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“Annie, allow me to introduce you to some friends of mine,” Peggy declared as they stopped by a group of young ladies. Annie glanced between the ladies, taking in all of them quickly and making quick summations.
The tallest of the three stood broadly with dark auburn hair and brown eyes so keen that they flitted back and forth, almost as if a fan was fluttering in her hand. Annie suspected she made quick judgments herself, based on the way she looked Annie over. Beside this lady was a much smaller and slender woman, with fine brown hair so thin that a little of her scalp was revealed.
She had a keen smile but seemed rather eager to stand behind the taller friend to prevent being seen. Lastly, the third lady had dark black hair, coiffed exquisitely. The care and attention she showed in shifting her dance card from one wrist to the other was an intimation of the sort of care she took about everything she did.
“Annie, this is Lady Isabelle,” Peggy said, gesturing to the taller lady. “This is Miss Elsie Withers and her sister, Miss May.” She motioned to the lady with dark black hair and then the slender one who was doing her best to hide. “This is Miss Anne Storey.”
“A pleasure,” Miss Withers said quickly. She parted her lips, ready to say something else in greeting, but Lady Isabelle beat her to it.
“I am intrigued to talk to you at last, Miss Storey. All the talking we have done of you, it is about time we had the true story from your own lips. Oh, how funny to have the true story from Miss Storey!” Lady Isabelle laughed at her own words. Annie did not find it so amusing. She merely stared back, trying to keep a calm demeanour, as the other ladies exchanged uncertain glances.
“To what story are you referring?” Annie asked.
“Why, can you be in any doubt of what I am referring to? For shame,” Lady Isabelle exclaimed, laughing once more with a rather dramatic tone. “Would you discard your suitor so soon?”
“What suitor?” Annie asked as she felt Peggy take her arm. It was clearly a subtle way to tell her to remain calm.
“Annie has no suitors at present,” Peggy attempted to help her, but clearly, the suspicion was already there.
“Then we shall have to speak of what we have heard, shall we not, Miss May?” Lady Isabelle said, appealing to the young lady beside her for assistance. Miss May nodded in agreement, but Miss Withers was not so eager.
“Pray, ignore my sister and my friend, Miss Storey,” Miss Withers said quickly. “They are fond of gossip.”
Annie swallowed, feeling a sudden dryness in her throat. These ladies were hardly the only ones at the assembly to be fond of gossip. If they were whispering about her, then it wouldn’t be long before others did too.
“We deal with facts, not tittle-tattle,” Lady Isabelle cried confidently. “We speak of you and Lord Yeatman, Miss Storey. Could it be you are the latest lady to turn his head? Though as a friend, let me offer you a warning. He has turned many ladies’ heads before. Yours will not be the last.” Rather than the words coming off as a warning, they sounded more like a declaration of victory, for she smiled the whole time she spoke.
“You are mistaken,” Annie spoke quickly, glancing at Peggy and rather wondering why she had chosen such friends. Peggy appeared equally aggrieved, chewing her lip. “Lord Yeatman is not my suitor, and my head has not been turned.”
“Oh? But you greet each other like friends,” Miss May spoke up. Her sister at her side tried to shush her with a wave of her hand, but it did little good.
“We said good evening. I would greet any acquaintance of mine with equal politeness. As I would any of you.”
“Then there is no courtship?”
“What? No.” Annie shook her head, startled by how madly people had gossiped within a few minutes of her and Lord Yeatman speaking to each other.
It must be the same with whoever he speaks to. They suspect everyone he meets to be his next target.
“Lord Yeatman is an acquaintance and nothing more. He has not noticed me beyond that, neither have I him, and I have no wish to discuss the matter any further.” Annie had tried to keep her tone polite, despite the harshness of the words.
To her surprise, the ladies responded at once. Lady Isabelle and Miss May exchanged a smile, and Miss Withers looked away as if watching someone approach. Peggy was pulling on Annie’s arm, too, evidently trying to quieten her.
“What is it, Peggy?” Annie asked her just as Peggy tapped her with a closed fan.
“Good evening, ladies.” The sound of Lord Yeatman’s voice had Annie stiffening. It took a second for her to summon the courage to look round at him. He had approached quickly and was holding such a smile that it suggested he had overheard her.
Annie could already feel the blush filling her cheeks, so heated that she feared her cheeks resembled the swollen skin of a tomato. A general murmur of good evenings followed, with Lady Isabelle and Miss May struggling to control their laughter, whilst Miss Withers kept tapping her sister’s arm in reprimand.
“I could not help overhearing the tail end of your conversation, Miss Storey,” Lord Yeatman said. Once again, his willingness for plain speaking made her wish to run from the room. She found herself clutching Peggy’s hand, desiring not to leave her side for a second. “I have to say, despite your declaration, I quite wish to discuss the matter further. Are you engaged for the next dance?”
As Lady Isabelle and Miss May sniggered, Annie glared at him. It didn’t seem to work. Her narrowed eyes only made him smile more. He was clearly teasing her and taking delight in it.
“I am afraid I have a headache,” she said swiftly, hoping to maintain the ruse her mother had suggested to her.
“No matter, a little exercise is certain to dissuade a headache.”
