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CHAPTER THREE

The morning light filtered through the breakfast room windows in a manner far too bright and warm for how Anna felt.

She sat across from her brother, absently stirring her tea while her mind replayed the events of the previous night in an endless loop that was gradually driving her mad. She still could not believe what had happened, almost hoping it was some sort of nightmare that had been conjured by the conversation she’d had with Edith.

Surely she had gotten home shortly after she left Edith’s. Surely she had made it to bed safely. Surely, none of that happened.

But the memories were there, cold hard proof of the unfortunate events that transpired the night before, and the details were far too vivid to dismiss completely.

The duke's study. His voice, low and scathing. The way he had looked at her as though she were something unpleasant he had discovered on the sole of his boot – before and after he had told her, all the while assuming she was someone else, that she was unworthy of being with his brother.

Anna stifled a groan, willing herself to put the whole matter behind her, because it had already cost her a night’s worth of good sleep and she couldn’t afford to give it anything more than that. The best thing to do was obviously forget about it. She had told herself that much after his carriage had dropped her in an empty alley, in the street before hers.

But with the unease within her refusing to settle, she was less convinced of this conclusion than she wished to be.

“You are unusually quiet this morning,” Her brother, Rowland Danvers, Viscount of Hartmoor, observed, not looking up from the letter he was reading. “Ordinarily I cannot get you to stop talking about Rebecca long enough to eat your eggs.”

“I am simply admiring the eggs, Rowland. Some of us appreciate a good breakfast in silence.”

He snorted, setting the letter aside. “That may be the case for some – if not most people – but it hardly applies to you. Do you have no plans for today? No intention to get a new dress with Edith or giggle as little schoolgirls over potential suitors?”

Anna’s stomach churned with nervousness at the mention of Edith, and she pushed away her plate.

“No. Not today.”

Rowland hummed thoughtfully, then he took away her plate of eggs and gave her some toast and jam instead, remarking with a small smile,

“I still cannot quite believe it, you know. That one of my sisters has an entire child. It still feels strange to think of.”

Anna paused with her teacup halfway to her lips. “An entire child? Whatever do you mean by that? Were you expecting Phoebe to produce half of one, and leave the remainder somewhere else for safekeeping?”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it. I only mean that it still strikes me as strange that our sister – our Phoebe, who practically raised us as our mother – now has an entire small person who depends upon her for everything. She went from caring for us as children to making a child of her own, who is now entitled to her full attention and love. It is a great deal to consider.”

Anna understood how he felt. After their parents had passed away in a fire, they had been incredibly lost and had to do a lot to survive. Rowland, the oldest and heir to their father, had to take on his title and the role of viscount. Phoebe had done everything she could and more to keep them afloat, ensuring they ate and rested well, and that their minds were free of any and all worries.

She’d taken on a job secretly to shoulder some of the expenses for Anna’s debut season, so Rowland would not feel burdened to make the extra provisions and so Anna would have the fine things she dreamed of. And when a scandal had threatened Anna, Phoebe had gotten married to save her.

Now, she had a daughter, a little girl who – unbeknownst to the little bundle of joy – was utterly blessed with the most remarkable mother in the world. It was rather bittersweet to think that Phoebe’s family was growing and perhaps her priorities might experience a natural shift, but Anna did not doubt for a second that her sister would love and care for them still.

“It is a great deal to consider precisely because it is wonderful, not because it is strange. Rebecca let out the most precious laugh I’d ever heard, you know, when I visited earlier in the week. Not that startled little hiccup she used to make, but a true laugh, whenever Edward made those ridiculous faces they’re both fond of at her.” Anna's expression softened despite herself, some of the stress from last night momentarily forgotten. “You ought to visit more often. She has started reaching for people now, whoever comes near enough.”

“I visit plenty.”

“You visit when Phoebe tells you to, which is not at all the same thing as visiting because you simply wish to.”

Rowland sniffed indignantly, frowning at the dregs lingering at the bottom of his coffee cup before he stated,

“I will make the effort to visit more. I do love her a lot, and I am very happy for our sister, but I only wish to give them the space to bond properly with their child. Not all of us have to be strangely obsessed with the child.”

“Strange? Me?” Anna pointed to herself incredulously. “I do not know what you mean, brother dearest. If anything, you are the strange one between us!”

“I find that hard to believe.” He gestured at her with mock flourish as he began. “You are the one who spends nearly half an hour pinching poor Rebecca's cheeks and making sounds as though you intend to swallow the child whole. And this happens every time you visit — do not try to deny it, our sister has shared the problem with me as a first-hand witness to your deeds.”

“She has the most precious cheeks in the whole country. It would be a crime not to pinch them,” Anna sputtered, lifting her chin. “Frankly, I find it rather concerning that you can look upon your own niece and resist her charms so easily. It suggests a defect of character.”

“A defect of character,” he repeated, with an amused expression as he laughed. “Well. At least now I know precisely how to conduct myself when you finally have a child of your own. I shall stand back and let you devour the poor thing in peace.”

Anna very nearly choked on her tea. She set the cup down with more force than intended, the porcelain clinking sharply against the saucer.