“You plan to read fromMiss Sainsbury ?” Louisa inquired.
“Oh, not me,” Lady Challis said, placing a hand over her heart. “The hostess never takes a role.”
Annabel was quite sure this was not true, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.
“Will you be one of our players, Miss Winslow?” Lady Challis asked. “You have such atheatrical look about you.”
Among other items of which Annabel was quite sure: this was not a compliment. But she agreed to read because, once again, there wasn’t much she could do about it.
“You should ask Mr. Grey to take part,” Louisa suggested.
Annabel determined to kick her later, since she could not reach her at the moment.
“He is a great fan of Mrs. Gorely,” Louisa continued.
“Is he?” Lady Challis murmured.
“He is,” Louisa confirmed. “We discussed our mutual admiration for the author recently.”
“Very well, then,” Lady Challis decided. “It shall be Mr. Grey. And you, too, I think, Lady Louisa.”
“Oh. No.” Louisa blushed furiously, which on Louisa was furious indeed. “I couldn’t. I’m—I’m terrible at such things.”
“No time like the present to practice, don’t you think?”
Annabel had been looking forward to a bit of revenge against her cousin, but even she thought this was too cruel. “Lady Challis, I’m sure we can find someone else who would like to take part. Or perhaps Louisa can be our director!”
“Do you need one?”
“Er, yes. I mean, of course we must. Doesn’t all theater require a director? And what is a reading if not theater?”
“Very well,” Lady Challis said with a dismissive wave. “You may sort it out amongst yourselves. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see what is taking the gentlemen so long.”
“Thank you,” Louisa said, as soon as Lady Challis had departed. “I could never have read in front of everyone.”
“I know,” Annabel said. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to reading fromMiss Sainsbury in front of the entire party, either, but at least she had had some practice at that sort of thing. She and her siblings had frequently performed theatricals and readings at home.
“What section shall we perform?” Louisa asked, thumbing through the book.
“I don’t know. I’m not even halfway through yet. But don’t,” Annabel said sharply, “make me the goat.”
Louisa chuckled at that. “No, no, you shall be Miss Sainsbury, of course. Mr. Grey will be the colonel. Oh dear, we’ll need a narrator. Perhaps Mr. Grey’s cousin?”
“I think it would be much funnier if Mr. Grey played Miss Sainsbury,” Annabel said, all nonchalance.
Louisa gasped. “Annabel, you are evil.”
Annabel shrugged. “I can be the narrator.”
“Oh, no. If you’re going to make Mr. Grey be Miss Sainsbury, you must be the colonel. Mr. Valentine will be the narrator.” Louisa frowned. “Or perhaps we ought to ask Mr. Valentine if he wishes to take part before assigning him a role.”
“I didn’t get a choice,” Annabel reminded her.
Louisa considered that. “True. Very well, let me find an appropriate passage. How long do you suppose the reading ought to be?”
“As short as we can possibly get away with,” Annabel said firmly.
Louisa flipped open her book and then flipped over several pages. “That may be difficult if we’re avoiding the goat.”
“Louisa…” Annabel warned.
“I assume your ban also extends to sheep?”
“To all four-legged creatures.”
Louisa shook her head. “You’re making this very difficult. I have to eliminate all of the shipboard scenes.”
Annabel leaned over her shoulder, murmuring, “I haven’t got to that point yet.”
“Milking goats,” Louisa confirmed.
“What are you ladies looking at?”
Annabel looked up, then melted a bit inside. Sebastian was standing over them, presumably seeing nothing but their bent heads as they pored over the book.
“We will be performing a scene,” she said, with an apologetic smile. “FromMiss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel .”
“Really?” He immediately sat beside them. “Which scene?”
“I’m trying to decide,” Louisa informed him. She looked up. “Oh, by the way, you are Miss Sainsbury.”
He blinked. “Really.”
She made a small motion with her head toward Annabel. “Annabel is the colonel.”
“A little bit backwards, don’t you think?”
“It will be more amusing that way,” Louisa said. “It was Annabel’s idea.”
Sebastian turned the full force of his gaze to Annabel. “Why,” he murmured dryly, “am I not surprised?”
He sat down very close to her. Not touching; he would never be so indiscreet to do so in so public a place. But itfelt as if they were touching. The air between them had grown heated, and her skin began to prick and shiver.
In an instant she was back by the pond, his hands on her skin, his lips everywhere. Her heart began to race, and she really,really wished she’d thought to bring a fan. Or a glass of punch.
“Your cousin shall be the narrator,” Louisa announced, completely oblivious to Annabel’s overheated state.
“Edward?” Sebastian said, sitting back as if he were completely unaffected. “He’ll enjoy that.”
“Really?” Louisa smiled and looked up. “I just need to find the right scene.”
“Something dramatic I hope?”
She nodded. “But Annabel has insisted that we not include the goats.”
Annabel wanted to make a pithy comment, but she hadn’t quite got her breathing under control.
“I don’t know that Lady Challis would appreciate livestock in her drawing room,” Sebastian agreed.
Annabel finally managed to breathe evenly, but the rest of her was feeling very odd. Shivery, as if her limbs were desperate to move, and there was a tightness beginning to coil within her.
“I never even considered a live goat,” Louisa said with a laugh.
“You could try to draft Mr. Hammond-Betts,” Sebastian suggested. “His hairis rather fluffy.”
Annabel tried to focus her eyes on a spot right in front of her. They were talking right over her, about goats , for heaven’s sake, and she felt as if she might burst into flame at any moment. How
