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“In bed. The hour is late, Anna. Emily convinced herself you were at the bottom of the river and cried herself to sleep.”

Guilt bubbled up in Anna’s chest. Taking a deep breath, she snatched up the letter, tearing it open. It was a surprisingly long letter, and she read the first sentence.

By the time you receive this letter, George and I will have left England.

Octavia shuffled closer, trying to read over Anna’s shoulder, so Anna got up and moved to the corner of the room, reading the rest of the letter in silence.

The grandfather clock—the one that kept poor time but cost too much to fix—ticked dolefully.

“Well?” Octavia said, at last.

Anna folded up the letter carefully. It was a risky thing for Henry to write. She would have to burn it.

“You are right,” she said quietly. “He jilted me. He… he intended to go through with the marriage, but at the last hour, he could not do it. He’s gone to Italy.”

No need to mention the art tutor.

Octavia bounced to her feet, pacing up and down. “Oh, the wretch. The selfish, heartless wretch.”

“It’s… there’s more to it than that, Mama.”

“What else could there be?”

Anna pressed her lips together. She said nothing, but Octavia didn’t seem to notice, wrapped up as she was in her anger.

“We are ruined, Anna. I know it seems like I’m blaming you, but truly, my darling, I’m not. I only thought I’d lost you, and… oh, I’m making excuses. But after this, things are going to be much, much harder than before.” Octavia rubbed a hand over her face, shaking her head.

Anna drew in a deep breath. Folding the letter, she tucked it into her sleeve.

Remember to burn it.

“I… I have received a proposal, Mama.”

Octavia froze. She turned, and Anna saw naked terror in her mother’s eyes.

“Anna, no.No. Whatever that cursed Earl said to you, you mustn’t?—”

“An offer ofmarriage,Mama.”

“He’s already married.”

“No, I…” Anna crossed the room to take her mother’s cool, strong hands in her clammy ones. “I went to Langdon House to find Henry. Of course, he wasn’t there, but his brother was. His older brother, the Duke.”

“Not that awful rake?”

“Yes. The awful rake. He made it quite clear he hadn’t approved of our marriage. We knew that, of course, but he seemed… Well, he seemed a little sorry for me. It’s hard to tell with a man like him.”

“A rake,” Octavia said shortly. “Do you know, his nickname is Lucifer Langdon in some clubs? The man is vile. If he wasn’t so rich and titled, nobody would have him in their house. The scandals he’s created! We don’t move in his circles anymore, and for that, I am grateful. I didn’t know the man before our downfall, and I don’t wish to know him now. Any charity he wants to send our way, he can keep to himself.”

Anna drew in a breath. “He wants to marry me, Mama.”

There was a taut pause.

“You must be mistaken,” Octavia managed, at last.

Anna thought back to the detailed conversations they’d had regarding marriage, sharing beds—or not sharing beds, in their case—and making heirs, and felt her cheeks flush again.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t think I am mistaken, Mama. He was fairly clear. And… and his friend, the Duke of Blackwood, said that he never says anything he doesn’t mean, in public or private.”