Stirrings she felt…. But since that day in the drawing room, Grif seemed changed somehow, and no amount of her trying to engage him could move him.
It was not from a wont of trying. Naturally, they continued their lessons because Anna insisted upon it, insisted she hadn’t learned everything she would need to seduce Drake. Grif obliged her, coaching her each day to turn the head of a man.
But he was detached, indifferent, instructing her much as her old tutor, Master Burton, had once instructed her. She’d attempted to lure him by doing all the things he’d taught her, but to no avail. She tried to make him laugh, regaling him with the antics of her family, or her hunting dogs, or, in desperation, the ton. But he’d do nothing more than smile thinly and remind her of their purpose, then continue her lessons.
Yet Anna was not deterred, no matter how dry his response, because something else was happening to her. She could feel the transformation in her, could feel the very core of her turning over like soil, and the rich, multihued part of her coming to the surface. With Grif’s instruction, she could feel the layers of the child and the debutante peeling off, revealing the woman she was inside.
It was an experience that was quite staggering.
Whatever was happening to her was being noticed in drawing rooms around town, too. It seemed as if overnight she had garnered a handful of gentleman suitors, all of them clamoring for her attention. And where Anna once might have frowned, or refused to engage, she now laughed, engaged in discourse, challenged the gentlemen to a game of wits, and enjoyed herself immensely.
The change in her was not lost on Drake, either. He attended her more often than he had before, called on her with equal enthusiasm as he called on Lucy, and made certain promises to Anna that she could not help believing meant that he intended to offer for her.
That pleased her enormously, of course it did. It had been her dream for so long, hadn’t it? And when he finally kissed her, fully and passionately beneath the arbor of her family’s garden, Anna had walked away quite breathless from it… with just one tiny little problem.
Her breathlessness was the direct result of her horror at having discovered he had absolutely no flair for that function whatsoever. The man possessed no art of kissing!
He simply did not inspire her as Grif did with nothing more than a look, and she lay in her bed at Featherstone believing that if Drake were to offer, she’d never in her life be so physically inspired again.
So lost in sorrow at that thought was she that when Lucy came bursting through the door, Anna was badly startled.
Not that Lucy noticed; she flew to the vanity to pinch her cheeks, breathlessly announcing that the Messrs. Lockhart had arrived. “Drake gave the footman a note to be delivered,” she quickly informed Anna. “I saw him do it, and I’m certain it is addressed to me.” She stole a glance at Anna’s reflection in the mirror. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Anna, because it’s quite obvious you hold him in high regard,” she said absently, and leaned in a little to have a closer look at her face. “By the bye, Mr. Fynster-Allen has arrived, as has Northam, although I am at quite a loss why Bette would invite him… and Ardencaple, of course.”
Anna’s heart did a funny little flip in her chest.
A knock at the door earned a squeal from Lucy, as Anna sat up and gained her feet. The door opened; Bette stuck her head through and smiled happily at her sisters. “Might I come in?” She slipped through the door and coyly withdrew a piece of vellum from her pocket. “I have a note,” she said, waving at the two of them as she walked into the room. “From Mr. Lockhart.”
Lucy instantly whirled about on her stool. “I knew it! Give it, please!” she said, her hand out, her smile bright.
Bette laughed. “It’s not for you, Lucy! It’s for Anna,” she said, and handed the note to Anna, beaming as if she’d already sealed a match.
“For Anna?” Lucy repeated, sounding baffled.
“For me?” Anna asked, taking the vellum.
“Is this some sort of jest?” Lucy demanded testily as Anna hastily turned her back and opened the vellum. The note read:
Dearest Anna, forgive me this letter, but I have counted the days since I last laid eyes on your lovely face, and believe I cannot mark the hours until this evening when I might once again gaze upon your beautiful smile. I quite look forward to your company.
Yours faithfully,
Drake
Anna folded the vellum and glanced sheepishly at her sisters.
Bette looked curious, but Lucy looked so hopeful. “What has he written?” she asked, her eyes on the piece of vellum in Anna’s hand.
“Ah…well…it was a private message,” she said uncertainly. “For, ah…for my eyes only, as it were.”