Page 4 of A Virgin to Tempt the Duke

Anna sat very still until his figure disappeared through the inn’s side door. Then she looked at his coat, folded on the seat beside her.

She did not let herself think too much; she had to be quick. Thinking would make her slow, and slowness was a luxury she did not have. Her hands moved on their own, steady into the inner pocket, where she had seen him reach twice during the journey.

A small purse.Thank Heavens.

She took what she could identify as coin by touch without opening it and closed the coat again. That was a start. She smoothed the fold as she had found it and opened the carriage door on the far side, away from the inn. She crept out as quiet as a church mouse, shutting the door behind her.

The yard was loud and crowded with the hustle and bustle of travelers. Despite her dress, no one was watching her. There was a bay horse tied near the water trough, already saddled, its rider presumably inside. She could not believe her luck and crossed the yard in the white silk dress with haste, but she did not run. Running was conspicuous. Knowing this was her only chance, she walked with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly where she was going.

She deftly untied the horse and pressed the coins—all of them, whatever they were; she didn’t stop to count—into the empty space at the trough where he had stood.

Payment. Not theft.

She couldn’t ride sidesaddle in this skirt, so she didn’t try. She gathered the silk tight in both fists, put her foot in the stirrup,and swung up astride as she had as a girl. She pictured herself in the country, her father watching her gallop through the green.

The horse, bless the wonderful creature, moved forward without complaint.

She didn’t look back.

CHAPTER 2

“Please, please open,” Anna muttered under her breath.

The door knocker came down three times, rapid and urgent.

Oh, please be home… You are my only hope…

Anna had ridden hard until the horse began to flag, and then she had walked him into London. When he could go no further, she had left him at a stable yard, hoping the beautiful steed would find his way to his master again. She made the rest of the distance on foot, through back streets where the morning deliveries were still underway.

No one looked twice at a woman with mud on her ivory hem; they were too busy to notice. She had not let herself think about where she was going until she was nearly there.

The knocker wrapped a fourth time, and a butler opened the door to Rathbourne Hall. Anna let go of the breath she was holding and gave a shy smile.

The butler was a man of immense professional composure, and whatever he thought of the white-gowned, road-dirtied young woman on the step, he kept concealed.

“Good Morning. I am Miss Anna Cartwell,” she said, because she would not sayLady Birchall, not yet, not ever if she could help it. “Is Lady Rachel at home? Please. I know it is early, but it is most urgent that I see her.”

Before he could answer, Rachel bounded down the stairs into the foyer. She was still in her dressing gown, her hair half-pinned and her face arranged for mild morning inconvenience.

“Oh, Anna!” She smiled and was across the entrance hall in a flash. She extended her hands and took Anna’s, then she stopped and looked at her, really looked. She took in the dress, the mud, the wrist Anna had been holding carefully against her side since the inn yard. “What in the devil has happened to you? Are you all right?”

“I need to sit down,” Anna said, her voice shaky. “I’m sorry… I know I should have sent word, but there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go?—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Rachel said as she pulled her firmly toward the morning room, her amber eyes sharp and bright. “Come, tell me all that has happened. I will ring for tea.”

A housemaid appeared almost instantly and was dispatched for tea. Anna sat in the nearest chair and let herself stop moving for the first time in hours, and for a moment she could not speak at all.

Rachel sat across from her and waited, which was one of the things Anna had always loved best about her. She was strong, but not pushy. Smart, but never superior. It was such a small thing, patience, but it was one of the things Anna loved best about her.

She had met Rachel the first spring of her debut, and they became fast friends, sharing a love of reading and good humor. When her mother died shortly thereafter, Anna’s cousin gave her a black crepe and a schedule for exactly how long a young lady ought to grieve in the country before she was fit to be seen again. Rachel’s weekly letters were her only respite. She would send news of a particularly hideous bonnet at the milliner’s or a book she had especially loved in her signature cursive hand.

Anna had never had a sister. But if she had been given the choosing of one, she would have chosen Rachel.

“Well, there was a wedding this morning,” Anna said at last. “And would you believe it was mine?” Her voice came out steadier than she expected. “I did not know about it until I woke up. I found the dress waiting for me, and my maid handed me these awful shoes. Jonathan had arranged everything… the license, the church, the carriage… Well, Lord Birchall had the special license three days ago, apparently. Everything was already done before I could take a breath.”

Rachel’s expression had gone very still. “Lord Birchall?”

“Yes. We married this morning.” The words were strange in her mouth, like cotton on her tongue. “At St. Clement’s. I…” She paused, considering her words. “His reputation is not exaggerated. I tried to reason with him… but he made it quite clear what he intends to do with me. He was taking me to his estate.” She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, and pulled her sleeve to cover her wrist. “I took a horse from an inn on the Oxford Road.”