by Marie Force
“Derek received a cable from his contact at Scotland Yard. At his request, the Scotland Yard inspector reached out to the authorities in Ireland to make them aware of Farthington’s assault on the London prostitute. In addition, he informed them of your side of the story, including Farthington’s inability to perform sexually and his ensuing outrage each time he failed in that regard. That, along with my assertion about the burn to your hand that you were still nursing when we met and Derek’s character reference has led them to drop all charges against you.”
For a long moment after he finished speaking, Maeve could only stare up at him as she tried to process what he’d said.
“Did you hear me, sweetheart? It’s over. You’re free. We can go to Ireland to see your family.”
Maeve broke down into deep, wrenching sobs that took them both by surprise as he gathered her into his embrace. Until he told her it was over, she’d had no idea how truly terrified she was of what might happen to her. If Tornquist had found her so easily, what would stop someone else from tracking her down? Now she could rest easy and it was all because of Aubrey and his friends.
When her sobs finally subsided, she drew back from him. “I’ll never be able to properly thank you or Derek for what you have done for me. I was fully convinced I would never be free of the charges or ever see my family again.”
He brushed stray hairs back from her face and kissed away her remaining tears. “You’re free. We are free. There’s nothing more to worry about.”
If only she believed that to be true. But at least there was one less thing to worry about. A thought occurred to her that she had to share with him, even if he might not like it. “You married me to protect me. Now that I no longer require that protection—”
“Do not finish that thought,” he said, scowling. “Did you hear what I said to you last night?”
“Yes,” she said as heat crept into her cheeks. “I heard it.”
With his fingers on her chin, he compelled her to look at him. “I meant every word, Maeve. Marrying you was the best thing I have ever done, and I don’t give a flying fig about why I married you. That was just a convenient excuse for me to get exactly what I wanted most, which was you.” He kissed her softly. “I love you. I’m in your thrall. I can’t get enough of you.”
“I love you, too.”
How could she not love this kind, generous man who had helped to make all her problems go away while giving her every part of himself?
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Maeve . . .” His voice caught, and his head dropped to her shoulder.
She ran her fingers through his hair, wishing they had nowhere to be so they could spend this evening together celebrating the end of her nightmare.
But that was not to be. Her lady’s maid arrived a few minutes later to begin the arduous process of preparing her for the ball.
“We will finish this discussion later,” Aubrey said in a low tone that only she could hear.
She shivered with anticipation of being alone with him. “I’ll look forward to that.”
He kissed her again. “Being alone with you shall be all I think about until such time as it happens.” Aubrey nodded to Kathleen on his way out.
She took one look at Maeve’s tearstained face and took charge. “Come, Mrs. Nelson. We must get started right away.”
Maeve dragged herself up and out of bed, fighting the pervasive exhaustion that came over her around this time every day lately.
Sitting at the vanity while Kathleen began with her hair, Maeve thought about the news Aubrey had brought her and the relief she felt at knowing she was no longer facing charges at home. But would her family welcome her after everything that had happened or were they embarrassed to be associated with someone who’d been accused of murdering her husband? Had she ruined her father’s business with the Farthingtons’ shipping company and would he forgive her for that? Those unknowns continued to torture her.
Her routine had become familiar by now. Before she allowed Kathleen to help her into her dress, she tucked the rest of Farthington’s money into her bodice, as she had before every event during the Season, so it was always with her in the event that something happened that would require her to protect herself. She’d had nightmares about being sealed off from the house by Eliza’s evil machinations and unable to get to her belongings, especially the money she had kept hidden even after she married Aubrey.
Having had to run for her life once before, she felt the need to be prepared for anything, especially in light of the way she’d caught his mother looking at her almost every day since the woman arrived in Newport—as if she wanted to gut her and feed her innards to the seagulls that swarmed the nearby shore.
In light of the disaster perpetrated by last summer’s staff, Maeve had reason to believe that Eliza was capable of anything, even gutting her own daughter-in-law if it suited her. Having an Irish daughter-in-law most definitely did not suit Eliza, and Maeve didn’t doubt for a minute that the woman was planning to get rid of her. The waiting and wondering how the other woman would attack had Maeve constantly on guard—and that is why she never left the house without her money.
Kathleen curled her hair with hot tongs and created an elaborate style held together by a series of well-placed pins.
“So much hair,” Kathleen said as she did every time she dressed Maeve’s long, thick hair.
“Too much hair.” However, her delightful Mr. Nelson quite loved her hair. Thinking of him made her smile. He loved her. He thought of her every minute that they were apart. No one had ever been kinder to her than him, and the idea that she might one day have to leave him made her as sad as she had ever been.
Kathleen tied her into a corset and then helped her into the plum-colored silk gown that they had decided to hold aside for this occasion. The Russell ball was the event of the Season each year, and Kathleen had wanted her to wear the plum gown to the ball because it complemented her coloring so beautifully, or so the maid said.
Maeve had no idea what to wear to anything, so she deferred to the more knowledgeable Kathleen, who hadn’t yet given her bad advice. Through multiple daily changes of clothing, Kathleen knew just what Maeve should wear to every occasion and had a new pair of kid gloves at the ready for each event. So many dresses! So many pairs of gloves! And the hats! Maeve had a separate wardrobe just for the large hats that were all the rage. Thank goodness for Kathleen, who had ensured that she was properly turned out, even if everything else about her was wrong.
“May I ask you something that may seem odd?” Maeve said when she was dressed.
Kathleen bustled about the room, gathering discarded clothing and straightening the vanity. “Of course. What is on your mind?”
“I wondered if you have heard anything . . .” Maeve swallowed hard. “Around town . . .”
“About?”
“Me.” Much to her mortification, Maeve’s face flushed, making her wish she’d never asked.
“People are intrigued about Mr. Nelson marrying the housekeeper. I won’t lie to you about that. Especially one of our kind.”
“Irish, you mean.”
“Aye. We’re the working class here, even if we come from the wealthiest families in Ireland.”
“Are they being . . . unkind toward me?”
“Not that I have heard, but they know I’m your maid. They’d hardly speak poorly of you to me.”
“True.”
“There has been much talk about Mrs. Nelson and about how last year’s staff left the windows open all winter.”
“It was quite shocking.”
“Indeed. The stories about the missus are the thing of legend.”
“She hates me,” Maeve whispered, terrified she would be overheard.
Kathleen’s eyes went wide with shock. “How do you know that?”
“She looks at me like she wants me dead.”
“No!”
“Yes! She’s horrified that Aubrey married me,
and I’m quite fearful about what she’s going to do about it.”
“What can she do? You’re legally married.”
“I don’t know, but I have no doubt whatsoever that she will do something.” Maeve’s stomach turned, and she rested her hand on it. “My stomach is upset all the time.”
“You shouldn’t worry over much. I have seen the way your sweet husband stares at you like a man in love. He won’t let anything happen to you.”
“No, he won’t, but he can’t be with me every minute.”
Kathleen patted her arm. “Try not to worry. Your husband is a good man. Everyone says so. You can count on him to take care of you.”
Realizing the conversation was making Kathleen uncomfortable, Maeve nodded. “You’re right. Thank you for listening.”
“Of course.” Kathleen stood back to take a critical look at Maeve’s finished appearance. “You look beautiful. You will be the belle of the ball.”
“I quite doubt that.”
“I don’t,” a male voice said from the doorway.
Maeve spun around to find her husband there, gazing at her with the heated look that made her insides quiver every time he directed it her way.
“Thank you, Kathleen,” Aubrey said.
“Have a lovely evening.” Kathleen left the room, closing the door behind her.
Aubrey walked toward Maeve, stopping a foot from her. “You have never been more beautiful.”
She looked up at him, resplendent in his black formal attire. “I could say the same about you.”
“I wish I didn’t have to share you with Newport society or anyone else tonight.”
“I wish that as well, but we must not keep the others waiting.”
He extended his arm to her.
She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and looked up to find him gazing down at her.
“I’m the luckiest man who ever lived to be married to you, my love.”
“And I’m the luckiest woman. Thank you for everything you have done for me. You will never know how much I appreciate you.”
“I have a small idea because I appreciate you just as much, if not more.”
They descended the stairs arm in arm, “arguing” about who appreciated whom the most.
“Let’s call it a draw, shall we?” Aubrey said when they were in the grand foyer where the others awaited them.
She smiled at him, delighted by their witty banter. Being with him was such great fun. After the misery of the months she’d spent as Mr. Farthington’s punching bag, Aubrey was a breath of fresh air on a bright sunny day in comparison.
He was the sun, the moon, the stars, the entire universe. He was everything she’d ever wanted and never dared to dream for herself.
She tightened her hold on his arm, almost afraid to let go out of fear of somehow managing to lose what she had waited so long to find.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
“My stomach is upset.” She spoke the truth, even if that wasn’t her primary concern.
“That seems to be the case quite often these days. Is it possible . . . ?” His voice faltered, and his eyes widened. “Maeve . . .”
“It’s possible,” she whispered.
“How soon can we find out for certain?”
“Another week or two.”
“I’ll never last that long. The curiosity will kill me.”
“Don’t say such a thing!” The possibility of anything—or anyone—killing him was horrifying to her, so much so that tears sprang to her eyes.
While the others chatted and admired each other’s evening wear, Aubrey led her off to the side of the foyer for a private word. “Maeve, honey, whatever is the matter?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Using her handkerchief, she dabbed at her eyes. “I’m so very emotional and overwrought as of late.”
His tender smile warmed the places inside her that had gone cold with the fear his mother inspired in her. “I remember when my sisters were expecting. Audrey would cry if the cats fought with each other. Her husband would poke terrible fun of her histrionics.”
“That makes me feel a little better. It’s not just me.”
“Definitely not. Do you feel unwell? Should we stay home tonight?”
“No, of course not. I’ll be fine as long as you don’t talk about anything killing you.”
“That’s what did it?”
Feeling madly vulnerable, she looked up at him and nodded.
Ignoring the others, he held her chin in place for a soft kiss. “I’m going to live so long you will beg me to finally die so you can get some peace.”
She shook her head. “Never. I’ll never beg you to die.”
“We’ll see about that. You may soon tire of my three-times-a-day demands.”
“I won’t.”
“You say that now.”
“I say that forever. I love your demands.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her as close as he could without crushing her dress. “And I love you. No more tears or worries or anything but happiness and fun, all right?”
Nodding, she said, “I’m sorry to be so silly.”
“You’re not silly, but I do think you might be pregnant, and that makes me so happy I’m floating on air.”
“I feel the same way.” She held on tight to the man who had become the center of her life. How was it possible that she’d only known him for six weeks? It seemed like so much longer.
“Come along. Let’s go dance the night away.”
She released her hold on him and turned toward the door, her gaze colliding with Eliza Nelson, who glared at her with unfettered hatred that made Maeve shiver in fear.
Chapter Twenty-One
Aubrey had taken a moment to smooth Maeve’s skirt and missed the vile look on his mother’s face, but Maeve would never forget it.
Eliza joined them as they went out to the carriage. As the others had already departed, the three of them ended up alone in a carriage together, which only added to Maeve’s nervousness. She had been trying to avoid being anywhere near Eliza and was now seated across from her for the thankfully short ride to the Russells’ home.
“Father seemed a little better today, don’t you think?” Aubrey said, breaking an awkward silence.
“No, I didn’t think so. I know you’re hoping for a miracle, Aubrey, but that’s not going to happen. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long. The doctors in New York told us he’d be lucky to see Independence Day, let alone the end of the month.”
Only because Aubrey was pressed against her from shoulder to knee did Maeve feel him sag from the way his mother’s callous words dashed his hopes. Maeve reached for his hand and cradled it between both of hers while sending his mother a defiant look. How dare she do that to him when he was looking for hope anywhere he could find it?
“We will need to discuss what happens after your father passes,” Eliza continued, with no sense whatsoever that she had wounded her son.
“We will discuss that only after he is gone,” Aubrey said.
“You’re soft like him,” Eliza said with obvious disdain.
“I’d rather be soft like him than hard like you.”
Oh God, Eliza had not appreciated that.
“You disappoint me, Aubrey.”
“So you’ve said, Mother. But I find that I no longer care whether you hold me in high regard. I have been a good and dutiful son to you and to my father. After what Maeve and I encountered when we arrived in Newport, I find that I’ve lost respect for you. Grandfather used to say we are only as good as the way we treat others. I believe he would be appalled by the way you treat others.”
As Eliza fumed, the carriage came to a stop and the door opened to the Russells’ footmen, eager to help them out. Eliza extended her hand to the first footman. “I’m glad we had this conversation, Aubrey. It clarifies things for me.” And with that, she was gone, swept up into the crowds entering Chateau de la Mer, or House of the Sea.
It was grander by far than the Nelsons’ home, with a ballroom big enough for the five hundred invited guests who filled the massive room. Scoring an invite to the Russells’ ball was the goal of every Newport socialite, or so Maeve had been told.
She held on tighter to Aubrey’s arm, fearful of being separated from him in the crush. Derek and Catherine were in front of them, Simon and Madeleine behind them. To her left, Maeve saw Aubrey’s sister Adele and her husband, Edward, who had come up from the city for the weekend.
The massive crowd only added to Maeve’s anxiety, which had spiked during the tense conversation with Eliza in the carriage. If she’d maintained a small hope that her mother-in-law was going to accept her son’s choice of a wife, those illusions had been shattered in the last few minutes. The woman was up to something, and whatever it was would be ugly for Maeve.
Did Aubrey feel the same way? She wished she could ask him but had tried not to say too much to him about his mother, out of fear of offending him. As bad as she could be, Eliza was still his mother, and even though Maeve was now his wife, she had known him for such a short time. How could she possibly compete with the mother he’d known for thirty-two years?
Her stomach turned, and she felt overly warm. Waves of queasiness added to her discomfort, making her fearful that she would toss up her accounts right there in the foyer of the Russells’ palatial home.
She faltered, and Aubrey turned his attention toward her.
“Sweetheart, you’re so pale. Are you all right?”
Maeve shook her head because she was afraid to open her mouth to speak.
He moved quickly, dodging people and skirts and footmen to get her to the ladies’ retiring room with all due haste. It had a sign on the door designating it for ladies. She went inside, hoping he hadn’t followed her into a space reserved for women. Several ladies were gathered around mirrors at a long vanity table.
Maeve zipped past them and into one of two stalls that was thankfully open. She leaned over the stool and heaved up the light snack she had eaten that afternoon. Her entire body hurt from the effort to be quiet as she was sick.
“. . . the Irish housekeeper.”
