Anna could not have planned the scene better if she had designed it herself. She had driven past the house her friends had informed her of, and had been suitably impressed. So the darling little fool hadn't been so silly after all. He looked as if he was doing rather well, all things considered. And what young rising businessman would hope to make a real match without some kind of family to his name? Anna leaned back against the seats of the carriage, calculating just how damp she should look. Her emeralds were safely tucked away, and her dress was plain although very well-cut, without showing too much decolletage. If one was going to convincingly ask one's longlost beloved son's pardon for the past, it was best to look the part.
Handing the cabby her money, she hopped out and hurried across the street, waving away his concerns about the damp. As much as she detested looking anything less than dry and stunning she rather thought looking a bit damp and disheveled would help the story.
She raised her hand and knocked at the door as she made sure to arrange her features in a softer, more worried countenance. Exactly how a mother who had only just heard word that her son was alive might look...