CHAPTER10

12th November,1812

Throughout her self-imposed exile, Anna avoided conversing with her mother as much as possible and only saw her friend Emily once, for tea.

“I wish you were not hiding away,” Emily said. “Everything is nearly ready for the house party, and it is going to be such a grand time. Are you certain you won’t be coming?”

“If the duke is there…”

“I rather think he will be. He’s back, you know.”

“Back?” Anna had just picked up her cup, but now she returned it to the saucer. Her stomach was most unsettled now, at hearing this.

“Yes. Did not you hear? I thought that perhaps you were staying… Well, he’s been away for several weeks now. Went to visit a friend perhaps or family. Everyone says something different, so I am not certain anyone knows the truth of the matter.” Emily eyed her. “You did not know?”

“No,” Anna murmured. Had Benjamin found a lady to settle down with? Was that why he had gone off? “No one has uncovered the truth of it?”

“No one. I am sure the truth will come out eventually. It always does.”

Anna frowned. “Eventually,” she conceded, “but sometimes gossip comes about first.”

She had not confided in her friend that she knew the identity of Aunt Augusta. Certainly, she did not plan on doing so as it was not her secret to share. Despite this knowledge, she could not help feeling differently about gossip in general. Although it was sometimes lighthearted, it could also be rather cruel and could even ruin reputations.

Still, she found herself wondering at all the possible reasons why the dashing duke might have run away for weeks.

* * *

17th November, 1812

A month after her mother shared her romantic tale, Anna woke from a troubling dream. The duke had fallen gravely ill seconds after he had proposed to her. Try as she might, she had failed to nurse him back to health, and he had died in her arms.

To try to settle herself, Anna left the house to continue her charity work. Outside of this work, Anna had become rather withdrawn, much to her mother’s dismay.

Once the meeting concluded, Anna overheard a familiar name.

“My husband is meeting up with the Duke of Barnet at White’s.”

Anna stilled. Not even bothering to note which lady had unwillingly given her this precious information, she left.

Anna turned to her maid. “Do go on home.”

“But—”

“My mother will not mind. I am going to visit with Emily. She has been pushing me to for weeks now, and I finally feel up to it.”

It took some convincing, and only after she said that the Pembrokes would see her safely home did the maid leave.

Although it was scandalous and something about which the gossips might even write toThe Teatime Tattler, Anna headed toward White’s. Not that she could dare go inside, of course, but the thought of being so forward as to seek him out like this made her flush. She was not at all certain she should be doing this. Perhaps it would be better to actually go and visit Emily after all.

As she debated, the man she was thinking about exited White’s, and she screwed up her nerve to approach him. “It is a lovely day, is not it?”

The duke gave her a distracted smile. “Indeed it is.”

“What’s wrong?”

Unbidden, her dream came to her. Nightmare, really. Here, standing before her, he appeared strong and healthy. His face was a little pale, though. The way he was glancing about as if he did not wish to be seen, struck her as odd.

“I am quite fine,” he insisted.