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

by Liana De la Rosa

“Isn’t it silly, though? 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?” She curled her lip. “Ay, it would be unwise to show too many teeth.”

“I thought that here in London I may be able to breathe. Just a little. That my sisters and I wouldn’t have to measure every step we took or word we uttered. How foolish I was to think such a thing.”

Instead, he had sparked a fire in her she’d obviously battled—and lost—before.

“I would never laugh in public”—he feigned a haughty look—“for it would blemish my reputation.”

“And my future husband is welcome to share his opinion when he’s locked his chain about my finger and his surname around my neck.”

“Despite what you or the other men in my life may think, I am not an idiot. I am perfectly capable of spotting a cad, and even engaging in a conversation with him, without somehow falling prey to his charms.”

Anger simmered on the surface of his skin, pulling it taut, and he wasn’t sure if it stemmed from her stubbornness or the fact that she could never be his . . .

“But like any good game of whist, play continues as long as there are tricks to be played, and I’m not ready to retire.”

Her gaze held his, challenging, resolute . . . but a hint of sadness lurked there as well.

Even if she had run afoul of the matrons this evening or if her reputation managed to remain intact, Ana María Luna was still engaged to be married to another man. Her good name was not his concern.

When she rose, Miss Luna flashed a bland smile—notably devoid of her white teeth, damn it—pivoted, and disappeared into the crowd.

Her smiles had felt artificial, and she wondered if anyone had noticed. Or cared.

Despite being an ocean apart, she had not been able to outrun her father. His judgment followed her still.

Some would find a reason to dislike them and relish in any opportunity to ostracize them, whether it was because they were foreigners or wealthy or attractive or any other excuse the human mind conjured to justify such behavior.

She covered her face with her hands and willed herself not to cry.

Ana María had been anticipating her waltz with Mr. Fox all evening. Since they had talked in the park, she had replayed their interaction, smiling over the memory of his witty words and kind smiles. And if her palms tingled and her heart raced at the idea of being in his arms as they danced around the ballroom, well, she allowed herself the indulgence of that private pleasure.

She had dressed with care that evening, selecting one of her best gowns and styling her hair in a fashion s...

Ana María had nervously awaited Mr. Fox’s arrival. She supposed now that it was those very nerves that had blinded her to the acrid taste of her beverages.

And then he was there, greeting her in halted Spanish, and her heart felt too big for her chest. That he had taken it upon himself to learn a greeting in her language had made her want to grab his face and plant a kiss on his lips.

. . . but the illusion popped as easily as a raindrop in a storm.

“Ana, I know we’ve never been particularly close—” Isabel began. “Father made sure of that,” Gabby added. “But we’re in this together.”

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

Ana María had learned a painful lesson just that night about the merits of trusting new friends.

He could barely keep his eyes off you

“Smiling and laughing are somehow sins? Or are they only when a woman does them?”

“Perhaps Señor Fox thought to warn me because I imagine he knows a bit about being an outsider,” Ana María offered.

Surely her waltz with Mr. Fox was the last time she would ever spend in his arms.

She could feel the tension leave her shoulders, her jaw . . . her mind as she chuckled along with her sisters. When was the last time she had shared in a bit of humor with Isabel and Gabby?

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.

With each new West Africa Squadron report that made its way across his desk, his feeling of helplessness grew. And Gideon despised feeling helpless.

Gideon regretted even more that a man waited for her back in Mexico.

Gideon had watched as she laughed and smiled through several events since their ill-fated waltz, his chest feeling just a bit tight anytime he did.

Did she, too, feel that sting of wistfulness anytime their eyes met?

Miss Luna was engaged to be married, and regardless of her friendliness, Gideon knew she was too honorable to engage a man’s affections when there could be no future between them.

There was nothing earth-shattering about exchanging a glance with a beautiful woman,

And just like a magnet, her gaze was continually dragged back to him throughout the show, and she prayed desperately to la Virgen that her perceptive sisters didn’t notice.

It seemed cruelly appropriate that the first man who’d sparked her interest, the first man she would have chosen for herself rather than being presented to him as some sort of enticement for the sake of her father’s career, had found fault with her.

Fernando’s indifference never stung; Mr. Fox’s was razor-sharp.

“Because when is a story about man against beast ever not sad?”

“Which is why I always cheer for the beast . . . or the woman or the creature that finds itself on the opposing side of such an encounter.”

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

She had made him smile. She had made this bastion of male pride and power smile, and while Ana María knew better than to assign any sort of assumptions to his uncharacteristic grin, it brightened his whole face, morphing his dark beauty into something approachable. Something precious.

And where there was trouble, there was bound to be heartache.

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!

The allure and charm of the Luna sisters, most especially Miss Ana María Luna, must be legendary indeed.

But it was gossip about him. About him and Miss Luna. And they had mentioned him smiling. With teeth.

“I am always right.”

“It’s just . . . well, 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.”

Gideon scoffed. “And how do you know I enjoyed my conversation with her?” “Because you smiled.” Stansberry smiled himself. “I’ve never seen you smile, and I’ve worked for you for almost two years.”