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Chapter Twenty-Three

A footman stood at attention on the portico near the back door. He informed Caden and Anna the household awaited them in the grand parlor.

Hand on the small of her back, Caden led her through a maze of corridors.

Soon they neared a massive doorway opening into a chamber Anna had yet to visit. A muted din of somber voices greeted them as they crossed the threshold.

The parlor was large and lushly appointed with gold filagree trimmings, marble statuary and hearth, velvet drapery and cushions, and quite definitely formal. It occurred to her the family had treated her as one of their own since her arrival.

As their presence became known by one and all, all conversation ceased. Five sets of eyes turned in their direction.

The earl and Zeke stood before the massive, marble mantle.

A low burning fire glowed in the grate. Lady Lillian and Lady Kitty shared a sofa situated near an oriel window overlooking a formal garden.

Lady Wentworth held herself ramrod straight before said window, her back to the view. Sunlight streamed in behind her.

A knife could cut the tension in the room.

“Good morning,” Anna said, a tentative smile on her face. “Lady Wentworth, it is so very good to see you.”

She spoke the truth. Her odd feeling of dis-ease not withstanding, she had missed her employer, with her sharp tongue and dry wit. She hastened toward the older woman whose entire frame seemed to sag with unabashed relief at the sight of her.

“There, you see? Hale and hardy as promised,” Lady Kitty said in her melodic, soothing voice.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lady Wentworth replied, though her tone held no real heat.

She reached for Anna’s hands with both of hers as if they were dear old friends, reuniting after a long time apart, rather than an employer and employee. It probably seemed strange to Caden’s family. To Anna, the greeting felt somehow right.

“Let me have a look at you.” Lady Wentworth eyed her head to toe. “How do you fare, my dear?”

Anna’s eyes burned for no good reason. “Very well, thanks to you.” She smiled at Caden. “And Mr. Thurgood, of course. I didn’t expect to see you quite so soon. It seems a lot of trouble for you to go to—again.”

Lady Wentworth’s expression sobered. “I had to come immediately. I bring news that you will want to hear.”

A fresh wave of dread rolled through her. “You saw him. Lord Bolton.” It was a statement more than a question.

“I more than saw him, I dealt with the blackguard. That’s what I need to tell you. I’ve handled everything. You’re free of the man.”

Anna blinked. “You handled everything?”

Caden appeared at her side. “How so? ”

Across the room, she heard the earl’s low voice. “By George, I knew she looked familiar. Lill?”

“You know, I think you’re right, Horace,” Lady Lillian murmured in response.

“What is this about Bolton no longer being a problem?” Zeke demanded, crossing the room toward them.

Lady Wentworth drew herself up like a general facing down troops. “As you all apparently know the relevance of the name, I’ll cut to the chase. He has agreed to have the marriage annulled. All it took was some persuasion of the fiscal variety.”

“Well, that’s bloody fabulous,” Caden burst out. “The man kidnaps Anna, forces her to wed him, stalks her, then makes out like a road bandit.”

“You’d rather a drawn-out legal battle, Thurgood? Be glad I’ve taken care of the problem.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “Just in time to deal with the next.”

“The next? And what might that be?” Caden sounded more curios than indignant.

“Yes, do tell,” Zeke said. He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“As if you don’t know, Caden Thurgood,” Lady Wentworth admonished.

“Oh, dear.” Zeke sounded resigned, and very much as if he knew the so-called problem to which Lady Wentworth alluded—which was more than Anna could say for herself.

Her gaze shifted between Lady Wentworth, Caden, and Zeke. “Excuse me, gentlemen, Lady Wentworth. Before we move on to the next subject, I have a question.” She met Lady Wentworth’s eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” she aped.

“Why have you done,” she opened her arms in an all encompassing gesture, “any of this? Helping to secret me away, rectifying my appalling marital status…For that matter, how did you know of my situation? At Femsworth Manor, you knew I needed to depart before I did. You worked out my escape to the letter. Clothing, funds, transportation. My God,” she exclaimed with sudden insight.

“You made up the earl’s supposed illness, did you not?

To make certain Caden would leave, straight away, thereby securing my escape? ”

“Clever girl,” Lady Wentworth said, a fond light in her dark eyes.

Anna scoffed at that. “Not clever enough by half. I don’t understand any of this. I’ll ask you again: Why have you gone to so much trouble on my behalf? Surely not out of loyalty for my service?”

“The girl doesn’t know?” came the earl’s hushed query.

“Horace, It’s safe to say she does not,” Lady Lillian answered in a low, censorious voice.

“Know what?” she demanded of the room, her eyes scanning all the faces.

Everyone—save Lady Wentworth—wore some degree of the same piteous expression. A sense of inescapable doom filled her. Like watching a carriage accident unfold but being unable to look away or stop it. She’d known something terrible was coming.

“We’ve strayed from the point,” Lady Wentworth said in her most imperious tone.

“Which is?” Zeke demanded.

Anna wanted to scream. She wanted answers, not this deflection.

“Why, that on the road to Derbyshire, Anna and Caden spent the night in an inn. Together. In the same chamber.”

A deafening silence followed her pronouncement, broken after a beat by the tap-tap-tap of Zeke’s finger on his bicep. “Lady Wentworth, are you, by any chance, implying that my brother and the lady should marry?”

“I’m more than implying. I’m insisting. His honor demands it. ”

Anna should’ve wanted to crawl under the carpets and disappear. Instead, morbid curiosity outweighed even her mortification. She would not leave until she grasped Lady Wentworth’s stake in all this.

Zeke eyed the ceiling. “Here we go again.”

“I beg your pardon?” The older woman sputtered.

Zeke started to reply, but Caden stayed him, holding up one long finger.

“Lady Wentworth,” he drawled. “You are, unfortunately—or fortunately depending on one’s take—a hair slow on the draw.” He bestowed on her his most devastating smile. “Anna and I are already engaged to be married.”

The corners of her lips curved up slightly, and some of the rigidity went out of her posture. “I see. That’s fine, then.”

“So glad you approve,” he said, dryly.

“Enough of this.” Anna exclaimed. “I ask again. Know what? What does every other person in this room seem to understand that I do not?”

Caden grasped her shoulders in a gentle grip and shifted her to face him. Compassion filled his eyes. “Lady Wentworth is—I believe—your grandmother.”

“My grandmother? What? No.” She choked out a half laugh, which died on her lips when Lady Wentworth averted her gaze.

“Should we…perhaps…” Lady Kitty’s words grew hushed as she neared the doorway, through which she ushered the others—save Caden who remained, rooted beside her.

He laid a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Do you wish for me to stay?”

She considered a long moment, hearing his words from earlier. We’ll hear her out, together. Finally, she shook her head.

With obvious reluctance, his withdrew his hand. “Call out if you need me. ”

Seconds later she heard the soft click of the door as it closed leaving she and Lady Wentworth—her grandmother?—in a lock-eyed stare.

Anna felt like a fool. Now that she knew, she could not help but label herself a blind, idiot.

How had she missed the obvious signs? Their similar frames, height, expressions, down to the stubborn sets of their jaws.

She recalled noting their feet had a particular likeness.

High arches, skinny ankles, and crooked pinkie toes—much like Anna’s mother’s feet.

Her feet? She was thinking of feet in light of the momentous revelation leveling her?

“May we sit?” Lady Wentworth sounded, for once, uncertain.

Wordlessly, Anna indicated the nearby sofa.

They each took a corner, angling their bodies to face each other. Two cups of now-cold tea sat on the polished table before them, and Anna caught the sweet scent of bergamot in the air. What she wouldn’t give for a bracing cup of steaming hot tea about now.

“I would dearly love a cup of tea,” Lady Wentworth said, echoing her thoughts. “Or perhaps something stronger.”

“I can call for—”

“—No. First I’ll answer the questions you no doubt have for me. Afterward, if you do not wish for me to leave, tea would be most welcome.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her of course she would not wish her to leave. Then it dawned on her. Depending on what the lady shared, that may well not be the case.

“Are you really my grandmother?”

“Yes. Emmaline, your mother, was my daughter.”

As she’d surmised. Now that she knew, it explained another coincidence. The myriad books in Lady Wentworth’s library on horticulture, healing herbs, and the like. The books must have belonged to her mother once upon a time.

“My parents never told me of you. Why is that?”

A far away look came into the older woman’s dark eyes. Dark eyes, like her mother’s. “That would be because your mother wanted nothing to do with her father and I, with good reason.”

“Such as?”

“The late Wentworth, your grandfather, my husband, came from an old, distinguished family. The bluest of blood ran through his veins. To say he had conservative ideas about how society should function would be to put it mildly.”

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. With nobility, the title always comes first. Even before family. She twined her fingers in her lap.

“Meaning for him, the title came before all else?”

Lady Wentworth looked taken aback. “You sound exactly like your mother—before she left.”