Page 57

Both ideas were vaguely nauseating. If Henry was in dire trouble, he would write to him, Theodore was sure, not to the woman he had jilted at the altar.

Wouldn’t he? Theodore had always made it clear that Henry could come to him, his older brother, in times of need.

Hadn’t he? Surely Henry must have known. They were brothers, after all, no matter how much they disliked each other. If one couldn’t rely on a brother, who could one rely on?

Silencing his doubts, Theo tore open the envelope, revealing a few spiky paragraphs, hastily written.

“Go on,” Anna said, breaking the silence. “Read it aloud.”

“‘My dearest Anna,’” Theo began, his voice clipping over the use ofdearest, “‘I know how much you must hate me. Frankly, I deserve it. The truth is, I could not condemn you to a life with me. Friendship and marriage are two entirely different things, and I wish I could make you see that.

I want love, and I want it for you, too. I just know that you cannot find love with me. I have used you ill, and I wouldn’t blame you for never forgiving me, although I pray nightly that you can find it in your heart to rise above what I have done to you and that we can be friends once again. I don’t dare to hope.

I’m well, and I’m comfortable enough, and I hope that you are too. I haven’t included an address, but once I am settled, I will let you know where I am. I hope that you and Beatrice are able to visit—if you can forgive me.

Your Friend (still, I hope!), Henry.’”

There was a brief pause after he finished reading the letter. Pursing his lips, Theodore ran his eyes over the hastily penned letter once more, searching for clues or information that he might have missed.

“That was a thoughtless letter,” he said, at last. “Henry has always been that way, I’m afraid.”

“He doesn’t mean to be hurtful,” Anna said, her voice hushed. “He doesn’t understand.”

“He’s old enough to understand,” Theodore shot back. “Any fool knows that leaving a woman at the altar and running away is cowardly and likely to reflect worse on her than on him.”

Anna flinched at that, and once again, Theodore wished he’d been more careful with his words. Too late, of course. Once one had said something, there was no stuffing the words back into one’s mouth, and the only choice was to move on with grace.

“This is all my fault, you know,” she said, her voice low, so quiet that he almost didn’t hear her.

Anna had sunk down onto the trunk at the bottom of Theo’s bed. She hunched over, staring off into space, looking so thoroughly miserable that Theodore realized belatedly that he couldn’t simply walk away from her.

“Your fault? How so?”

She drew in a breath, closing her eyes. “I bullied him into marrying me.”

After a moment’s consideration, Theo stepped closer to Anna, dropping into a crouch so that they were at eye level. Reluctantly, she glanced at him.

“Let me tell you this, my dear,” he said, at last. “Men are notbulliedinto marriage. The world is designed to benefit men, let us not deny that. Henry is not a weak man. He is rather too kind, in my opinion, and wants everybody to be happy and be pleasedwith him. You’re his friend, would you disagree with what I’ve said?”

Anna bit her lower lip. “No,” she said, her voice small. “But you don’t know the facts.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes. “Henry didn’t want to marry me. He didn’t even suggest it. The idea was all mine. I know that he didn’t love me, and I didn’t love him. Not in a way a womanoughtto love her husband, of course.”

Theodore didn’t bother to point out thathewas her husband, and she didn’t seem particularly inclined to lovehimin the way a woman might love a man. He stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“I knew he was reluctant,” Anna admitted, at last. “I knew right from the start, but I pushed the matter. What sort of friend would do that? I knew he didn’t love me, not in that way, but it never seemed to matter. I talked and talked to him until he agreed. And now he’s had to flee the country. His reputation will never be the same. As for me, I’ve been able to claw back some respectability. I’ve even risen in the world a little…”

“More than a little, I should think,” Theodore said, peeved.

“… but Henry might never be able to come back home. All because I was thoughtless and selfish.”

She fell silent.

Theodore was quiet for a moment, contemplating what she had said. At last, he sighed and raked his hands through his hair, ruining the style Briggs had worked so hard on.

“The situation is not as dire as you think. Henry will be accepted back into Society. There will be tuts, and disapproving eye rolls, and a good deal of mockery. I suppose there are some more conservative families that will not have him in their homes, but I cannot think of any family in the highest circles that would exclude him, since he is my brother.