The Raven Prince (Princes #1)(57)

Anna forced herself to hold his gaze, though it left her trembling.

“I must have an heir. Do you understand?” He grit his teeth and said, as if he were pulling the words, bloody and torn, from his very heart, “I must marry a woman who can bear children.”

Chapter Fourteen

Who was her lover? Aurea’s sisters inquired, their brows creased with false concern. Why had she never seen him in the light of day? And having never seen him, how could she be sure he was human at all? Perhaps a monster too horrible to be exposed to daylight shared her bed. Perhaps this monster would get her heavy with his child, and she would bear something too awful to imagine. The longer Aurea listened to her sisters, the more disquieted she became until she knew not what to think or do.

It was then that the sisters suggested a plan….

—from The Raven Prince

For the rest of that day, Anna simply endured. She made herself sit at the rosewood desk in the Abbey library. She made herself dip her quill in the ink without spilling a drop. She made herself copy out a page of Edward’s manuscript. When she finished that first page, she made herself do it again. And again. And yet again.

That was the job of a secretary, after all.

Long ago, when Peter had first proposed to her, she’d thought about children. She’d wondered whether their children would have red or brown hair, and she’d daydreamed possible names. When they’d married and moved into the tiny cottage, she’d worried if there would be enough room for a family.

She had never worried about not having children.

The second year of the marriage, Anna had begun to watch her monthly flow. The third year, she wept every month when she saw the rust-colored stain. By the fourth year of her marriage to Peter, she knew he had turned to someone else. Whether because she was inadequate as a lover or as a breeder or both, she never found out. And when Peter died…

When he died, she took her hopes for a child and wrapped them carefully in a box and buried that box deep, deep in her heart. So deep, she thought never to face that dream again. Except, with one sentence, Edward had exhumed the box and ripped it open. And her hopes, her dreams, her need to bear a child were as fresh now as they had been when she was newly wed.

Oh, dear God, to be capable of giving Edward children! What she wouldn’t do, what she wouldn’t give up, to be able to hold a baby. A baby made from both of their bodies and souls. Anna felt a physical ache in her chest. An ache that expanded outward until she could hardly keep herself from curling up to hold it in.

But she must maintain her composure. She was in Edward’s library—indeed, Edward sat not five feet away—and she couldn’t show her pain. Fiercely, she concentrated on moving her quill across the paper. Never mind that the scratches she made with the quill were illegible, never mind that the page would have to be recopied later. She would get through this afternoon.

Several ghastly hours later, Anna slowly gathered her things, moving like a very old woman. As she did so, the invitation to Felicity Clearwater’s dance fell from her shawl. She stared at it a moment. A lifetime ago she’d meant to remind Edward about the soiree. It seemed inconsequential now. But Mother Wren had said it was important that Edward participate in local social events. Anna straightened her shoulders. Just this one thing, then she could go home.

“Mrs. Clearwater’s soiree is tomorrow night.” Her voice creaked.

“I don’t intend to accept Mrs. Clearwater’s invitation.”

Anna refused to look at him, but Edward’s voice didn’t sound much better than her own.

“You’re the most important aristocrat in the area, my lord,” she said. “It would be gracious to attend.”

“No doubt.”

“It is the best way to hear the latest village gossip.”

He grunted.

“Mrs. Clearwater always serves her special punch. Everyone agrees it is the best in the county,” she lied.

“I don’t—”

“Please, please go.” She still didn’t look at him, but she could feel his gaze on her face, as palpable as a hand.

“As you wish.”

“Good.” Anna jammed her hat on her head and then remembered something. She opened her center desk drawer and took out The Raven Prince. She carried it over to Edward’s desk, laying it softly on top. “This is yours.”

She turned and left the room before he could reply.

THE HALL WAS stiflingly hot, the decorations from two years ago, and the music off-key. It was Felicity Clearwater’s annual spring soiree. Every year, the citizens of Little Battleford who were lucky enough to receive an invitation put on their very best clothes and drank watery punch at the Clearwater home. Felicity Clearwater stood by the door to welcome her guests. She wore a new gown, an indigo-blue muslin this year with cascading flounce down the sleeves. The underskirt sported a pattern of flying crimson birds on a light blue field, and there were crimson bows in a V outlining her bodice. Squire Clearwater, a portly gentleman in orange-clocked stockings and the full-bottomed wig of his youth, fidgeted beside her, but it was clearly understood that the event belonged to Felicity.

Anna had made it through the receiving line with only a frosty greeting from Felicity and a rather abstracted one from the squire. Relieved to have gotten that ordeal out of the way, she hovered at the side of the room. She’d unwarily accepted a glass of punch from the vicar and now had no choice but to sip it.