Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,298

earth was that?” her cousin whispered, a flabbergast expression upon her face when they were finally alone.

Casting uneasy glances up and down the thankfully empty corridor, Anne shrugged, then looked at her cousin. “This is what comes from all your meddling.”

Louisa’s eyes widened. “Don’t blame this on me. I−”

“Are you all right?” Leonora asked as she came rushing down the corridor, her green eyes full of concern. “That looked awful.”

Anne swallowed, “It felt awful.”

“Perhaps you simply need more practice,” Louisa suggested in that helpful way of hers.

Anne felt her stomach plummet. “You’re not suggesting that−”

“Of course, practice makes perfect.”

Shocked, mortified and furious, Anne stared at her cousin, uncertain which emotion to express first. “He didn’t even want to kiss me,” she then hissed under her breath, her finger pointing accusingly down the corridor toward the drawing room, the place of her greatest humiliation. “Did you not see his face?”

Leonora nodded, her gaze going back and forth between Anne and her sister. “He looked very tense,” she confirmed. “A bit angry, too.”

Anne swallowed as the magnitude of Louisa’s plan washed over her. “He’s my friend,” she told her, “or at least he was.” She drew in a deep breath. “I cannot lose him over this. I can’t.” She shook her head as panic washed over her. “I need to speak to him.”

The thought of losing Tobias terrified Anne like no other ever had. Always had Tobias been a fixture in her life. Always had she been able to turn to him. Always had he been there. But would he after today?

Closing her eyes, Anne remembered the morning after her mother had passed away. She had been eight years old at the time, and the loss had struck her like a club wielded by a giant. Pain and grief had gripped her in an iron vice, shaking her mercilessly.

She had been Annie then, Little Annie, and she had not known what to do with herself, how to fill that gaping hole in her heart, how to soothe that boiling anger that made her grit her teeth until they'd ached.

Her father had been beside himself as well. He had been no help to her. Neither had her governess or Cook or Mary, the upstairs maid. No one had known what to say. All had avoided meeting her eyes.

And then Toby had found her in the stables, curled up with her kitten in the straw. He'd heard what had happened and he'd pestered his father until Lord Barrington had agreed to take him over to the Thatcher family's small estate.

And then he'd sat with her all day until the sun had gone down on Annie's first day without her mother. Toby had sat with her, his little hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting.

And he'd returned the day after that.

And the day after that.

Toby had helped her with her anger and her grief. He'd told her to yell at her mother for leaving. He'd held her when she'd succumbed to tears. He had urged her outside, made her flip pebbles across the lake and pick flowers in the meadow to place on her mother's grave. He'd thrown apples at her, forcing her to move when despair had threatened to overwhelm her. He'd pushed her in the lake and tickled her until her sides had ached. He'd told her that it was all right to be happy again.

Even without her mother.

Toby had been the one to help her through her mother's loss, the one to help her find peace again. Anne knew she could not have done it without him. She needed him. He was her friend, her best friend. She could not lose him.

Not now.

Not ever.

Blinking away the tears, Anne made to rush back to the drawing room. "I need to speak to him."

“Not now,” Louisa objected, her hand closing over Anne’s arm, holding her back. “You’re not in your right mind now and neither is he.” A hint of regret shone in her blue eyes. “You need to calm down. Come, we’ll take a walk in the gardens before we retire.” She looked at Leonora, who nodded in agreement. “You can speak to him tomorrow.”

Allowing her cousins to pull her along, Anne sighed, “Lord Gillingham invited me to take a stroll through the gardens. If only you hadn’t dragged me away.” She met her cousin’s gaze. “None of this would have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Louisa whispered, and the look in her eyes proved that she was. “I never meant for this to go wrong.”

Anne