residential street. She could not remain there all afternoon. “Ehrm, we’ll go…” She swallowed. Where could they go? She didn’t want to go back to Bond Street. She’d just left, and surely someone who had seen her would still be there to notice her reappearance. “We’ll get a sweet!” she said, too loudly. “That’s just the thing. Aren’t you hungry? I’m famished. Aren’t you?”
Nettie looked at her as if she’d gone mad. And maybe she had. Annabel knew what she had to do. She’d known it for over a week. But she just didn’t want to do it that afternoon. Was it so much to ask?
“Come,” Annabel said urgently. “There is a sweet shop just over…” Where?
“On Clifford Street?” Nettie suggested.
“Yes! Yes, I think there is.” Annabel hurried forth, barely watching where she was going, trying to hold back the tears that were burning behind her eyes. She had to get hold of herself. She could not enter an establishment, even a humble sweet shop, looking like this. She needed to take a breath, and calm herself down, and—
“Oh, Miss Winslow!”
Annabel froze. Dear God, she did not want to talk to anyone. Please, not now.
“Miss Winslow!”
Annabel took a deep breath and turned. It was Lady Olivia Valentine, smiling at her as she handed something to her own maid and walked forward.
“How lovely to see you,” Olivia said brightly, “I’d heard—Oh, Miss Winslow, whatever can be wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Annabel lied. “I just—”
“No, it’s clearly something,” Olivia said firmly. “Here, come with me.” She took Annabel’s arm and led her back a few steps. “This is my home,” she informed her. “You may rest here.”
Annabel did not argue, grateful to have somewhere to go, grateful to have someone to tell her what to do.
“You need tea,” Olivia said, settling her into a drawing room. “I need tea just looking at you.” She rang for a maid and ordered a tea ser vice, then sat beside her, taking one of Annabel’s hands between hers. “Annabel,” she said. “May I call you Annabel?”
Annabel nodded.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Annabel shook her head. “I wish you could.”
Olivia chewed nervously on her lower lip and then asked, her voice careful, “Was it my cousin? Did Sebastian do something?”
“No!” Annabel exclaimed. “No. No. No, please, he has not. He has been everything that is kind and generous. If it weren’t for him…” She shook her head again, but she did it too quickly this time, and it jarred her so much that she had to put a hand on her forehead. “If it weren’t for Mr. Grey,” she said, once she felt settled enough to speak evenly, “I should be an outcast.”
Olivia nodded slowly. “Then I can only assume it is Lord Newbury.”
Annabel gave a tiny nod. She looked down at her lap, at her hands, one still clasped in Olivia’s, the other clenched in a fist. “I’m being very silly, and very selfish.” She took a breath and tried to clear her throat, but it came out as an awful choking sound. The sound one made right before one cried. “I just don’t…want…”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. She saw the pity in Olivia’s eyes. “He has asked,
then,” Olivia said softly.
“No. Not yet. But he is at my grandparents’ house right now. I saw his carriage. I saw him go in.” She looked up. She didn’t want to think about what Olivia might see in her face, in her eyes, but she knew she could not speak to her lap forever. “I am a coward. I saw him, and I ran. I just thought—if I don’t go home, then he can’t ask me to marry him, and then I can’t say yes.”
“Can’t you say no?”
Annabel shook her head, utterly defeated. “No,” she said, wondering why she sounded so exhausted. “My family…We need…” She swallowed, closing her eyes against the pain of it. “After my father died, it was very difficult, and—”
“It’s all right,” Olivia said, stopping her with a gentle squeeze of her hands. “I understand.”
Annabel smiled through her tears, so grateful for this woman’s kindness, and yet unable to stop thinking that shecouldn’t understand. Not Olivia Valentine, with her loving husband and wealthy, titled parents. She could not possibly know the pressure that was bearing down on Annabel’s shoulders, the knowledge that she could save her family, and all she had to do was forsake herself.
Olivia let out a long breath. “Well,” she said efficiently, “we can delay it all by a day, at least. You can remain here for the afternoon. I should like the company.”
“Thank you,” Annabel said.
Olivia patted her hand and then stood. She walked over to the window and looked out.
“You can’t see my grandparents’ house from here,” Annabel said.
Olivia turned, smiling. “I know. I was just thinking. I do some of my best thinking at windows. Perhaps I shall take a walk in an hour or so. To see if the earl’s carriage still sits in front of Vickers House.”
“You shouldn’t,” Annabel said. “Your condition…”
“Does not prevent me from walking,” Olivia finished with a cheeky expression. “In fact, I should enjoy the air. I was miserable for the first three months, and according to my mother, I’ll likely be miserable for the last three, so I had better enjoy this middle time.”
“It’s the best part of a pregnancy,” Annabel confirmed.
Olivia cocked her head to the side, giving Annabel a quizzical look.
“I am the oldest of eight. My mother was with child almost the whole of my youth.”
“Eight? My heavens. I am one of but three myself.”
“It is why Lord Newbury wishes to marry me,” Annabel said flatly. “My mother was one of seven. My father, one of ten. Not to mention that according to gossip, I am so fertile that birds sing when I draw near.”
Olivia winced. “You heard that.”
Annabel rolled her eyes. “Even I thought it was funny.”
“It’s good you can have a sense of humor about it.”
“One has to,” Annabel said with a fatalistic shrug. “If one doesn’t, then…” She sighed, unable to finish the statement. It was too depressing.
She slumped, letting her gaze settle on the ornate curve of the foot of a nearby end table. She stared at it until it grew fuzzy, then split into two. Her eyes must be crossing. Or she could be going blind. Maybe if she went blind then Lord Newbury wouldn’t want her anymore. Could one go blind by keeping one’s eyes crossed for days?
Maybe. It might be worth trying.
She tilted her head to the side.
“Annabel? Miss Winslow? Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Annabel said automatically, still staring at the table.
“Oh, the tea is here!” Olivia exclaimed, clearly relieved to break the awkward silence. “Here we are.” She sat down and placed a cup in a saucer. “How do you take yours?”
Annabel reluctantly pulled her gaze from the table and blinked, allowing her eyes to uncross. “Milk please. No sugar.”
Olivia waited for the tea to finish steeping, chattering away about this and that
