“I don’t know if he’ll be as likely to talk with someone else around.”
Neto frowned. “Could you make it someplace public then?”
“Absolutely. I’ll text him and see when he can meet.”
I sent the message and set down my phone next to me so my hand would be free to claim Neto’s, but picked it up again as Walter responded almost immediately.
“He’s busy this weekend, but he’s free on Monday night,” I said.
Neto frowned. “I have a game that night.”
“Perfect,” I said. “I’ll just invite him to come to the game. It’s public, and I can fill you in afterward. Besides,” I said, cheeks heating, “I’ve been dying to watch you play.”
His sideways grin only lasted two seconds before I kissed it away.
We saw each other every day that weekend. We skated again, attended a performance ofThe Nutcracker, listened to a Christmas bell-choir concert, and spent as much time together as possible. He held my hand any chance he got and I kissed him all over town—at the skating rink, at the lighthouse, and under the huge Christmas tree in Regency Meadows Park.
One night as we were having dinner at an Italian restaurant, we ran into some of his hockey buddies. “This must be your violin player,” a teammate had said. And Neto had grinned, pulling me closer and kissing me on the cheek. “This is Anne,” he’d said, his tone giving my name a weight and an importance that they all heard as they smiled knowingly.
But afterward, while we were walking back to his car, we passed my mother on the street and I dropped his hand, hurriedly fixing my hair to cover up my action.
He tried to hide it, but I saw the hurt in his eyes.
That night, when I walked in, my mother was waiting for me in the kitchen, nursing a cup of dark coffee.
“Anne. I’d like a word.” My mother’s tone left no room for argument, so I followed her as she turned and walked down the hall.
Uh oh. If she wanted to speak to me in her study, then it was going to be one ofthosekinds of talks. A talk where she was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. And I had a pretty good idea it was going to be about Neto.
I followed her in silence, past gold-framed portraits of de Bourghs of the past, all of them eyeing me in silent judgment.
When we reached the study, we sat in two chairs angled toward one another in front of the fireplace. At least she wasn’t sitting behind her desk.
She steepled her hands. “I know that you’ve been forming an attachment to that young man, Ernesto.”
Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. “We’ve become friends.”
She hummed, calling my bluff. “I can’t comprehend how you could even be attracted to the young man. He isn’t even fae.”
“I don’t care about that.” I practically growled the words.
“You can’t be serious, Anne. He has none of the qualifications requisite in forming an attachment with a de Bourgh.”
“And what would those be?” Some of my exasperation slipped through in my tone and she raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even and calm. “What I mean is, in what areas does Ernesto fall short? In your opinion?”
She stiffened at the challenge in my question. “For one thing, his career choice is lacking.”
At least she conceded that his music was a career. “The band has a number of singles on the top one hundred chart this year, and they’re even receiving an award for—”
“I am aware that he is popular. And I am aware that this can be a method of generating income.” She twisted her mouth as she spoke, as though the words were distasteful, that any money that hadn’t been in your family’s possession for centuries was somehow less valuable. “Setting aside the claim you will no doubt try to make about his talent, you must agree that a man who is touring the world performing shows is hardly in a position to support you, let alone a family.” That was her favorite tactic, anticipating my points and dismissing them before I had a chance to make them. “You’d spend your days driving around in a sour-smelling tour bus and standing in sweaty crowds. You call that a quality life?”
Stillness settled over me. I was crazy about Neto, but I hadn’t let myself look too far into the future and what it might hold for us. What being with him would mean for my life.
A heavy feeling of obligation rested on me and my mother’s voice sharpened. “You are a de Bourgh and when I am gone, this vast estate will be entrusted to you. This family has built a legacy of leadership, philanthropy, and community involvement for hundreds of years, Anne. Hundreds. You have a responsibility for all the privilege you have enjoyed. As a cousin to the future king, you have a responsibility to him, and to your people. Have you considered how it might affect Fitzwilliam if you were to run off with some musician?”
My heart constricted as I thought about how I’d inadvertently dashed Darcy’s chances with Elizabeth, and it fell further as I remembered how he’d warned Charles away from the Bennets. My breaths were coming too quickly, too shallowly. Ididhave a duty to Darcy, to support him when he took the throne.
My mother clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Maybe I’ve been too indulgent, letting you spend hours devoted to the arts and self-improvement rather than to fulfilling your obligations.I certainly regret that now. To think that I have raised such a selfish child.”
