And he wanted nothing to do with her.
Unless she needed help. Then she could call on him. Perhaps she ought to find some trouble. What could she do that would require his help?
Magazine Day was in a week. She still wanted to attend, and surely he wouldn’t want her to go alone… Pfft. That didn’t qualify as needing assistance.
“Why are you scowling?” Jane strolled into the morning room where Anne was drinking a cup of coffee. And fixating on Mr. Bowles. What was his first name? She wanted to know, particularly since he knew hers—and had used it.
“My coffee is cold.”
“And that provokes a scowl?” Jane chuckled. “I thought we might go out later.”
“Where?” Anne asked skeptically. Jane had redoubled her efforts to get Anne out of the house, but what was the point when half of Society treated her like a pariah and the other half shook their heads at her in pity?
“Anywhere. The park? Bond Street? Hatchard’s? I know how much you like it there.”
“Pardon me.” Purcell, Anthony’s butler, stepped into the morning room. He inclined his salt-and-pepper head slightly. “Lord Stone is here.”
Anne wasn’t sure if she felt pleased or bothered. She loved her godfather, but he’d become quite interested in meddling with her life since her parents had left town following Gilbert’s arrest, sending countless letters asking after her welfare and how he might provide assistance.
“We’ll meet him in the drawing room,” Jane said. When Purcell left, Jane narrowed her eyes at Anne. “I thought you liked your godfather.”
“I do. Very much.” In some ways, she liked him more than her actual father. And while he was being meddlesome, he at least did so in a way that was less autocratic and awful than their father.
Jane smoothed the turned-up lace trim on the sleeve of her gown. “At least you have someone who cares for your welfare.”
Anne felt instantly contrite. Because of a false rumor started about Jane five years ago, she’d never been successful on the Marriage Mart. And their parents, particularly their father, hadn’t let her forget it.
She shot Jane an apologetic look. “I’m sorry you no longer have godparents.” They’d died several years ago, and there was no point mentioning their parents. They’d all but disowned Jane when she’d declared her spinsterhood, despite the fact that she’d since wed a viscount. Never mind she was also quite deliriously happy.
“Come, let us meet the earl.” Jane preceded Anne from the morning room, and Anne dutifully followed her upstairs to the drawing room.
As they entered the large chamber that overlooked Grosvenor Street below, Stone turned from the windows, a broad smile lighting his blue eyes. His light brown hair formed a widow’s peak, which perhaps contributed to the length of his face, along with the cleft in his chin. He was rather tall and still boasted a fit form, despite being in his early fifties.
“My dear Anne,” he said, looking to Anne before glancing at Jane. “Lady Colton.”
“It’s a pleasure to welcome you, Lord Stone.” Jane gestured toward the seating arrangement near the windows. “Shall we sit?”
Anne went to her godfather and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he embraced her fondly. “How lovely of you to visit.”
“Since you keep declining my invitations to dinner and have not invited me to visit, I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He sat in a chair after Anne and Jane occupied a small settee.
A tremor of unease wended its way through Anne. She hoped he just meant coming to see her but feared it was more than that. “I’m so glad you did.”
“Did you know Sandon is back in town?” the earl asked.
“Yes, Jane mentioned he was at a picnic last week.” Anne hadn’t wanted to accompany her.
“Ah, yes, of course.” He smiled at Jane, then pursed her lips at Anne. “I take it you weren’t there? But of course not. You haven’t gone anywhere. You mustn’t become a hermit, my dear. It only exacerbates the situation.”
And that certainly made her feel better. “The Season is almost over. I don’t think it matters if I go out. Next year will be here soon enough.” Maybe by then, the thought of going to a Society event wouldn’t make her stomach churn.
“Good afternoon,” Anthony said as he entered the drawing room. He stalked straight toward them and nodded toward the earl. “Lord Stone, welcome.” Anthony sat in another chair angled near the settee.
“Afternoon, Colton. I was just telling your sister-in-law that it’s past time she reenter Society. I’d like to host a dinner—nothing too large or overdone. It will be the perfect thing to show everyone that she is still the celebrated young woman who captivated everyone this Season.”
Not everyone. At least not permanently. Why wasn’t Bowles interested in continuing their friendship? Anne told herself to pay attention and stop thinking about him.
Jane looked to her husband. “I don’t know if you recall—or if I ever told you, actually—but Lord Stone is Anne’s godfather.”
“I don’t think I knew that.” Anthony cocked his head to the side. “A dinner would be nice, but it’s summer now, and the Season is almost over. An event at Ivy Grove would be enchanting.”
Why was he encouraging this? Anne narrowed her eyes at her brother-in-law.
He failed to notice. “Perhaps a picnic or a soiree—as you said, nothing overly large.”
Stone nodded. “Capital idea. We’ll celebrate Sandon’s return to London.” He cast a grin toward Anne. “And reintroduce Anne in the meantime. This is a wonderful plan!”
No, it wasn’t. It was terrible. Anne stared pleadingly at Jane, who pressed her lips together in a brief frown and shot a glance at Anthony, who again seemed not to notice.
“I wonder if I might suggest someone for the guest list,” Anthony said. “I’ve recently made the acquaintance of Mr. Bowles, a fascinating
