Turning around, Roswell headed back towards the coach and stepped inside.
“Did it go well?” Octavia asked.
“No,” he admitted.
Octavia sighed. “There is always tomorrow.”
Roswell turned his attention towards the window as they made the short drive to their townhouse. He loved Anette and it was time for him to tell her the truth. The whole truth. He would confess his love to her and beg for her to take a chance on him.
He hoped that he was enough for her.
ChapterTwenty-One
Roswell stared out the window of his bedchamber as he looked out over the gardens. He was biding his time until he could go call on Anette and offer for her. He hoped she would be receptive to the idea of marrying him. But he wasn’t sure. One thing was made certain these last few days and that was he needed Anette in his life. She was his everything.
He assumed that Caleb would be furious at him for breaking his promise, but he should never have agreed to it in the first place. If Anette took a chance on him, he would prove to her that he would love her above all else.
He was even willing to stop working as a spy. He had done it for so long that it had become a part of him. But he loved Anette more.
A knock came at the door.
“Enter,” he ordered.
The door opened and his valet stepped into the room. “Your mother is awake, my lord,” he informed him.
“Thank you,” Roswell said as he crossed the room.
As he stepped into the corridor, he saw Fredrick was standing in front of their mother’s bedchamber with a solemn look on his face.
Roswell approached him and remarked, “It won’t get any easier the longer you stand here.”
“You speak as though you have experience on the matter,” Fredrick said.
“I do,” Roswell responded. “I never know what to expect when I visit Mother. Sometimes she remembers me, sometimes she doesn’t.”
Fredrick turned towards him and the pain was in his eyes. “I am not sure if I can see her like this.”
“You can, and you will,” Roswell encouraged. “Mother needs our support, even though her mind is slipping.”
“You are right. I can do this.”
Roswell smiled. “Can you say that louder, please? I don’t think I have ever heard you admit that I was right.”
“It just happens so infrequently,” Fredrick joked.
Stepping forward, Roswell knocked on the door and waited.
The door was promptly opened by the lady’s maid. “Good morning, my lords,” Nancy greeted. “Your mother is just having breakfast.” She opened the door wide. “Do come in.”
Roswell held his hand out, indicating that Fredrick should go first, then followed him into the bedchamber.
Their mother’s eyes lit up when she saw Fredrick. “You look just like my son, Fredrick,” she admonished as she sat further up in her bed.
Fredrick shifted uncomfortably in his stance. “That is because I am Fredrick.”
“Fredrick?” their mother asked with disbelief in her voice. “Is it truly you?”
He nodded. “Yes, Mother,” he replied.
