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‘A little, but now that we’re here, I’m glad. It’s nice to get away.’ She looked apologetic. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I’m glad that one of us is enjoying themselves.’
She gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Thank you for bringing us. I know that you didn’t really want to.’
‘You persuaded me, remember?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She bit her lip as the air between them seemed to become charged suddenly. ‘So I did.’
He sat down in an armchair to stop himself from going to her. The urge to take her in his arms was as strong as ever, but somehow being in this house, a house he’d never wanted to see, let alone visit, made him doubly afraid that she might have changed her mind about him. It seemed so unlikely that she was here at all or that she’d altered her thinking about the aristocracy. He was half-afraid to believe it was true. Besides, the housekeeper, not to mention her mother, would be back any minute.
‘I suppose the tea will be here soon.’ She seemed to be thinking the same thing.
‘I’d prefer rum.’
‘It’s too early for rum.’
‘Maybe a little.’ He sighed. ‘Do you suppose that Lady Staunton really has a headache?’
‘I can’t judge that before I meet her. It might be true.’
‘Or she might just be appalled at my poor manners in coming here?’
‘You’re not doing anything wrong.’ She walked back towards him, stopping just in front of his chair. ‘You’ve given her plenty of time. Her baby’s due next month, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, although I don’t know if that makes my behaviour better or worse.’
‘It is what it is. It’s the intention that matters and you didn’t come here with the intention of hurting anyone.’
‘Thank you, Anna.’ He dug his fingernails into the arms of the chair, resisting the urge to pull her down onto his lap. ‘I’m starting to wonder what I would do without you.’
* * *
The next morning dawned as bright as the last, the sky a breathtaking pastel orange and blue as the three of them sat down for breakfast, the earliness of which appeared to both shock and scandalise some of the staff.
Anna sipped at a cup of hot chocolate, looking between Samuel and her mother with a feeling of helplessness. Despite their outward appearances of calm, it was hard to tell which of them was more nervous. Her mother was drumming her fingers rhythmically on the tablecloth and Samuel’s gaze kept drifting in the direction of the doorway as if he expected Lady Staunton to make an appearance, though since she hadn’t come down to dinner, after all, sending another message to say she was still feeling unwell, Anna doubted they’d see her at breakfast, either. Her own sympathy for the woman was starting to wear thin. No matter how much she was grieving, she might still have shown her face, even briefly. Her continued absence only made Samuel feel worse.
There hadn’t been any opportunity for them to resume the conversation they’d begun at his grandmother’s evening party. Which was a good thing, she told herself, since it wasn’t one that ought to be continued, no matter how enjoyable she’d found it at the time. It was undoubtedly better to wait and find out what the future would bring before resuming anything, even if the look on his face when he’d said he didn’t know what he’d do without her the previous afternoon made her wish otherwise...
* * *
They made their way to her uncle’s estate early, too, her and her mother in an open-topped barouche with Samuel riding alongside. She’d told him that he didn’t need to accompany them any further, but he’d insisted, looking visibly relieved as they’d drawn away from Staunton Manor, seemingly engrossed in his own thoughts as they travelled in silence the miles between the two houses.
It took just over an hour to reach her uncle’s house at Feversham. Compared to Staunton, it looked like the very height of modernity, built in an elegant Palladian style that seemed to spring up like a natural extension of the parkland around it. Anna felt her lips curl with self-mocking amusement. Up until a few weeks ago, she’d never been inside anything resembling a mansion before, yet now she seemed to be making a habit of it.
‘This is it, Mama.’ She clutched her mother’s hand supportively.
‘Yes.’ Her mother’s fingers trembled. ‘I just hope I’m doing the right thing.’
‘Of course you are. They invited you, remember?’
‘Yes, but what if...?’ Her mother leaned forward suddenly. ‘Oh!’
‘What’s the—? Oh!’ Anna echoed as she turned her head to see two people waiting for them on the drive, a small, silver-haired lady holding a cane beside a gentleman with greying curly hair. Her grandmother and uncle, she presumed. Even at a distance she could see they both bore a striking resemblance to her mother.
Samuel dismounted before the carriage had stopped, opening the carriage door and lowering the steps without waiting for a servant to help him.
‘Mrs Fortini?’ He offered a hand and her mother clutched it, descending the steps with a look of unmistakable trepidation. As her feet touched the gravel there was a heavy moment of stillness, disturbed only by the sound of a blackbird trilling in the background, followed by a sudden flurry of activity as she and the grey-haired man both moved at the same time, each of them throwing their arms around the other.
