The girl who brought Anna a pitcher of hot water each morning, along with the latest household news, worked at the small hearth to revive the fire. “Lady Greystone’s been with him the whole time.” “I’m sorry to hear that, Betty.” As Anna splashed water over her face and neck, she tried to think of how she might help her employer. When she had heard the viscount coughing the day before, echoing Papá’s final illness, it concerned her more than a little. Learning he had not rested increased her alarm. “Aye, and Major Grenville rode out at dawn to fetch the physician.” The girl stirred the coals into a flame around a small log. “Oh, my.” Poor Major Grenville, having to ride today when yesterday’s excursion had caused him pain. Although he had not complained, she had seen him wince as he walked last evening. An unexpected warmth infused her chest as she remembered the tender way he had kissed her hand, no doubt as reassurance that he had not considered her comment about the Americans seditious.
