Page 13 of Vying for a Viscount
“No, I can’t. What a fool my brother is. If he lets you get away, I may have to beat him with his walking stick for being so utterly stupid.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“No. Never. I love my brother, even if he’s annoying and disappears now and then.”
“Disappears?” she said, as warning bells rang in her head and her entire body tensed. All she could think about was Rutherford and how he had led her to believe she was his world, when in fact she was only a small part of it. Was Greyson hiding something similar?
“Forgive me,” Anastasia whispered, “for upsetting you.”
“You haven’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar. I can’t explain his disappearances, but I don’t believe he has a mistress hidden somewhere. I’m not saying he’s a monk, but having a mistress isn’t like him. Nor have I noticed him paying attention to any young ladies since he met you.”
Frowning, Letitia asked, “Why did you assume I was thinking he had a mistress?”
“Forgive me, but I know about Lord Rutherford’s mistress.”
Her feet stopped. They stuck to the stone and refused to move. Mortification was the first thing that came to mind. Ever since her husband’s death, she understood that most of polite society knew about his mistress and the children he’d sired with her. But she hadn’t expected Anastasia to know. Or at least not come right out and mention it. The tension threatening to crack her body into a thousand pieces eased at hearing that Greyson didn’t have a mistress, but not entirely. She hated secrets. Could she allow Greyson to court her, if he had secrets? And how could she bring up the subject without raising suspicion? She couldn’t. She would just have to stay vigilant. She forced her feet forward, and they began moving as if nothinguntoward had happened to stop her in her tracks.
“As his sister, I worry about him, though.”
“No doubt. Just as he worries about you.” Letitia forced her worries about Greyson from her mind. “He is happy for you and Hunter. Is it as serious as it looks?”
Anastasia exhaled, then laughed. A nervous laugh. “I believe so. If I tell you something, you must promise not to share it with my brother.”
“I promise.”
“I love him.” Her words came out as the softest of exhales.
Letitia held her breath, quickly glanced over her shoulder, then exhaled when Greyson and Hunter appeared deep in conversation. Neither would’ve heard Anastasia’s proclamation of love. “Does he feel the same?” From the looks he gave her, she believed he did.
“Yes. He told me tonight,” she said wistfully. “He said he would speak to Greyson soon, since Greyson makes all my father’s decisions these days.”
“I understand your father has been ill for some time.”
“Yes. It’s rather sad. His symptoms began slowly; he would get disoriented or confused. Then he started forgetting meetings, people’s names, and even us. It’s terribly sad on the days he doesn’t recognize me. I sometimes avoid his room, afraid he won’t know my name or who I am. Then, when I do stop by, and he knows me, I feel guilty for the times I stay away. It’s so hard to know what to do. He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and my mother barely ever leaves his side. I can’t imagine he will last much longer. My mother and the nurse force him to eat and drink. They alone are keeping him alive.” Anastasia paused and wiped a tear with her gloved fingers. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, tears pooling in her own eyes as she thought of the tragic story.
“My mother’s health has declined right along with my father’s. She hardly sleeps or eats. She’s down to skin and bones.”
“I’m so sorry. Greyson has hinted at this, but I didn’t realize it was so severe.”
“Their health weighs heavily on his shoulders. He feels guilty for staying in Newmarket for so long, but I think he needed the distance to clear his head and enjoy life a little.”
Poor Greyson. No wonder he hadn’t had time to visit her. All the times she’d thought ill of him for not calling upon her, when the truth of the matter was that he was selflessly taking care of his family. A twinge of guilt, which turned into a thread flowing through her veins, joined another thread of guilt she carried and hadn’t made peace with. She was still tortured by the guilt from the night Rutherford died. If it hadn’t been for her arguing with him about his mistress and going out on such a stormy night, he might still be alive.
As they approached the stairs to the veranda, Hunter came up beside Anastasia and asked, “May I escort you inside?”
“Yes,” she replied with a radiant smile that had Letitia forgetting her woes.
“They look good together,” Greyson said matter-of-factly as he stood at her side at the bottom of the steps, his gaze on his friend and sister.
“They do.”
“May I?” He offered his arm, and his tentative eyes met hers, making her realize that even after the kiss they had shared not long ago in the gardens, he was still uncertain about her feelings for him. It made her realize he really did regret having ignored her for those long, lonely months right after he returned from Newmarket. At least from her perspective, they were long and lonely. From what his sister said, he had been quite busy and overwhelmed with family affairs.
“You may.” She placed her gloved hand on his forearm, and they climbed the stairs to the veranda and into the salon, where he escorted her directly to Emmeline and Lilly.
