do something quick with my hair. I’ll be wearing a hat most of the day anyway.”
With her hair in a simple figure-eight knot, and wearing her white walking dress, Annis hurried down the staircase to the foyer and on to the breakfast room. The three old couples were already there, drinking coffee and chatting. The servants were just setting out the chafing dishes, and Annis saw there was porridge again, with a dish of stewed fruit next to it. She hovered by the table, though a servant frowned at her. When James came in, she dished up some of the porridge, dotted it with stewed fruit, and surreptitiously added the electuary, stirring it into the mix. She dished up a bowl for herself and carried both to the table.
She set his bowl, with its remedy, at his place. He glanced up, and brightened when he saw her. “Oh! Good morning, Miss Allington,” he said. “You look lovely today.”
She set her own porridge at the place nearest to his and sat down, saying, “Come now, James. I thought we were going to use Christian names?”
He blushed a little. “Yes, indeed. I forgot. Annis.”
She gave him a smile she hoped was indulgent. Friendly. “You see, James, I noticed yesterday how much you enjoy porridge. I thought I would have some myself, so I brought it for you as well.”
She was aware that the Hyde-Smiths and the Derbyshires had ceased their conversation and were watching her and James. Their regard made her neck prickle.
James was staring at the porridge before him in evident dismay. His cheeks paled and reddened, and paled again, and when he looked up from the bowl, his eyes showed real distress. “Oh, Miss Allington—that is, Annis—so kind, but—”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t—this is so embarrassing, but—I fear it was the porridge that made me ill yesterday. I can’t risk it happening again.”
“The porridge?” she said faintly. “Do you really think that was it?” She stared helplessly at his bowl, where the spoonfuls of stewed fruit now made swirls of color against the creamy porridge, and her heart sank. The electuary was gone. She couldn’t even protest that it couldn’t have been the porridge, because, in fact, it had.
He cast her a look of pure misery. “I am so sorry, Annis.”
“Oh, James, it doesn’t matter,” she said, although, in cold fact, it mattered such a great deal. “It’s only a bowl of porridge.”
He said, “Perhaps you shouldn’t eat yours, either. In case.”
She managed a shaky smile and pushed her own bowl away. “You’re right. I don’t want to be ill.”
He rose from his chair and signaled to one of the servants to remove the bowls. “Let me get you something else for your breakfast.”
“Of course.”
He paused, standing beside his chair. “And we missed our ride yesterday. Perhaps you would like to ride today?”
Resigned, she smiled more broadly. “I would like that, James. I believe you were going to let me choose my horse from your stables.”
He returned her smile with relief and enthusiasm. “Yes, of course. Yes, just as you like.”
While James was at the sideboard, dishing up eggs and ham for Annis, Frances appeared. She was wearing a day dress of apple-green pique with leg-of-mutton sleeves. Her waist was cinched so tightly Annis wondered how she could breathe. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene of James carrying a plate to Annis and setting it before her.
Everyone had turned to watch Frances’s entrance, and Annis could see the effort it took her to greet them all casually while restraining her triumphant smile.
When Annis looked up at James, the feverish spark in his eyes made her stomach quiver with something like revulsion. She felt sympathy, too, and a distressing sorrow at being the cause of such shameful feelings.
Perhaps Frances had won after all.
It was easy, once she was walking down the freshly groomed aisle of the Rosefield stables, to put aside the problem of Frances. Annis wanted to linger at each stall, to enjoy the pungent scents of these enchanting horses, to touch the sleek hides and feel the muscles beneath. She wanted to choose a mount with spirit and strength, and of course beauty—but all of these horses were beautiful, from the magnificent Seastar down to the aging pony.
James behaved normally enough at first, although he did seize every opportunity to touch her hand or her back. She tried to keep her distance from him without being too obvious about it. Jermyn had once again set out a sidesaddle.