by Sadie Bosque
* * *
Blake stepped off the ship and onto firm land for the first time in what seemed like forever. His heart rate sped up, and his breathing roughened as the heady feeling of joy assailed him. He looked around the moving crowds of people. The shouts from the surrounding passersby, the sounds of his native accent, even if spoken by common street boys and dirty workers, warmed his heart. He nearly dropped to his knees and kissed the ground at that moment. Tears burned at the backs of his eyelids and threatened to overflow through the corners of his eyes. Blake swallowed and took a steadying breath, managing his emotions.
He was home. He was finally back home.
Blake rushed through the crowd, looking for the hackney coaches, unable to hold his smile. He patted his pocket to make sure he hadn’t lost his purse with coins in his excitement and hurried his steps.
He forgot all about his numb knee, muscle aches, and bruises. All the worries had vanished. He shouldered his way out of the docks, not looking back, not even sparing a glance at the ship, at the life he’d never asked for and was finally leaving behind.
Several moments later, he successfully hailed a hackney and sprung inside.
“Payne Townhouse,” he shouted to the coachman and thumped the roof of the carriage.
The vehicle lurched into motion, and Blake rested his head against the seat cushions and closed his eyes. He couldn’t help but grin, taking in the familiar sounds of a rattling carriage and horse hooves, the comforting smells of horses, and the carriage’s leather seats. He reached his hand inside his coat and under his simple sailor’s shirt and took out his locket.
His smile turned gentle as he rubbed the miniature inside the locket with his thumb. The somber blue eyes of his lovely wife stared at him from the portrait.
How was his little wife, he wondered for the millionth time as he looked at her dear face. What had become of her? Did she mourn him still? Was she even still in his townhouse or at one of his estates?
In Blake’s absence, his cousin, Mr. Marcus Townsend, would have taken hold of the title and his estates. They weren’t close, but Blake was sure Townsend would never eject his wife. However, he worried whether she was adequately provided for or not. He hadn’t exactly left his affairs in order when he disappeared. None of it mattered anymore, however. He was back, and he would find Annalise wherever she was.
He would find her, hug her close to his heart, and never let her go.
By the time he rolled along the street of his townhouse, the sun was already setting. Blake could still see the outlines of the houses clearly through the carriage window. He held the curtain in one hand while he openly gawked at the familiar street, swallowing back the overwhelming emotions. He knew this place like the back of his hand, perhaps better. Several more houses and—
The carriage slowed down to a near halt. Blake scowled at the wall separating him from the coachman, wondering what could stall their progress. It didn’t matter—he might as well walk the rest of the way. He thumped the roof of the carriage and opened the door.
“Oy!” he yelled to the coachman. “I shall disembark here.”
He jumped out of the carriage without waiting for the step to be lowered and threw several coins to the coachman. He tipped his hat and glanced ahead. Now that he was out on the street, he saw why the carriage was moving at a snail’s pace. There was a traffic jam.
Several more carriages waited up ahead while passengers descended from their vehicles and entered the house down the street.
There was a ball, judging by the crowd. Blake smirked. He wasn’t looking forward to socializing or encountering crowds of people. Truth be told, he didn’t want to see anyone except for his lovely wife. However, he couldn’t help but rejoice at the familiar view of aristocrats attending a social event.
He moved slowly toward his townhouse, looking around at the richly dressed lords and ladies as they passed him in their expensive carriages. He probably looked like a beggar, he thought wryly as he caught some disgruntled looks. In his sailor’s outfit, he did not look like an earl at all. At the moment, however, he didn’t care. Let them gawk all they wanted. Nothing could dim the happiness of finally being back home. Blake smiled as he moved along the street.
Several moments later, however, his amusement faded as he realized where all the richly dressed lords and ladies were headed. They were mounting the steps to his townhouse.
It seemed like his cousin was having a party.
Blake winced at the thought.
He looked at the watch. He’d been away for fourteen months and seventeen days, after all. It was natural that the house wasn’t in mourning anymore. He couldn’t fault everyone else for continuing with their lives.
His knee started aching suddenly as the weariness of his long journey finally started setting in, but he shook himself. The journey wasn’t over yet. He needed to hold on for a little while longer. Then he would see his wife. She was just beyond those doors. He was sure.
He gathered his strength and sprinted up the steps, only to be stopped by a young footman at the door.
“Invitation only, sir,” the young man said.
“I don’t require an invitation to my own damn house,” Blake growled. He didn’t recognize the servant, and the fact irritated him even more.
A familiar voice called from behind the footman, “Is there something amiss, Rogers?”
“I believe you are mistaken, sir. This is Lord Payne’s townhouse,” the young buck insisted, still addressing Blake.
Blake raised a brow in irritation, but before he could chastise the footman, his old butler appeared from behind the footman’s shoulder. His eyes widened, and his mouth slacked in astonishment. The servant had never shown as much emotion in his entire life, and Blake found himself grinning at the old man.
“Crane,” he said and walked closer to him. “Explain to the young pup who the master of the house is.” He gestured to the footman who’d detained him at the door. Blake walked past the astonished butler and patted him on his back as he did so. “Glad to see you, Crane,” he said and slunk inside.
The crush inside the townhouse was unbearable. The smell of sweaty bodies threw Blake’s mind back to the time he’d spent on the ship, cleaning the docks, side by side with other sailors. But then other smells penetrated his senses: the female perfumes, the flowers, the burning of the candle wax. He heard the rustling of ladies’ skirts, the light chatter, and feminine laughter.
Blake looked around, feasting his eyes on the beautiful scene before him. He hadn’t seen anything as wonderful for over a year.
He stepped farther inside and encountered sideways glances directed his way. He looked down at his clothing and frowned. It wouldn’t do to show up in the ballroom looking this way. He wore a shabby blue tunic, covered by a dark brown quilted coat and no waistcoat. His petticoat breeches were worn down and abraded at the knees, his shoes scratched up and muddy. No, he couldn’t show up in the ballroom, in front of half of London, looking like he was some beggar from St. Giles. He was the master of the house, after all.
Blake turned toward the stairs. He was about to ascend the steps to his room in search of his old and comfortable clothing when the music stopped abruptly, and a male voice called for people’s attention. Blake halted with one foot atop the first step of the stairwell. Something was going on in his house. He turned slightly and strained to hear what the gentleman was saying.
“It is with immense pleasure that I announce my betrothal to Lady Annalise, the Countess of Payne!”
The exclamations of delight and clapping followed, muffled by the roaring of rushing blood inside Blake’s head. He couldn’t have heard that right. Blake stumbled away from the stairs and sauntered toward the French doors. He didn’t know how he made it into the ballroom. He didn’t know how he shouldered his way past the crowd. The only thing that registered in his mind was what he saw the moment he finally made it into the circle of people.
The Duke of Kensington was standing in t
he middle of the ballroom, kissing Annalise’s hand. Kissing my wife!
The ringing in Blake’s ears intensified, and his heart rate accelerated even more. The duke finally turned toward the cheering crowd and raised their linked hands.
Blake’s legs moved on their own accord as he stepped farther inside the circle. He heard hushed whispers and gasps around him, but he only had his eyes for his wife. She stood demurely by the duke’s side, her eyes downcast, her hand still in the duke’s grasp. She finally raised her head, and her gaze met his.
“Annalise,” he breathed.
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in an inaudible gasp.
The blood violently rushing through his head muted all the sounds of the ballroom, and his vision blurred in front of him. The next thing Blake knew, his knees hit the hardwood floor as he fell. He threw his arms out in an attempt to catch himself but refused to take his eyes off his wife. The last thing he saw was Annalise’s worried face as she fell to her knees in front of him. And then everything went black.
Chapter 2
Annalise was paralyzed with shock. Blake, Lord Payne, her husband, was standing right in front of her, in the middle of the ballroom, on the night of her betrothal to another man. Then his eyes glazed over, and he fell to his knees. The next moment, all her thoughts disappeared, and she ran toward him.
Blake was alive. He was here.
She fell to her knees and caught his heavy body against hers.
“Doctor! Bring me a doctor, now!” Annalise yelled as she tried unsuccessfully to keep her husband upright.
“Here, let me,” her betrothed said steadily from behind her. He knelt beside her, took Blake’s weight off her, and laid him gently on the floor.
In her haste and worry over Blake, she had completely forgotten about Kensington.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she whispered.
Kensington’s warm hand settled on hers and squeezed her gently. He felt Blake’s pulse and checked his body for any outward signs of injury. He frowned, and Annalise grew frantic with worry.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said in a calm voice. “By all appearances, he is all right. However, we shan’t know for sure until the doctor arrives.”
Annalise nodded and turned to study her husband’s face. He looked different. So much so that she would have passed him in a crowd. She wouldn’t have recognized him now either if he hadn’t called her name.
He’d said it in the same breathy way that used to cause goosebumps on her skin. His velvety smooth voice still made her foolish heart leap in delight.
However, his voice was perhaps the only thing recognizable about him. His face was lean and dark. Red spots adorned the crests of his cheeks and nose, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors, under the sun or against the wind. His nose was crooked, as if it’d been broken one too many times. His dark brown hair, now long and tangled, lay strewn about his shoulders.
Annalise didn’t remember Blake’s hair from before. Come to think of it, she had never seen Blake without his wig. Not in the daylight, at least.
Her gaze traveled back to his face. It was hard, and a few lines had settled over his forehead and around his mouth. What has he gone through? Where has he been for over a year to make him look so different?
“He seems to just have fainted,” Kensington stated beside her, successfully pulling her out of her thoughts. “Probably the excitement of coming home and—”
“And seeing his wife getting betrothed to another man?” Annalise looked up at the duke with tear-filled eyes. Her lower lip protruded and quivered as she tried to hold on to her tears.
“It is not your fault,” he whispered. “We don’t know what had befallen him before his return.” He turned to the assembled crowd as he stood. “I need a couple of gentlemen who would be kind enough to help transport Lord Payne to his bed.”
Two gentlemen stepped forward instantly. Annalise recognized Blake’s long-time friend, Jarvis, Viscount St. John, and Blake’s cousin, the current Lord Payne. Or should she say the former Lord Payne and the current heir presumptive, Mr. Marcus Townsend? This all was too confusing.
The gentlemen hoisted Blake up and carried him through the parting crowd and up to the second floor. Annalise followed in their wake.
They carried him into the master’s bedchamber—Mr. Townsend insisted he should take his rightful bed.
“Countess.” Kensington turned to Annalise and gave her a look that meant he was about to say something she wouldn’t like, and he knew it. “I think you should leave. We shall need to undress him and see if there are any injuries I’ve missed and then wash him and prepare him for a doctor’s visit.”
Annalise frowned. “Why do I need to leave? I am his wife. Dane,” she said in a softer tone. She’d never called Kensington by his Christian name, but it just slipped at that moment. “I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t leave him. I am still his wife.”
“I know. But we don’t know what he went through in those months away. We don’t know if….” He cleared his throat. “Until I am sure there is nothing about him that might cause you shock—”
“Who do you take me for?” Annalise gaped at the man she thought she knew better than anyone else in this world. A man who’d protected her and comforted her during the worst months of her life and couldn’t believe she was hearing him right. “I am no simpering debutante. If there is anything wrong with my husband, I can deal with it.”
“Please.” The Duke of Kensington very rarely pleaded with anyone.
Annalise pursed her lips and looked at the prone body of her husband sprawled on the bed. “All right. But if you find nothing… objectionable on his person, please call for me. I shall help you prepare him for the doctor’s arrival.” Annalise spared one last glance at her husband’s body and left the room with her head held high.
The moment she exited the room, however, her shoulders slumped, and a horrid sob escaped her. She covered her mouth with her hand and leaned her back against the wall. The emotions, the excitement of the night, were finally catching up to her. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she angrily swiped them away.
There was no use. She was sobbing in earnest now, crying like an inconsolable babe. She tried to calm down, but the sobs wouldn’t stop. Her legs gave out, and she slid down the wall. She placed her head against her knees and covered it with her arms.
The grief, the loss of what could have been, and the pain of loneliness were all seeping out of her in the form of tears. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts and feelings that she hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps. She realized somebody was near only when she heard the rustle of skirts, then a gentle hand about her shoulders. Annalise turned her head and caught a whiff of orange blossoms. The comforting, familiar scent of her friend’s perfume.
“Caroline,” she managed through her sobs and placed her head on her friend’s shoulder. The sound of the door shutting beside her made her jump in reaction.
“It’s just the doctor, dear,” Caroline said with a squeeze to her shoulder.
“I need to—” Annalise made to stand, but Caroline held her down.
“What you need is to compose yourself. To calm your rioting nerves, or you won’t be of help to anyone.”
“But—”
“No,” Caroline said firmly. “Kensington and the other men have everything well in hand. Your husband is”—she paused as if searching for a word—“indisposed at the moment, and he won’t know whether you’re in the room or not. My chaperone is a few discrete feet away, making certain nobody else comes this way. Now, before he wakes up, we need you back to your usual self. Composed, collected, calm. We don’t know what he’s gone through, dear, and he will need your strength to rely upon.”
“My strength?” Annalise let out a short snort. “At the moment, I don’t have enough strength to keep me upright.”
“Exactly.” Caroline nodded in affirmation. “So you cry, you wail and yell if y
ou have to, but do it out here. I shall help you. Then, and only after you’ve raged your frustrations, can you go inside that room. Now,” she said in a gentler tone. “Tell me how you feel?”
“How do I feel?” Annalise watched her friend with a weary expression.
Millions of thoughts rushed through her head. For one, she thought Caroline was too composed and calm in this strange situation. She was an unmarried young lady; she was supposed to be distressed or possibly even faint. Annalise, on the other hand, should be the one to take charge, be strong and collected. She should be the one in the room with her husband. She also needed to talk to Kensington and come to some sort of accord with him.
Yes, thoughts Annalise had plenty of. But feelings? She seemed to have none.
“I don’t know how I feel,” she said honestly.
Caroline smiled sadly. “The man you loved dearly, the man who then disappeared and was presumed dead, just came back into your life. It’s understandable that you feel confused.” She paused. “Do you feel as though you’ve betrayed him, having gotten betrothed so fast?”
Annalise shifted to turn fully toward her friend. “No. I mean, yes. Maybe.” She grimaced. “I did at first, but that’s not what happened. And it was he who betrayed me. He—” She bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s unimportant now. I don’t know how I am to act around him now that he’s back. I loved him, yes. But it’s been so long ago, and so much has happened since then. Even before he disappeared. I felt glad—I am glad that he is alive. I care for him deeply—”
“Loved him? Care for him?” Caroline frowned at her. “Has your heart changed, then? Are you in love with Kensington now?”
Annalise shook her head. “No. He has been a good friend, and I told you before, it was just an understanding. A mutually beneficial alliance of two friends, nothing more. But it doesn’t change the fact that before Blake disappeared—”
