“Then at least let us leave while we are still dressed for it.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, and together they began to move away from the edge of the crowd, the voices behind them continuing to ripple across the lawn.
“Does it bother you?” Anne asked softly as they walked.
Dorian considered the question before answering honestly. “No, not anymore.”
Anne looked at him properly now, searching his face. He met her gaze without hesitation.
“It used to matter,” he added. “What people thought meant a lot to me, not to mention what they believed about me and my choices. Now, it only matters that they are wrong about what I almost lost.”
Anne’s expression softened slightly at that, though she said nothing further.
They reached the quieter end of the garden path, where the noise of the party faded into a distant murmur. Dorian exhaled more fully, as though he had been holding something in the entire time without realizing it.
Anne stepped closer without prompting. “You are still going to have to endure this,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he murmured.
She tilted her head slightly. “And you are still going to let them talk?”
Dorian looked out across the estate for a moment before turning back to her. “Yes,” he said simply. “Because this time, I am not losing anything by doing nothing.”
Anne studied him for a long moment, then reached for his hand. This time, he did not check their surroundings. He simply let her take it.
The garden party continued long after they had left, but within Ashford Hall, the consequences had yet to fully settle.
Lady Vivian’s disgrace had already become a part of every conversation. Holloway’s name was beginning to unravel in the same way, yet what Anne told Dorian had unsettled her most was not the public reaction but what it revealed about her own family.
Her mother had not left her home, keeping her distance from them both. They had not seen each other for a long time, but that was to change that day, which Dorian supposed was why Anne was happy to remain at the party.
Unfortunately for her, they both had to face their pasts, whether they were comfortable with it or not.
When they entered the drawing room at Rosemere, her mother was already seated at the table by the window, papers neatly arranged in front of her as though order could still impose itself on a situation that had already shifted beyond control. She looked up at once, the strain on her face clear, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then she set her pen down carefully and folded her hands.
“You have heard about Mr. Holloway, yes?”
“Everything that matters,” Dorian replied.
A brief pause followed before she gave a small nod. “Then you know he has left.”
“We do.” Anne nodded. “Although we do not know where he has gone.”
Her mother’s gaze lowered briefly to the papers before returning to them. “He withdrew from Yorkshire before the extent of his involvement became fully public. Fortunately, the rumors have not mentioned me at all, which I ought to be grateful for.”
“What will happen to you now?” Dorian asked.
Her mother hesitated for only a moment before answering, “After Anne’s father died, the estate remained intact on the surface, but the structure underneath was fragile. There were debts that required management, tenants who required reassurance, and obligations that could not be delayed. I believed aligning with someone like Holloway would protect what remained.”
Anne listened without looking away, which brought Dorian a sense of comfort.
“He presented himself as someone capable of maintaining order,” her mother continued. “He had connections, influence, and confidence. I mistook those for reliability. When I learned what he had done, I ceased all contact. I secured what moneyI could independently, and I ensured the estate would not be placed under his control again.”
The admission hung in the air for a moment.
“You kept the estate,” Anne whispered.
“I kept what could be protected without him.”
