Anette felt her back go rigid. “Roswell agreed to this- willingly?”
“He did,” Caleb replied. “I saw you two kiss under the mistletoe and I knew that Roswell was enamored with you. It was written all over his face. I had to do something or else I feared I would lose you both.”
Anette rose from her seat and stared at her brother in disbelief. “How could you make Roswell promise such a thing?”
“Do you not understand what it is like to be the wife of a spy?” he asked. “You will constantly be worrying about what Roswell is up to and if he is safe. And what of the lies that he would be forced to tell you? You would never have any peace.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “That was my decision to make, not yours,” she said, her voice rising. “You had no right to interfere with my life.”
Caleb gave her a crestfallen look. “I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I was wrong. You were in more danger at Father’s and my hand than you ever were with Roswell. I see that now.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
Anette felt some of her anger dissipate at Caleb’s words. She was angry with him, but she found she was just as angry at Roswell. How could he have promised such a thing and toyed with her heart?
Barrow stepped into the drawing room and met her gaze. “Lord Roswell would like a moment of your time, Miss. Are you available for callers?”
She hesitated. Did she want to speak to Roswell after what she had just learned?
Caleb spoke up. “Please send him in.”
Turning towards her brother, she asked, “Why did you speak for me?”
“Because no matter what happens, you will always want to speak to Roswell,” Caleb replied with a knowing look.
That much was true. She didn’t think she would ever tire of being around Roswell. He was her solace, her safe place.
So why was her heart so conflicted?
Roswell entered the drawing room, dressed in a blue jacket, buff trousers and a gray waistcoat. His dark hair was brushed forward and he looked quite handsome. But he always did. To her, he was the most handsome of men.
With a smile, Roswell asked, “Do you approve of my jacket?”
“Pardon?” Anette asked.
“Octavia said that your favorite color was blue,” Roswell replied.
Anette laughed. “Octavia’s favorite color is blue. I do not have a favorite color.”
Roswell’s smile dimmed. “I should have known.”
“Your jacket is nice, though,” Anette attempted. “It is the right amount of blue to go with the waistcoat.”
Caleb leaned closer to her and whispered, “That was awful. I would work on your descriptions before you write them down in your book.”
Roswell’s eyes held a vulnerability that she hadn’t seen before. “May I speak to you privately, Anette?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of a plea.
This was it. Would she release her sharp tongue at him? But as she went to reply, she found the words were caught in her throat. “Yes,” was all that she managed to get out.
He approached her and offered his arm. “Shall we tour the gardens?”
Caleb interjected, “I will be watching from the window and I must warn you about becoming too familiar with one another. I do not wish to challenge Roswell to a duel.”
“You would lose,” Roswell said good-naturedly.
“Be that as it may, remember your place,” Caleb warned.
Roswell started leading her towards the rear of the townhouse. Once they arrived at the back door, a footman opened it and followed them onto the veranda.
They started walking down a path and Anette slipped her arm off his. “How is Fredrick adjusting to being home?”
