She had been reading for an hour or two when the door pushed open and Caro entered, patting back a yawn.
“You’re up awfully early,” murmured Anna as she jotted down a few notes before turning the page of the book.
“I was having trouble sleeping.” Her sister grimaced. “Ugh, my head feels even worse than last night and my stomach is a little queasy.”
“Champagne’s sparkle turns a little flat when one overindulges,” replied Anna, with a tiny smile.
“But it tasted so good.”
“So said Eve about the Serpent’s apple,” she pointed out. “Temptation usually does.”
“Thank you, but wisdom isn’t easy to swallow at this hour in the morning.” Tightening the sash of her wrapper, Caro pushed one of the armchairs closer to the hearth and curled up on the well-worn cushion. “What are you reading?”
“Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Letters from Turkey.” Another turn of the page. “They contain some really fascinating details about the Ottoman Sultan’s court in Constantinople.”
“You’ve already had Emmalina imprisoned in a pasha’s harem in Tripoli.”
“Yes, yes, but Lady Mary also explored the country along the coast, including a fabulous
city of classical ruins at Ephesus. Her descriptions of the towering marble columns silhouetted in the moonlight are quite wonderful.” Anna read aloud a short passage. “She says the Temple of Artemis was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.”
“A midnight chase scene through the stones offers some interesting possibilities,” mused Caro.
“Precisely. I have a few rough ideas taking shape, but they need to be refined.” Plotting her novels was usually a very personal and private process, but on occasion she did find it helpful to talk out ideas with her sisters. This morning, however, aside from the purely practical advantage of stimulating ideas, Anna decided that involving Caro would help assuage the hurt of her thoughtlessly cruel comment from the previous evening.
“Would you care to hear them?” she asked. “I would welcome your suggestions, seeing as my own brain seems to be acting a trifle sluggish.”
Caro’s face lit up.
Anna bit her lip, feeling even more guilty. Caught up in her own moods, her own worries, she had forgotten that this transition from schoolroom to ballroom was still new and perhaps a little daunting for her younger sister. And with all the recent changes to life at High Street—Olivia’s marriage to Lord Wrexham, the myriad alterations in their household routine now that finances were no longer so pinched—Caro and her concerns had been shunted into the shadows.
It was, mused Anna, not easy being the youngest of three very strong-willed siblings. Caro’s penchant for melodrama was…
“Balloons!” exclaimed her sister. “What about a chase that leads up and up through the Temple columns, and then suddenly Count Alessandro swoops down in a hot air balloon to rescue Emmalina from La Chaze.”
“Hmmm. Intriguing.” Anna considered the idea for a moment. “But where has the balloon come from? It’s not exactly something he can conjure up out of thin air.”
“Oh. Right.” Caro scrunched her mouth in thought.
Coals crackled as the burning logs suffused the companionable silence with a mellow warmth. Watching the dancing flames slowly melt the early morning shadows, Anna felt her own mood begin to brighten. It was silly to let thoughts of a hellfire rogue upset her.
“Ah! How about this?” Caro slapped her palms together. “It’s a gift to the Sultan from Napoleon, who is trying to win allies in the Mediterranean. The Sultan’s Janissary Guards have been making a test flight along the coast, to make sure it is safe for His Imperial Highness. And they stopped for the night at the ruins.”
“Perhaps you should give up poetry for prose,” said Anna dryly. “You are showing a frightfully good knack for imagining exuberant adventures.”
“Really?”
“Perhaps I will hand over Sir Sharpe Quill’s pen and travel to Baden-Baden after all.”
Caro laughed, the sound signaling that any hurt feelings were now forgotten. “You would soon become terribly bored. And besides, it’s much more fun to read Emmalina’s exotic adventures than to actually have to sit down and write them.”
“Thank you for reminding me of that fact.” Anna blew out a long sigh. “Let’s pursue this balloon idea…”
The lively discussion was still in full flight when their mother entered the library well after the breakfast hour. “La, I’ve been looking all over for you, girls.” Her eyes narrowed in disapproval as she slanted a look at the massive oak bookcases crammed full of scholarly volumes and arcane manuscripts. “What are you doing in here?”
“Discussing Sir Sharpe Quill’s latest novel,” answered Anna as she quickly hid her notebook in her lap.
Lady Trumbull thought that learning anything other than needlework, sketching, dancing, and perhaps playing the pianoforte was unnatural for a young lady. That the late baron had taught his daughters all about literature, history, science, and philosophy still provoked a litany of bitter recriminations about Things That Discouraged A Gentleman From Making A Marriage Proposal.