Page 30 of A Lady's Curves
“It’s nothing.” I walk to the library and open the letter.
Ann,
I was more than a little surprised when a gentleman came to ask for your hand. I should have thought you long on the shelf. By my calculations, you are nearly thirty years of age. You probably regret your terrible decisions all those years ago and now wish you had listened to your father as any obedient daughter should do.
While my instinct was to tell the Earl of Kendall he was forbidden to marry you, he outranks me, and I gave my blessing. You should know that I believe you shouldn’t marry an upstanding man. You have no right to such an elevated position in the ton.
Your mother is pleased for you. Perhaps that is enough.
Baronet, Niles Wittman
Gripping the paper in my fist, I walk out of the house to the lawn where people have already begun to assemble.
I scan the crowd. Local gentry in their bright colors mix with farmers in their Sunday best. Every table and tent is draped with pink and yellow fabric.
As festive as it all looks, my rage negates any pleasure.
Oscar stands at the center of everything, talking to the local magistrate. When he spots me, his expression brightens andfalls in the span of an instant. He excuses himself and strides in my direction.
My bravado falters. I turn and walk as fast as I can toward the house. I don’t know when I became such a coward, but it’s time to go home. I’ll pack and leave. It will be painless.
“Ann?” Oscar’s raised voice is closer than I expect.
I stop just inside the garden’s tall shrubs and face him. “My lord.”
“What is wrong? You look as if you’re… Actually, I’ve never seen you look this way. Are you angry?” He reaches for me.
I back away. The first tear finds its way to my cheek. “Don’t think I’m crying because I’m sad. It is the rage that feeds my tears.” I thrust the letter at him. “How dare you go to him.”
He uncrumples the letter, looks at the page, and his jaw ticks. His eyes widen and his back stiffens. “I didn’t realize.”
The magistrate from the crowded lawn appears. “My lord, we cannot begin without you.”
“Ann we will talk about this, but we have guests.” He holds out his hand to me.
Tightening my fisted hands, I say, “No, my lord, you have guests. There is nothing to talk about.”
Chapter Twelve
Oscar
More than an hour has passed by the time I can finally make my way back to the house. The foyer is empty, as is the rest of the house. Everyone is outside enjoying the day, a day that wouldn’t have happened without Ann.
My hope to find her in the parlor or library is dashed, so I climb the stairs two at a time and go to her bedroom. I knock.
“I’m not feeling well. Go enjoy the party.” There’s a tightness in her voice that’s out of character.
“May I come in, Ann?” I lean on the doorjamb with my heart in my throat.
She pulls the door open. “I don’t want to see you. Go back to your guests.” Her trunk is open in front of the bed and her dresses are spread out for packing.
“Are you leaving?” I fail to keep the panic from my voice.
She slumps into the chair by the fireplace. “I was always going to leave, my lord. I have left the names and credentials ofthe final two candidates for steward on your desk. You will meet with them next week and pick one. I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to Scotland.”
Oddly, that is not true. I like this house and the people in this area. The memories of my youth and my desire to be secluded kept me away. Now I see what I’ve been missing. However, if Ann is not here, then that may change. “I had no idea your father would write such a letter. I only wanted to do the right thing and to do it properly.”
Head in her hand, she gazes at me. “My father has been finding fault in me all my life. The trouble, you see, is that I am not a man. Had I been born male, I’m sure he would have been a decent parent. As it was, I was flawed from the start and then dared to have a mind and will of my own.”
