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“Is there still no news about my uncle, Marks?” Phoebe pushed aside her embroidery.
The butler shook his head. “None. Seems to be a difficult birth, miss. He won’t come until it’s all done and mother and child are safe.”
“That could take forever,” Phoebe muttered.
Anna poured tea. “And Jem?” She had checked on the child earlier in the morning, and he had been awake, in the kitchen, shovelling porridge into his mouth, with Mrs Marks hovering over him like a worried mother hen. He’d seemed recovered and enjoyed the attention.
“The boy’s well enough,” Marks grumbled. “His Lordship needs to find him a place somewhere on the estate, if he doesn’t want him back in the mills. The mill owner showed up late last night, irate, requesting he be paid for the loss of one of his workers.”
“Did Uncle Christopher pay him off?” Phoebe asked.
“Naturally,” Marks said.
“How very generous of His Lordship,” Anna said, a warmth filling her, and it did not come from the tea she was drinking.
Marks grunted. “He has a strong sense of fairness and will stand up for the poor when necessary. That this doesn’t make him popular amongst his peers is a given. But he is as he is. One gets used to it.”
“Like that time when we were in London and he saw the chimney boy who climbed up our chimneys to dislodge the nest of jackdaws inside it. He was very upset and berated the chimney sweep for using a boy his age. He was barely five. What happened to the boy, Marks?”
“You mean that little rascal Frank? He’s ten now and living a good life with Farmer Jones. I think he means to send him Jem, as well. If he continues in that vein, he’ll have to open his very own orphanage.” Marks sniffed, then he collected the empty teacups and took them out.
Phoebe withdrew, saying she was fatigued from the long day of embroidering. But Anna settled down in her armchair, pulling her shawl tighter about her and clasping her book.
She would wait until His Lordship returned.
* * *
Anna dreamt that the earl came into the room, hovered over her, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Then he bent down to lift her, and she felt herself enveloped by his warmth, and the smell of musk and mint surrounded her. She inhaled deeply.
It felt wonderful.
He carried her through the house, up the stairs, and her head was against his chest and she heard his heartbeat, and it was the most comforting sound.
This is a dream, she thought. And she did not ever want to awaken from the dream. She wanted to feel his arms about her, and she wanted him to carry her, forever. Because here she felt safe. Here she felt at home.
She dreamed he set her down in bed, and pulled off her slippers, and covered her with a blanket, and tucked a warm brick under her feet.
She was warm and happy.
“Restez,” she mumbled, clinging to his large hand. Stay.
She felt him sweep her hair out of her face and he kissed her, ever so lightly, on the forehead, and then on her lips, soft, lighter than the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.
It was her first kiss. What a pity this is only a dream. She reached out both hands to draw him down again, and her fingers dug into his thick hair. She kissed him again and again, with slow, drugging kisses. This was her dream, so she could kiss him however long and however many times she wanted.
How wonderful this dream was, she thought with a blissful sigh, then she turned and fell asleep again.
Chapter 14
Anna stirred as light poured through the curtains. She blinked, disoriented. Hadn’t she just been in the solar, reading and waiting for the earl? She’d planned to stay until he returned. Yet now, she was here, in her own bed.
She’d had such a beautiful dream, so vivid she had been unwilling to leave it behind.
She stretched out her foot, her toe grazing something firm beneath the blanket.
The brick.
It was real.
