Page 25 of A Marriage of Necessity

“Come along, then.” Kennedy turned and dodged two passing gentlemen, then pushed through the throng that seemed to have grown during his walk in the garden.

They reached the two women, and the viscountess said, “Kennedy I am relieved to see you,” then broke off when Ranald stepped up beside him.

“My lady, this is my uncle, Lord Ranald,” Kennedy said. “Ranald, Lady Kinsley and her daughter Lady Louisa.”

“Ma’am.” Ranald bowed over the older woman’s hand. Louisa curtsied and he bowed in return.

“What is amiss?” Kennedy demanded, then realized he had spoken too loudly when a group of nearby man looked their way. “What has happened? he said in a low voice.

She hesitated, and Kennedy said, “You may speak freely in front of my uncle.”

She glanced at the older man, then said in a low voice, “Your stepmother took Anne up to meet your father.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. “I instructed her not to leave the ballroom,” he said.

The dowager viscountess’s brows rose. “You clearly do not know your wife, if you expected that command to be followed.”

“My wife will learn to heed my commands,” he said.

Amusement flickered in her eyes. “It may be you who learns a few lessons,” she murmured.

“I take it you believe a wife has the right to ignore her husband’s wishes?”

“Not at all. I am simply experienced enough to know that a marriage—a happy marriage—is not built on obedience to commands.”

“She has a point,” Ranald said.

Kennedy gave his uncle a narrow-eyed look. “I can see an interesting road lies ahead for me.”

“Of that you may be assured,” the viscountess said. “First, however, you might want to rescue your stepmother from Anne.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon? It is Anne who will need rescuing.”

She gave him a polite smile. “You have not yet had cause to learn this, but Anne has a temper.”

He barked a laugh. “Indeed, I have learned that, madam.” He excused himself and headed for his father’s chambers to rescue someone, though he knew not who.

* * *

Anne’s heart squeezed at sight of the elderly man who sat propped up in bed reading a book. He was more than just ill. The paleness of his skin and the tremble in his hands told her he was dying. Still, a keen intelligence stared back at her through the pale blue eyes that watched their approach.

Jacqueline hurried to his bed, then pressed a kiss to his cheek, and said, “My dear, this is Anne.”

Anne stopped a few feet away.

“Come closer.” He beckoned with a gnarled hand.

Anne did as instructed and stopped beside Jacqueline, then curtsied.

“You are very beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord,” Anne said.

“What do you think of my son? Will he give you a son?”

Anne started at the question. How did she know the answer to such a question?

“I am sure he will do his best, my lord.”