in the papers. Not when she died in such a horrific way. They would never allow it.”
“Anthony never mentioned her family.”
“I’ve never known a Woodsworth to remark on connections,” Lord Bryant responded. “Indeed, the higher the connection, the more certain he wouldn’t mention it.”
That sounded almost like a compliment, although Anthony would never again trust anything the lord said, having seen his deceit so smoothly handled this morning. The only snake involved with Mary Smith was sitting in this room.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, Mr. Woodsworth. Please send my condolences to Mrs. Jorgensen as well. I know she was close to Miss Smith. It is a cruel world that allows such a vibrant soul to touch your life, only to be snatched away.” Lord Bryant’s facade melted for a moment, his face suddenly stern and commanding. “But nevertheless, that is exactly what has happened. And it is best for all if you just forget the time you spent with her. She is gone and will no longer be a part of your lives.”
Lord Bryant tipped his head, and with a good day, he strode out of the room.
Stewart was in a daze but managed to shake his head at the departing baron. “What stuff and nonsense. Forget the time you had with her. What kind of man gives that advice at the loss of a loved one? Don’t listen to him, Anthony. You may think on her all you want. I will too. I had thought perhaps . . .” Stewart still had a look of complete bafflement on his face, his eyes wide and blinking. “But never mind. It wasn’t meant to be, I suppose. I just had never met a woman who was so enticing. I wish I—we—would have had more time with her.”
“He is right though.”
“Who? Bryant? About what?”
“It is best I forget about her.”
“I just told you that was complete bullocks. Why would you say that?” Stewart stood, crossed the room, leaned down, and put both hands on Anthony’s shoulders so he could examine his face. Anthony didn’t like the way his jaw went slack. “You were in love with her.”
He pushed his friend’s arms away and stood as well. “No, that’s impossible.”
“Anthony, there is no shame in it. I know you have Miss Morgan, but honestly, I don’t think anyone in London believes her family will ever approve of you.”
“No.” Anthony shook his head, suddenly wishing he could run outside for some fresh air. But the air was not fresh in London in the fall, and even if it were, he knew it wouldn’t clear his head. Patience was infatuated with him. Not the other way around. A maid. He couldn’t fall for a maid. He trudged over to the window and looked outside. He couldn’t face Stewart. He needed to marry someone that would make his father proud of him; he was all his father had left. The only son to carry on the bloodline and give his father’s grandchildren—his children—a step up in life so they could attain anything. He pressed his forehead against the glass and breathed deeply through his nose, one thought pressing on his mind.
His father had married a maid.
In the last two days, that thought had invaded his mind over and over while doing the most mundane things: shaving, picking out a jacket, riding in his carriage. His father had married a maid. He was quite certain his father would say that he couldn’t have asked for a better wife.
How important was it to Anthony that he elevate their family? He closed his eyes, seeing Miss Morgan’s name circled on the top of his list. On that paper, she was perfect. But in reality, she had proven herself to be completely unsuitable. Having Miss Morgan as a mother wouldn’t have been an advantage to his children. When Harry and Augusta were with Patience, they came alive. Perhaps not all advantages could be measured as precisely as he liked.
Was it possible for his father to be the one and only shining star in a long line of ordinary, but perfectly happy, people?
Perhaps it was. And it wasn’t the worst fate he could think of. Not if he could share it with someone like Patience. His breath caught, and he suddenly felt the need to sit down.
“Anthony?” Stewart rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. Together they walked to a club chair, and Stewart watched him carefully sit down. “Can I get you anything? Do