Page 4 of Winterset

Anna felt as if she might be sick, right there in front of everyone. Why was Reed coming back here after all this time? And how was she to bear it? She thought of seeing him again, of going to a party and finding him there. It would be impossible.

“I am sure you must be quite excited to hear of it,” Mrs. Bennett said, with a playful smirk. “As I remember, the man danced attendance upon you quite a bit.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Anna protested faintly. “He was a very pleasant man, but I am sure he had no partiality for me.”

The other two women exchanged knowing glances.

“Very prettily said, my dear,” Mrs. Burroughs said approvingly. “Your maidenly reserve becomes you. But there is nothing wrong with attracting a worthy man’s attention.”

“And since you did not have a Season—” Mrs. Bennett rattled on.

“Of course it was very proper, very good of you to remain here and run the household for your father and brother—” the vicar’s wife inserted piously.

“—no one is more deserving than you of catching such a man’s eye,” Mrs. Bennett finished triumphantly.

“You are very kind to say so,” Anna said, putting all the firmness into her voice that she was capable of. “However, I assure you that there was nothing between Lord Moreland and myself but a very brief acquaintance. I imagine he scarcely remembers me.”

That statement, Anna knew, was extremely doubtful. Reed Moreland might not recall her with any kindness, but the son of a duke was unlikely to forget the affront of a woman turning down his offer of marriage.

“One wonders why Lord Moreland is returning after so long,” Dr. Felton commented, and Anna shot him a grateful glance for turning the conversation away from her relationship with Reed.

“He wrote to Mr. Norton that he intended to sell Winterset,” Mrs. Bennett explained. “And he wanted to see what needed to be done to the place to put it in good condition. He instructed Mr. Norton to hire servants and have the house cleaned and made ready for his arrival.”

“Do you…know when he is arriving?” Anna asked.

“Very soon, I would think, my dear,” Mrs. Bennett replied. “The squire said Mr. Norton seemed to think that Lord Moreland was most eager to come here.” She shot a meaningful little glance at Anna.

“It would doubtless be a good thing if he can sell it,” the doctor mused. “It would be much better to have someone living there. Winterset is far too fine a house to stand empty so long.”

“Oh, yes, it is beautiful,” Mrs. Burroughs hastened to agree, adding somewhat hesitantly, “Although it is a trifle odd, don’t you think?” She looked toward Anna apologetically. “I do not mean any offense, my dear. I know it is your ancestors’ house….”

Anna gave her a reassuring smile. “Please. Do not fear it will offend me. Everyone knows that the Lord de Winter who built it was, well, a trifle whimsical.”

“Exactly.” The vicar’s wife nodded, pleased at Anna’s understanding.

“It would be wonderful if someone would live in it,” Mrs. Bennett agreed, her eyes shining at the prospect. “Think of the parties…the balls…. Do you remember that ball Lord Moreland gave when he lived here before? Such a grand turnout.”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Mrs. Burroughs agreed.

Anna said nothing, letting the conversational tide move on without her. She remembered the ball very well. Too well. The memories of it had haunted her for years.

She had looked her best. She had been aware of that. Her hair had been piled on top of her head in one of the intricate styles that her maid Penny was always trying to persuade her to wear, and she had worn a vivid deep blue gown that turned her eyes midnight blue. Her eyes had sparkled; her cheeks had been flushed with excitement. And she had glowed as if lit from within, her emotions turning her attractiveness into beauty.

The Winterset ballroom had positively glittered with lights, and the scent of gardenias had perfumed the air. Anna, knowing that she had told Reed once that gardenias were her favorite flowers, was aware, with a happiness so great she felt as if she were about to burst, that Reed had ordered them as a gift to her. His eyes as he smiled down at her had confirmed that knowledge.

It had been the most wonderful night of her life. She had danced only twice with Reed, the limit that propriety would allow, but those moments in his arms had been heavenly. She would never forget his face as he smiled down at her, his gray eyes warm and tender, the slash of dark eyebrows above them, the planes and hollows of his face as familiar and dear to her as if she had known him always, rather than only one month. The music, the other people, even the words they spoke, had been immaterial; the only important thing had been the way it felt to have his arm around her, her hand in his.

Later, after the midnight supper, he had taken her hand and slipped out onto the terrace with her, evading the countless prying eyes inside. They had strolled down the steps to the garden. The evening had been cool, but the chill had felt pleasant after the heat of the ballroom. As they walked, his hand had clasped hers, and Anna’s pulse had begun to hammer in her throat. He had stopped and turned to face her, and she had looked up at him, knowing what was coming next, wanting it with every fiber of her being.

Then he had bent and kissed her, and she had felt as if something exploded within her. Longing, hunger, a dancing, gibbering joy such as she had never experienced, all surged inside her, tangling and tumbling and racing through every inch of her. She had clung to him, lost to everything but Reed and the pleasure of his lips. And she had known at that moment that she had found the only man in the world for her, the love that would last her lifetime.

Even now, just thinking about it sent a shaft of pain through her chest so swift and hard that she almost gasped. Anna closed her eyes briefly, willing down the anguish that welled up in her all over again. Giving up Reed Moreland had been the hardest thing that she had ever done in her life. It had taken her three long years to reach the point of—well, not happiness, exactly, but at least contentment with her life.

It seemed the cruelest of jokes that Reed should decide to reappear in her life now. She dreaded the thought of what would happen if she saw him again. Would the mere sight of him send all her hard-won peace of mind crashing to the ground?

Anna could feel herself starting to shake inside, and she clenched her fists tightly to control it. She had to get away from here, had to be by herself, where she could reflect without having to worry about what everyone around her would think. Hoping she had stayed long enough to be polite, she inserted herself into the first conversational pause, saying that she must return home to give Kit the latest news.

She set the horse on the road back to Holcomb Manor, but before she reached it, she took the lane to the left that led to Winterset. She drove the trap along the driveway, edged on both sides with limes. Her hands grew looser on the reins, and the horse slowed its pace more and more. There were breaks in the trees where one or more had died and been cut down over the years, and there were shrubs that had grown up closer to the road. But it was still familiar enough to make Anna’s heart ache within her chest. Winterset was their nearest neighbor, but she had not ridden along this drive for three years.