The Raven Prince (10 page)

After luncheon, however, her luck ran out.

Lord Swartingham had made a short trip into town to consult with the vicar about helping to finance a renovation of the apse. His return was heralded by the front door crashing against the wall.

“MRS. WREN!”

Anna winced at the bellow and the subsequent slamming of the door. The dog by the fire lifted his head.

“Damnation! Where is the woman?”

Anna rolled her eyes. She was in the library where she always could be found. Where did he think she might be?

Heavy-booted feet stomped across the hall; then the earl’s tall form darkened the doorway. “What’s this I hear about an unsuitable refugee at your home, Mrs. Wren? The doctor was at great pains to tell me of your folly.” He stalked over to the rosewood desk and braced his arms in front of her.

Anna lifted her chin and attempted to look down her nose at him, no small feat since he was employing his great height to tower over her. “I found an unfortunate person in need of help, my lord, and, naturally, brought her to my home so that I might nurse her back to health.”

He scowled. “An unfortunate bawd, you mean. Are you insane?”

He was far more angry than she had anticipated. “Her name is Pearl.”

“Oh, fine.” He pushed away from her desk forcefully. “You are on intimate terms with the creature.”

“I only wish to point out that she is a woman, not a creature.”

“Semantics.” The earl waved a dismissive hand. “Have you no care for your reputation?”

“My reputation is hardly the point.”

“Hardly the point?
Hardly the point?
” He swung around violently and began pacing the carpet in front of her desk.

The dog laid back his ears and lowered his head, following his master’s movements with his eyes.

“I wish you wouldn’t parrot my words,” Anna muttered. She could feel a flush creeping up her cheeks, and she wished she could control it. She didn’t want to appear weak before him.

The earl, at the farther end of his track, seemed not to hear her reply. “Your reputation is the only point. You are supposed to be a respectable woman. A slip like this could paint you blacker than a crow.”

Really! Anna straightened at her desk. “Are you questioning my reputation, Lord Swartingham?”

He stopped dead and turned an outraged face toward her. “Don’t be a ninny. Of course I’m not questioning your reputation.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Ha! I—”

But Anna rode over him. “If I am a respectable woman, surely you can trust my good sense.” She could feel her own anger rising, a great pressure inside her head threatening to escape. “As a respectable lady, I consider it my duty to help those less fortunate than I.”

“Don’t use sophistry with me.” He pointed a finger at her from across the room. “Your position in the village will be ruined if you continue this course.”

“I may come into some criticism”—she folded her arms—“but I hardly think I’ll be ruined by an act of Christian charity.”

The earl made an inelegant sound. “The Christians in the village will be the first to pillory you.”

“I—”

“You are extremely vulnerable. A young, attractive widow—”

“Working for a single man,” Anna pointed out sweetly. “Obviously, my virtue is in imminent peril.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but others have.”

“That is exactly what I mean,” he shouted, apparently under the impression that if he bellowed loud enough, it would make his point. “You cannot associate with this woman!”

This was simply too much. Anna’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot associate with her?”

He crossed his arms on his chest. “Exactly—”

“I cannot associate with her?” she repeated over him, this time more loudly.

Lord Swartingham looked wary at her tone. As well he should.

“What of all the men who made her what she is by
associating
with her?” she asked. “No one worries about the reputation of the men who patronize whores.”

“I can’t believe you would speak of such things,” he sputtered in outrage.

The pressure in Anna’s head was gone, replaced by a rush of giddy freedom. “Well, I do speak of such things. And I know men do more than speak of them. Why, a man could visit a harlot regularly—every day of the week, even—and still be perfectly respectable. Whilst the poor girl who has engaged in the very same act as he is deemed soiled goods.”

The earl seemed to have lost the power of speech. He produced a series of snorts.

Anna couldn’t stop the river of words pouring from her mouth. “And I suspect it’s not only the lower classes who patronize such women. I believe men and, indeed,
gentlemen
of quality frequent houses of ill repute.” Anna’s lips trembled uncontrollably. “Indeed, it seems hypocritical for a man to use a whore but not help one when she is in need.” She stopped and blinked rapidly. She would not cry.

The snorts coalesced into a great roar.
“My God, woman!”

“I think I shall go home now,” Anna managed to say just before she ran from the room.

Oh, Lord, what had she done? She’d lost her temper with a man and argued with her employer. And in the process, no doubt, she had destroyed any chance of continuing her work as secretary to the earl.

Chapter Six

The people of the castle danced and shouted with joy. Their enemy had been defeated, and they no longer had anything to fear. But in the midst of their celebration, the raven flew back and landed before the duke. “I have done as I said and destroyed the prince. Give me now my price.”

But which daughter would be his wife? The eldest cried that she would not waste her beauty on a nasty bird. The second said now that the evil prince’s army was defeated, why fulfill the bargain? Only the youngest, Aurea, agreed to uphold her father’s honor. That very night, in what was the strangest ceremony any had witnessed, Aurea was wed to the raven. And as soon as she was pronounced his wife, the raven bade her climb on his back and he flew away with his bride clinging atop him. . . .

—from
The Raven Prince

Edward stared after Anna in baffled rage. What had just happened? When had he lost control of the conversation?

He turned and snatched two china figurines and a snuffbox from the mantelpiece and pelted them at the wall in rapid succession. Each exploded on impact, but it didn’t help. What had gotten into the woman? He had merely pointed out—firmly, to be sure—how unsuitable it was for her to harbor such a person in her own home, and somehow it had blown up in his face.

What the hell had happened?

He strode into the hall where a startled-looking footman was staring out the front door.

“Don’t just stand there, man.” The footman jumped and spun at Edward’s growl. “Run and tell John Coachman to take the carriage after Mrs. Wren. Silly woman’ll probably walk all the way back to the village just to aggravate me.”

“My lord.” The footman bowed and scurried away.

Edward thrust both hands into his hair and pulled hard enough that he felt the hair come undone from his queue.
Women!
Beside him, the dog whined.

Hopple peered around the corner like a mouse popping out of its hole to see if the storm was past. He cleared his throat. “Females are quite unreasonable sometimes, are they not, my lord?”

“Oh, shut up, Hopple.” Edward stomped out of the hall.

T
HE BIRDS HAD
just begun their cheerful cacophony the next morning when the knocking started on the cottage’s front door. At first Anna thought the noise part of a hazy dream, but then her eyes opened blearily and the dream dissipated.

The banging, unfortunately, did not.

Anna crawled out of her pallet and found her sky-blue wrapper. Bundling it about her, she stumbled down the cold stairs barefoot, yawning so widely her jaw creaked. The caller had by this time worked himself into a frenzy. Whoever it was had very little patience. In point of fact, the only person she knew who had such a temper was . . . “Lord Swartingham!”

He had one muscular arm braced against the lintel above her head, the other one raised in preparation for another blow to the door. Hastily he lowered his fisted hand. The dog by his side stood and wagged his tail.

“Mrs. Wren.” He glowered at her. “Haven’t you yet dressed?”

Anna looked down at her wrinkled wrapper and bare toes. “Evidently not, my lord.”

The dog pushed past the earl’s legs and shoved his muzzle into her hand.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because it’s too early to do so?” The dog leaned against Anna as she petted him.

Lord Swartingham scowled at the oblivious hound. “You mug,” he said.

“I beg your pardon!”

The earl turned his scowl on her. “Not you, the dog.”

“Who is it, Anna?” Mother Wren stood on the stairs, peering anxiously down. Fanny hovered in the hall.

“It’s the Earl of Swartingham, Mother,” Anna said as if it were usual for peers to come calling before breakfast. She turned back to him and said more formally, “May I present my mother-in-law, Mrs. Wren. Mother, this is his lordship, Edward de Raaf, the Earl of Swartingham.”

Mother Wren, in a frothy pink wrapper, bobbed a perilous curtsy on the stairs. “How do you do?”

“A pleasure, I’m sure, ma’am,” the man at the door muttered.

“Has he broken his fast yet?” Mother Wren asked Anna.

“I don’t know.” Anna swiveled to Lord Swartingham, whose scarred cheeks were reddening. “Have you broken your fast yet?”

“I . . .” He seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He frowned harder.

“Ask him in, Anna, do,” Mother Wren prompted.

“Won’t you please join us for breakfast, my lord?” Anna inquired sweetly.

The earl nodded. Still frowning, he ducked his head to clear the lintel and stepped inside the cottage.

The elder Mrs. Wren swept down the staircase, fuchsia ribbons fluttering. “I am so glad to meet you, my lord. Fanny, hurry and put the kettle on.”

Fanny squealed and dashed into the kitchen. Mother Wren ushered their guest into the tiny sitting room, and Anna noticed it seemed to shrink in size as he entered it. He sat down gingerly on the only armchair while the ladies took the settee. The dog happily made a circuit of the room, poking his nose into corners until the earl growled at him to sit down.

Mother Wren smiled brightly. “Anna must have been mistaken when she said you’d sacked her.”

“What?” He gripped the arms of his chair.

“She was under the impression that you would no longer have need of a secretary.”

“Mother,” Anna whispered.

“That is what you said, dear.”

The earl’s eyes were intent on Anna. “She was mistaken. She is still my secretary.”

“Oh, how nice!” Mother Wren positively beamed. “She was quite upset last night when she thought she was no longer employed.”

“Mother—”

The older woman leaned forward confidentially as if Anna had disappeared from the room. “Why, her eyes were quite red when she came in from the carriage. I think she may have been weeping.”

“
Mother!
”

Mrs. Wren turned an innocent gaze on her daughter-in-law. “Well, they were, dear.”

“Were they, indeed?” the earl murmured. His own ebony eyes gleamed.

Fortunately, Fanny saved her from making a reply by entering with the breakfast tray. Anna noted with relief that the girl had thought to make coddled eggs and to toast some bread to go with their usual porridge. She’d even found a bit of ham. Anna sent an approving nod to the little maid, who grinned back cheekily.

After the earl had partaken of a truly amazing quantity of coddled eggs—what luck that Fanny had gone to market only yesterday—he rose and thanked Mother Wren for the breakfast. Mother Wren smiled flirtatiously at him, and Anna wondered how long it would be before the whole village heard that they had entertained the Earl of Swartingham in their wrappers.

“Can you dress for riding, Mrs. Wren?” the earl asked Anna. “I have my gelding and Daisy waiting outside.”