Page 23 of A Virgin to Tempt the Duke

“No notice, my lady.” Simmons permitted himself the faintest elevation of tone that conveyed, without stating, his own position on arrivals without notice. “Her ladyship’s carriage came up the drive approximately ten minutes ago. She is in the entrance hall.”

“Oh dear.” Rachel set down her biscuit, then she looked at Anna with an expression that was somewhere between apologetic and helpless.

“Lady Oldbarrow is Frederick’s godmother,” she said with a shrug, “And, unfortunately, she does not believe in announcing herself.”

“I gathered,” Anna said.

“She is not… Oh, she is wonderful, truly, but she is…”

“Discerning?” Anna offered.

“Extraordinaryis what I was going to say.” Rachel stood and smoothed her skirt. “She will see everything. Immediately. There is no point in…”

She elegantly cut ahead of Simmons, which Anna assumed was how Lady Oldbarrow moved through most spaces. It was not done rudely, but with the air of a woman who had long since established that the world should arrange itself around her arrival. Anna liked her instantly.

She was about sixty years old, wearing her age as a credential rather than a deficit. Her dress was clearly London, her hat Paris, and her eyes were incredibly bright blue and dark all the same, moving over the room. She settled on Rachel first, then on Anna. A pause. Not long. But specific.

Anna knew her. Not well, but they had been in the same rooms perhaps four or five times, the overlapping periphery of London society. It was enough to recognize and be recognized. She could see the recognition in Lady Oldbarrow’s face now, behind the polished composure of it. The rapid, precise assembly of puzzle pieces.

“Rachel, my dear.” Lady Oldbarrow crossed to her and permitted herself to be kissed on the cheek. “You look well. The country agrees with you.” She turned. “And Miss Anna Cartwell. I never forget a face.”

The name, not the other one. Anna noted it, and was grateful. She allowed herself to breathe more steadily.

“Lady Oldbarrow,” Anna curtsied. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Is it? Sit down, both of you. I want tea, and I want to know what is going on in this house.”

“Nothing is—” Rachel began.

“Rachel.” Lady Oldbarrow settled onto the sofa as if taking a throne. “I have known you since before you were born. I recall when you were four years old, you used to hide behind the hall curtains when you didn’t want to go to bed. You have the same expression now that you had then. Sit.”

Frederick came in and stopped just inside the door, taking in the room. His godmother was on the sofa, Rachel beside her, Anna in the chair opposite.

Of all the times to visit, she chose now.

“Frederick.” Lady Oldbarrow did not turn around. “I heard you come in.”

“And I heard you arrive, Godmother.” He came forward and bent to kiss her cheek, which she received as a queen might receive a formal salutation. “No letter. No message.”

“Letters give people the opportunity to prepare,” she said, pleasantly. “I find I get more accurate information without them.” She looked at him. Then she looked at Anna. Then back. “Sit down, Frederick. I believe you have something to tell me.”

He sat. He did not look at Anna, but he was aware of her presence, and he took a breath in. Her violet perfume crossed his nose, and he picked up a teacup, which Simmons had apparently anticipated. It helped.

“Miss Anna Cartwell is staying here… under our protection,” he said plainly, without preamble. “She was coerced into a marriage ten days ago, without her knowledge or consent. The man involved has a reputation for violence. She is here while my attorney pursues an annulment. I have asked the household to keep her presence discreet.”

Lady Oldbarrow listened to all of this without a change of expression. When he had finished, she was quiet for a moment.

“Coerced,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Who arranged it?”

“Her cousin. Viscount Edgeware.” A pause. “And the… Earl of Birchall.”

Something moved across Lady Oldbarrow’s face at the second name. It was a brief, controlled compression of the mouth into a thin line that said she had heard that name in a specific context before.

She looked at Anna, her expression almost soft. “Are you hurt, child?” she asked.