Page 69 of One Night with an Earl

She knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Queenie was old, and perhaps she couldn’t hear as well. Just as Ana raised her fist to pound on the door once more, it swung open to reveal a young woman. Ana recognized her as the woman who helped prepare Queenie’s meals and herbal teas. She was very pretty, with a long, dark braid and flawless olive complexion. But it was her stunning blue eyes that captured one’s attention and bespoke of her mixed heritage. She was also skilled with herbs, and Queenie had once said Adeline’s teas helped with her aching joints.

Ana greeted her with a smile. “Hello Adeline.”

“Anahit, it’s good you came.”

The thread of worry in her tone caused Ana’s stomach to tighten. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“Queenie’s unwell. I prepared a mint tea for her stomach, but there is not much more I can do. You should—”

Without waiting for her to finish, Ana was halfway to the bedchamber. She burst inside and halted.

Queenie lay upon the bed in the small room. The drapes were drawn, and it was dim, but she could make out her shallow breathing and pale, wrinkled skin. Without her customary turban, her dyed red hair looked ghastly against the white sheets.

The pit of Ana’s stomach churned, and she flew to her bedside. “Dearest Queenie, what is wrong?”

Queenie raised her hand to touch Ana’s. “Heavens, don’t look so distressed. I’m old.”

“You’ve always been full of energy whenever I’ve visited.”

“That’s the thing about age, Ana. It comes out of nowhere to visit you, whether you want the visitor or not.”

A hot ache built in Ana’s throat, and she swallowed hard. Queenie was Ana’s last connection to her own mother.

“I loathe to leave you, but my time is near.”

Ana couldn’t bear the thought. Tears welled in her eyes, and she struggled to blink them away. “Please don’t speak like that.”

“Do not be sad, my child. I have lived a long and full life. You must do the same.” A smile touched the woman’s mouth. “How is your mysterious lord?”

A tear rolled down Ana’s cheek, and she swiped it away. She understood that Queenie was trying to change the subject. “I never said he was a lord.”

“You didn’t need to. You are a lady. Do not forget your past.”

Her past was the problem, especially when it came to the Earl of Drake. Their unsavory family history was never far from her mind. “I haven’t forgotten your reading of my cup or my fortune.”

“Then you should know it does not mean doom or despair. A reading is not always as it seems.” Queenie coughed.

Ana helped her sit and fluffed the pillows behind her. She smoothed the damp red strands of hair away from her clammy skin. Ana knew deep in her bones that this might be the last time she saw her, and the thought was unbearable.

“Please do not strain yourself.” Ana waited until the coughing subsided, then poured her a cup of water from a pitcher on a nightstand. Queenie sipped the water, then eased back on the pillows. Breathing appeared to be a struggle.

Ana had been holding her own breath, and she let it out slowly. She hated watching the old woman suffer.

“What is on the nightstand?” Queenie asked.

Ana almost forgot the package. “I bought something for you.”

Queenie nodded. “Open it for me.”

Ana tore the paper and unfolded the shawl to spread it across Queenie’s lap. The colors brightened the room.

Queenie smiled. “It’s lovely, and I’m often cold. Thank you.”

Ana swallowed and held a wave of fresh tears in check. She’d cry later when she was alone. “I wish I could give you more.”

“My dear Anahit. You have given me years of pleasure. Your visits have cheered me, and I see so much of your mother in you. Silva was a survivor, just as her daughter.”

“My mother?”