Winterset by Candace Camp

in a fall of ringlets from a knot at the crown of her head, with soft curls escaping around her face. She did look her best, she was pleased to think, and she hoped it was not terrible of her to hope that when he looked at her, Reed would think that she was as pretty as she had been three years ago.
    Not, of course, she reminded herself, that she wanted anything to come of it. She did not. That part of her life was over, and it was best that way. But surely there was not so much wrong with just a little vanity on her part.
    She smiled at her brother as he helped her up into their carriage, her stomach tightening with anticipation. Kit looked equally eager, she thought, and she wondered if his anticipation centered around the lovely Miss Farrington. The thought worried her a trifle. Kit, of course, was both realistic and dutiful; he would not do anything he should not. But that did not mean that his heart might not get bruised. However, she said nothing, not wanting to cast a pall over their first evening out in weeks. In general, she loved the country and her life there, but at times the quiet life could be almost stifling.
    Winterset was ablaze with lights as their carriage approached, following a few yards behind the doctor’s one-horse rig. A footman opened the door and ushered them into the large drawing room, where Lady Kyria and her brother and husband stood in line to receive them. Lady Kyria was a vision in emerald green, but it was to Reed that Anna’s eyes went first. He wore formal black and white, with the only spot of color a tasteful blood-red ruby tie pin nestled in his snowy cravat, but he was easily the handsomest man there, Anna thought.
    Her pulse speeded up, and it occurred to her suddenly that it had been a definite mistake on her part to come. She was playing with fire, she realized, wanting to come here tonight to see Reed again, wanting him to see her. The flash of silver in his eyes as they fell on her confirmed that. It was not Kit whose heart she should be worried about endangering, it was her own.
    She looked quickly away from Reed, smiling at Kyria and murmuring a polite greeting. But then there was no avoiding him, for he stood next in line and took her hand smoothly from his sister, bowing over it.
    “Miss Holcomb, a pleasure to see you again. I hope I am not forward in saying that you are a vision tonight.”
    Anna could feel a blush starting in her cheeks, and she was suddenly hopelessly tongue-tied. “Thank you, my lord,” she replied faintly, not looking into his eyes. “It is so kind of you to have us in your home. I believe you know my brother Kit?” she hurried on, turning to include her brother.
    “Yes. Sir Christopher, of course.” Reed released her hand, turning toward her brother, but Anna could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers against hers.
    For once in her life, she was glad for the distraction of the squire’s wife, who bustled up to her, her gray curls fairly quivering with excitement. “Anna, there you are. Poor Miles was afraid you would not come. He’s been wanting so to dance with you—and while it is not a ball, per se, I don’t doubt but what Lady Kyria will let you young folks have a few dances. She’s hired a string quartet, you see. So elegant.”
    Anna smiled and nodded, letting the woman lead her toward the rest of her family. She had her doubts that Mrs. Bennett’s son Miles had expressed any longing to dance with her; that was simply the sort of foolish thing Mrs. Bennett liked to say. While Mrs. Bennett did not cherish any hopes regarding her son and Anna—or, at least, Anna sincerely hoped she did not, since the boy was barely twenty-one to her own twenty-six years—as she did with Kit and her daughter, she liked to link the members of their family in any way possible, feeling, Anna thought, that it gave her the same social status.
    The squire was standing with their daughter Felicity, and Miles lounged against the mantel a few feet away