The way he spoke his words caused her pause. Her father was trying to be fair, and she should meet him halfway. “Very well,” she agreed. “I will remain in the townhouse.”
“Thank you,” her father sighed.
“May I go in the gardens, at least?”
Her father considered her request for a brief moment. “Yes, assuming you take no less than four footmen with you.”
“Do you not think that is a little extreme?”
“I do not.”
Anette reached for the cup of tea that had been placed in front of her. There was no point in arguing with her father. He thought he was doing what was best for her and she should just accept her fate, for the time being.
Her mother stepped into the room. “Good morning.”
Rising, her father greeted his wife. “Hello, my dear,” he said. “I trust that you slept well.”
“How could I sleep well?” her mother asked, waving him back down. “My daughter was almost abducted last night from Vauxhall Gardens.”
“At least no one witnessed the attack.” Her father retrieved the newssheets and held them up. “Anette did make the Society page but it only mentioned that Roswell escorted her to Vauxhall Gardens last night.”
“Why would anyone care about who escorted me to Vauxhall Gardens?” Anette asked.
Her mother sat down on a chair across from her. “You and Roswell would make a brilliant match.”
“Roswell and I are just friends,” Anette said.
“Which could be the start of a wonderful relationship,” her mother pressed. “Although, it would be better if you had caught Fredrick’s eye. He will be a marquess one day.”
“I have no interest in Roswell’s older brother,” Anette asserted. “He is much too…” Her voice trailed off. What was he? He was a boorish man that was far too serious for her liking.
Knowing her mother was still waiting for a response, she replied, “Old.”
“Old?” her mother asked. “I would not consider Fredrick old. He is only a few years older than Roswell.”
“Yes, well, Fredrick spent most of his time chiding me for the silliest infractions when I was younger,” Anette said.
“For good reason. You were quite the hoyden,” her father remarked.
“Regardless, Fredrick and I would never suit,” Anette stated. That much was true. She had never even considered Fredrick any more than a family acquaintance.
“That is a shame,” her mother muttered as she went to butter a piece of bread. “He is a war hero, right alongside Wellington.”
Her father bobbed his head. “Fredrick is a fine man, and I do hope he will return to us when this nasty war is over.”
The butler stepped into the room and met Anette’s gaze. “Lady Octavia has arrived and would like a moment of your time.”
Her father interjected, “Please send her in to dine with us.”
“Yes, my lord,” the butler said before spinning on his heel to do his master’s bidding.
A moment later, Lady Octavia stepped into the dining room, wearing a pale yellow gown. “I apologize for interrupting but I came to see how Anette is faring.”
Touched by her friend’s concern, Anette replied, “I am well. Thank you.”
Her father had risen when Octavia had entered the room. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”
Octavia glanced over at the spread on the buffet table and said, “I do not wish to be a burden.”
