Page 22 of The Language of Love

Her aunt had nearly fainted when she’d received the much-prized invitation to the exclusive event, which bore Miriam’s, Susanna’s, and Annis’s names.

“Annis?” Miriam had demanded. “Why is her name on the invitation?”

“Somebody must have misinformed the duchess,” her aunt said.

Miriam had shuddered. “Oh, Mama! What if Her Grace believes Annis is one of us? With her odd looks and even odder ways?”

“Don’t fret my darling, nobody would ever mistake your cousin for one of my daughters.”

Not only was her aunt’s statement correct, but it was also one that Annis was grateful for. Although nature had favored her young cousins well above Annis in looks, she’d never met such fractious, back-biting, jealous women as Miriam, Susanna, and their mama.

If one judged her cousins on appearance alone, they would have found husbands in their first seasons. But even men lured by their beauty and generous dowries balked at the hardness around their full mouths and the acquisitive glints in their gem-like green eyes.

The invitation to the Tinley ball had been cause for glorious celebration for her cousins, but it had been the death knell for Annis’s peace of mind. The past six days had been a relentless orgy of shopping for her cousins and an orgy of fetching, carrying, and stitching for Annis.

“This lounging about will not serve,” her aunt had declared when she’d discovered Annis in her uncle’s library, where she had—of all things—a primer on Mandarin Chinese for an Englishman visiting China.

Annis knew her uncle hadn’t gone any farther than Shropshire, so the book must have belonged to one of her aunt’s relations, who’d made their money from—shhhhh—trade, although nobody ever mentioned that, of course.

Upon hearing her aunt’s voice, Annis had quickly closed the book. “You needed me, Aunt?”

“Yes, it is time we had a little talk, my dear.”

Annis experienced a bolt of fear at her ominous words. “Yes, Aunt?”

“Your uncle may have given you the mistaken impression that he will pay for your Season.”

Annis opened her mouth to demur, but her aunt raised a staying hand. “We will house you, feed you, and clothe you.” Her eyes were critical as they swept Annis’s pale green morning gown, which was out of fashion, but flattering. “In return for this kindness, you will help where we need you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunt.”

“I have some rather good news for you.”

Annis had a sinking feeling. “Yes, Aunt?”

“Mr. Norburg has expressed an interest in you.”

“Mr. Norburg?”

“Don’t be such a dunce, girl! He is the gentleman who came to dinner two nights ago. While he is a man of business, it is banking, and therefore unexceptionable for a girl in your position.”

A girl in my position? You mean a girl who is a blood relative of your husband?

Of course, she said no such thing.

“Mr. Norburg,” Annis repeated. “Is he the white-haired gentleman?”

Her aunt’s mouth puckered so tightly that it reminded Annis of the back end of her grandmother’s pug, an observation she did not share.

“He is not yet fifty, Annis—that is hardly in his dotage.”

Annis did not point out that made him twenty years her senior, but her aunt’s next words made her wonder if she might have spoken aloud.

“You are in no position to quibble, miss. He is a very wealthy gentleman and appears to be taken with you, for some inconceivable reason.” She brushed her hands against each other, as if she’d just completed a dirty and unpleasant task. “Now, onto more important matters. The seamstress has made a terrible muddle of Miriam’s dress and needs a second pair of hands to assist her.” Her aunt’s gimlet eyes rested on the book in Annis’s lap. “You may return your uncle’s book to the shelf and join Mrs. Finch in the attic.”

And then she had swept from the library without waiting for an answer.

Annis had carried out one minor rebellion; instead of returning the book to the shelf, she’d hidden it under the window seat cushion. But beyond that, she’d obeyed her aunt and had stitched and pressed and run errands, even though her uncle’s house held dozens of servants who could have done the same work.