"Yes, I suppose we must," Anne replied, taking his hand and feeling a curious reluctance to release it once she was standing.
As they walked toward the gathering, Charles appeared in their path, his expression uncharacteristically hesitant.
"Lady Anne, might I have a moment?" he asked, glancing briefly at David.
Anne felt David tense beside her, but nodded.
"A brief one, yes."
David reluctantly stepped away, though he remained within sight, his protective instincts evident in his watchful stance.
"I've wanted to speak with you privately," Charles began once they were relatively alone, "about what happened between us."
"I'm not certain there's anything left to say," Anne replied evenly.
Charles's gaze flickered to where David stood.
"You've grown quite close to Norfolk."
"Lord Harrington has been a true friend when I most needed one."
"Just a friend?" Charles pressed, his tone suggesting something more.
Anne studied him, puzzled by his interest.
"That is hardly your concern anymore, Your Grace."
"No," he conceded, then hesitated before adding, "I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake."
Anne's eyes widened.
"A mistake? You're married to my sister."
"Yes, of course," Charles said quickly. "And I care for her deeply. But seeing you again, especially in Norfolk's company, I find myself remembering what might have been."
Anne felt a surge of indignation.
"What might have been? You relinquished any right to such speculation when you broke our engagement."
"I know," he admitted. "It was unpardonably selfish to say so. Please forget I spoke."
"Gladly," Anne replied coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe refreshments are being served."
She turned away, her composure intact, but her thoughts in turmoil.
What game was Charles playing? And why now, when she had finally begun to heal?
David met her halfway, concern etched on his features.
"Are you well? What did he want?"
"Nothing of importance," Anne assured him, though her voice trembled slightly. "A misguided attempt at... I'm not entirely sure what."
David's expression darkened.
"If he has upset you..."
"He hasn't," Anne interrupted firmly. "Not in the way you might think. I'm merely confused by his behavior."
They reached the gathering, where footmen were distributing glasses of champagne and plates of delicacies. Anne accepted a glass, sipping the cool sparkling wine as she tried to make sense of Charles's words.
Across the lawn, she caught sight of Marie watching her with an unreadable expression. When their eyes met, Marie approached hesitantly.
"Might I speak with you, Anne? Alone?"
Anne glanced at David, who nodded his understanding and moved discreetly away.
Once he was out of earshot, Marie spoke in a rush.
"Charles spoke to you. What did he say?"
The directness of the question surprised Anne.
"How did you..."
"I know my husband," Marie interrupted, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "And I saw his expression when he returned. Please, Anne, what did he say to you?"
Anne hesitated, unsure how much to reveal.
"He expressed some regret about our broken engagement."
Marie's face paled.
"I feared as much. He's been distant lately, watching you and Lord Harrington with such intensity."
She twisted her hands anxiously.
"Anne, I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please be cautious around him."
"You cannot possibly think I would..."
"No," Marie exclaimed. "No, of course not. I know you better than that. It's just..."
She faltered.
"The excitement of our situation has begun to fade. I believe Charles misses the thrill of forbidden feelings."
Anne felt a wave of pity for her sister.
"Marie, I have no interest in Charles whatsoever. My heart lies elsewhere."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Anne realized their truth. Her heart indeed lay elsewhere, with the steady, honorable man who had become her most trusted confidant.
Marie's expression softened.
"With Lord Harrington?"
When Anne didn't deny it, Marie continued.
"I've seen how he looks at you. How you look at him. It's different from what you had with Charles. Deeper, somehow."
"It is," Anne acknowledged quietly.
"I'm glad," Marie said with surprising sincerity. "You deserve that kind of devotion."
An awkward silence fell between them, years of sisterly affection warring with recent betrayal.
"I miss you," Marie admitted finally. "I know what I did was unforgivable."
"Not unforgivable," Anne interrupted. "Difficult to forgive, yes, but not impossible."
Hope brightened Marie's features.