She wanted to tell them Henry was not like Isaac. That he had spoken with care, listened with patience, looked at her as though she were not a duty or a debt, but herself. That he listened. That he saw her. But the words faltered before they could form.
“What if I’m wrong?” she whispered. “What if it’s all just… momentary? A kindness I mistook for something more?”
There was a pause before Gretchen spoke. “Then it’s only a mistake if you let it cost you more than you can afford to give. Attraction doesn’t guarantee safety, Anna. It doesn’t build a life.”
Anna looked up slowly.
Gretchen’s voice was calm but firm. “You think clearly when you are given the space to. That’s part of what makes you strong. But this—this thing between you and the Duke—it has a pull to it. We can all see it. That’s not a fault. But it is a force. And when you’re caught in something that powerful, you owe it to yourself to pause. Not to flee. Not even to decide. Just to pause long enough to be sure.”
Anna’s breath shook as she exhaled.
Her voice, when it came, was scarcely above a whisper. “You believe I should turn away from him.”
There was a pause.
Then Gretchen spoke, firm but not unkind. “We believe you ought to avoid becoming entangled. At least for now. It is not the Duke we doubt, Anna, it is the moment.”
Anna said nothing, but in the stillness, she leaned back against the chaise, just enough to feel the quiet support surrounding her.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
Anna drew in a breath, deep and steady, but the edges of her composure were fraying. Her shoulders, once square, now drooped beneath invisible weight. Natalie opened her mouth, then closed it again, until Julia leaned in with her trademark irreverence and cleared her throat. “I know this will soundutterly inappropriate given your distress, but your cousin is a horse’s backside.”
That pulled the faintest snort from Anna, which Julia seized like a triumph.
“Oh good, she’s still in there,” she declared, nudging Anna’s knee. “For a moment, I feared we’d lost you to tragic silence forever.”
“I’ve been silent before,” Anna murmured.
“Yes, but not with such drama,” Julia said. “It’s far too poetic. I half expect you to start reciting sad verses to the curtains.”
Anna laughed and it broke the weight in her chest.
“I’m serious,” Julia said, grinning. “Give me ten minutes and a decent quill and I’ll compose an ode to your misery. Something overwrought, about moonlight and betrayal and your cousin being trampled by metaphorical cattle.”
Gretchen gave her a long look. “Metaphorical?”
“I said what I said,” Julia replied airily.
Anna smiled, fuller this time. “I cannot believe I’m laughing.”
“That’s precisely why you must,” Gretchen said gently. “You’ve carried enough seriousness for three estates.”
“And your face can’t take more frowning,” Julia added. “You’ll wrinkle.”
“Julia,” Gretchen said, half-exasperated.
“I’m only saying what is true.”
Natalie gave a small, breathy giggle behind her hand.
“Remember when Julia tried to defend my honor with a spoon?” Anna murmured, laughing into her hands.
“He was terribly rude,” Julia sniffed. “And it was the only weapon I had at the breakfast table.”
Anna reached out and took her hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re not alone,” Gretchen said softly, placing her gloves beside her. “We are your allies. And your friends.”
