“I’m afraid my courage failed me. And to be frank, I didn’t want to intrude on another gentleman’s involvement.”
“Do you mean Mr. Trawler?” she said, with a slight laugh. The idea struck her as absurd—why, exactly, she didn’t know.
Henry nodded.
“Mr. Trawler was a dear friend of my husband’s,” Annabel recited the explanation that Stella had helped her rehearse. “When my husband fell ill, he made Nate promise to watch over me. He feared for my well-being—as a young woman alone in the world. So, you see, he only seeks to fulfill a dying man’s wishes.”
As she spoke, she thought about Nate’s warning. Had he purposely made her fearful of Mr. Hudsyn because he’d wanted her for himself? No. Impossible. He’d never expressed any such sentiment toward her. His only motivation was loyalty to Stella.
“And Mr. Trawler has no other hold over you? Because he seemed—”
“I believe he would consider that dishonoring my husband’s memory. Mr. Trawler believes himself bound to me because of his promise, and that is all.” She straightened, confident her answer was correct—after all, Nate had made a similar promise to Stella.
Henry’s demeanor relaxed. He inched closer to her. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear you say that Mrs. Crawford.”
“Anne,” she said. “Mrs. Crawford doesn’t seem right if we are to be friends.”
“Anne,” he repeated.
She liked the sound of her new name on his lips. For the first time, it felt right—like the name truly belonged to her.
“Will you allow me to accompany you into town, Anne?”
Annabel thought for a minute. Assuming the identity of a widow afforded her privileges not available to unmarried women. She felt a sense of power and control for the first time, and it thrilled her. “I don’t see why not. I’m a widow, and it’s not as though I need a chaperone. Nonetheless, I’m not in the habit of getting into closed carriages with men I barely know.”
“Wait here.” He grinned and sprinted down the grassy hill to his carriage.
Annabel watched him and suppressed a smile. Life had been so dull for so long, and now, it seemed alive with possibilities. Someone had been telling her what to do all her life, and she was tired of it. If she decided to spend time with Mr. Hudsyn, the choice would be hers, and no one else’s.
Nate had been wrong to scare her—putting ideas in her mind that Mr. Hudsyn was a spy for Papa. She understood that Nate was only doing what Stella had asked of him, but even dearest Stella couldn’t watch over her forever. She was a woman now. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Mr. Hudsyn had only lingered by the shop because he admired her and wanted to ask her to the theater.
Mr. Hudsyn conversed briefly with the coachman before waving the carriage away. Then he turned and sprinted back up the hill toward her, sending her stomach aflutter.
Chapter Eleven
She listened with a flittingblush,
With downcast eyes and modestgrace;
For well she knew, I could notchoose
But gaze upon herface.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge,Love
“Have you spentmuch time in Canterbury?” Anne asked as they stepped onto the rough path next to the River Stour. The shrubs and grass along the bank were nourished and green after the rainstorm, attracting an array of birds who chirped merrily as they foraged.
“I vaguely remember my grandfather bringing me to see the cathedral once. My mother moved to Germany when I was a babe, so I spent my school holidays there.”
“Your mother is German?”
“She’s English, but we have German ancestors, and she decided to move there shortly after my father died.”
“His death must have been very painful for her.”
Henry shrugged. Not wanting his mood to turn, he made no answer.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I always ask too many questions.”
