Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

A nna kept glancing sideways at Theodore. He sat very straight, his legs folded underneath him, and listened intently as Kitty talked him through each of her mud pies. When at last she’d talked herself out of the subject of mud pies, she added, quite casually, “Papa, can I have new ribbons? I don’t like yellow anymore.”

Theodore blinked. “But yellow is your favorite color.”

“Not anymore. I want pink now, or green. Oh, yes, green! Martha says that she can do my hair in one braid now, instead of two, and when I go out to play, she can twist it up into a knot at the back of my head, so it will stay tidy. It’s like a grown woman’s hairstyle, isn’t it?”

Theodore cleared his throat. “Yes, but you don’t need a grown woman’s hairstyle, Kitty.”

Kitty pouted. “Not yet, but one day.”

“Not for a while,” he insisted firmly.

Anna said nothing. She supposed that this was the sort of thing that Martha, and Kitty herself, had talked about.

Theodore was utterly baffled in front of his daughter. He sat still, watching her play around, obediently holding whatever treasure she pushed at him, but seemed to have no idea how to interact with her.

She is growing up fast, Anna thought wryly, and he has no idea what to do next.

Abruptly, Kitty scampered off, with Martha in tow, in search of more wildflowers. The sun was down now, only a few distant braziers back on the terrace lighting up the night. The moon was beginning to show its face, although it was still too light for any stars.

“This is a strange age,” Anna said before she could give herself a chance to think too hard about it. “Kitty’s age, I mean. My sisters went through an odd sort of phase when they were seven. One minute they were like the children we’d always known, getting dirty and climbing trees, and the next… well, the next they were like little adults. It was rather difficult to get my head around it.”

“Is it better when they are eight?” Theodore asked, watching his daughter frolic in the weeds. “Or nine? Or ten? Or eleven?”

Anna winced. “It’s different.”

“Not better?”

“ Different .”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. Although that could have been a trick of the light, of course. They watched Kitty in silence for a few moments before Anna remembered the invitation.

“I almost forgot. We’ve been invited to a ball.”

She handed him the invitation, but Theodore only glanced at it and groaned.

“Oh, the Tethers. Of course. It’s been something of a mad race among the ton to see who can invite us to our first official outing as a couple.”

Anna blinked. “Well, nobody’s ever been quite so eager for my company.”

He snorted, leaning back on his elbows. “They aren’t. We’re a duke and duchess, remember? I’m… well, I’m me , and you’re my brother’s jilted bride. The ton will be gossiping about nothing but us for months to come.”

Anna wilted a little at this prospect.

He glanced at her. “Disappointed?”

“Well, a little,” she mumbled. “I thought I might… I thought I might make some new friends.”

There was a pause, and then Theodore let out a bark of harsh laughter. “ Friends ? Oh, my dear. Society is not the place to make friends.”

“I have made friends!” she snapped back, insulted. “Beatrice and Henry…” She paused a moment too late.

Theodore tilted his head at her. “Ah yes, Henry. What a fine friend he was.”

Anna shifted. Her legs were going to sleep under her, but she had a feeling that if she got up, she would find herself stomping off into the house in a rage, and that would let Kitty down.

“I don’t wish to talk about it.”

“Very wise,” he conceded.

In the nick of time, before either of them could launch a hot cup of tea at the other, Kitty came prancing back, her hands full of wildflowers.

“Is it time to look at the stars yet?” she asked hopefully.

“Not quite yet,” Theodore said, patting the blanket beside him. “Come, sit.”

Kitty plopped down happily. This put her directly between Anna and Theodore, for which Anna was grateful. She didn’t want to look at the infuriating man, much less speak to him. Martha settled herself a little way away, seeming quite content.

Kitty chattered nonstop. She had a great deal to talk about—her lessons, the ones she’d had yesterday, the ones she would have tomorrow. The books she was reading with Martha, the things she saw from the window, the things the servants had done or told her, the events of today, her mud pies, her gowns… She prattled on and on, and Anna stayed silent. She kept glancing at her husband.

You must see it, she thought. You must see how small her world has become.

Of course, a small child couldn’t face the whole wide world. Of course not. But when they grow, their world must grow with them. If it didn’t… Well. Anna had seen birds kept in cages grow frustrated and irritable, biting each other and their owners, refusing to sing, refusing to eat, fading away.

Some creatures were meant to fly .

Abruptly, Kitty paused mid-prattle and glanced between her father and her new stepmother, her eyebrows knitted. “Why aren’t you talking to each other?”

Anna blinked, missing a beat. Theodore answered in the pause that followed.

“I don’t know what you mean, Kitty.”

Kitty pouted. “I mean that you are both talking to me , and to Martha, but not to each other. Why?”

Anna felt blood rush to her face. Fortunately, it was dark enough to hide her color. She cleared her throat and rearranged her skirts around her knees, hoping to look casual.

She suspected it was not working. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Martha was bent over, making a daisy chain or something, and she could have sworn that the nursemaid was trying not to laugh.

“Well,” Theodore answered at last, sounding a little strained, but Kitty interrupted him.

“Ohh, I see! Of course!”

“What do you see?” Anna asked a trifle nervously.

Kitty nodded seriously. “It’s a plain fact. You’re shy, both of you.”

There was another silence.

“Shy?” Theodore repeated, and now Anna was sure that he was biting back a smile. “You think we are shy?”

Kitty nodded again. “It’s the only explanation.”

Don’t contradict her, Anna prayed. Let her think we’re a pair of shy schoolchildren. It’s far easier than trying to explain the truth.

Theodore looked at her, his eyes glimmering in the dark. She met them steadily, her eyebrows raised. Abruptly, he looked away, lowering himself back down onto his elbows.

“The clouds have cleared,” he remarked. “Shall we see what we can see?”

With a squeal of delight, Kitty threw herself on her back beside her father, curled up against his shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, Anna lay on her back, too.

For a few moments, the three of them lay in silence, taking in the view. The sky stretched out above them, velvet blue and impossibly deep, the stars twinkling into view one by one. The moon, a silvery sliver, hung above the dark trees that flanked the sky, and a cool breeze raked through the grounds, leaving a rustling, shivering sound in its wake.

“Do you know anything about stars, Anna?” Kitty asked, at last, sounding drowsy.

“I’m afraid not,” Anna admitted. “My father was an avid astronomer, but I could never make sense of it. I love to look at the sky, though. When I was a child, I used to go out and lie on the grass like this, and try and make patterns out of the stars.”

“Patterns?”

“Mhm. It was like a game. I’d see the shapes of houses, or animals, or even the faces of people I knew. As I grew older, I could make out entire pictures, very elaborate. I’d trace them in my mind, and I can even remember some of them now. And then, when I went out the next night, it was as if all my pictures had been wiped out, the sky blank, and I could start again with new stars and new pictures. Not…” she added after a brief pause and some reflection, “not that they were new stars, of course. It just seemed to me that they were. Strangely enough, out of all my pictures, I never managed to pick out any real constellations.”

Kitty sighed. “That’s a pity. But I bet your pictures were more interesting than the constellations.”

“They were,” Anna admitted. “Much more interesting.”

“Ah, I think I see your problem, Anna,” Theodore said, his voice low and gravelly. It sent a strange shiver down Anna’s spine. His voice seemed to be attached to something twisted up in her gut, giving the thread a powerful tug every time he spoke.

“Do you, indeed?” she managed, instead of telling him that his voice was the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard.

“I do. You are looking in the wrong place. Here, Kitty, look. Do you see that one star just about the peak of that oak tree?”

“Yes, Papa, I see it! It’s very bright.”

Theodore rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He used his free hand to point.

“You’re right, it is very bright—the brightest in the whole sky, in fact. That is the Pole Star. Some call it the North Star, or Polaris. Do you know why it’s called that? It’s because that star always points due north. Sailors use the stars to navigate, and the Pole Star is a very important part of that. So, remember, if you ever get lost, find due north. To do that, you can find the Pole Star.”

Kitty nodded somberly. “What do the sailors do if it’s cloudy?”

Theodore missed a beat. “They pray that it clears up.”

Anna stifled a chuckle at that.

Abruptly, Kitty sat up and let out a long, theatrical yawn. “Do you know, I’m ever so tired.”

Anna scrambled up into a sitting position, feeling silly lying on a picnic blanket with Theodore without his daughter between them.

“I think,” Kitty continued, shooting them both long, pointed looks, “that I will go to bed. You two can stay out here, and maybe you’ll be less shy in the morning! Watch the stars some more, and tell me all about them tomorrow!”

Before Anna could say a word, Kitty bounced to her feet and went running over to where Martha sat. The nursemaid was ready for her, on her feet, and she took her hand with a grin and towed the little girl away towards the house, both of them chattering and laughing.

The noise faded away, leaving Anna and Theodore in perfect silence.

Theodore flopped back onto the blanket with a sigh, his arm resting over his eyes.

“My daughter, ladies and gentlemen,” he muttered.

“She’s… she’s quite a character,” Anna admitted.

He moved his arm, turning to look at her. She couldn’t quite read his expression in the dark and found herself wishing that he could.

“Do you like her?”

The question took her by surprise. “Of course, I like her. Kitty is such a sweet girl. Some children might be quite opposed to the idea of a stepmother, but she’s been nothing but delightful to me.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. She could track the movement of his throat. For a moment, she imagined herself leaning over and pressing her lips to the side of his throat, feeling the rough stubble there, feeling the pulse under his skin.

Clearing her throat, Anna determinedly looked away.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did about Henry,” Theodore said abruptly.

She glanced sharply back at him. “What do you mean?”

“About him being a poor friend. Of course, I think that he is a poor friend, but I implied that your friends are worthless, which I suppose was unkind. I haven’t even met the other one you mentioned.”

“Her name is Beatrice.”

“I’m unlikely to remember that.”

“You’ve met her before. You saw her at our wedding. And at our wedding breakfast!”

“And yet I am unmoved.”

She let out a long sigh, feeling some of the tension leaving her shoulders. Abruptly, her arms gave out, and she flopped onto her back again. The ground was cool and hard under her shoulders, and the smell of crushed grass drifted up all around them. Now they were both lying side by side, on their backs, staring up at the sky.

“I’m not angry,” she said, at last. “I have nothing to complain about.”

He turned his head to look at her. “We’ve only been married one day.”

“And already my life has changed entirely. And you kept your promise. You’ve been out here with us for more than an hour, which is what I requested.”

He was still looking at her. Anna could feel his eyes boring into the side of her face. Goosebumps erupted over her skin.

“I’m free to go, then,” he said, his voice low.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, yes, you are, I suppose.”

More silence. But this time, it was an anticipatory silence. Anna found herself waiting, almost with bated breath, to see what he would do next.

Abruptly, he rolled over onto his side, and then he was almost on her, his chest pressing against her shoulder, his face looming over hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath in the chilly air.

“Do you want me to go, Duchess?” he asked, his voice a little louder than a whisper.

She opened her mouth to tell him yes, she did want him to go, at once, preferably for good, but all that came out was a strangled squeak.

She saw the glint of his white teeth in the dark and felt the warmth of his fingertips on her throat, barely more than a whisper of touch.

Between one blink and the next, he was kissing her, his lips warm and soft and tasting of… tea and brandy, somehow?

Anna’s breath caught in her throat, and that need unfurled in her gut, hot and cold at the same time, and there was no use in pretending that it was anything other than desire and that anyone other than the wretched Theodore Stanley had inspired it.

Her hands were in his hair before she knew what she was doing, coarse red strands glinting in the moonlight and twining around her fingers.

He huffed out a laugh against her lips and pulled back.

She half wanted to chase after him, to get him to kiss her again and maybe touch her, too, like he was touching her neck, but Anna had enough self-control to lie still and wait to see what he would do.

“You want me,” Theodore said so smugly that she wanted to slap him.

Or perhaps kiss him. Or maybe both?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I do, my darling wife. You want me, I can tell. It’ll be worth your while. Go on, then. Ask for me. Beg for me.”

Abruptly, she sat up, nearly bumping her forehead against his as she did so.

“Perhaps that’s true,” she said shortly, deliberately not looking at him. “Perhaps I do … like you, but it’s clear you have no respect for me. I won’t beg for anything, and certainly not for this. Until you have more respect for me, as your wife, the Duchess , the stepmother of Kitty and the mother of your future child, you won’t come near me. I won’t give in.”

He was quiet for a moment. When she risked a glance down at him he was leaning back on his elbows, watching her keenly. The moon sailed behind a cloud, casting him in shadows.

“These conditions of yours are getting out of hand, my dear,” he drawled. “May I remind you that I can compel you to obey me?”

She looked him dead in the eyes. Or, at least, where she assumed his eyes would be. The desire in her gut was not easing, much to her annoyance. A stomachache would be so much simpler to deal with than this conflicting emotion.

“And are you going to? Compel me, that is?”

He heaved a sigh. “No. I am not.”

“Well then, Your Grace,” she said, getting briskly to her feet and brushing stray bits of grass from her skirts, “I must bid you goodnight.”

She turned to go, but his arm shot out, grabbing her hand.

“Call me Theo,” he said quietly.

Her skin prickled.

“Goodnight, Theo,” she whispered, and he let her go.

Anna almost ran back inside.