Free A Lady of Letters by Andrea Pickens

anonymity. Much as I should enjoy meeting you face to face and pursuing our talks in a much more animated way, I fear that it might mean risking a friendship that has become quite special, at least to me, or altering it in ways that neither of us would care to do. Therefore, I think it best to continue as we have....
     
    A final paragraph followed, then the letter was set aside for the afternoon post. Augusta turned her attention to more mundane things—penning several replies to invitations, copying out a recipe for chillblains for Lady Setterwhite, sending off a report of what she had learned so far back to Mrs. Roberts at Greenfield Manor—before her thoughts came back to pages meant for her friend. She chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pen. It was clear from numerous asides he had let drop that he moved in the highest circles. Also more than apparent was the fact that he possessed a sharp mind and a keen eye for observation. Her lips pursed, then she reached for the last sheet of her letter and added an impulsive postscript.
     
Perhaps I should not so bold as to ask, but there is a matter on which I could use your help....
     

    The last chords of a lively country dance ended with a flourish, leaving the capering couples flushed with a touch of color. Augusta watched Marianne laugh merrily at some whispered remark from her partner, which elicited not only a besotted smile from the favored fellow but a collective sigh from the group of young gentlemen awaiting her return from the dance floor. With such unaffected charm, angelic blond looks and sweet disposition, her sister seemed to inspire a rapturous response from even a number of the jaded bucks of the town. Her hand was quickly claimed for the next set, and already the fellow was staring at her like a bewitched mooncalf.
     
    Augusta's fingers began to trace the subtle pattern of the new brocaded silk gown Marianne had chosen for her as she wondered for a flitting moment what it would be like to inspire passionate emotion in a gentleman. It was a silly thought, she knew, and one hardly likely to come to pass. Even a handsome dowry and influential family could not overcome the aversion men felt toward an outspoken, opinionated female whose bean pole figure and angular face only accentuated how little she resembled the ideal sort of wife. In another moment, her wistful expression changed to one of detached amusement on considering that the only little frisson she was likely to inspire in a member of the opposite sex would be one of immense relief at not having to face a life leg-shackled to an aging antidote.
     
    At least her words, however anonymous, seemed capable of stirring the souls of some people. She would have to be satisfied with that.
     
    "You appear to be contemplating some private joke." Baron Ashford took a seat beside her. "Care to share it?"
     
    "Hmmmm." Augusta pushed her reveries aside. "I doubt you would appreciate the irony of it." On regarding her friend's slightly injured look, she quickly changed the subject. "Who is that dancing with Marianne?"
     
    Never one to stay miffed for long, Ashford abandoned his pout and swept his gaze over the crush on the dance floor. "Oh, that's Ludlowe," he replied after a bit. "Heir to Cranehill's earldom unless the old stallion can produce an heir with his new bride."
     
    "I didn't realize centaurs were allowed to succeed to the title," she murmured dryly. "What next? Gryphons when some old lion takes to wife a harpy?"
     
    Ashford laughed loud enough to attract the basilisk stare of several turbaned matrons sitting close by. "You are still by far the most interesting lady to talk with, Gus. I shall miss it greatly when... " He stopped in some embarrassment.
     
    "When you take a wife?"
     
    His ears turned rather red.
     
    "Well, no doubt there will be other rewards," she murmured, causing his color to deepen to a vivid scarlet. As he struggled to recover his composure, she eyed him thoughtfully. "Who is