Ana María and the Fox (The Luna Sisters, #1)

by Liana De la Rosa

For the eldest daughters, who work so hard and do so much. I see you. I am you.

But more so than trading in their affluence for anonymity, it was the forced proximity that had proved the most trying for the sisters. For they were not close. Constantly competing for scraps of affection and attention from their father had made them more antagonists than bosom friends, and the long journey had done little to soften the edges of their animosity for one another.

As the studious, bluestocking sister, Isabel had shown herself to be happy only when surrounded by the written word.

For Ana María to willfully disobey her father was the most foreign concept she could imagine. Just the idea of going against his strictly stated orders made her stomach flip.

This proposal their uncle was presenting might be their only chance to experience life on their own terms.

Was he treated as an outsider because he believed himself to be one?

Despite his response to Whitfield, he was treated like an outsider. Oh, he knew he was respected to a degree and had begun to receive invitations to attend all manner of social events. But those things couldn’t erase the stares.

He may be a member of Parliament, but to many, he was still a grasping outsider.

To have an influential, well-connected member of Lords as an ally in this mission was an answer to his prayers. With Montrose adding his support to the cause, suddenly the idea of delivering a death blow to the transatlantic slave trade seemed possible.

“Do you suppose anything outside of Europe is incapable of beauty and culture and art? That only British history, European history, is worth knowing? As if the greatness of the British Empire, the Spanish Empire . . . the Roman Empire . . . weren’t built on the backs of those they stole from. Those they pillaged from, all while they claimed to be civilizing the native people.”

It was an alarming thought that he craved this woman’s approval, and a voice in the back of Gideon’s mind wondered why he cared.

“Well I’m Mexican and will speak Spanish when I feel like it,”

“But,” Gabby continued, “while we’ve agreed to dance to this merry tune of Tío Arturo’s, I refuse to contort myself into an English rose simply to curry favor.”

“Will you be attending the Ralston ball tonight?” Swallowing, she nodded. “I believe we are.” He digested this information for a moment. “Will you save your supper waltz for me?” “I’d be honored to,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “I look forward to it.” His smile was brief but devastating, and she rocked back on her feet at the sight of it. “Until tonight, Miss Luna.”

And from that ungraceful introduction had sprung a truly diverting conversation. In just a handful of minutes, Miss Ana María Luna had proven herself to be clever, witty, and effortlessly charming.

He was here to dance with Miss Luna, and dance he would.

He’d grown used to the colors of the season, yet on Miss Luna, those shades were brighter and more vivid. She was so . . . so . . . alive, and Gideon could not look away.

“No one has tried to converse with us in our home language, and mi corazón hurts to hear it.” Gideon resisted the urge to shift on his feet. “I don’t mean to cause you pain.” Miss Luna’s expression softened. “Pero, you didn’t. Rather you’ve brought me joy.”

A woman’s reputation is a tenuous thing. She could live her entire life virtuously, be held up as an example to follow, and one wrong step will see her tumble from grace.”

That young women are to showcase only the most benign of emotions? If they are amused or delighted by something or someone, their smiles cannot be too broad? If they find something humorous, they best not laugh too loudly?”

Despite being an ocean apart, she had not been able to outrun her father. His judgment followed her still. In the disapproving stares of the dowagers who reigned over the ballroom; in the pinched expressions of young ladies she’d desperately like to befriend.

“Only you two know what we left behind and why. Only you two know the secret we carry and the treasure we guard.”

They were here now, together, and once again Ana María was reminded that no one could stop them from being friends.

And she would keep laughing, because, Dios mío, she had earned that right, and she would not allow anyone to tell her to stop.

Never would she have thought a man quoting an obscure line from Troilus and Cressida would be so attractive.

Miss Effia Assan was the finest investigative journalist in the realm, for all that her detractors liked to comment that she was a woman. But upon their first meeting, Gideon had recognized a kindred spirit; a Black woman making her way in a world determined to squelch her ambitions and remind her of her place every chance it got.

So of course when the elder Miss Luna was spied in conversation with Parliament’s most ambitious and most dour politician, Mr. Gideon Fox, word spread like vellum soaked in alcohol. But it combusted when the gentleman in question smiled . . . showcasing all his teeth! This author didn’t think Mr. Fox capable of such a human emotion, but is happy to have been proven wrong.

“I think it’s good you’ve found yourself in the gossip pages.” “And why is that?” Stansberry raised a shoulder. “It shows you’re human.”

I’ve heard it said that these Mexican heiresses are lovely, and I think it quite nice that you have been conversing with a pretty lady simply for the enjoyment of her conversation.”

Heaven knew that he had to work twice as hard for an ounce of the success he’d earned, because for some of his colleagues, he would always be an overreaching Black man from the East End.

Young women are not allowed to engage in merrymaking, no matter how innocent the fun. Society searches for any excuse to judge them, and friendly smiles or lighthearted laughs are reasons to extract the claws.” “It’s rather unfair, don’t you think, that women are criticized for the very thing men do all the time.”

“Maybe it’s not my responsibility to hold him accountable. I’m to be his wife, not his mother.”

Since their names had been attached together in the paper, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid her.

“And Miss Luna could probably wear any color, although I do prefer this primrose color she’s wearing now.” “She’s not wearing primrose.” Gideon realized his mistake when Whitfield’s lip curved up. Damn it.

She was changing, and she fancied she liked who she was becoming.

“Well, if you must know, I’m certain several members of Parliament have not evolved much past our supposed ape ancestors.” Laughter surged up her throat before she could contain it.

“It stems from fear, doesn’t it? This need for some people to avoid the pursuit of knowledge, to suppress their curiosity, and to ridicule, shame, and threaten those who do. I find it incredibly frustrating—”

And if they aren’t able to stand up to scrutiny, then I should examine why not, and make adjustments accordingly.” “How very scientific of you,” Mr. Fox said with a chuckle.

For the first time in my life, I’m in a position to explore and learn and grow in ways that aren’t dictated to me by others. And part of doing that, in my mind at least, is reconsidering my own personal truths.”

“You’re like a prism, displaying your thoughts and emotions in an array of colorful expressions. I’m sure I could watch you all day.”

Gideon tore his gaze away. It was not his place to tell Miss Luna where she belonged, and it was certainly a flight of fancy to believe she might belong with him.

“It is just unfathomable to me that I’ve managed to hide how much you affect me.”

“Her bronze skin was worn by warriors. By survivors. To bleach it away because of some grotesque beauty standard would be a cruel sin.”

“The English only care about men named Napoleon when they believe he is a threat to them. To Europe. But for his offenses in Mexico, they’ve congratulated him. I’ve been proud to represent Mexico, to speak for the Juárez government here in London, but that article, and dozens of others like it, reminded me that the British see no pride in my role, for Mexico holds no value to them.”

Regardless of what the earl or his lofty guests thought of him, he deserved to be here. Tyrell would not have extended an invitation to him if it weren’t true.

Through hard work and plenty of late nights, he was now in a position where he could purchase another pin. Or two. Perhaps with a jewel. But he didn’t, for this simple gold pin was enough. He was enough.

But when he saw her, she was all he could see.

And when her gaze met his, her pink lips tilting up into a secret smile, his goddamned heart soared. For that shy smile was meant only for him.

refuse to bend to the opinions—the standards—of people who do not know me. Who do not know my past nor have any interest in my future.”

And being with Ana María—in any way he could, even as just her friend—had made his days brighter.