When his silence confirmed that he’d not share Anne’s identity, she sighed. “I can’t imagine she deserves you, Harry.”
His jaw tightened. No, she didn’t and yet, she’d forever hold his heart—whether he wished it or not.
Margaret’s lips turned up in a wistful smile. She leaned up on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his cheek.
A gasp cut into their private exchange. He glanced over Margaret’s shoulder. Twin sisters, foils in every way, stood at the end of the path.
Fireworks shot into the sky, illuminating their faces. Katherine singed him to the spot even as Anne swayed against her sister. A momentary expression of grief ravaged her cheeks. Which made little sense. Anne had been quite clear in her feelings for him. Or rather her lack of feelings.
He raised Margaret’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Anne’s skin took on a sickly pallor and then she presented him her back. Katherine eyed him with such loathing he shifted on his feet, feeling like a properly chastised child. She said something to Anne.
Margaret frowned. “I gather she is in fact the young lady who captured your heart.”
He clenched his teeth, giving Margaret his attention.
“That was rather poorly done of you, Harry,” she chided.
“Yes. Yes it was,” he agreed and swiped a hand over his face, tortured by the memory of Anne’s pale cheeks and horrified eyes. It shouldn’t matter that she’d been wounded by his meeting Margaret. She’d proven herself faithless and fickle.
And yet, it mattered.
Chapter 24
Katherine guided Anne with a military precision that could have afforded her command of the King’s army, away from the loving tableau presented by Harry and his Margaret.
Oh, God.
“Breathe,” her sister muttered, lips unmoving.
Pain rolled through Anne in vicious waves, one after the other. She blinked back tears, blurring her vision. The joyous, ribald laughter sounded throughout the grounds punctuated by the overhead burst of fireworks. “I cannot stay,” she rasped out.
Her sister gave her forearm a hard, reassuring squeeze. “I’ll find Mother.”
Anne jerked free of her sister’s hold and took her by the arms, earning rabidly curious glances from nearby peers. “Please.” She begged with her eyes, needing to be spared her mother’s continual disapproval and angry stares.
Her sister gave a terse nod and gently guided Anne’s arms back to her side. “Wait here. I’ll gather Jasper.” She hesitated.
“I’ll be fine.” She lied. She would never be fine again.
Katherine lingered, recognizing the words Anne left unspoken. Then, that was just part of being a twin. That inherent sense of knowing. Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and strode through the crowd, boldly striding past those who sought a word with the Duchess of Bainbridge.
Anne hovered, feeling undone and exposed. She cast furtive glances about. Yet, for the way in which her heart now splintered apart, broken and useless, the members of polite Society moved about with gaiety, merry with drink and the pleasure of the inane amusements. Anne remained invisible.
A prickle of awareness stole down her spine. She stiffened, and turned seeking out the source of that unease.
Harry studied her, alongside his splendorous duchess. That icy, blackness in his flinty expression chilled her. Then, he smiled. A dark, emotionless smile that sucked the breath from her. He returned his attention the flawlessly perfect duchess. And Anne was forgotten, once more.
Oh, God, this is too much.
A restive panic filled her and sucking in a gasping breath, she hurried away. Away from Harry and Margaret. She quickened her steps, sidestepping lustful lords. Away from all she’d lost. Anne moved in a near sprint. Away from his steely contempt. She slipped inside a skillfully tended maze of towering hedges and ran deeper into the hidden trails. Yet no matter how fast or far her legs carried her, she could not rid herself of the agonized memory of Lady Margaret layering her tall, regal frame against Harry’s. Or the two of them as they’d slipped away. Most likely stealing off to some other hidden trysting corner where he could worship the other woman’s mouth the way he’d once kissed her.
Kissed her like she was the only lady in the entire kingdom. Fool. Fool. Fool. Her gasping breaths gave way to a sob while her slippers were soundless upon the dampened grass. As though she could ever match his Lady Margaret. In beauty. She wrenched her mask off. In elegance. Her heart pounded hard with the exertions of her efforts and the pain of her musings.
Her toes collided with a large rock and a gasp of pain escaped her. In grace. She pitched forward, hard on her knees. “Oomph,” the air left her on a whoosh. She attempted to stand and bit back a curse as pain radiated up her leg.