David spoke of his estate, of agricultural improvements and tenants' concerns. Anne shared her observations of rural life and her renewed interest in botanical drawing.
"I should like to see your sketches sometime," David said.
"They're amateurish at best," Anne demurred.
"I doubt that very much. You approach everything with such care and attention. I imagine your drawings reflect that same dedication."
The compliment, delivered with such sincerity, warmed her.
"Perhaps I shall show you one day."
"I shall hold you to that promise," he replied with a smile.
They had completed a full circuit of the rose garden when the sound of approaching voices reached them. Anne recognized her sister's laugh immediately, followed by the deeper tones of Charles responding to something Marie had said.
David noticed her sudden tension.
"Shall we depart? There are other gardens to explore."
Before Anne could respond, Marie and Charles rounded the corner, stopping abruptly at the sight of them.
"Anne!" Marie exclaimed, surprise evident in her voice. "Good morning."
"Good morning, Marie, Your Grace," Anne replied, inclining her head in greeting.
"Norfolk," Charles acknowledged, his expression guarded.
"Westmere," David returned coolly.
The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.
Marie glanced anxiously between the men before addressing Anne again.
"Lady Brentwood mentioned you arrived yesterday. I had hoped to speak with you before dinner."
"I'm sure we'll have ample opportunity over the coming days," Anne replied, neither encouraging nor dismissing the overture.
David placed a protective hand at the small of her back.
"We were just about to explore the woodland walk. Perhaps we shall see you at luncheon."
Without waiting for a response, he guided Anne toward a path leading away from the rose garden.
Once they were out of earshot, Anne released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For understanding. For not forcing a prolonged interaction."
David's expression softened.
"I would never wish to cause you discomfort, Anne."
It was the first time he had addressed her without her title, and the intimacy of it sent a flutter through her chest. Rather than correcting him or drawing attention to the familiarity, she simply smiled, letting the moment exist between them.
They spent the remainder of the morning exploring the estate's extensive grounds, returning to the house just as the luncheon bell sounded.
The next several days established a pleasant rhythm, mornings spent in various activities arranged by their hostess, afternoons left to guests' discretion, and evenings filled with music, cards, and conversation.
Anne found herself gravitating toward David's company whenever possible, a preference their hostess seemed to encourage with subtle manipulations of seating arrangements and activity pairings.
Marie made several attempts to engage Anne in private conversation, which Anne neither encouraged nor rebuffed, maintaining a polite distance that gradually softened as the days passed.
On the fifth day of the house party, Caroline announced a picnic excursion to a picturesque ruined abbey located on the estate's grounds.
The weather proved perfect, warm sunshine tempered by a gentle breeze, fluffy white clouds drifting across an azure sky.
As the guests scattered across the grassy expanse surrounding the ancient stone ruins, Anne found a quiet spot beneath the shade of a sprawling oak.
David, who had been engaged in conversation with their host, soon joined her.
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the empty space beside her on the blanket.
"Of course," she replied, making room for him.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the other guests. Marie and Charles were visible some distance away, examining the crumbling architecture of the abbey's remaining walls.
"You seem more at ease in their presence," David observed.
Anne considered this.
"I am, I suppose. Time has not healed exactly, but perhaps numbed the worst of it."
"And your correspondence with your sister? Has that helped?"
"Surprisingly, yes," Anne admitted. "I won't pretend to understand fully what transpired between them, but I've begun to accept that feelings cannot always be controlled or directed as propriety might demand."
David's expression grew thoughtful.
"No, they cannot. Though actions in response to those feelings remain a choice."
"True," Anne agreed. "Their actions were wrong, regardless of their feelings. But I find I can no longer sustain the energy required to hate them for it."
"That is not weakness, but strength," David said firmly. "The truly strong can afford to be merciful."
Anne studied his profile against the sunlit landscape.
"You are a remarkable man, David Harrington."
His eyes met hers, surprise and pleasure evident in his gaze.
"As you are a remarkable woman, Anne Hobart."
The moment stretched between them, charged with unspoken meaning.
Anne felt herself drawn toward him as if by some invisible force, the distance between them seeming both vast and infinitesimal.
"Anne," David murmured, his voice lower than before.
She met his gaze, heart quickening at the undisguised emotion she saw there.
"Yes?"
Before he could respond, Caroline's voice rang out across the abbey grounds, calling everyone to gather for refreshments.
The spell broken, Anne felt both disappointment and relief wash over her.
"Shall we join the others?" David asked, offering his hand to help her rise.