Anblin’s voice trembled as much as her amber eyes.
Before she could finish her hesitantly spoken words, a knock came at the door, and the secretary entered carrying tea. A brief silence fell between them. As soon as the secretary left, Anblin asked,
“What’s your relationship with that woman?”
“In business, trust is everything. I clearly misjudged you.”
“Why is Anne Gilbert’s necklace with that woman? You said you lent it to her.”
Her trembling voice began to choke with emotion.
“Is this your way of punishing me? Making me a laughingstock by comparing me to that lowly bastard-born woman?”
To preserve her last shred of dignity, the princess bit her lip instead of crying.
Edgar watched, unaffected, as if observing a poorly performed play. The only regret he had after watching this same act for three years was that he was its…
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Emilybronte
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