Page 9 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

A nnis woke the next morning to a knock on her door, which was unusual. She sat up, pushing her cap to the back of her head, and called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and Heather and Ingrid entered dressed only in their robes with their hands behind their backs.

“Happy birthday, Miss Pringle!” said Ingrid grinning from ear to ear. She rushed toward the bed with her hands now held out, holding a small, wrapped box. Heather, a little more sedate, followed her.

“Happy birthday,” she said softly, also holding out a smaller package.

“Oh, girls!” Annis said with a smile, quite overcome.

Ingrid climbed onto the bed. “Go on—open it!”

Annis looked at the box in her lap as Heather sat down on the edge of the bed, one leg crooked up.

Undoing the ribbon, the cloth it was wrapped in fell away to reveal a small, carved wooden box.

“I bought it with my allowance, just for you!” said Ingrid. “Do you like it? It will hold your fripperies, ribbons, pins, and such.”

“Oh, Ingrid, it’s lovely! Thank you!” Annis hugged the girl, who grinned with delight and bounced on the bed.

“Now Heather’s!” she insisted.

Annis took Heather’s smaller package and unwrapped it to reveal a small square box.

Opening the lid, she found an exquisite butterfly pin inside.

The wings were done in a vivid turquoise enamel.

“Heather, that is lovely!” she said, blinking back tears.

She hugged Heather who blushed, pleased that her present was appreciated.

“Sarah has organized a luncheon on the south lawn for your birthday!” said Ingrid in a rush.

“Ingrid, that is supposed to be a secret!” admonished Heather.

“I don’t believe in secrets,” said Ingrid with a toss of her head. “It is much better to know about a treat beforehand and be able to anticipate it. That is much more fun!”

Annis smiled at Ingrid’s point of view; she had something there. Annis preferred not to be surprised either, but mostly because for her, surprises were usually unpleasant.

“And,” said Ingrid, “the best part is that Robert says there are to be no lessons today because it’s your birthday and you shouldn’t have to work on your birthday!” She bounced some more. “Yay, no mathematics today!”

Annis laughed and shooed the girls out so that she could dress. The Laynes always made a fuss of birthdays. It was one of the perquisites of working here. All the staff were recognized on their birthdays and given the day off.

Arriving downstairs for breakfast, she was met with a barrage of happy birthday wishes, from staff and family alike.

Given the place of honor at the breakfast table and served by the duchess herself, Annis’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment to be the center of attention.

The viscount ambled in, in the middle of all this, looking his usual rumpled self.

Apprised of the occasion, he kissed her hand with a flourish.

“Happy birthday, Miss Pringle, and may you have many, many more!” His green eyes twinkled at her, and the expression sent a warm wave through her chest. Really, she liked the viscount far too much! She wished he was less charming; it wasn’t good for her pulse.

“We have organized a croquet match, followed by luncheon on the south lawn,” announced the duke. “It is in your honor, Miss Pringle, and you are to do nothing but enjoy yourself.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said with a smile. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You are very welcome, Miss Pringle. We value your contribution to the household. You must know that. How long have you been with us now? Six years?”

She nodded. “Yes, it will be six years in September,” she said tucking into her eggs and ham.

Just then Ava burst through the door with a big bouquet of flowers.

“Annis, these are for you! Smiggens sends his love!” Smiggens was the head gardener and had a soft spot for Annis, whom he treated like a daughter.

She took the huge bouquet and was instantly enveloped in the heady scent of lilies and jasmine.

“Ava, they are beautiful. I must thank Smiggens after breakfast.”

The bouquet was borne off by a footman to be put into a vase, and breakfast resumed.

The dowager wasn’t joining them, as she preferred to breakfast in her room.

More unusually, the children’s breakfast was being supervised by one of the maids in the schoolroom. Annis was truly being given a day off.

After breakfast, she left the parlor to go in search of Smiggens to thank him for the bouquet. She had exited the drawing room via the French doors when she heard her name.

“Miss Pringle!” She glanced back and saw the viscount was coming toward her. She stopped, waiting for him to catch up with her.

“It’s a fine day,” he said, falling into step with her. “Where are you headed?”

“The orangery. According to Ava, that is where Smiggens is lurking. I must thank him for my flowers.”

“Do you mind company?”

“Not at all.” She smiled, a warm little tendril curling through her breast.

He strolled beside her, his hands in his pockets.

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday’s inspired adventure.

My girls haven’t stopped talking about it,” he said.

“And I admit the duke and I enjoyed it immensely, too,” he added confidingly.

“You have a genius for thinking up wonderful things for the children to do.”

“I’ve had lots of practice, my lord. I’ve been a teacher since I was fifteen.

I was raised in a seminary for young ladies, you know.

My—aunt—was the manager.” She stumbled over the word aunt and hoped he didn’t notice.

She’d only discovered that the woman who had raised her—the woman she had thought was her aunt—was actually her mother, on that lady’s deathbed seven years ago.

For a moment, her mind drifted back to that terrible day.

Aunt Janet’s hands plucked agitatedly at the sheets, her breathing labored, her head moving restlessly on the pillow, her pallor showing starkly in the glow of the candlelight.

She had been ill for a week now with the fever, and her lungs were battling to breathe.

It hurt to listen to the gurgling noise they made with each breath.

Annis feared at any moment that the sound would cease. She felt helpless to do anything and anxiety chewed at her, bringing tears to her eyes as she watched this woman she loved like a mother fight for every breath she took.

Aunt Janet’s brown hair was showing threads of gray in it now, though she wasn’t an old woman—only forty-four. But her hands were worn with hard work and the lines on her face spoke of worry and burdens beyond her years.

Annis shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable. She had been keeping vigil all through the night. She glanced at the clock; it was inching toward three o’clock. A log fell out of the fire behind her, and she got up to put it back and stoke the fire.

“Annis?” The breathy whisper brought her back to the bedside in an instant. “Yes, Aunt Janet?” she said, bending over the bed.

Janet grabbed her hand in hers and squeezed it weakly. “My little girl!” she said a hoarse whisper, tears leaking from her eyes.

“I’m here. Don’t cry—you just need to rest, and you will be better soon,” reassured Annis, recalling all the times her aunt had cared for her during her childhood illnesses and the many girls that were in their care over the years.

“Fetch the box,” she said, her breath catching and making her cough.

“Which box?” asked Annis bewildered.

“The wooden box... in the bottom drawer of my desk.” Janet wheezed.

“All right,” said Annis, reluctant to leave her, but the high color in Janet’s cheeks and the martial light in her eye told her not to disobey. It was so like her usual self that Annis’s heart lifted in hope that she was getting better.

Hurrying out of the bedroom, she ran down the stairs to the main office and, using the key she had on the chatelaine she had taken possession of when Janet fell ill, she opened the locked bottom drawer of the desk.

Sure enough, inside was a plain wooden box.

It also had a lock on it. Taking the box back upstairs, she half expected Janet to have lapsed back into a doze, but the moment Annis came back into the room, her eyes opened, and she smiled a weak smile.

“Help me sit up!” she demanded, her voice husky and fading in and out.

Annis lifted her up and stacked some pillows behind her. Janet sank back against them, her eyes closed for a moment, gathering her strength.

Annis hesitated, and then when Janet opened her eyes yet again and waved to her, she set the box on her knees. Janet reached for the chain round her neck and used the key on it to open the box. Annis had wondered all her life what that key opened. Now she knew.

Janet lifted the lid and Annis glimpsed some papers and knick-knacks inside. “Everything in here is for you,” said Janet her voice hoarse and breathy. “But there is one thing especially that I want you to have.”

She reached in and pulled out a man’s gold ring, like a signet ring with a flat oval top.

Annis took it, puzzled as to its significance.

“He would have wanted you to have it—” Janet coughed.

“Who?” asked Annis bewildered.

“Your father,” wheezed Janet through another paroxysm of coughing.

The words hardly registered as she watched Janet’s lips turning blue. Her coughing getting worse.

Lifting the box off her lap. Annis eased her back against the pillows.

Janet struggled for breath, exhausted by the coughing.

“Good girl...” she murmured tiredly. “You’re my good girl, Annis.

He would be proud of you.” Her voice was a thread and Annis had to strain to hear the words.

“Who’d have thought little Janet Pringle and a lord’s son.

..” She sighed, her eyes closing. Her grip on Annis’s hand loosened, and she sighed again. Her breathing shallow and stuttering.

Annis gripped her hand again, trying to find the meaning behind her words. Was she... “Mama?” Was that what her words meant?

“Yes, sweetheart . . .” murmured Janet. “So sorry . . .”

Annis gulped on a sob. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“So sorry...” repeated Janet tiredly. She roused with an effort, and gripping Annis hand weakly, she said with as much force as she could muster, “I did everything I could to keep you safe. You must tell no one! You understand? It’s not safe. Tell no one! Promise me?”

Annis nodded slowly, a million questions on her tongue.

“Promise!” croaked Janet.

“I promise, Mama.” Annis soothed. “Just rest, you will be better soon and can tell me the rest then.”

Janet nodded, her body sagging back into the pillows. Her lips, still blue, moved in silent murmurs that Annis couldn’t make out. Her eyes closed and she seemed to shrink, her breathing rattled.

She took another breath. And another. And stopped.

“Mama?” Annis wailed. “Mama?” She shook Janet’s hand, and the woman’s head lolled on the pillow. She was gone and the whole truth with her.