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Anthony tilted his head to one side. “Would you have allowed Miss Longman to treat him?”

“What?” his grandmother scoffed. “What sort of a question is that?”

“Would you have trusted that she knew what she was doing?” he pressed.

Will you judge her for continuing her studies when we are married? was the question he really wanted to ask, but he needed to broach the subject first.

“Certainly I would,” Harriet replied, tutting. “Women have been healers for centuries.”

“That is what she said.” He smirked, wondering if the two women might get along. “And I am glad that you are so pleased with her work, for we are to spend a lot more time together.”

His grandmother gasped. “Does she think William will be unwell for a long time? What did the physician say? Oh heavens, is it something terrible?”

“You misunderstand me,” Anthony said, chuckling. “I have asked Miss Longman to marry me, and she has accepted.”

Harriet sat frozen in the armchair, the cloth unmoving on the lenses of her spectacles.

It was not quite the reaction he had expected. Then again, he had been fending off the idea of marriage for so long that it stood to reason that she would be a little shocked.

“I mean to speak with her uncle this afternoon, to make it official, and then I shall contend with the banns, but I do not see why anyone should protest the match,” he continued, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

“I see,” she replied, at last.

“I see? That is all you can say?” He rolled his eyes. “You have been bothering me to get married for an age, and now that I am getting married, you cannot muster a sliver of enthusiasm?”

Harriet put her spectacles back on. “Her uncle spoke very highly of her.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Anthony sighed. “You seemed encouraging of her. You said she was the best of those at the audition. Yet, you do not seem so encouraging now.”

“Nonsense. I am perfectly delighted by this turn of events,” she replied. “Yes, this is good news indeed. Perhaps I might call upon her later, while you are speaking to her uncle.”

Anthony relaxed, satisfied by his grandmother’s response. “Do you think William will be pleased?”

“I think he will be thrilled, my dear boy,” she replied, her face softening into a smile. “Speaking of which, you should go and sit with him. I am retiring after my night’s watch.”

“Of course,” Anthony said, rising from his chair.

Yet, there was an odd reluctance in his legs that held him there for a moment. It was easy to play the good father when one’s son was asleep, but what if William awoke? What if he did not want his father at his bedside? What if the boy called for Marina again?

“Have you seen Mrs. Havers?” he asked.

His grandmother’s brow furrowed into sad lines, a soft sigh leaving her chest. “She is tending to the fireplaces upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

He headed for the door, but before he could cross the threshold, his grandmother left him with a few parting words, “It should be you, Anthony. You should be there when he wakes up. I am, of course, glad that you will soon have a wife and William will have a new mother, but that does not mean that you can cease to be a father. He will still need you.”

“I am well aware,” Anthony replied coldly, and continued on his way.

But that is just it, Grandmother: I do not know how to be a good father.

Indeed, he could not stop thinking about the fact that if he had sent his son to his room yesterday, anything might have happened to the boy. And that was all his fault.

“The Duke of Knotgill?” Bernard folded up his newspaper so fast that it tore. “You are to marry the Duke of Knotgill? My precious niece is to be a duchess?”