So was he.
After excusing himself, he went in search of his bride. Hisfather’s last words rang in his mind.You have a bride waiting for you and an heir to produce.
It would be foolish to think he might have already accomplished the last, and as much as he had eagerly anticipated being alone with Anne again, under the circumstances, the thought of making love to her seemed selfish. But at least he might find comfort in her arms.
A maid carrying a tea service curtsied before proceeding up the stairs.
“Hold,” Colin called. “Do you know where Lady Manning is?”
The woman, no more than a girl, blinked, and a slight frown creased her forehead. “Lady Manning?”
“Yes. My wife. We were married this morning.”
Her face brightened. “Oh, yes, sir. Sorry, sir. She’s with Her Grace and Lady Stratford.” She lifted the tray slightly. “I’m taking this tea to them.”
Colin motioned for her to continue and followed her to Honoria’s sitting room.
The sight of his sister comforting his mother gave him pause. Was it a portrait of things to come? Only with the women he loved dressed in black? As he stood in the doorway, Anne saw him first. “Colin.”
They all rose, and Honoria waited until the maid placed the tea on the table and exited before asking, “How is he?”
He forced a smile for their benefit and motioned for them to resume their seats. “Stubborn as ever. Ashton’s still with him, and I just informed the duchess.”
Honoria’s hand shook as she poured tea, and Anne gently removed the teapot from Honoria’s hands.
Face pale and drawn, his sister looked ghastly. However, his mother looked worse.
His gaze darted back to Anne. Even she bore signs of distress, her usual exuberance somehow muted as if color had leached from her very spirit. Three of the most important women in his life were in pain, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.
Without warning, the thought slammed into him.
Damn. The girls.
Sound asleep, his daughters had no idea their grandfather was ill. As strict and demanding as his father had been while Colin was growing up, when witnessing how lenient his father was with his grandchildren, Colin would swear he wasn’t the same man. “That’s not the father we grew up with,” he said once to Honoria.
The girls adored their grandpapa, who indulged them with ponies and sweets and promises of lavish balls in their honor when they came of age.
“Colin? Did you hear me?”
His mind reeled back to the present at Anne’s voice. “Forgive me. What did you say?”
“Would you like tea? There are only three cups, but you can have mine if you wish.”
He shook his head. All he wanted was to be alone.
No. Notalone, alone, he realized. He wanted to be alone with Anne.
But first, he had to be a dutiful son and brother, to be the man of the house. “Mother? Honoria? Is there anything I can do for either of you?”
Honoria rose and stood before him. “It’s your wedding night. I’ll take care of Mother. Go. Be with Anne.” She kissed him on the cheek and returned to their mother.
He held out his hand to his bride and prayed it wouldn’t betray how vulnerable he felt at that moment. “Anne? Will you come with me?”
Silently, she rose and joined him. Slight and refined, her hand slid into his with a natural rightness, as though it had always belonged there.
And that small, soft hand gave him strength.
CHAPTER 23
