Anne woke early in the morning, the dawn’s pale light only a drab gray presence behind the curtains. Although the bed was empty, she had the strangest notion that it hadn’t been a short while ago. Blinking and delicately yawning, she stretched her limbs and got up.
She then realized she was still in her own home, her bedchamber at Chessley Manor. She had never made it to Cedric’s townhouse last night after the long celebration. What had happened? Surely the man hadn’t wanted to be deprived of his wedding night? Anne vaguely recalled easing into Cedric’s lap in the parlor and getting drowsy beneath his gentle touch. After that, her memory faded. Where was her husband now?
Husband. It was such an odd word, and it had forced its way into her daily vocabulary now.
“Madam?” A young upstairs
