"I’m fine, really. I got little rest last night."
"You too?" Beatriz lifted her brows, her lips making a pretty moue.
Anne smiled in sympathy, reaching for the tea. "You also had trouble sleeping?"
The maid lowered her voice and leaned closer. "No, not me. His Excellency and Mr. Queiroz. They arrived late. You should see their clothes—"
"Are they hurt?"
"Hurt?" Beatriz giggled, and her cheeks turned red. "That shameless Italian told the twins, who told me they went to"—she cupped her hands around her mouth—"the bawdy house."
The cup fell from Anne's hand, splattering tea. Mechanically, she rose and exited the deck on lead-weighted legs. Shutting her eyes, she dropped to the wicker chair. While her lips still tingled with the memory of his kisses, he had touched another? Allowed another to touch him? Somehow, the latter pained her more. What had she expected? Had she not feared it from the start? She took a shuddering breath and clasped her locket. Pedro had proved to be the kind of man she had hoped to avoid.
On the beach, children played, making castles and collecting shells under the watchful eyes of two nannies. Beyond, so close she could almost touch, was Aveiro's cathedral, its domed belfry glinting in the midday sun.
He was out there, doing only God knew what, and she was to stay cooped inside? She crushed the pillow and shot up from the chair. She was done watching from the fringes while others lived their lives.
Anne marched to the raised bridge, Beatriz on her heels.
"Won't you finish your breakfast, miss?"
"I'm not hungry. In fact, a stroll in the city is just the thing to improve my disposition. Want to join me?"
"Are you sure His Excellency would approve? I saw him leaving today. He was in a terrible mood."
"I don't care about His Excellency's moods."
Without waiting to see if the maid followed, Anne reached the platform. The small bridge connecting the yacht to the pier beckoned, the ocean glittering on both sides.
The captain stepped in her way. "Do you need anything, Miss Maxwell?"
"Yes, Mister Oliveira. I wish to visit Aveiro. Beatriz will accompany me."
"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, looking terribly uncomfortable. "The count left precise instructions. You are not to disembark."
Anne fisted her hands and forced a charming smile. "What if Mario or Dario escorted me?"
He gave her a pitying gaze. "I'm sorry, Miss Maxwell, but I have my orders."
Tears burned her nose, and she spun away from him. Did they know Pedro had kissed her yesterday and left to see other women? Cheeks flaming, the wind lashing her hair against her chest, she sped over the gunwale, only stopping at the stables. All stalls were empty except for Hemera's.
The mare greeted her with a quiet neigh, and Anne hugged her neck, breathing in the dusty scent of her coat. "They left you behind too, huh?"
Anne tangled her hands through the mare’s frizzy mane, tears coming freely. How could he order her around like a child? She took deep breaths, but the burning in her chest would not go away. The boat swayed, and she leaned on the bar for support. Would he smell of another?
She couldn't stay inside, waiting for him to return.
Her eyes latched onto the port door, the one used by the horses. On impulse, she tested the handle, but it wouldn't bulge. She pressed with her shoulders, and the barest give filled her with hope.
Please, please, open.
A clank at the stairs made her stop, her heart colliding with her ribs. When Beatriz's gray skirts appeared at the hatch, she exhaled and turned back to the door.
"Santa Maria, Pinta e Nina! What are you doing?" the maid whispered.
Anne blew hair from her face. "Instead of reciting Cabral's fleet, can you help me? Please?"
The maid hastened to Anne's side, her hands folded as if in prayer. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
