It was a sop for him to salvage his pride and walk away with dignity. This he did with a curt nod to first her, then Anastasia. His son had no dignity to begin with, however, so it was not surprising that he spat on the ground at Maria’s feet before he stalked off.

Anastasia had gotten to her feet when Maria arrived. She put her arm around her shoulders now to help her back to their wagon. She could feel her weakness, hear her labored breath, now that the confrontation was over.

“You strained yourself,” she scolded. “I thought we agreed that I would handle that.”

“You would deny me my last great fury?”

Anastasia sighed. “No, of course not. Did you at least enjoy it?”

“Immensely, child, immensely. Now, where is this husband of yours? Why isn’t he with you?”

At which point, considering what she must answer, Anastasia promptly burst into tears.

Chapter 20

IT WAS STILL MORNING, BUT ANASTASIA HAD PUT her grandmother to bed. There was very little life’s essence left in Maria now. Anastasia could feel none as she sat there and held her cold hand.

A death vigil. She knew that was what this was. Sir William shared it with her, standing silently behind her, his hand on her shoulder. It was all she could do to assure Maria that she would be fine, when she had no idea if that would be so, when she was trying to deal with her grief as well. Yet it all needed saying.

“He holds himself unaccountable for what he did while he was drunk last night,” Anastasia said in answer to why the marquis wasn’t there with her. “He thought I agreed to be his mistress, and he was delighted with that assumption. He refused to believe he’d married me instead. He actually thought I would lie about such a thing.”

“So you think he didn’t really want you?” Maria asked. “After meeting him, I know this isn’t so.”

“He wants me, just not for his wife. Which is fine. I aspired too high, apparently, to the likes of him. I will be wiser next time.”

“Next time?” Maria chuckled softly. “There will be no next time.”

Anastasia misunderstood. “Then I will remain without a husband. It makes no difference to me,” she tried to assure Maria. “The English lord, he served the purpose we needed. I am no longer promised to Nicolai because of him. For that, I am grateful.”

The old woman smiled. “You have a husband. You will keep that husband.”

“I don’t want him now,” Anastasia tried to insist, though she was never very good at lying, and particularly to Maria, who could unravel a lie so easily.

“You do.”

“Really, Gran, I don’t. And besides, as soon as he finds proof that we married, other than my word, which he would not believe, he’ll have the marriage dissolved quicker than it takes to blink.”

“He won’t.”

Anastasia sighed, but then chuckled wryly. “Very well, I am sure you have good reason to be so stubborn about this. Why won’t he divorce me?”