Roderick blinked. Baby? He stood. The others were rushing forward, slowed by the slick rocks. Chester stood, meeting Roderick’s frozen gaze. Chester’s expression indicated he knew Roderick had heard.

  “We need to take her back,” Chester said.

  Roderick nodded, his face a stony mask as he bent to pick up Anne.

  “I’m much better. It went away,” she said as she met his gaze.

  “We should get a doctor,” Bernie ordered.

  “Whatever you need,” Roderick said. His jaw felt like it might crack if he spoke more. Anne looked down as he carried her across the rocks to the sandy beach, and a crowd gathered around him. Neither of them said anything as Bernie gave a weak explanation about a sprained ankle. Through a haze of disbelief, Roderick carried Anne back to the cart, and Bernie and Chester followed them back to the castle on horseback.

  Roderick couldn’t think past the word baby. She is carrying a baby—with child—pregnant. However he said it in his mind it didn’t seem real. That couldn’t have been the right word. Chester was there to lift Anne out of the cart as soon as they stopped and carried Anne inside the house with Bernie hurrying after him.

  Abruptly he was alone in the cart, and the ache that filled him, the despair, was so deafening he couldn’t move.

  His Anne.

  The woman he thought could never yield herself to any sort of mischief, had lain with another and would beget a child.

  Another man had held her, loved her, had the honor of hearing her sighs and whispers before him. Roderick was not a possessive person by nature, but there had been comfort in thinking Anne would never fall prey to another man like him. He supposed that all this time, since they’d shared their first kiss at Violet’s wedding ball, he thought he’d been special, that he’d been her only vice.

  He closed his eyes. Who was the paragon of a man who had the honor of beguiling Anne? And where the bloody hell was he when she needed him most? Roderick opened his eyes and saw his brother through a red haze.

  “Is Anne all right?” Weirick asked.

  “We should summon a doctor. She fell quite hard,” Roderick said. He clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter. He released his grip on the reins and a waiting groom took them from him. Roderick jumped down, each movement stiff, as if he were turning to stone, his anger so acute and consuming it would freeze him in this state. He forced himself to move, striding into the castle, through the King’s Hall and through a side door to the kitchen.

  Weirick was calling out to him, but Roderick couldn’t stop. This pain would kill him if he didn’t blunt it swiftly. He strode through the kitchens, staff leaping out of his way as he barreled through. He ripped open the door to the cellar and took the stairs two at a time into the cool darkness. He opened a crate, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and tore out the cork. He touched the bottle to his lips as his brother entered. Weirick stopped in the doorway and watched him as Roderick drank, and drank, and drank until the fire in his throat choked him.

  Chapter 23

  Anne waved Bernie away. “I’m fine. It was a momentary pain, that was all. Do you remember Mother having them? She’d move a certain way, and then it would pass. She called them growing pains.”

  “But what if it’s something worse?”

  “My derriere hurts much worse. That I can still feel.”

  Bernie exhaled. “Fine.”

  “I know Roderick heard you,” Anne said quietly.

  “I know. But I was too frightened to guard my tongue. You fell so hard, and the expression on your face was terrifying.”

  “I couldn’t breathe at first, then I tried to move, and the pain shocked me.”

  “Roderick reacted oddly. He seemed stunned.”

  “He was angry,” Anne said.

  Bernie scoffed. “Whatever for?”

  Anne met her sister’s gaze. “He and I… We’ve been seeing each other…alone.” Anne blushed.

  Bernie’s shocked silence filled the room with awkward energy.

  “Roderick,” she said at last. “The same boy who teased us relentlessly, the same boy who—”

  “Can we not venture down that lane of memories? He is not that boy anymore.”

  Bernie folded her arms. “And you want to marry him now? I thought Luckfeld had your favor.”

  Anne laughed. “Luckfeld? He flirts with all of us.”

  “Not me,” Bernie grumbled.

  “He would if you weren’t so sour when Chester is present, or absent, or mentioned in conversation.”

  Bernie glared at her, but her anger didn’t last. “Roderick won’t tell anyone. Do you intend to marry him?”

  Anne rubbed her face. This was the worst outcome she could imagine. She meant to have a face-to-face conversation with him, explaining their encounter in hopes he’d remember. Now he’d just think she was pregnant with another man’s baby. How was she going to fix this?

  “I need to speak with him, Bernie. Privately and as soon as possible.”

  There was a knock on the door. Bernie answered and let Violet into the room.

  “Are you all right?” Violet asked. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “No,” Anne smiled reassuringly. “I had the wind knocked from me, and my rear is a bit sore, but I’m fine otherwise.”

  “Oh, good.” Violet said with relief. She cleared her throat and darted a glance toward Bernie. “The Dowager Duchess is entertaining the other guests. We’re to have dancing tonight again. Don’t rush to join us if you need to remain off your feet. I can have some salve sent up or perhaps a cold bath to sit in?” Violet raised a brow.

  “Tea should be sufficient.” Anne said. Something about Violet seemed odd. Did she know? Had Roderick said something? Where was he? “I’d like to thank Roderick for carrying me across the rocks as adeptly as he did. Would you mind sending him to my room?”

  “Oh, um. He’s not feeling well,” Violet said.

  “He’s ill?” Bernie asked. “He was fine just moments ago.”

  “Yes,” Violet grimaced. “Something at our picnic must not have sat well. I’ll check with the other guests and make sure no one else is ill. Are you both feeling well?”

  Anne and Bernie nodded.

  “Excellent, I’ll check on you before dinner.” Violet bolted from the room.

  “She’s lying,” Bernie said after the door had closed.

  Anne agreed. “I need to see him, Bernie. Before it’s too late.”

  Bernie’s shoulders slumped. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “Do whatever you have to do,” Anne begged.

  Bernie huffed as she exited the room.

  Anne stared at the door, a feeling of doom as thick and heavy as storm clouds descending on her.

  * * *

  Roderick collapsed on his bed. Footmen, Cryer, his brother, circled him like vultures. Cryer removed his boots while his brother held him down, and someone else plucked shards of glass from his palm. Roderick blinked slowly as the vague shape of a man revealed itself to be Chester.

  “You knew,” Roderick said, his tongue thick.

  “Not now,” Chester said quietly.

  “Is it you? No—you’d marry her, even though your father would rather stool in his pants than bring a Marsden into the family.”

  “Quiet,” Chester warned.

  “It should be mine,” Roderick moaned, clutching his head with his free hand as the room spun.

  “How much did he drink?” Chester asked Weirick.

  “The cellar,” Weirick quipped. “But really, he finished a bottle of my best rye and half of my Irish Malt before he slammed it down and cut up his hand. All in the span of thirty minutes. I’ve never seen such a thing. What the devil made him do it?”

  “Don’t ssth-peak as if I’m not here,” Roderick slurred. “It shhh-ould be my baby.” Music filled his head, a waltz, blaring in his ears, the violins screeching out a fast ribbon of sound as if to punish his ears.

  “Baby?” Weirick blinked at Chester. “What baby?”

  Chester sighed as he finished wrapping Roderick’s hand. “Anne is with child. She met someone at your wedding ball, apparently.”

  “Where is the bastard now?” Weirick asked.

  “She wouldn’t give his name,” Chester replied.

  Weirick scoffed. “Anne? Annette Marsden got swept away by some rogue? No. I don’t believe it. Was she forced?”

  “Bernie said she insisted she wasn’t,” Chester answered.

  “Bollocks,” Weirick cursed. “Anne has the will of an iron door. She would never succumb to some rogue she just met. I’ve known her my entire life. She wouldn’t do that. She has more courage and heart than any of her sisters.”

  “We all have our weak moments,” Chester said. “I wouldn’t have believed it had I heard it as a rumor, but she has told me so herself. I offered for her—”

  “Don’t you dare,” Roderick muttered. He could hear them clearly through the music but he couldn’t open his eyes, and his body felt like he was floating in water, drifting along a calm river. The cool water enveloped him, and the music softened, the violin taking mercy on him. An orchestra now played for him and he seeped into the river, into oblivion.

  Chapter 24

  Bernie knocked on the door of Roderick’s room. Chester opened it and appeared very unhappy to see her.

  “Anne wishes to speak to him.”

  He folded his arms. “No.”

  Bernie scoffed. “Are you trying to intimidate me? What is this?” She mimicked him folding his arms, puffing out her chest in exaggeration.

  Chester dropped his arms. “He’s out of his mind. He went into the cellar and drank an enormous amount of whiskey. We’ve tried to make him—er—bring it up, but he’s drunker than any man I’ve ever seen.”

  Bernie gasped. “Because of Anne?”

  “I’d say he’s in love with her,” Chester said.

  “She said they have been secretly meeting alone.”

  “For how long?”

  “Since the party began I suppose. She didn’t specify. Now he knows she’s carrying another man’s child, and he’s what—heartbroken?”

  “He’s something, and it’s terrible.”

  Bernie hugged herself. He loved her? “If he loved her he’d marry her, regardless of whose child she’s carrying. He’d take the baby for his own, not drink himself to death. What a foolish thing to do. He’s throwing a tantrum, is what he’s doing.”

  “I’d agree with you to a point, but I honestly don’t know what I would do if the woman I loved was carrying another man’s child. The idea just…hurts.”

  “You’ve never been in love so how would you know what you would or wouldn’t do?” Bernie countered. She’d certainly know if Chester had ever been in love. He wouldn’t have been near her so often if he’d had a woman to love. She ignored the ache in her chest that idea conjured and the vision that followed.

  But what if he had? He did go to London occasionally. But he always returned, the same old Chester.

  “Have you?” she asked timidly.

  He scowled at her. “You think you know everything about me, inside and out, don’t you?”

  “I’ve known you all my life. I’d know if you were in love. It’s a rather dramatic transformation from what I’ve seen.”

  “From what you’ve seen. So, you haven’t been in love either. What do you know about it?”

  “I—I’m a woman and love involves emotions which is something we innately understand. Why are we arguing?”

  “I don’t know,” he ground out. He spun away and began to pace the hall. “You’ve been distant, and I let you. You became angry with me when I offered for Anne.”

  “It wasn’t your place to make such a sacrifice.”

  “I can make my own decisions.”

  “But that decision doesn’t just affect you, it affects me—and your family,” she hurried to say. It isn’t about me, even though the idea of you marrying Anne repulses me. It made her feel all sorts of uncomfortable things she didn’t want to name.

  “I know what Anne wants, and it isn’t a marriage of convenience.”

  “That’s the whole reason for the party. To marry the lot of you off, conveniently.”

  Bernie clenched her fists. “So you wish to be rid of us, is that it? And now it’s so much more difficult,” she dropped her voice, “with Anne pregnant, and me too much trouble to bother with. What man would have us? Certainly none of these men who tease me relentlessly about you, and why you’re always hovering over me.”

  “Don’t start with that again. We’re friends, or at least, I thought we were.”

  Her throat closed around the words, but she squeezed them out. It felt as if the world she knew was somehow made of thin paper, and it was all coming down in giant ear-ringing tears. First Anne and now Chester. They weren’t the people she thought she knew. They were doing things and saying things she’d never thought them capable of.

  “I don’t think I can be your friend anymore. We’re too old for this bickering.”

  He pivoted to face her, freezing where he stood. “What are you saying?”

  “We’ve both changed. It’s time to—to put some distance between us so we can both do what we’re supposed to do. I see that now.”

  “I have no say in the matter?”

  Bernie shook her head. He approached her, and her heart pounded harder with every step. He grabbed her shoulders, and for a split-second, Bernie thought he might kiss her, but instead he only frowned.

  “Don’t make such an impulsive decision right now. I promise I won’t hover anymore. I won’t let you throw away a lifetime of friendship over this.”

  “And I won’t let you marry my sister.”

  “She already refused me.”

  “But you’re a stubborn man. You’ll do anything to help someone, even if they don’t want it.”

  He hugged her, surprising her. She was flush against him and his arms held her tightly. He rested his head on hers. Bernie was frozen. They’d never embraced like this. He smelled like…bergamot and lemon with something a bit intoxicating. She closed her eyes and inhaled. It was his own scent, the smell of his skin. The intimacy of now knowing that smell sent her wits scattering.

  “Whatever happens, I will always try to protect you and your sisters anyway I can. It’s simply who I am. Things will always change, but that will remain the same.”

  Not if you marry.

  Oh god. That was what had been torturing her. She understood now. If he married Anne—if he married anyone—she’d lose him and that terrified her. He was hers. He’d always been hers.

  He pulled away, and she had to force herself not to grab him and hold on. Dear god, what was happening to her?

  “Tell Anne the truth,” Chester said. “He’s too drunk for her to speak with right now. It will have to wait until he’s coherent, and I don’t know what good that will do. You and I will have to keep up appearances.”

  “Appearances,” Bernie repeated numbly.

  “No one else has to know what’s really happening just yet.”

  Bernie nodded. She didn’t know what else to do. She turned toward the stairs, pausing to look back at him. He was still there, watching her, always watching over her. He was bloody perfect like that, caring, responsible.

  And she just realized she was in love with him.

  Friendship.

  No, they weren’t friends, but they’d have to move past that now.

  Chapter 25

  He’s too sick,” Bernie said.

  “I thought the sickness was a lie?” Anne asked in dismay. She’d been sitting in her bed, stewing in her emotions, and now she’d have to wait even longer?

  “He drank a significant amount of whiskey, and now he’s severely ill.”

  “He’s drunk!”

  Bernie wrung her hands. “I think he is beyond drunk, given Chester’s concern.”

  “Beyond drunk? What is that?” Anne asked angrily. “I thought he’d changed, I thought he cared more about me than his drinking.”

  “He’s upset about the baby, Anne.”

  Anne focused on Bernie. “What did you say?”

  “Chester said he was upset. I didn’t see him. We spoke outside his room.”

  “He’s…upset?” Anne got out of her bed and stood. She didn’t know what to do now. He was so angry that he immediately went and got drunk? Just when she had started to believe in him, it all came apart again. “Oh, God. Who else knows?”

  “Only us so far. Chester and I are going to rejoin the party to keep everyone from growing suspicious.”

  Anne nodded. “I should to. We can’t both be ill.”

  Bernie took her hand. “Chester thinks Roderick loves you. That’s why he’s so upset.”

  Anne’s knees went a little weak, but she remained standing. “So it’s my fault?”

  “No,” Bernie squeezed her hand. “You didn’t betray him, you didn’t know about his feelings when you…met the other man. But I think I understand how he could be hurt by it, regardless. If he’s been holding onto secret feelings for you, he must feel like he’s lost you.”

  That’s how I feel.

  He knows about the baby and doesn’t know it’s his. Had she lost him before she truly had him? She was so close to having everything her heart desired. She should have told him from the beginning, should have made him sit and listen to every detail of that fateful night and morning. Then none of this would have happened.

  But she’d been a coward and so sure he would only break her heart. Now she’d broken his and her own. She placed a hand on her belly. As if to reassure her, a tiny little flutter answered her touch. She closed her eyes, joy and sadness warring within her.

  She couldn’t change her mind. She wanted to fight for him. She would speak to him at the first opportunity and prove to him, some way, somehow, that this was their baby, and that she loved him. She would help him find himself again, to get rid of his awful drinking habit once and for all. No more secrets.

  “I know you’ve been adamant that the father not know or be held responsible—”