“My mother.”
The room grew quieter. Dorian softened at once.
Anne hated that he immediately understood why she looked uncomfortable. She had considered not telling him about it, because it should not have mattered at all, but she had been unable to stop thinking about it.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing remarkable.”
The answer sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.
Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Anne.”
She sighed. “She asked whether I might visit.”
“And you are considering it?”
“I am considering ignoring it.”
Dorian looked distinctly unimpressed.
A reluctant smile tugged briefly at her mouth before disappearing again.
“Do you think I should go?” she asked.
She hoped that he would agree with her and tell her not to go, so that she would not feel as guilty about it.
He studied her for a moment. “What do you want?”
She looked away. That was the problem—she did not know, or perhaps she did know and simply disliked the answer.
“I spent weeks angry with her, months even.” Her voice turned quieter. “Perhaps years, if I am being honest.”
Dorian remained silent.
Anne moved toward the window. Outside, the late morning sun stretched across the lawns surrounding Ashford Hall. She had hoped that an early morning ride with Tempest would help, but even that proved fruitless.
“I know she was grieving too,” she allowed. “I know losing my father hurt her as much as it hurt me. Part of me understands that.”
“And the other part?”
Anne exhaled slowly. “The other part remembers feeling alone. When Papa died, everything changed. She withdrew into her own grief, and I… I think we stopped knowing how to reach each other.”
She laughed sadly as the memories resurfaced. “I told myself I did not care, that it was easier that way, but I did care. I cared entirely too much.”
Dorian rose from behind the desk. He crossed the room slowly before stopping beside her near the window. “You should go.”
Anne looked down. “I was afraid you would say that.”
“Because you know it is true.”
She smiled faintly. “Being right is becoming an irritating habit of yours.”
“I am a husband. Irritation is part of my position.”
Anne rolled her eyes.
“Anne.” Something in his voice made her look at him. “You do not have to forgive everything. You do not have to pretend that nothing happened. You do not have to arrive smiling and announce that every hurt has vanished, but if you want a relationship with her again, someone has to take the first step, which she has. It is now up to you to take the second.”
