“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.
THE 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.”