Chapter Four #3
“Disappears?” she said, as warning bells rang in her head and her entire body tensed. All she could think about was Rutherford and how he had led her to believe she was his world, when in fact she was only a small part of it. Was Greyson hiding something similar?
“Forgive me,” Anastasia whispered, “for upsetting you.”
“You haven’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar. I can’t explain his disappearances, but I don’t believe he has a mistress hidden somewhere. I’m not saying he’s a monk, but having a mistress isn’t like him. Nor have I noticed him paying attention to any young ladies since he met you.”
Frowning, Letitia asked, “Why did you assume I was thinking he had a mistress?”
“Forgive me, but I know about Lord Rutherford’s mistress.”
Her feet stopped. They stuck to the stone and refused to move.
Mortification was the first thing that came to mind.
Ever since her husband’s death, she understood that most of polite society knew about his mistress and the children he’d sired with her.
But she hadn’t expected Anastasia to know.
Or at least not come right out and mention it.
The tension threatening to crack her body into a thousand pieces eased at hearing that Greyson didn’t have a mistress, but not entirely.
She hated secrets. Could she allow Greyson to court her, if he had secrets?
And how could she bring up the subject without raising suspicion?
She couldn’t. She would just have to stay vigilant.
She forced her feet forward, and they began moving as if nothing untoward had happened to stop her in her tracks.
“As his sister, I worry about him, though.”
“No doubt. Just as he worries about you.” Letitia forced her worries about Greyson from her mind. “He is happy for you and Hunter. Is it as serious as it looks?”
Anastasia exhaled, then laughed. A nervous laugh. “I believe so. If I tell you something, you must promise not to share it with my brother.”
“I promise.”
“I love him.” Her words came out as the softest of exhales.
Letitia held her breath, quickly glanced over her shoulder, then exhaled when Greyson and Hunter appeared deep in conversation. Neither would’ve heard Anastasia’s proclamation of love. “Does he feel the same?” From the looks he gave her, she believed he did.
“Yes. He told me tonight,” she said wistfully. “He said he would speak to Greyson soon, since Greyson makes all my father’s decisions these days.”
“I understand your father has been ill for some time.”
“Yes. It’s rather sad. His symptoms began slowly; he would get disoriented or confused.
Then he started forgetting meetings, people’s names, and even us.
It’s terribly sad on the days he doesn’t recognize me.
I sometimes avoid his room, afraid he won’t know my name or who I am.
Then, when I do stop by, and he knows me, I feel guilty for the times I stay away.
It’s so hard to know what to do. He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and my mother barely ever leaves his side.
I can’t imagine he will last much longer.
My mother and the nurse force him to eat and drink.
They alone are keeping him alive.” Anastasia paused and wiped a tear with her gloved fingers. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, tears pooling in her own eyes as she thought of the tragic story.
“My mother’s health has declined right along with my father’s. She hardly sleeps or eats. She’s down to skin and bones.”
“I’m so sorry. Greyson has hinted at this, but I didn’t realize it was so severe.”
“Their health weighs heavily on his shoulders. He feels guilty for staying in Newmarket for so long, but I think he needed the distance to clear his head and enjoy life a little.”
Poor Greyson. No wonder he hadn’t had time to visit her.
All the times she’d thought ill of him for not calling upon her, when the truth of the matter was that he was selflessly taking care of his family.
A twinge of guilt, which turned into a thread flowing through her veins, joined another thread of guilt she carried and hadn’t made peace with.
She was still tortured by the guilt from the night Rutherford died.
If it hadn’t been for her arguing with him about his mistress and going out on such a stormy night, he might still be alive.
As they approached the stairs to the veranda, Hunter came up beside Anastasia and asked, “May I escort you inside?”
“Yes,” she replied with a radiant smile that had Letitia forgetting her woes.
“They look good together,” Greyson said matter-of-factly as he stood at her side at the bottom of the steps, his gaze on his friend and sister.
“They do.”
“May I?” He offered his arm, and his tentative eyes met hers, making her realize that even after the kiss they had shared not long ago in the gardens, he was still uncertain about her feelings for him.
It made her realize he really did regret having ignored her for those long, lonely months right after he returned from Newmarket.
At least from her perspective, they were long and lonely.
From what his sister said, he had been quite busy and overwhelmed with family affairs.
“You may.” She placed her gloved hand on his forearm, and they climbed the stairs to the veranda and into the salon, where he escorted her directly to Emmeline and Lilly.
“Forgive me for monopolizing Lady Rutherford’s time,” he said as he bowed. “Your Grace, Lady Langford, Lady Rutherford, I bid you goodnight.”
Letitia noted that both her friends were watching Greyson saunter away.
“How was your time in the gardens?” Emmeline asked with a sly smile.
“Yes, please tell us,” Lilly said, mimicking Emmeline’s look.
“Shhh,” she said, looking around and relaxing when it seemed no one had heard them. “It was pleasant. We bumped into Hunter and Anastasia.”
This time, when Emmeline spoke, she lowered her voice.
“We tried to watch her, but Anastasia’s a slippery one.
We knew she was with Hunter and would be safe .
. . well, relatively safe, anyway. I know you were upset with Greyson and his neglect of you, but I recognize the look of interest in a man’s eyes.
Perhaps he has a very good reason for his neglect. ”
“He did explain, and so did Anastasia.” Tears threatened to appear, and she fought them off.
“A note would’ve been nice. But he made no promises to me in Newmarket.
Just a passing comment about calling on me, which I took too seriously.
It was hardly a declaration of undying love and commitment.
” By the widening of her friends’ eyes, she knew she’d said too much.
What was going on with her tonight? One moment she was almost paralyzed with guilt, and the next she was ready to cry her eyes out.
Oh, dear, her hand covered her stomach. She must be close to getting her courses.
Lilly sighed and took her hand. “He hurt you—more than I realized. You care more deeply for him than I thought. For that, forgive me for not being there to support you.”
“Don’t be silly.” Now she felt bad for Lilly feeling bad.
“You and Emmeline were at your country estates until recently. If I recall correctly, I made only one small comment about it in my letters to you both. Hardly a cry for help. I’m a grown woman, a widow, and a mother.
I can handle the disappointments that come up in life. ”
Emmeline took her free hand in hers. “We know how strong and resilient you are. We wish you hadn’t pined away for Greyson alone.”
“Thank you. Both of you. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go home now.”
“We will walk out with you,” Lilly said. “My little unborn baby and I are ready for bed.”
Emmeline and Lilly saw her to her carriage and left after exchanging hugs and promises that things would improve. As she sat inside her carriage, listening to the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the creaking of the wheels, she began to believe them.
When the carriage stopped, Letitia startled awake. “I must be more tired than I thought,” she said to herself just as her footman opened the door, lowered the steps and assisted her in alighting from the carriage.
Mr. Henry greeted her at the door. “Welcome home, my lady. Miss Jane is waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Henry. You may retire for the night.”
He bowed. “Thank you, my lady.”
Feeling weary from all the stimulation of being around so many people, she trudged up the stairs on tired legs, her hand gripping the banister tightly with every step.
After spending time in Newmarket for the races, she thought she would be used to crowds by now.
But somehow tonight was taxing on her, making her wonder if she would ever get used to the London social scene.
Crowds didn’t bother her; she just needed to get acclimated to them, and she never really had the chance while married to Graham.
She supposed that, since she hoped to spend more and more time with the ton, she had better get used to the social whirl.
Perhaps tonight’s fatigue had more to do with being in private with Greyson and the kiss they shared?
It was as though no time at all had passed since they were together in Newmarket.
When she entered her chambers, she said, “Did you forget I told you not to wait up?”
“My lady.” Jane curtsied. “I didn’t forget. I wanted to wait for you in case you did have need of my services.”
“Thank you. Please loosen my dress and stays. I can take care of the rest myself.”
“Yes, my lady,” Jane said as she did as asked.
Jane closed the door quietly when she left.
Letitia stripped down, poured water from a pitcher into the basin, wet a cloth, scrubbed her skin, and dried off.
She used tooth powder on a cloth to clean her teeth.
She went behind the screen in the far corner of her room to take care of personal needs.
Then she put on her night rail that Jane had left on her bed and draped her evening clothes over a chair to keep them from wrinkling.
She climbed into bed, turned onto her side, and snuggled beneath the coverlet, sighing heavily.
Being in bed beneath the covers felt decadent rather than a nightly occurrence.
Her mind drifted to the kiss she had shared with Greyson.
It felt so natural to her, like coming home after an extended visit away.
Did he feel it too? Or was she alone with her feelings?
Sometimes it was hard to read Greyson. One moment, his emotions were plain as day, like an open book, and the next, the book snapped shut.
When his guard was down, his gorgeous green eyes were a window to his soul.
When he protected himself, they were a dark abyss, swirling green and black, lacking any emotion whatsoever.
Those glimpses made her skin prickle. Seeing him devoid of emotion didn’t sit well with her.
He was meant to be joyful and unguarded, not shut off from the world and his surroundings.
Tonight wasn’t the first time she’d caught a glimpse of this side of him. A time or two in Newmarket, she had witnessed it, which made her wonder why. He should always be joyful, open, and approachable.
She rolled onto her back, stared up at the ceiling, wondering what Greyson was doing.
Was he home and in bed, thinking of her as she was of him?
Had he visited one of his clubs for a nightcap?
Did he do that every night? There were many things she didn’t know about him.
Little things she wanted to know. Big things she hoped to know one day.
For the first time, she let herself acknowledge that they were, in some ways, strangers and, in others, well acquainted.
What she learned from Anastasia that night was that he was an intensely private person when it came to his family and their troubles.
As she thought back to their time in Newmarket, to the horse races and the nightly balls and soirees they attended, she never sensed that he felt guilty about being away from his parents.
Yet according to Anastasia, he did. Not only was he private, but she was also beginning to think he hid his feelings deep inside.