Anna licked her dry lips, warned by his desperate tone that she must choose her words with care. She must not be flippant. He wouldn’t be the man she loved if he could exterminate another and walk away without a backward glance. And yet she was glad Frederick was dead, so horribly relieved she felt dizzy. Frederick couldn’t take Henry or steal his money or fill him up with his own consequence and teach him to despise her.
“You let him have his shot,” she said, tracing her fingers around the lapel of his coat, afraid of saying more. If she wept, he might not understand. She could tell him that he was the truest, best man she knew, but he wouldn’t agree with her, not now. She must save those words for another time and face the problem of blame instead. He needn’t shoulder any of it. “You will forgive me, I hope, for forcing you into that duel,” she said.
“Anna . . . . ”
She didn’t allow him to contradict her, though he tried more than once. “No, love. It can’t be your fault. And if you knew how my heart is flying because Henry is safe, you’d think me a remorseless baggage.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Then why should I think differently of you?” She shifted her cheek against the soft wool of his coat. “I’m just glad you came back.” Better to examine other ideas later; she couldn’t see them very well when relief kept bumping to the forefront.
He heard her covert sniff and swept a gentle thumb over her eye.
“So am I.”
Spring was slow in coming that year, or perhaps it only seemed that way because they were journeying north. Progress was slow, and they lingered in Oporto, waiting for a ship. It did no harm though, having ample time for quiet, for there was none to be found on the ship. No space either, but the Gallant was swift and sound, carrying them across cold seas. They were making straight for London.
Anna took well to the sea. She took well to everything, even her hop-along husband, who had to be helped across tilting decks, rough gangplanks and, at last, London’s crowded docks.
“Beaumaris!” It was Jasper, waving at them over the crowd as he fought his way toward them. “Another ship brought word the Gallant was coming in. I’ve been waiting two days for you in the seamiest taproom you’ll ever see!”
“And never enjoyed anything more, I’m sure,” Alistair said.
“The words I’ve learned! It’s like another language,” Jasper said. He looked Alistair up and down. “Well, you’re a pretty mess. What’s to be done?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Alistair said, reaching out to collar Henry before he could wander.
“You’re family now, so you’ll have to let me kiss you,” Jasper said, bowing and saluting Anna’s hand. As he looked up, he realized she’d offered him her cheek. “Oh. I will, thank you.”
“I warned you about him, but there aren’t words fit to explain how annoying—” Alistair began.
“I have my uses,” Jasper interrupted. “Cyril, you’ve got to attend your father—you too, Alistair, but it would be a nice thing to let him chew Cyril apart first. And Anna, your parents are waiting. I’m to deliver you.”
“What about Lord and Lady Fairchild?” asked Anna, feeling guilty.
Jasper shrugged. “Haven’t seen ’em. Bolted to Cordell at Christmas without a word to anyone. Haven’t been seen since.”
Though tired from the journey, the happy greetings of her parents revived Anna enough to see to the unpacking. She supposed they would find their own home eventually, once they liberated Henry’s inheritance from Frederick’s mother, but Anna didn’t feel any hurry. She’d missed her parents, and liked having her family under a friendly roof. Alistair didn’t seem to mind.
“You’ll have to get used to middle class ways, love. My parents only gave us a single dressing room,” Anna said, popping her head into the room in question.
“Perfectly acceptable. Even when I had both legs, I depended on Griggs. You’re almost as helpful, you know. Wouldn’t trust you with my boots, though.”
“Why not? There’s only one!”
He tried to catch her with one hand but she darted out of reach, back into the bedchamber where she was supervising the bringing up of their trunks. She’d let him catch her next time. He was quicker and steadier every day. Soon they’d get him a wooden leg, which the doctors said would permit him to walk with only the aid of a cane.
Alistair had already written to Frederick’s mother, but they would need to arrange a meeting, now they were come home—a dreadful prospect, but it had to be done. She felt as wretched about it as he. Perhaps more even, for if she’d never married Anthony, the other Mrs. Morris might have both her sons. And she would have married someone else, borne different children and probably never met Alistair. She had regrets by the bushel, but she wouldn’t wish away her choices if it meant losing him and Henry. If there’d been any way for things to have happened better . . . .
It would probably be best, Anna thought, if she and Mrs. Morris only peered at each other through a fence of lawyers.
One couldn’t bemoan these tragedies all the time though, any more than one could constantly remember them or permanently forget. She’d have times of sorrow and regret, which was only just. But she would have happy moments too, laughter and soft embraces and looking into understanding eyes. The best thing to do seemed to be to hold onto her own happiness and wish some for Mrs. Morris.
Anna smiled, listening to Henry chasing his grandfather up the stairs and Alistair humming in the dressing room. She knew the tune, so she hummed breathily along, lifting out her crumpled gowns. Alistair didn’t care that her voice wasn’t nearly as fine as his; he liked music when he was happy, and cared more that she felt happy with him than for the quality of their song. Anna hummed a little louder, glad to be home with her mother and father, her husband and son. Tomorrow, if the weather was fine, they would buy a new boat for Henry to sail in the park.
Alistair’s humming floated closer. Before his hand could steal around her waist and his lips land in the vicinity of her ear, Anna dropped her grey pelisse and and shut the lid of her trunk. Creased gowns and musty linen . . . no reason they couldn’t wait.
Incognita (Fairchild Book 2) Page 31