Page 105 of Duke of Bronze
But now, with her father beside her, handing her food and watching her like she was breakable, the tears slipped free.
"Oh, my darling," he said softly, setting her plate aside and pulling her into his arms.
Anna let herself be held. She buried her face in his shoulder and wept.
"Is this about the marriage business?" he asked.
But Anna could not even bring herself to ask what he meant. Confusion swirled with grief inside her, and her thoughts were an untidy, muddled thing. Her father continued to murmur gentle reassurances, his voice a steady balm against the storm in her chest.
"You do not have to marry, my dear girl," Sebastian said, brushing a hand over her hair. "If you do not wish it, then you shall not. I have loved you every day in your unmarried state, and I shall go on loving you still. Damn the marriage mart. Damn society and its absurd expectations."
He sounded so certain, so impassioned—and so entirely mistaken.
Because Anna knew now, with excruciating clarity, that she did want to marry. She wanted a life with Colin. A home. A future. But that dream was just that—a dream. And it would never be hers.
Her father's heartfelt declarations only broke her further, and the tears renewed with vigor. She could not tell him. Could not bring herself to say that her grief did not come from the pressure to wed, but rather from knowing she had found love—and could not have it.
The more she cried, the more tightly he held her, as though he could shield her from the very thing she refused to speak aloud.
A knock on the door at last forced her to still herself. She sniffled, pulling away and swiping quickly at her cheeks.
"Yes?" Sebastian called.
"It is the butler, sir. A letter for Miss Anna," came the reply.
Sebastian rose, casting one more look at his daughter before stepping over to collect the missive.
"Shall I place it on your escritoire to tend to later?" he asked gently, turning the letter over in his hand. "There is no rush if you are not yet feeling up to it."
Anna shook her head, drawing in a long breath to steady herself. "No. I should see to it now. It might be important."
She cleared her throat and reached for the letter with both hands, her sleeve dragging comically across her damp cheek as she wiped at it.
"Oh, gracious," she muttered, blinking down at the damp patch on her sleeve.
Sebastian raised a brow but said nothing, though the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
She managed a small laugh—wobbly and watery, but real.
With a sniff and one last pull at her composure, she broke the plain wax seal and unfolded the note.
The familiar slant of Roderick's hand greeted her.
Dearest Anna,
I hope this note finds you well. I wish to invite you to luncheon at our home two days hence, in honor of my new sponsorship.
The family and I are eager to see you again after your time in the country. The children, in particular, are nearly beside themselves with excitement at the prospect.
You must come. It would mean a great deal to all of us.
Yours with gratitude and esteem,
Roderick Millard
Her throat tightened. Anna sat with the letter resting lightly in her hands, her gaze fixed not on the words but somewhere just beyond them—as if the paper itself had summoned a storm she was not yet prepared to weather.
She did not know if she could bring herself to go.
