With that, she strode out of the room. Her mother called out behind her, but Anastasia lifted her chin and ignored her cries.
I will go down to the garden party. Surely, things cannot be as bad as Mama makes them out to be. Besides, I cannot go back to Frostmore. Not after…
Resolved in her plan, Anastasia descended the stairs. She paused in the powder room to freshen up her appearance, then made her way toward the back gardens. She paused by the doorway leading to the garden terrace, straightened the skirt of her baby-blue day dress one last time, then strode out.
Her jaw tightened as the first guest’s gaze caught hers, a flicker of judgment flashing in their eyes. The Baroness of Litchford stiffened, clutching her husband’s arm before hastening him toward a nearby knot of guests gathered about the refreshment table.
From her place by the wall, Anastasia saw the whispers spread. First one lady, then another, then another—eyes sliding her way, lips pursing, words passing in low tones that leaped from mouth to ear like fire. And like flames, their touch burned. Anastasia heard snatches as she moved toward the refreshment table.
“…quite the audacity…”
“…after that captain… and Baron Oxford…”
“Exiled to the country, that’s what I heard…”
“…heard she was confined… gave the baby up for adoption…”
“…scorned a duke, of all things…”
With every word, Anastasia felt her heart sink. Her mother was right. She had never imagined that the rumors could still be so strong, even after two years. Even worse than the words were the looks of scorn and faint disgust, poorly masked by shallow, polite expressions.
The dread sharpened when Anastasia noticed Viscountess Rathmore. The woman cast her a look of glacial contempt before gliding to her father’s side. Anastasia could not hear what was said, but there was no mistaking that it concerned her. A moment later, her father’s head snapped toward her, and a firm scowl settled over his features.
Anastasia winced.
Rathmore departed soon after, followed by a slow trickle of others, each pausing only long enough to murmur a few words to her father and deliver a scathing look of disappointment and disgust in Anastasia’s direction.
There was never a child! How could anyone say such a thing? Surely they cannot believe…
“Anastasia.” Her father’s voice made her flinch. He strode toward her, his face carved with anger and disappointment. “Why are you here?”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a sharp wave toward the doors. “Inside. We will discuss this in my study.”
Sick to her stomach, Anastasia obeyed. They walked in brittle silence through the elegant halls until her father ushered her into his study, closing the door behind them with a decisive thud. He took his place behind the heavy oak desk, his eyes cold.
“Explain yourself.”
“I just wanted to come home… it has been two years and now that the Duke is…” Her voice faltered. “I missed you and Mama and Serenity. I did not think—”
“That is certainly true. You did not.” His words cracked like a whip. “Did I not tell you to stay away until your sister was safely wed? And yet you barge back now, on the very eve of Serenity’s Season. Worse, you parade yourself before my guests, leaving them to assume you have been welcomed back into our family. Have you no thought for how your disgrace would damage your sister’s chances?”
“I am so sorry. I thought—”
Her father continued speaking, as if she had said nothing. “Several ladies have already made it plain they will not appear where you are received. Serenity’s prospects are at stake, and you endanger them with your selfishness!”
Anastasia bowed her head, every word slicing through her. She wanted to protest, to remind him of her exile, her penance, the loneliness she had borne, the treatment she had received by the late duke, but the memory of theton’sscornful eyes silenced her.
“I realize I might have been hasty, Father,” she whispered. “But I only wished to be home. With my family.”
“And if you had not been so reckless, you would have realized that we cannot afford to be associated with you, not at this time.” Her father scowled at her. “Better for you to return to Frostmore until Serenity is wed.”
Her heart rebelled, and tears welled in her eyes, but the weight of those departing stares crushed the words in her throat. She knew her family was right. At last, there was only one answer left for her to give.
“Yes, Father.”
Chapter 2
“Devil take me!” Benedict cursed as another faint clatter reached his ears. Night had long since fallen, and he had been attempting to finish the work required before departing for the country estate he had inherited from his uncle. This was the third or fourth interruption in as many minutes.
