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Chapter 13
It had been two days since the night of the dinner at Lady Shrewsbury’s house, and in that time, Annie didn’t think her heart had settled. She kept casting her thoughts back to the dinner. Either she was caught in despair, thinking of the way the Duchess of Bannerman had touched Lord Yeatman’s wrist, or she was thinking of how he had sat beside Annie at cards, flirting with her, talking of books, and letting their arms brush together.
“Annie? Are you well, dear? You seem distracted.”
“Perfectly well, Mama,” Annie lied as she turned her focus on her mother and Mr Knight, who was sat at her side at the circular table.
Where she was today was not helping her distraction. She had come to attend a garden tea party, and at the table from her own was a table with Lord Yeatman and the Duchess of Bannerman. Mr Barton was sat there too, with Peggy close at his side. Annie smiled when she saw how happy Peggy looked before she turned her eyes back to the laughing pair of Lord Yeatman and the Duchess, then Annie’s smile vanished.
“Ahem.” Barbara cleared her throat, urging Annie to flick her eyes back toward the table where she was sat. She busied herself with pouring tea and offering to pour another for Mr Knight, who had scarcely said three words together yet this afternoon.
“Have you done much reading since we last spoke, Mr Knight?” Annie asked, seeing her mother’s warning gaze immediately.
‘One must always try to engage a gentleman in a conversation that is interesting to them.’ Yes, Mama, I know.
“Very much.” He nodded, delving into the cake in front of him with speed. He seemed more interested in the cake than talking at all, leaving Annie waiting for him to say more, but he would say nothing. Annie waited until her mother turned away, talking with another lady at a nearby table before she tried again.
“I finished readingMoll Flanders.I thank you for the recommendation.”
“Did I recommend it to you? I had quite forgotten,” Mr Knight said and stabbed at the cake. Annie sat back in her seat, finding any enthusiasm she had managed to muster at all, for the conversation was waning. Mr Knight was perfectly nice and polite, but in truth, he had less interest in talking to her than he did serving himself another slice of cake.
“Are there any other books you could recommend?” Annie asked, thinking of the book that Lord Yeatman had recommended to her. She had begun it already and knew she would have to hide it beneath her bed again, for it was hardly a book her mother would approve of, not that she cared. There was freedom in reading words her mother considered forbidden.
“Perhaps I should not have recommended something as wild asMoll Flanders,”Mr Knight said, stabbing another chunk of cake with his fork. “It was inappropriate, and I apologise.”
“No, it was not inappropriate at all, but I enjoyed it—”
“Perhaps it is best to read something like Shelley or Byron’s poetry. Something classical.”
“I see.” Annie leaned forward to drink her tea once more. It seemed the one boundary she had managed to take down between her and Mr Knight had been put up again. He had no wish to talk of anything openly with her, not as Lord Yeatman did. With this thought, Annie glanced to the other table, seeing Lord Yeatman laughing so heartily at something that she longed to know what the joke was.
“Let us talk of something else.” Mr Knight cleared his throat, clearly keen to try again at conversation. “What sort of entertainment do you like, Miss Storey? Are you fond of a concert? There is nothing quite like a concert, in my own opinion.”
“I am afraid I prefer the theatre.” Annie brought a false smile back to her lips. “I am fond of a story, more so than music alone, but I would be glad to go to concerts and be more familiar with the form.” Her words were polite but clearly stirred as little interest in Mr Knight as his words had stirred in her. “What of travel, Mr Knight?”
“Travel?” He seemed perplexed by the idea, with his fork hovering halfway in the air.
“Yes, are you fond of travel? Are there any places you have been that you would like to see again?”
“I prefer London. Everything I need is here. Why would I wish to go anywhere else?”
“Well….” Annie paused, wondering how to put it into words so that she would remain polite. “To see beauties of the world. I have a longing to see other cultures, particularly the continent. Does it not interest you? What of the countryside?”
“It has a smell to it.” Mr Knight’s words left her hands limp around the teacup.
I am fighting a losing battle here.
“I find the concept of travel thrilling,” Peggy’s voice wandered toward Annie. She was so thrilled for the interruption she twisted round in her chair at once, greeting her friend, who approached quickly. “One trip, and I think I could be satisfied, just to glimpse a life different to my own. Do you not agree, Annie?”
“Full heartedly.”
Peggy glanced between Annie’s rather desperate look and Mr Knight’s dull expression. She must have been able to read the boredom in the air, for she offered her hand to Annie.
“If I may steal my friend away for a few minutes, Mr Knight, I am longing for a walk in the garden, and I can think of no better company than Annie.”
“Yes, of course,” Mr Knight said, waving them away as he returned his fork to his cake.
Annie eagerly stood to her feet and looped arms with Peggy, wandering off toward the gardens. Lord Shrewsbury’s gardens were fine. Together, he and Lady Shrewsbury had held another grand event, but with more people on this occasion compared to their dinner party, and Annie rather wished she was back at that dinner party so that she did not have to sit beside Mr Knight.
