing more than an accident. Once the dress is replaced, it will be as though it never happened."
"I know. This is not the reason I look contrite," she replied curtly.
Her father sighed and asked, "Then why are you frowning? Were you not enjoying yourself before the accident occurred?"
"I was enjoying myself as much as I usually do. No friends. No prospects…" She shook her head.
"You'll find someone soon," her father promised, his optimism no longer the soothing balm it usually was. "It will happen when the time is right, when you least expect it."
Anna resisted the urge to scoff. Any man who might have been interested in her was very likely already married or doubted that she'd have any child-bearing potential. Perhaps she'd be less skeptical if she'd received more letters from her two friends, but marriage seemed to demand their full attention.
"You just need some sleep, my dear," her father said into the tense silence. "We'll be home soon."
Anna's soft footsteps echoed through her quiet chambers. Wakefulness was a curse, her mind replaying the evening's events. She had done nothing, yet her unbetrothed state had made her the perfect prey.
If I were engaged to be wed, they'd have no ammunition. I'd no longer be an outcast. Perhaps other girls would want to be my friend.
With that thought in mind, an idea started to hatch. If she could invent a suitor, she might solve her problems. So, since sleep evaded her, she began her planning.
The first light of dawn had her dressing and slipping from her home, several sheets of parchment and a quill tucked away. Her destination was the library. She had research to do.
"Good morning, Lady Anna," the librarian, a friendly old man, said when she entered. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Good morning," she replied with a smile that covered the slight nervousness of what she was about to do. "I don't require any assistance at the moment. I'll fetch you if the need arises."
Before he could press, she went to the section filled with information on the Lords of England and the Lairds of Scotland. Her only requirement was that the Lord or Laird was neither well known nor living. She didn't want word to get around to her fake betrothed.
Seems most English Lords will be common knowledge to those I know. Perhaps a laird, then. Not many here concern themselves with the happenings of the Highlands.
It took Anna nearly an hour, but she'd found the perfect man. Laird McDonald, from a small village in Scotland that she was confident no one here was familiar with, was reported as dead. Now, all she had to do was forge a believable letter that would confirm their 'engagement'.
Altering her handwriting, Anna crafted a missive that was both formal and intimate. Anyone who read it would likely believe it was that of a lover anticipating a marriage and the corresponding union.
She rose to leave the library when another thought struck her. Charlotte had a knack for uncovering information. It was best for Anna to leave a trail that could be followed—one that would lend credence to her story if anyone decided to stick their nose into her business.
She put less thought into the letter meant to be from herself. Her handwriting was neat, and the contents of the message were simple. It read as a sincere, chaste excitement for their new engagement. Were anyone to read this, she doubted they'd question its authenticity.
Then, with her head held high and a new confidence in her step, Anna marched to the post office and sent her message. Inside her dress, she concealed her plan. Soon, her lack of prospects would no longer make her a subject of negative gossip.
And, after a bit, I'll stage his death. That will ensure they leave me alone.
CHAPTER TWO
Now for the second step.
Anna pinned her brown hair up, the forged letter tucked inside her bodice. Today, she would find a comfortable space on the promenade path to settle and read the missive. It would plant the seeds of a rumor, and if anyone approached her and asked, she would share.
Nerves clawed at her from the inside. Even though she was sure that her plan would work, something niggled in her mind. There was a weight that settled uneasily on her shoulders.
