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The high, timbered ceiling above her, the dark paneling on the walls, the sparse but elegant furnishings— none of it looked familiar to her.

The bed, though large and draped in thick blankets, was far too rustic for the fine linens she was accustomed to and even though the fire crackling gently in the hearth at the far end of the room gave the space a nice warmth, she still could not shake the unease settling over her.

She sat up slowly, her mind racing.

Her body felt unusually tired, as though it had been through more than mere sleep, and her limbs were sluggish, unwilling to move with her usual grace.

The events of the previous night were a haze, and no matter how she tried, she just could not recall what had led her here.

Wherever here was.

The last thing she remembered was the ball, dancing with Anthony, his laughter, the feel of his hand in hers as they twirled across the ballroom floor and then… he had excused himself, she had gone for … some refreshment and then... darkness.

Nothing more.

With an urgency, she threw aside the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed and as soon as her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, she shivered, more from uncertainty than the chill in the air.

She rose to her feet and crossed the room slowly, her hands trailing over the furniture as if seeking some answer… or some proof that this was not all a strange dream.

Her fingers brushed over the rough surface of a wooden chair, the back of a weathered settee, until her gaze caught on something across the room—a portrait.

She moved toward it, her steps quickening as a sense of recognition came over her.

It was a large, oil-painted portrait hanging above the mantelpiece, the face of a man who seemed both stern and imposing, yet undeniably familiar.

He had sharp, angular features that were softened only slightly by the artistic hand that had painted him, but the resemblance to someone she knew was unmistakable.

Theodore's father.

The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she stopped short, her breath catching in her throat.

She knew this lodge.

Of course she did, she had been here before, years ago, when Theodore's family had invited hers to accompany them on one of their hunting trips.

She remembered the sprawling lodge in the woods, it had been in his family for generations and was quite a distance from her and Anthony's estate, which made it even more confusing that she was waking up here.

So… How had she come to be here?

What happened?

Her mind swirled with questions as she tried to piece together the memories of the night before.

Why would Theodore bring her here?

What would make him do that?

What happened last night?!

She needed answers.

The knot of confusion tightened in her chest, and her gaze darted around the room again, searching for answers, for any clue as to why she had woken here, of all places.

Had she fallen ill? Had Theodore brought her here to care for her? But why would he not have taken her to her own home, to her husband?

To Anthony

Where is Anthony, anyway? She wondered as she moved toward the window, her fingers parting the heavy curtains just enough to look outside.