Free The Headstrong Ward by Jane Ashford Page A

you used to be. We shared a nursery for three years. So you needn’t try to bamboozle me.”
    â€œBamboozle? What does that mean?” She tried the word on her tongue again, and found it good.
    â€œOh, Lord, now they’ll say I’m teaching you slang. You know perfectly well what it means, and you shan’t do it to me.”
    Anne spread her hands. “Edward, I don’t know what you mean.”
    He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “I don’t care what you’re up to, see, as long as you leave me out of it. You can do what you like with Charles and Laurence. Be good for them. But not me. Anyway, you’ll have enough to occupy you with your come-out and finding yourself a…” He shut his mouth with a snap and reddened.
    Anne grinned. “A husband?” she finished.
    Edward scowled. “Not what I was going to say.”
    â€œIndeed it was. And you are right; it will be a great work. But as long as I am about it, perhaps I shall find you a wife as well.” She looked sidelong at him.
    â€œMe?” he gasped. “Good God, no!”
    Anne began to laugh. “Why not? You are older than I, after all.”
    â€œThat’s different. Anne, swear to me that you will not try any such thing—or even think about it. The deuce! I never dreamed—”
    â€œBut, Edward,” she interrupted teasingly, “you might like being married.”
    â€œI should as soon be shipped to the eastern plantations. Sooner! Anne, promise that you will not —”
    â€œIs that Tattersall’s?” asked the girl innocently, pointing to that establishment as they sped past it.
    Cursing, Edward yanked back on the reins, and in the confusion that followed his attempt to turn the phaeton in the crowded street, their conversation lapsed.

Six
    The following morning was to be devoted to social calls. Mariah remained completely engrossed in her “garden,” but Anne and Laurence set out at ten to visit the Branwells and the Castletons. Anne was in high spirits during the short drive, for Charles had informed her at the breakfast table that the Debenham group would attend the first evening party of the season that very night. Not even the prospect of seeing Lydia Branwell again could dampen her enthusiasm. “I wonder if Arabella is going,” she said as they rode. “I can hardly wait to ask her.”
    Laurence, who had by this time heard all about Miss Castleton, was forced to admit ignorance. “Lydia and her mother will be present, I know,” he offered.
    â€œOh. Splendid.”
    â€œThere is to be music, and Lydia is passionately fond of music.”
    â€œI would have predicted that.”
    Laurence smiled. “She is a sensitive creature, is she not? Charles and Edward will never see her true value.”
    â€œWell, I am not yet intimately acquainted with her, but I am sure you are right.”
    â€œYou saw how distressed she was when Cousin Mariah criticized her father. She told me later that she nearly burst into tears.”
    Privately thinking that it had looked more like rage, Anne nodded.
    â€œLydia takes a great deal on herself, you know. Her mother is…not particularly interested in the bishop’s work. Lydia helps him instead; indeed, it has kept her from many of the amusements common to young girls. She is extremely dedicated.”
    â€œWell, I am happy that she is to have a season in London, then. It sounds as if she deserves it.”
    â€œOh, yes. Her father insisted.”
    Laurence sounded slightly dissatisfied, and Anne determined to examine Lydia Branwell carefully this morning. If, as she suspected, the bishop’s daughter was false, she would make a real effort to show Laurence the truth. After that, he could make his own decisions.
    The Branwells had hired a house near Berkeley Square. Anne and Laurence were admitted by a stately butler and taken directly up to the drawing room, where