How long she had smiled, bowed, stepped aside, swallowed the words that would have kept other men up at night? How longshe had protected her sister? Her tenants? Her household? All while that parasite twisted her loyalty into something useful.
Henry’s hands curled into fists.
He should have seen it sooner.
He’d suspected, yes. Hinted at it in his mind. But he had not felt it, not like this. Not like watching the man speak of her as if her affection were some strategic asset.
Not like seeing her name in Isaac’s mouth and feeling his blood rise for it.
Nathaniel exhaled nearby, as if letting out something he’d been holding. “That was not subtle,” he said lightly, though his eyes were sharp.
Henry didn’t answer.
“You know,” Nathaniel added, “you’ve made it very clear you’d go to war over her.”
Henry turned, his voice low. “I am at war.”
Nathaniel studied him. “With Lord Stenton?”
Henry looked toward the empty doorway. “With anyone who believes she is theirs to manage.”
He turned away, jaw set. “And with myself. For not seeing it earlier.”
The gravel path along the terrace was lined with orderly yews and the benches carved from pale stone were still damp from the morning dew. Anna had come this way seeking quiet. The drawing room had grown too stifling, and her trunk had already been closed. There was nothing left to rearrange.
She walked slowly, her gloves tucked in one hand, her shawl gathered close despite the soft sun.
Anna had hoped to slip away unnoticed.
The house was busy again with servants bustling with travel trunks, final farewells echoing down corridors, a few guests already bidding one another adieu. She had stepped out to the terrace to breathe, hoping the garden air might settle the weight that had lodged in her chest since morning.
It was her last day at Yeats.
And it still didn’t feel real.
She had only just begun to calm herself when the scrape of a boot behind her made her stiffen.
Isaac’s voice followed.
You are difficult to find this morning.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” she replied evenly.
“Of course not,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Merely wandering like Diana through the hedgerows.”
She didn’t answer.
He fell into step beside her uninvited. She didn’t stop walking.
“It’s a fine day for farewells,” he went on. “A bit of sun, a touch of breeze. Just enough softness to sweeten the inevitable parting.”
“I wasn’t aware you were a poet, Lord Stenton.”
He chuckled, low and practiced. “I surprise even myself. Though I imagine I’m not the one full of surprises today.”
Anna said nothing. The garden wall curved ahead, sheltering them momentarily from the view of the house, though she could feel its presence behind her, the long windows open, laughter drifting faintly from within.
“But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
