“I do not know why you got a peacock as a pet,” Fredrick said.
Octavia shrugged one shoulder. “Roswell said I could get a pet pig.”
Roswell placed his fork and knife down with a clang on the plate. “I never said such a thing. I believe I said that a pig would be a horrible pet.”
“We shall have to agree to disagree,” Octavia remarked lightly. “But after Mr. Barnard showed his true character yesterday, it made me realize that perhaps I don’t want a pig for a pet.”
Fredrick furrowed his brow. “Do I even want to ask?”
“No,” Roswell said. “Octavia is just spouting nonsense, as usual.”
Octavia looked put out by his words. “How dare you, Brother?” she said. “I’d think you would be nicer to me since I helped save your life last night.”
“How exactly did you do that?” Roswell asked.
“I do not want to rehash the events of last night, but I do distinctly remember saving your life,” Octavia said.
“I recall it differently,” Roswell responded.
Octavia waved her hand in front of her. “That is because you were distracted by Anette and ensuring she was all right.”
At the mention of Anette, Roswell knew that it was time that he called upon her. He didn’t think he could wait a moment longer. He shoved back his chair and rose. “If you will excuse me, it is time I go speak to Anette.”
“It is about time,” Octavia said, softening her words with a smile.
Fredrick looked up at him. “Good luck,” he encouraged. “I’m afraid I can’t offer any words of encouragement since I am wifeless.”
“Do you want a wife?” Octavia asked. “There are many young women that I can recommend—”
Cutting her off, Fredrick said, “No, thank you. If I do marry, I will find a wife on my own.”
Roswell took a deep breath before saying, “With any luck, I will convince Anette to marry me and we will post the banns.”
“Is that what you are going to wear?” Octavia inquired.
Looking at her in surprise, Roswell asked, “What is wrong with what I am wearing?”
Octavia perused the length of him and he could see that he came up lacking. “Anette’s favorite color is blue so I would have worn a blue jacket, but that green jacket is just as nice,” she said, her words not very convincing.
“I shall go change,” Roswell responded.
“I think that would be for the best,” Octavia remarked. “No woman wants to get an offer from a gentleman in a green jacket.”
Fredrick chuckled. “Duly noted.”
Turning on his heel, Roswell headed towards his bedchamber on the second level. He shouldn’t be so nervous, but he was. He had known Anette for years but he had never had so much to lose. Now that he knew he wanted her for his wife, nothing else mattered.
If it meant he had to change his jacket to make her happy, so be it. But he suspected that Octavia just didn’t like his jacket and had blamed it on Anette. Either way, it was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
Anette sat at her writing desk and was staring at a blank page. Why couldn’t she think of what to write? She had so many ideas in her head, too many, in fact, but whenever she sat down to write, the words became elusive.
She knew what the problem was, at least today. Every thought she had was about the events of last night. She couldn’t seem to banish them from her mind long enough to think of anything else. She had killed a man. Her brother and Roswell were spies. Her whole life had been turned upside down and she wasn’t sure if it was for the best.
Her brother stepped into the room. “We missed you at breakfast,” he said, coming to stand next to her.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
Caleb’s brow lifted. “You are always hungry.”
