Chapter forty eight Threats

Anna's heart was still light with the memory of William's touch, but as she sat across from Lord Tony, she forced herself into a colder, more calculated state of mind. The all incident of the previous day, the softness she had felt could not betray her now. Not when the kingdom's fate—and William's—rested so delicately on the edge of a knife.

The room was dimly lit, the drapes drawn, Anna went ahead to open them and then the windows to let the morning sun in. She folded her hands neatly on the polished oak desk, tilting her chin with practiced confidence. Waiting patiently for the man to speak, one thing she knew was that she did not fear him and she did not care if he did not approve of their union, after all his own daughter was involved. She regarded him as her papa's dearest friend and gave him that respect, nothing more—not fear, just respect.