“Your father,” wheezed Janet through another paroxysm of coughing.
The words hardly registered as she watched Janet’s lips turning blue. Her coughing getting worse.
Lifting the box off her lap. Annis eased her back against the pillows.
Janet struggled for breath, exhausted by the coughing.
“Good girl...” she murmured tiredly. “You’re my good girl, Annis. He would be proud of you.” Her voice was a thread and Annis had to strain to hear the words. “Who’d have thought little Janet Pringle and a lord’s son...” She sighed, her eyes closing. Her grip on Annis’s hand loosened, and she sighed again. Her breathing shallow and stuttering.
Annis gripped her hand again, trying to find the meaning behind her words. Was she... “Mama?” Was that what her words meant?
“Yes, sweetheart . . .” murmured Janet. “So sorry . . .”
Annis gulped on a sob. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“So sorry...” repeated Janet tiredly. She roused with an effort, and gripping Annis hand weakly, she said with as much force as she could muster, “I did everything I could to keep you safe. You must tell no one! You understand? It’s not safe. Tell no one! Promise me?”
Annis nodded slowly, a million questions on her tongue.
“Promise!” croaked Janet.
“I promise, Mama.” Annis soothed. “Just rest, you will be better soon and can tell me the rest then.”
Janet nodded, her body sagging back into the pillows. Her lips, still blue, moved in silent murmurs that Annis couldn’t make out. Her eyes closed and she seemed to shrink, her breathing rattled.
She took another breath. And another. And stopped.
“Mama?” Annis wailed. “Mama?” She shook Janet’s hand, and the woman’s head lolled on the pillow. She was gone and the whole truth with her.
Chapter Seven
“Be careful!” saidviscount, bringing her back to the present with a jolt, his hand grabbing her elbow to hold her upright, as she nearly tripped up the step to the orangery.
“Oh!” Annis clutched at his arm. “I’m so sorry. I must have caught the hem of my skirt!”
He smiled down at her. “I’ve got you.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling herself flushing. When had she first noticed that the viscount was an attractive man? Not handsome, no, but there was a masculine presence to him that set her pulse fluttering in a most disconcerting manner. She shook herself mentally.It is completely inappropriate for me to be thinking of him like this.
The viscount held the door of the orangery open for her, and the warm moist air, filled with the sweet, tangy scent of oranges, surrounded her as she stepped over the threshold.
“Smiggens, are you here?” she called out.
An elderly man with a grizzled head popped up from a row of orange trees in pots, a pair of pruning shears in his hand.
“Miss Annis!” He said with a grin, crinkling his brown, weatherbeaten face. Seeing the viscount, he nodded his head. “Yer lordship.”
“Good morning, Smiggens.”
“Smiggens, I came to thank you for my lovely bouquet. I’m surprised there are any blooms left, it was so big!” said Annis, going toward him as he came out from behind the potted trees.
“Well, that was Lady Ava’s fault. She kept selecting flowers until it was so big she could barely carry it. That girl has no sense of proportion, and she never did.”
“True,” concurred Annis. “Anyway, they are lovely, so thank you for cutting them for me.”
“My pleasure. I hope you’re also having a lovely day?”
“I am,” Annis smiled at the old man, who was rather stooped but still strong as whipcord. “Will you be attending my birthday lunch?” she asked.
