But he would survive it.
He had survived a great deal worse. There had been days—and nights—when he had wished he had not done so. Survived, that was.
But he had.
And in more recent years he had been glad that he had.
ANNE HAD INSISTED UPON TRAVELINGthe long distance to the Duke of Bewcastle’s estate in Wales in the marquess’s second carriage with the children and their nurse, despite the fact that at each stop she was urged to join Joshua and Lady Hallmere in theirs. She preferred to think of herself as a servant rather than a guest—and good heavens, the duke and duchess did not even know she was coming!
It was a thought that sometimes brought her close to panic. They would quite possibly have strong objections even if she did hide in the nursery for the whole month.
They arrived late in the afternoon of the third day, turning off the coast road with its scenery that reminded Anne of Cornwall to pass between two large open gates and proceed along a driveway that wound between shrubs and trees and eventually rolling lawns to either side.
“Oh, look, Mama.” David, who had been seated quietly beside her while both Daniel and Emily slept on the seat opposite, Emily in the nurse’s arms, suddenly plucked at her sleeve and pointed ahead. The side of his face was pressed against the glass.
Anne tipped her head sideways and looked. The house had come into view, and the sight of it did nothing to settle the butterflies that were dancing in her stomach. Glandwr was indeed a vast mansion of gray brick in the Palladian style. It was both impressive and beautiful. And yet, she thought, this was not even the duke’s principal seat. He spent only a week or two of each year here, Joshua had said.
How could anyone bethatwealthy?
“I can hardlywait,”David said, his eyes huge, his cheeks flushed. “Will the other children be here already?”
He felt none of Anne’s misgivings, of course. He felt only excitement over the prospect of having other children—other boys—to play with for a whole month.
Fortunately their actual arrival occured in a flurry of cheerful confusion as the three carriages drew up on the graveled terrace before the main doors and disgorged their passengers and luggage while at the same time a vast number of people spilled out of the house to greet them. Among them Anne recognized the tall, dark figure of Lord Aidan Bedwyn with his military bearing and the dark, lovely Lady Morgan Bedwyn, whose married name she could not recall. She had met them in Cornwall four years ago.
David was swept forward by a newly awakened, bright-cheeked Daniel to be caught up in all the noise and bustle of the greetings—one would have thought that none of them had seen one another for a decade instead of a week or so. Anne abandoned him and hurried inside through a side entrance with the nurse.
She had no wish whatsoever to be mistaken for a guest.
She was not to remain unnoticed, though, she soon discovered. The housekeeper came looking for her after she had been in the nursery for a while, seeing David settled in the large room he was to share with Davy and Alexander and watching him glow with excitement as he met all the children and was absorbed into their midst as if he had been one of them all his life.
He was in safe hands, Anne realized as she followed the housekeeper down to the floor below and into a sizable bedchamber with comfortable furnishings, pretty floral curtains and bed hangings, and a view of the sea in the distance.
It was unmistakably a guest chamber rather than a servant’s room, she saw with some dismay. She ought to have clarified her exact status here with Joshua and Lady Hallmere before their arrival. She ought to have made it clear to them that she wanted to be classed with the servants, or at least with the nurses and governesses—if there were any of the latter. But then she had assumed that it did not need to be said.
“I hope I have not put you to a great deal of trouble,” she said with an apologetic smile, “arriving unexpectedly like this.”
“I was delighted, mum, when Mr. Butler said the duke and duchess were coming with a large party,” the housekeeper told her with a pronounced Welsh accent. “We don’t see company often enough here. Mr. Butler hired extra help and I had every room in the house prepared just in case. So it’s no trouble at all. I’m Mrs. Parry, mum.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Parry,” Anne said. “What a lovely view.”
“It is that,” the housekeeper agreed, “though the view from the back rooms is just as grand. You will want to tidy up and maybe rest awhile, mum. I’ll send a maid up to unpack your things for you.”
“There really is no need,” Anne assured her hastily. Heavens, she was notreallya guest. She was certainly not entitled to the services of a maid. “But the idea of a rest sounds very inviting.”
SHE UNPACKED HER MODEST TRUNKand put everything away—she even found that there was a dressing room attached to her bedchamber. She lay down on the bed when she was finished, more because she did not know what else to do than because she was weary.
She would cheerfully cower right here in this room for the next month, given half a chance, she thought. But—sadly—it was too late to wish yet again that she had remained in Bath.
She fell asleep while she was in the middle of worrying.
When she awoke an indeterminate amount of time later, she jumped hastily off the bed and washed her hands and face. If the promised maid should arrive, she would perhaps not be able to avoid going down to dinner. She could notpossiblydo that. She was ravenously hungry, she realized, not having eaten since luncheon at a wayside inn, but being hungry and alone seemed preferable to having to dine with the duke and his family.
Good heavens, did Joshua really expect that she would bewelcomedinto their midst? As a social equal?
She slipped on her outdoor shoes and wrapped a cloak about herself in case the sea air was chilly. She could not avoid mealtimes for a whole month, of course, but perhaps by tomorrow she would feel sufficiently rested and in command of herself to suggest to the housekeeper that other arrangements be made for her accommodation and meals.
She slipped out down the back stairs and through the side door by which she had entered the house earlier. She hurried down the driveway, not sure where she was going exactly, but not really caring as long as it was far enough away to be out of sight of the house. Just past the thatched cottage, before she had to make the decision whether to leave the park entirely or turn back, she noticed a well-worn path to her right that must lead to the sea, which she had been able to see from the window of her bedchamber.
