Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Annette
Nothing on my breakfast tray appealed to me. My impatience would not allow it. The doctor had told me to keep off my ankle for a week. I had listened, though admittedly after much protest, but I was at the edge of my abilities. I would go mad in this room.
Where was Mother?
“My ankle isn’t even sore,” I said to Rose, my lady’s maid, who was currently shuffling through dresses in my wardrobe. “Can you not help me dress so I might leave?”
“I was instructed to wait for Lady Paxton,” Rose responded without looking over her shoulder. “The doctor said he’d visit, and once he approves of you walking, I’m certain the viscountess will not forbid you from leaving.”
“I could dress and leave on my own,” I muttered.
This time, Rose did turn around. “But you won’t. Your mother asked you to wait. You’ve gone a whole week. One more hour shan’t hurt you.”
“It might. I’m dying inside, Rose. Utterly withering away. As someone named after a flower, you should understand my yearning to escape before I wilt completely.”
Rose merely chuckled, and I slumped back against the headboard of my bed, folding my arms. My finger tapped incessantly on my skin, and I counted my breaths.
In, out, one. In, out, two. In, out—
A tap sounded on the door, and Mother peeked inside, her smile directed at me. She came inside, closing the door behind her. “You look put-out, dear.”
“What took you so long? You are late. At least two hours late.”
Mother shook her head. “Two minutes, darling. I am two minutes later than usual, and I hope you will forgive me for it. I was speaking with your father.”
I tucked my irritation away. Temporarily. “How is he?”
News of my disappearance and condition had not done Father any favors.
His cough had worsened, no doubt in response to his worrying over me.
I suspected part of him blamed himself. I would visit him later and rectify that.
It was not his fault that I had ventured out with a dark sky predicting rain.
Or that I had gone to the ruins against his wishes.
Mother had chided me thoroughly for that.
“He is a little better this morning,” she said.
That was good.
I sighed before tossing the covers off my legs. “May I dress now?”
“Not until the doctor arrives.”
“But—”
“You promised you would heed him,” Mother reminded.
“And I have. In fact, I have more than listened. My sennight was up last night. I’m hours overdue. Besides, my ankle feels fine. A bit tender is all.” I paused. “He is still here, is he not?”
Mother smiled indulgently. She knew I did not mean the doctor, for I asked about Edward every morning.
Despite his promise to stay, I feared he would leave.
What reason had I given him to remain? I had not told him of my change of heart.
I had not confessed how much I loved him, nor expressed my forgiveness.
Yet, I hoped he knew. I hoped he understood that my simple pleading meant I needed him here. Wanted him here.
“He is still at Kenwick,” Mother confirmed. “And he has been rather antsy all morning. He wishes to see you the moment the doctor leaves.”
My heart swelled at the prospect. For days, I had asked if Edward might visit me, but Mother had forbidden it.
There were some matters of impropriety she would not allow, and having a gentleman in my bedchamber, even under supervision, was one of them.
She might swoon if she knew how often we had been in each other’s company alone.
Not that I intended to tell either of my parents about those moments. Or Rus, for that matter. I had already bribed Jack with three months’ worth of pin money to keep his mouth closed about seeing Edward and I riding together. On the same horse.
Regardless, Father had agreed with Mother’s verdict, which left me excessively bored all week. Rus and Jack had each visited once, but as soon as they realized I did not knock on death’s door, they left me for their own selfish pursuits.
Perhaps not entirely selfish. Rus was attempting to learn all he could about the estate before Father’s passing.
Jack, however, had no excuse. One would think after all that time on the continent he might put up with me for more than an hour, but apparently not.
At least Bridget had offered to regale me with made-up adventures. Those entertained well enough.
But in the quiet moments when I was alone, my mind wandered to Edward—to our future.
My memory of the collapse of the ruins was clear, but what followed remained hazy.
I remembered the pain, the constant patter of the rain against my skin, and the cold seeping into my very core.
I had dreamed of Edward then, imagining him lifting me into his arms and feeling the protection of his embrace.
And somehow, those dreams had manifested into reality. His voice had pulled me from my delusion. I had questioned his presence and assumed him a figment of my imagination.
Assumed him to be a quiet, desperate manifestation of my heart.
But, no. Edward had returned. He had returned for me. Rus had told me so himself. My brother’s statement had unlocked more memories. Quiet whisperings, a deep tone, an endearment.
Love, love, love. The word Edward had called me. Not Annette. Not Miss Apsley. Just love.
I wanted to cling to the warmth of it. The hope. Could it truly be that Edward loved me? Father had seemed so convinced of it, and Edward’s actions supported the claim. He refused the money. He returned to Kenwick.
Hold on, love.
He had called me love. Did I dare hope he meant it?
The doctor arrived, and I did my best to portray a modicum of patience.
He checked the swelling of my ankle, measured my pulse, and questioned me as though he feared I sustained a head injury.
My responses were curt and, admittedly, not without a little venom.
Mother chided me more than once, and I apologized.
The poor man was only doing his job, after all.
He had not prevented me from seeing Edward before now.
“She is recovering as expected,” the doctor announced. “You should take things easy for another week, Miss Apsley. Avoid riding or going for extended walks, that sort of thing, but otherwise, there is nothing I am concerned with.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Mother dipped her head. “Might I see you out?”
“That is very good, my lady. Good day, Miss Apsley.”
“Good day,” I called to him, unable to curb my enthusiasm.
The moment the door closed, I climbed out of bed. Rose chuckled from across the room but wasted no time in helping me dress. It took any remaining patience I had left to sit still while she fashioned my hair into a simple but elegant knot.
I hurried from the room once she had finished, the sound of Rose’s laughter echoing after me.
The stairs required a slower pace, which I learned after attempting them too quickly and feeling a dull ache in my foot.
Once I made it to the bottom, it occurred to me that Mother had not mentioned where Edward was.
As the drawing room was closest, I decided to check there first and was rewarded the moment I stepped inside.
Edward stood near the window, his gaze trained outside.
He wore a black coat over a burnt red waistcoat, and his hair was a disaster of wayward curls, as if he had run his hand through it a dozen times.
I wouldn’t mind adding to that number.
He stood statue-still, but there was something anxious about his expression. Was it due to his desire to see me? And what would our conversation entail?
Nerves twisted my stomach. I wanted to believe Edward loved me.
My rejection of him a week ago had struck him.
Pain and regret had marred his face. I had been quick to abandon all hope of him returning my feelings then, afraid his reaction was yet another performance.
Afraid my attachment had blinded me from the truth once again.
Time and Father’s explanation had afforded me clarity.
Edward was not Mr. Wilcot. Even if he did not love me, he cared deeply for my well-being. That much could not be denied.
“Oh, good. You are finally here.”
My gaze snapped to the other side of the room, where Russell sat with an annoyed expression. My heart sank a little. I did not need my brother present for this conversation.
“Well, come in then.” He gestured rapidly with his hand. “I have things to do, you know. I cannot play chaperone all day.”
I glanced at Edward, who was now looking at me. His eyes darted over my body, as if he were searching for any sign I remained unwell. Then, they landed on my face. Our gazes locked, and his features softened. The warmth and longing there threatened to melt me into a puddle on the floor.
“For Heaven’s sake.” Rus stood and crossed the room to me. “If all you intend to do is make eyes at each other like this, then perhaps I will find someone else to babysit.”
“It was you who requested this,” said Edward. The words were gentle but carried amusement.
Rus glared at him. “Yes, well, you have not entirely earned my trust back, now have you? If Netty decides she wants you tossed from Kenwick, I will see to the matter myself.” He turned to me, a question in his eyes, even as the wrinkles in his forehead smoothed.
Just like Edward, his expression softened as he looked at me, and I realized it then. This expression was one of love.
Not the same sort of love, of course, but genuine care and affection.
Both of them displayed it openly. Rus, as my elder brother, worried over me.
Wished to protect me. Yes, we often fought, but this proved how much I meant to him.
In his own way, he loved me, and I adored him for it.
I worried about him, too, even now as I noted the dark circles under his eyes, traces of his exhaustion.
And Edward…
I glanced at him, and my heart skipped.