Chapter Twenty-Nine
Anastasia had been asleep when he got home the previous night.
He had still climbed into bed with her because it seemed that was what she wanted.
And it was what he wanted, too. Since she had come to him and asked him to return to her bed, he had not left it.
They might not have made love every night, but they had certainly slept together.
Yes, he supposed he could see why the ton thought it was a love match. They were certainly acting like a couple very much in love…
By the time he awoke, Anastasia had already gotten up for the day. She was sitting at the breakfast table with a piece of dry toast in front of her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Much better, thank you,” she said, although he still thought she looked rather pale, and she clearly didn’t have her usual appetite. Still, he was pleased to see her out of bed and ready to face the day.
“How was the ball?” she asked, and he chewed on his own piece of toast for a few moments to give himself time to think of a reply. He did not wish to mention Lady Frindley, nor seeing Oliver. But that didn’t leave much to discuss…
“Fine,” he said in the end, reaching for his coffee. “Dull, nothing new. I had no real wish to attend without you, as you know.”
She smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes. Their connection seemed as deep as ever—in the bedchamber at least—and yet he couldn’t help but feel that sometimes her happiness was not altogether real. However, he didn’t know what had happened to upset the balance.
Perhaps he was just imagining things.
“Was it well attended?” she asked. “With the Season dwindling, I thought it might be rather quiet.”
There were certainly many in attendance that he wished had not been—Lady Frindley and Mrs. Askew among them.
“If I’m honest, I didn’t stay very long.
I was home well before midnight. But you were already fast asleep.
Is that a new dress?” he asked, hoping to move the conversation in a different direction.
He hadn’t particularly thought he’d done anything wrong, but he found himself uncomfortable talking about the ball and thinking about his conversation with Lady Frindley.
“Oh,” she said, seeming surprised at the change in topic. “Yes, it is. I hope you don’t mind…”
She ran her hands down the dark green fabric of the day dress, and Laurence smiled. “Of course I don’t mind. It looks very pretty on you.”
She blushed, and her eyes fluttered downward. “Thank you.”
“In fact, I think there’s a necklace in the jewelry box upstairs that would go very well with it. Silver, with emeralds. I think it was my grandmother’s—you should look it out.”
Her face went even paler, and he worried that whatever had ailed her the night before had returned.
She nodded. “I’ll—I’ll have a look. Please, excuse me,” she said, standing quickly and hurrying from the room.
He stood but let her go, getting the feeling that she wanted to be alone.
*
She ran to the chamber pot and threw up the few bites of toast she had managed to eat at breakfast.
The necklace. The blasted necklace. She had pawned it for the very first payment Oliver had requested.
She had thought he wouldn’t notice that it was gone. That he wouldn’t know what jewelry his mother or grandmother—or great-grandmother, for that matter—had possessed. She had checked that it wasn’t an item of sentimental value…
And yet he remembered it. Described it exactly. And wanted to see her wear it.
But she couldn’t. She hadn’t been able to afford to buy it back from the pawnshop, and she didn’t even know whether it would still be there. After all, the four-week period she’d had to buy it back before it went on general sale was long over.
She sat down on the stone floor and tried desperately to think of a plan.
How could she get the money? Five hundred pounds…
It wasn’t a huge sum to Laurence, but she couldn’t just ask him for it.
She had a little pin money which she had managed to keep from Oliver, but that wasn’t enough.
She looked down at the new emerald dress.
She could sell that, she supposed. And two or three of the other new gowns she owned.
And maybe there was something else she could pawn, although that would surely land her in a similar situation again. She ran her hands over her face.
She had felt unhappiness pervading her mood since she had realized that Laurence only really wanted her in order to sire an heir.
It had been hard to shake off, but now it was dread that took over.
Dread that Laurence would find out she had pawned the jewelry.
Dread that he would find out she had lied, that she had given the money to Oliver, that she hadn’t come to him—when she so clearly ought to have done.
That she hadn’t trusted him enough to let him handle it.
She had to get the necklace back. And so she tore through her room, finding anything she could possibly sell that Laurence would not notice, and hoped it would be enough.