“Even more reason for her to be backing away from you.” She gave him a stare so frank that Anthony felt certain she saw the situation with far more clarity than he did. “I’m not familiar with Mr. Roberts, but if your description of him is accurate, then I very much doubt he’s managed to elicit as much as a blush from Miss Chilcott, which would mean that if she’s responding to you in the same manner that you’re responding to her, well heavens! The poor girl must be terribly confused, perhaps even frightened by such an onslaught of emotion.”
Anthony closed his eyes against the truth that shone in his mother’s eyes. Her meaning wasn’t much different from what Winston’s had been the previous evening, but her words were kinder. God help him, he felt like an ass. Not only had he burst into Miss Chilcott’s life with his sudden need to claim her as his own, seeking out her house, investigating her identity and meeting with her parents, but in the space of one week he’d kissed her three times and had fondled and pleasured her in a barn, for heaven’s sake. He had single-handedly turned her life upside down, had acted on his baser instincts and had felt affronted when she’d asked him to walk away and leave her alone. “I’ve selfishly pursued her with no thought for what she might be going through,” he muttered.
“Well, I suppose the need for haste has been a factor for you, considering it really will be too late once she marries Mr. Roberts, and since he’s already been courting her for a year, I daresay he’ll propose soon—especially if he and the Chilcotts feel a need to act quickly.”
“I’ve made a complete mess of it,” Anthony said, looking at his mother as if she could somehow give him the answer he needed to make Miss Chilcott his. “I can’t let her marry him, Mama—not with this ... this bond that’s between us. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I feel it inside me, drawing me toward her. If she marries him, I’ll ...” He expelled a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“There’s nothing strange about the way you feel, Anthony, though I must admit that I’m a bit surprised by just how quickly you fell for her. It was the same for me and your papa, you know—we saw each other for the very first time across a crowded room and there was this inexplicable pull.
“We both denied it at first—after all, love at first sight is a fantasy—but then we were introduced, and the more time we spent in each other’s company, the more impossible it became for us to ignore the way we felt about each other.” She paused, tilting her head a little as she regarded her son. “You love her, Anthony, and the sooner you admit that to yourself, the better.”
Anthony shook his head. “No, I ... what I feel is the promise of love, Mama. I don’t actually ... I mean I—”
“Is she constantly in your thoughts? Do you ache to be near her? Do you worry for her and what will become of her if she marries Mr. Roberts instead of you? Have you pondered what life will be like with her at your side? What your children will be like? Would you risk your life to save hers? Would you sacrifice your own happiness for hers? And what if something terrible were to happen to her, would you recover from it and go on with your life, or would it cripple you?”
Anthony couldn’t speak, so he just sat there staring back at his mother, who, in turn, offered him a knowing smile and nodded. “That’s what I thought,” she said.
He felt as if his chest was constricting—as if he couldn’t breathe. This feeling that suddenly swamped him was not in the least bit pleasant. In fact, it terrified him to death knowing that what his mother said was true, because this was far worse than the promise of love. He’d actually gone and quite unwittingly fallen in love with a woman who, he doubted, felt the same way about him. Hell, he knew she was drawn to him, but love? What the devil was he going to do now?Damn!
By the time they arrived at his aunt and uncle’s estate, it was dark. Two footmen came to greet them, each carrying torches to light the way. Anthony helped his mother alight, and together they climbed the steps to the front door, where the butler waited. “Good evening, Your Graces,” he said, taking their hats and gloves and handing them to an awaiting maid. “The earl is in the library—right this way.”
As they followed the butler down a dimly lit corridor, Anthony couldn’t help but reflect upon the note of relief that had tinged the butler’s voice as he’d greeted them. He understood, however, the minute they entered the library. Sitting in a deep armchair was his uncle, the Earl of Chester, staring off at some faraway place, concern and fatigue apparent in the dark patches beneath his eyes. He looked as if he’d aged a dozen years since Anthony had seen him last, only four months earlier, and he recognized in that instant the severity of the situation.
“Gerald,” the duchess whispered as she stepped away from Anthony’s side and approached her brother-in-law with tentative steps.
The earl didn’t flinch—did not as much as acknowledge her presence as he spoke to the space beyond. “She fell ... she just fell ...”
“How did it happen, Gerald?” the duchess prodded, crouching next to his seat.
The earl turned to gaze at her then, the stricken look in his eyes so familiar to Anthony, for it was a look he’d seen in his mother’s eyes three times before—when her husband’s ailment had been announced, when he had given up the fight, and when he had drawn his final breath. It was a look of complete and utter hopelessness and loss of control.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mama,” Anthony said. “I shall just have a word with the butler.”
They exchanged a knowing glance, upon which she nodded and he left the room. Though he had yet to see the state his aunt was in, one thing was clear—his uncle needed help, and Anthony knew precisely what to do. He’d done it all before, after all.
“Marsham,” he addressed the butler who’d positioned himself close enough to the library door should they need him, yet far enough away to offer privacy. “A word if you will.”
Marsham nodded and Anthony followed him back to the foyer.
“Have my cousins been informed about their mother’s condition?” Anthony asked.
“Yes, Your Grace. Our first missives were addressed to them, but as you are probably aware, Lord Hillcrest and his sisters meant to continue on to London after attending your house party. It will take longer for them to arrive than it did you.”
“Quite right, and since they left my estate three days ago, they will have arrived in London already. I doubt they’ll make it all the way back until the day after tomorrow at the earliest.” He considered the butler’s stark expression. Marsham hid it well, but Anthony could tell that he was hoping for assistance. “Needless to say, my mother and I shall remain here until Lord Hillcrest arrives.”
Marsham gave a curt nod. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he said in his familiar, affected voice that betrayed not a single emotion.
“They are family,” Anthony added. “And nothing is more important than that. Now, I assume a physician has been to visit the countess.”
“Yes, Your Grace. He was here this morning and again this evening—he left shortly before your arrival.”
“Very good, Marsham. I’ll need to know exactly what he said, as well as what treatment he has prescribed.” He stopped to think. “Has my uncle eaten his evening meal?”
“No, Your Grace—he has not moved from that chair since yesterday.”
“Good God,” Anthony exclaimed. “And you didn’t think to serve him his food in the library? The man needs to eat, Marsham—he’ll never get through this otherwise.”
“We did try,” the butler said, sounding not the least bit moved by Anthony’s suggestion that he and his staff had shirked their duties.
