Page 96 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
Anne started to trail after her sister, but Michael held her back. “You remember our conversation this morning. About the issues we need to resolve?”
“Yes?”
He grinned. “I’ve found the solution.”
It took Anne a few seconds to process his words, then she said in a rush, “Truly, Michael? Tell me!”
“It’s perfect. It came to me during my afternoon ride. I always think better out of doors, and, well, the point is, you can go to Canada, Anne. I’ve figured out—”
“Morsley.” Caro’s new husband, Henry Greville, the Viscount Thetford, emerged from the library. Anne bit her lip to hold in the sharp retort she had been on the cusp of uttering. Perhaps Michael would let her borrow the battle-axe from Cranfield House. That might be the only means by which she could club it through his thick skull that she could not go to Canada. If his notion of a solution involved her giving up her charity so he could get everything he wanted…
Lord Thetford pumped Michael’s hand. “It’s deuced good to see you again.” He turned to Anne, bowing over her hand. “I understand congratulations are in order.”
Anne’s two older brothers trailed down the hall after Lord Thetford. Edward herded everyone into the parlor, where they found a gathering that could have taken place at Harrington Hall back in Gloucestershire—Anne’s family, Michael’s father, and Cecilia Chenoweth.
Caro plucked a sheet of paper from the writing desk in the corner. “Have you seen this, Lord Redditch?” she asked. “The Times featured Anne in a cartoon just last week.”
“Do you have it there?” Lord Redditch asked, pulling a pair of spectacles from his pocket and perching them on his nose. “I’ve been wanting to see it.”
“Caro!” Anne said. “Must you pass that around?”
Caro smiled and shook her head. “Modest Anne. If The Times ever printed a cartoon that made me look half that pretty, I would hang it in every room.”
“They called me a virago,” Anne hissed.
Caro made a show of fanning herself. “I know—I almost expired of jealousy!”
Edward strolled over. “You know, Anne, in the original Latin, virago isn’t a disparagement. It shares a root with the word virtus, which refers to the highest set of ideals a man can embody—valor, heroism, and the like. Adding -ago makes it feminine. So virago simply refers to a superior woman, great in courage and character.”
“I don’t think that’s how they meant it,” Anne muttered.
“I do,” Edward said quietly. “I wish you wouldn’t assume otherwise.”
Anne gave Edward a half smile. He really was the best brother anyone could ask for. She was about to tell him as much when Yarwood announced that dinner was served.
Anne wound up seated between Harrington and Michael, which would have been lovely but for the fact that she had been hoping to discretely question Michael about his supposedly brilliant plan for them to move to Canada. Knowing Harrington, not only would he eavesdrop, but he would also announce whatever they said to the whole table.
Anne sighed. Michael had won a reprieve. For now.
Chapter 36
It was a delightful evening in which old friends and neighbors were reunited after far too long apart. Dinner was followed by parlor games, and it was after midnight when Michael and Anne prepared to leave.
The Astley brothers were bickering as they saw their guests out, Harrington basking in the glow of having defeated his older brother at charades. “Don’t feel bad, Edward, just because you sealed your team’s defeat by failing on the last word.”
Edward bristled, his shoulder giving a twitch. “I should like to have seen you enact the word posthumously. I thought I made a creditable effort.”
“I enjoyed watching you die on the carpet again and again, to be sure,” Harrington said.
“You were probably the one to place that word in the bowl,” Edward grumbled.
“Well, of course,” Harrington said.
Her brothers wandered outside with Michael. Anne leaned in to kiss her mother’s cheek but winced slightly when her mother accompanied the gesture with a hug.
It did not escape her mother’s notice. “What is it, Anne?”
“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” Anne said, tugging at her gown. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “My chest has been exquisitely tender all day. I must be about to get my courses, although it’s strange—I’ve never felt close to this sore before.”
