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between Georgiana and Miss Bennet, to which Mr. Asquith made frequent contributions. Laughing and dispensing advice as he walked behind them, he looked at their drawings and offered suggestions and encouragement. He had behaved in a similarly charming fashion at dinner the night before, not putting himself forward, but showing great sense and amiability that appeared to endear him to all members of the party. Anne was included in everything that was said, then and now, but struggled to respond spontaneously. Spontaneity had never had a place in her life, and she found it hard to adapt. Supposing she expressed an opinion and everyone else disagreed with it or worse…laughed at her? No, it was much safer to remain quiet, concentrate on her drawing and say as little as possible.
    “Your perspective is not quite right, Miss de Bourgh.” Mr. Asquith peered over her shoulder and pointed to the area that was at fault. “If you were to make those trees proportionately smaller, I think it would better serve.”
    Anne tilted her head, but resisted the urge to glance at her companions’ sketches. She was convinced theirs would be better than her effort, but preferred not to discourage herself by confirming the fact. Unlike her mother, she harboured no unrealistic ideas about her talent, such as it was, but she did enjoy sketching enormously and wondered why she had not been persuaded it try it before Mr. Asquith had made the suggestion. She had so often been told she was not well enough to do anything that required the slightest effort for fear of making herself unwell that she had believed it was true. Now she knew better and regretted the lost time.
    “Yes, you are right,” she said, sighing. “I can quite see that now. Perhaps I should start again.”
    “That would be a shame since you have captured the leafy canopy perfectly. Just a few minor adjustments here,” he said pointing, “would set the matter right.”
    She was conscious of the size of Mr. Asquith’s body, of the robust strength and raw masculinity emanating from him as he stood directly behind her and she breathed in the musky aroma she associated exclusively with him. She reacted to him in a manner she had never experienced before. A delicious sensation that made her blush ricocheted through her body. Perhaps it was desire. She had read a very great deal on the subject, but had never thought to experience it first-hand.
    And neither would she, she reminded herself, briskly reapplying herself to her drawing. If her mama even suspected the nature of the thoughts occupying her brain, then Mr. Asquith would be dismissed on the spot without a character, the blame for filling her head with inappropriate thoughts placed squarely at his door. That was a risk she could never take. Ensuring Mr. Asquith retained the employment he clearly needed to survive was the one way in which she could repay him for all the positive changes that had occurred in her life since his arrival at Rosings.
    Part of her was jealous because he treated Georgiana and Miss Bennet in exactly the same friendly, slightly deferential manner he showed towards her. She wanted to scream that he was her tutor, not theirs, but of course she would never reveal her possessive feelings. Besides, she wasn’t surprised he admired them. Georgiana and Miss Bennet were both prettier than she was. They were also livelier and, unlike her, not afraid to express their opinions and laugh at themselves. How dull she must appear by comparison.
    “Ladies, I think we should return to the house,” Mr. Asquith said a short time later as he consulted his pocket watch. “Mrs. Darcy will be expecting us for luncheon.”
    Anne felt ridiculously pleased when Mr. Asquith insisted upon collecting up all her sketching materials and carrying them back to the house for her. Though he provided the same service for the other ladies, he took her things first and sent her one of his most devastating smiles as he did so.
    “It looks