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“Hisart,” she corrected her, hating the short clip to her words. What good was all her practice before the Queen if she could not keep her composure now when it mattered?
“Ah, but what is mine is yours,” Hawthorne said.
Like the dukedom was? It was hers within reason. Within boundaries. He had yet to take their business affairs into his own name, but every day the threat hung over her like a thundercloud. She clasped her hands tight in front of her.
Hawthorne bowed to them both. “We must do this again sometime, ladies.” He swirled up the next flight of stairs, no doubt to meet his lover.
Letty smiled at her. “He has the most wonderful collection.”
“Why did you go with him? Alone in the carriage?” It wasn’t right to start flinging accusations, but she was so hurt. “Do you love him too, like everyone else?”
“Of course I don’t love him. I don’t even know him. But I support his choice to live openly. That is what I myself do.” She smiled. “As to being alone together, I hardly think a chaperone would have been necessary.”
Anne flushed. “Your reputation is not enhanced by spending time with him.”
Letty’s eyes narrowed. “All he did was show me the warehouse and allow me to choose a selection of art and furnishings that will display your house to your advantage. He is helping me towork.”
“I thought we had planned to leave the public rooms alone, and then Hawthorne might choose to leave again.”
“That was your plan,” she said. “Not mine.”
“We were meant to be conspirators together.” Here they were, bickering in the hallway like a pair of chambermaids where anyone could chance upon them. Couldn’t they retreat to her rooms and forget everything in a frenzy of lovemaking?
“It didn’t work,” Letty said. “Your husband is going nowhere. And I must start work on the public rooms.”
“Why?” she asked, her heart hammering. Starting the first floor was one step closer to Letty finishing the house, and she didn’t want her to leave.
“Private rooms don’t have their etchings displayed in architectural magazines.”
“Is that all that matters?”
Anne had thought that Letty was thinking ofherwhen she chose the furnishings and selected new paint and carpets. She had thought her home was being designed for her pleasure. But the rooms that Letty touched were more than just pretty. They were imbued with meaning, with emotion. She refused to believe otherwise.
“How is this any different from Hawthorne preventing you from executing your ideas for the dukedom?” Letty said, exasperation on her face. “You hired me. I want to work. But you let me do nothing that will advance my career.”
“It’s different because you can stop your work while we think things through, and there are no consequences. If I stop work for the dukedom, people in the villages might starve, or endure life in cottages with rotted roofs if they cannot afford the upkeep and we don’t intervene. Any manner of things may happen. My rank carries the burden of enormous responsibility.”
“No consequences?” Her face turned rosy. “I have workers who depend on the labor I can give them. If the work is halted because you have changed your mind yet again, but it’s too late for them to pick up work with a crew somewhere else, what do you think happens to them?”
Anne was silenced. She hadn’t thought about the ramifications to the web of people connected to the renovation. “You’re right.”
“I can see the fire in your eyes when you talk about your charities, and when you tell me about your own ideas to improve things for the tenants. You are as passionate about work as I am. We simply do different things. My work is creating something that one can touch, and your work is to make decisions that put a whole slew of actions into movement, but what we both do is important. You can’t take that away from me when you yourself know how important it is.” Letty’s face softened. “Let’s sit together. We can call for tea.”
“And cake,” she sniffed.
“Of course.”
They went to the sitting room attached to Anne’s temporary bedchamber and were brought an arrangement of frosted squares and chocolate delicacies on a silver tray with their tea. Anne was soothed by the routine of pouring and sipping and tasting.
“I was upset when I saw you with my husband,” she confessed, taking a nibble of cake.
“I suppose not for the usual reasons that a wife might be jealous,” Letty said, her eyes dancing.
She laughed. “No. But everyone loves him better than I, and I cannot bear it if you do too.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I trust you.” She poked at her cake, but her mouth was too dry to take another bite. “But you didn’t take my feelings into consideration about Hawthorne. You didn’t speak to me about it. You knew I would be shocked and upset, but you did it anyway.”
