He dropped his eyes to look at the little girl, bouncing with excitement. “Is that a mouse, tugging at my coat!” He pretended to dance on his tiptoes.
The child clapped her hands and stomped her feet, attempting to copy him.
“Oh? You look just like Alice. Let me see for sure. You could be a mouse pretending to be Alice…” He lifted her into his arms, the present still in his hand, pulled her close, and hugged her. “Oh yes.Thisis my Alice.”
Then he saw Anne. His body went rigid.
Anne sat on Alice’s blanket, wooden blocks heaped before her, and smiled at him.
He set the toddler down and straightened.
What are you doing here?He asked a voiceless question, staring at her as though she were an apparition who would disappear at any moment.
“Up!” Alice tugged at his coat, but he could not tear his eyes off Anne.
“You look surprised,” Anne said, getting to her feet. “Didn’t they tell you? I’m the new nanny—actually, I’m more of a nanny’s helper, to be exact—Alice is getting a little too rambunctious for Mrs. Teal to manage on her own.”
He narrowed his eyes.What is she talking about? Is my mind playing tricks on me?
“Your cousin hired me on Mrs. Thomas’s recommendation,” she continued as if that would help clarify things.
Alice wandered from Henry’s side as if sensing the game was over and plopped down next to her blocks.
“I don’t understand,” he finally managed to speak. DidViolet send her here? Why?
“I’m to attend regular classes at the college, too.” She came toward him, her face glowing with excitement.
“You returned to college, then? I thought you’d lost interest.”
“No, never. I—”
He raised his eyebrows. “You had to tend to someone else’s needs?”
“Yes.” She lowered her gaze.
Henry squared his shoulders, his suspicions confirmed. “Well, it seems you have since been freed or jilted.”
“What?” Anne looked up, her eyes wide.
“I saw you,” Henry said bitterly. “On Orange Street, outside the shop. With him.”
“Who?”
“That man. That sailor. He gave you a bag of coins.”
“Do you mean, Mr. Taylor?”
“I don’t know. How many men do you hold a private meeting with each week?”
Her face paled. “Isthatwhat you think of me?” She stepped back, increasing the distance between them.
“Am I wrong? Should I disbelieve my own eyes?” He despised the coldness in his voice but felt powerless to control it.
“No,” she said, “your eyes didn’t fail you, but your heart and mind did. You aren’t the person I thought you were.”
“And, it seems, neither are you.”
She shook her head and stepped away from him.
