Chapter Two
Anya’s head hurt. Tiny hammers happily pounded against her skull in thousands of different places, but they seemed particularly focused on her forehead above her eyes. She was afraid to open her eyelids for fear it would make her pain worsen somehow. What happened to her? She couldn’t remember how she’d hurt herself, and she wasn’t certain she wanted to.
Bright light floated above, forcing her to block it with her arm. She turned her head until her eyes, still closed, were against the juncture of her bent arm. “Who turned on the bloody lights?” she grumbled out the words.
“It’s time to wake up, Miss Ana,” a woman said. “The duke and duchess will be down for breakfast soon, and your father expects you to act like a proper lady.”
“I am a proper lady,” she corrected her. She even had that as part of her formal title if she chose to use it. “I don’t feel well. Please give my regrets.” Anya nestled down into the blankets and managed to bury herself underneath them. Once there, the words the woman had said penetrated her addled brain. “What duke and duchess?” More importantly, who the hell was this woman, and why did she feel comfortable barging into Anya’s bedchamber? Something wasn’t right.
Carefully, she pulled the blanket down and cautiously opened one eye. The woman wore a dull gray dress that covered every inch of her. It was…archaic. Anya couldn’t think of a better word to describe her. “Who are you?”
“Now, now, Miss Ana,” she chastised her while wagging a finger. “Pretending an illness will not help you out of your situation. You know your responsibilities.” She held up a navy blue dress, a little fancier than her dull gray one, but old fashioned, nonetheless. “Here is your day dress. After breakfast, you are to prepare to travel to the boatyard. You have a long journey ahead of you, and it’ll take a while until you reach Germany.”
Did she call her Ana? Somehow, she’d missed that the first time. Did she think Anya was someone else? She nibbled on her bottom lip, confused about everything. Her head still throbbed something fierce. There was only one way to handle the situation—roll with it for now. Slowly, she pulled herself to a sitting position. Even her pajamas were odd. She would have to call her parents and find out why they wanted her to visit with this duke and duchess. Anya didn’t know this woman and couldn’t help mistrusting her. She wrinkled her nose at the dress. “Do I really have to wear that?”
“What is wrong with it?” The woman stared at it and frowned. Her hair was a dull brown streaked with white, and her eyes were a steely gray that unnerved Anya. “It’s made from the finest silk. You picked out the pattern yourself.”
She’d done no such thing, but there was no point arguing with the woman. Instead, she sighed and held out her hand. “Fine. Give it to me and I’ll put it on.”
“Don’t you require assistance?”
“I can manage on my own. I’ve been dressing myself for years now.” This woman was clearly old-school. People didn’t have maids anymore.
“Maybe you are feeling ill,” the woman said and came to her side. She placed one of her hands on her head. “You don’t feel warm.”
“Please do not touch me,” Anya said through gritted teeth. She snatched the dress from the woman and stood. “Now, kindly leave so I may dress.”
“Hmmph,” she said disgruntled. “You’re in a fine mood today. Maybe if you were not up half the night doing God knows what you’d be well rested instead of acting like a harpy in the morning. Don’t dawdle. The duke and duchess will not wait on someone like you to make an appearance.” With those words, she stomped out of the room.
What had she meant? She was Lady Anya Montgomery, and no one had ever talked to her like that. She stripped off her pajamas and looked in the dresser for a bra, but couldn’t find anything but a silk tank top. It would have to do. The dress wasn’t that formfitting, and it should be all right for the time being. Anya slid it on and then stared at the blue dress. It had buttons up the back. She groaned. She undid two and slid it over her head. Luckily, her head fit through it, and then she struggled to get the other two buttoned. If she came down even remotely half-dressed, that horrid woman would have a reason to chastise her.
She blew out a breath and sighed. Anya still had no idea where she was, but she’d find out soon enough. She sat down at the vanity and picked up a brush. As she started to run it through her tangled hair, she nearly screamed. Not from the pain that still permeated her skull, but the reflection in the mirror. That wasn’t her. Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched her face. She pressed her fingers into her cheekbones several times. Her nails left tiny half-moon shaped indents in their wake. Still she kept pressing…hoping…praying her fears would not be realized. This couldn’t be real. This was a nightmare…one she failed to wake fully from.
The woman had called her Ana, not Anya. The name was similar enough she’d dismissed it, but what if she was no longer Anya, but this Ana person. That would explain everything that had confused her. It, however, did not explain how she’d woken up in another woman’s body. It was a bad movie plot, and she didn’t like one second of it. She wanted to close her eyes and start the entire day over again. That wasn’t possible though.
Perhaps it was… She could lie back down and close her eyes; then when she opened them again, it would all be over. No more body-switch and mean old maid to torment her. Shouldn’t she at least try it? Anya rushed over to the bed and climbed back in. She tossed the covers over her head and snapped her eyelids shut.
Nothing.
Her brain wouldn’t stop thinking, and sleep proved to be impossible. She had to face reality: this nightmare was indeed real. She laid there for several seconds in disbelief, but the facts remained the same. Somehow, she would have to stumble her way through this Ana’s life and not mess up. That would be as impossible as the situation she currently found herself in…
This duke and duchess, whoever they were, expected someone named Ana to come downstairs. If she failed to impersonate this other woman, what would they do to her? She had to find out as much information as possible without giving herself away. She’d already bumbled by throwing the maid out of the room.
Anya took a deep breath and brushed her hair. Then twisted it into a braid and wound it into a bun at the nape at her neck. It wasn’t elegant, but at least it sort of matched the style of the gown—old-fashioned, and quite out of date, at least for Anya... With that done, she located shoes and left the room, praying with each step that she managed to locate the dining room without incident…
* * *
Luck was on her side…She was familiar with the style of townhouse and locating the breakfast nook proved easy enough. Anya walked into the room and found, what she presumed to be, a family of four. A man, the duke probably, sat at the head of the table, with his wife next to him along with a young lady around sixteen and a boy half her age.
The lady, presumably the duchess, glanced up at her and said, “Miss Ana.” She had golden brown hair and striking blue eyes. “Please join us.” She gestured toward a seat next to the young boy. “Mathias,” she chastised. “Quit playing with your oatmeal and eat it.”
Anya held back a grin and sat next to the boy. She leaned down and whispered, “I don’t care for oatmeal either.”
He glanced up at her and frowned. He had silvery blue eyes that were breathtaking. The boy tilted his head to the side as he studied her, then said, “Who are you?”
She swallowed hard, unnerved by his question. How did she answer that? Did he mean it literally, and if so, did that mean he realized she wasn’t really who they all believed her to be. She didn’t get a chance to answer him as a servant set a plate before her filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. “Thank you,” she said. She held back a groan. Her head still hurt and now her stomach was queasy on top of it. She glanced up and gasped as she met the young lady’s gaze. Across the room, she hadn’t realized… “Lady Vivian,” she said carefully. It couldn’t be…
“Yes,” Lady Vivian said, perplexed. “What is it?”
