and for his sisters, when and if this thing came out into the open, they would all be punished for her shocking lack of control.
âWhat about your father?â Anne asked, coming closer to his thoughts than she likely knew.
âMy fatherâ¦â He hesitated. âThe Duke of Waverly didnât accompany us.â
âNever?â she asked with surprise in her tone.
Rhys shook his head. âHe disapproved of the âsavageâ surroundings and said that this little place was beneath us, but my mother insisted. He allowed it for a time, but when I was thirteen it ended abruptly.â
He remembered the day his mother had told him he could no longer go to this place. She had been crying,he thought. And after that, she laughed even less, but he had never put much thought into her happiness or lack thereof. Now he wondered about it, about her, even as he burned in anger and betrayal toward her.
âWhy did it end?â Anne asked, turning toward him with empathy in her eyes. Not pity, for he hated that, but something else.
âWe came home that year and I was talking foolishness about making friends with some of the village children, perhaps even inviting them to one of our estates some year.â Rhys shrugged. âThe duke had never supported the idea of me coming here. He didnât like it that I consorted with children who had no rank and believed that my wild behavior was below my station.â
Anneâs brow wrinkled. âDidnât it matter to him that you had a little happiness here?â
Rhysâs shoulders stiffened. He had confessed that fact to only one person. It seemed Simon had felt compelled to share it with Anne. The idea that she had such a glimpse into the weaknesses he had been taught to hide was troubling.
âHappiness is irrelevant. The duke was correct. At thirteen, I wasnât a boy anymore. It was high time to forget such foolish notions and begin to truly prepare myself for the future my father saw for me.â
Anneâs gaze dropped and she slowly turned to lookat the ocean again. âHow sad your father thought joy was a foolish notion. And sadder still that he convinced you his opinion was gospel.â
Rhys didnât respond, but instead stepped a fraction closer and looked out with her over the water. The afternoon was waning now, beginning to cast a faintly orange glow over the waves in the distance. They were quiet for a long moment, but unlike when she first came to the waterâs edge, there was nothing uncomfortable about it.
When some time had passed, Rhys looked down at her. âIâm not trying to hurt you. It was never my intention.â
She didnât look at him. In fact, she hardly reacted to his statement at all, just continued to look out to sea. Finally she nodded.
âI know that. In fact, itâs obvious from simply looking at you that you are the one who is hurt. Deeply enough that you would run away not just from me but from everything important in your life. And it says something that when you ran, you came to a place where you were happy almost twenty years ago. Where you werenât stifled by the ideals of rank and propriety that were so important to your father that he would crush any other instinct you might have once had.â
Rhys frowned. That was actually a remarkablygood assessment of what was happening here, especially coming from a woman who wasnât fully aware of the entire situation. Was he so easy to read?
Slowly she turned toward him and lifted her face to his. Her hand fluttered at her side, almost like she wanted to touch him, but held back. He found himself wishing she would cup his cheek or take his hand, but then he pushed those desires away. This was what heightened and unchecked emotion did, it made one imprudent.
âRhys,â she said quietly. âNo matter what you feel about it now, Iâm still your wife. Clearly something has happened that has driven you
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