“Did you leave anyone behind?”
“Yes.” His hands in his trouser pockets, Edward fingered the picture of Anna he kept there.
“Why haven’t they come to claim you, then?”
Edward sighed sadly. “I wish I knew.”
They arrived at the dining hall and went their separate ways. As he collected his food and sat at an unoccupied table, Edward reflected on the last question the guard had asked. Why didn’t his father come to claim him? Surely by now his father would have been worried—it had been over two years since he left England, after all. Edward had sent regular letters for the first few months in prison, but then his money, followed by his writing supplies, had run out. Still, he had never once received any kind of communication from his family, or from Anna. What on earth did they think?
He was saved from further musings by a fellow prisoner appearing opposite him.
“Mind if I sit here?” He was an older man, with an almost regal military bearing.
“I have no objection.” Edward gestured for him to sit.
“Name’s Jones. Caleb Jones.” He spoke in a low, quiet drawl and settled himself on the bench.
Edward shook the man’s proffered hand. “Edward Mason.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mason. Where’d they capture you?”
“My ship was boarded in the Chesapeake Bay, accused of running the blockade. You?”
“Fort Donaldson. Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Run the blockade.”
“No. At least, not intentionally.”
“Why haven’t they let you go?”
Edward shrugged. “It seems no one will take me.”
“Ah. No family?”
“Plenty of family. They are all in England.”
Jones smiled kindly. “I am sorry for that. I hope you’ll get to leave soon.”
Edward smiled without humor. “Perhaps. There are worse places to be, I suppose. Why haven’t you been exchanged?”
The man shrugged. “I’m not that important. I’m a lieutenant, but I’m low on the list. Have to get rid of the generals and colonels first, I guess.”
Edward nodded, saying nothing. He tucked into his meal, some sort of stew. He chewed on a stringy piece of meat. Mutton, perhaps?
“What do you like to do for amusement, Mason?”
“Um. I like to carve, I guess. Driftwood.”
“There’s certainly plenty of that. Do you have a knife?”
“The guards seem unenthusiastic about providing me with one, for some reason.”
Jones snorted. “Stupid question. Anything else?”
“My mother seems to think I play the piano reasonably well.”
“Good. We could use you. Stick around after dinner. We’re forming a bit of an orchestra.”
“An orchestra?”
“I was a conductor for the symphony in Nashville, before the war. Play the violin as well. I have been craving music—not the little shanty tunes the boys sing, but real music.”
Edward nodded. Now that he considered it, he rather missed music as well. His mother was an accomplished pianist and had taught both him and his sister. Or tried—Theodora had a tin ear, but Edward had enjoyed it, when his mother could get him to sit still for his lessons.
“Very well. I would like that very much.”
He and Jones talked then, the first intelligent conversation Edward had had since leaving England. After dinner, a ragtag bunch of musicians gathered, playing from memory—Bach, Beethoven, Chopin. Edward was rather surprised he remembered so many of them and lost himself in the music. As he settled into his bunk that night, he realized he had not thought of Anna for hours. He couldn’t decide whether he was pleased to have had a brief reprieve in his homesickness, or upset that it taken so little for him to forget.
Chapter Nineteen
Anna went through the motions for the rest of the day, profoundly unsettled by the morning’s altercation with Edward. She was angry with him for his assumptions, but one did not easily fall out of love with a man she had held in her heart for so many years, even if he was being an arse. She only hoped the same was true of him—had he truly meant it when he said she wasn’t the right woman for him? Actually, she thought, Edward wasn’t the one who said it—she was. He had merely seemed inclined to agree.
Anna sighed and proceeded to get the ingredients for tomorrow’s bread out of the pantry. Zachary looked up from his dinner. “What’s the matter, Mam?”
“Oh, nothing. I just got into a bit of an argument with Mr. Mason this morning.”
“Why? Do you not want to marry him?”
Anna thought. She very much wanted to marry him. She just hoped he still wanted to marry her. If she were being honest with herself, she did have to admit she had always dreamed of living in Edward’s house by the sea. She had spent many a morning curled with Edward on the settee, reading while Edward’s mother played piano, watching the storms roll in off the North Sea. While she was proud of all she had accomplished, of turning her life into something when everything conspired to ruin her, she was tired of being alone. Tired of working so very hard. Tired of doing it all herself.
She resolved to go to Edward tomorrow morning, before the pub opened. She’d ask Margret to come in early to start preparations for the day’s meals and to get Zachary off to school. She wanted to see the house. She had not been there since the fire. Just imagining visiting the ruin of a place she’d felt at home, had been so happy, made her immeasurably sad.
But maybe, now that the house was being rebuilt, she would be more hopeful than sad when she saw it.
“Mam?” Zachary was looking at her curiously. She realized she had never answered his question.
“Yes, of course I want to marry him. I just didn’t realize how much until just now.”
“Good. I like him, Mam. I am glad he’s my father.”
“Me too.” Anna wiped her hands on a towel and kissed her son on the top of his little dark head. “But for now, it’s time for you to go upstairs and ready yourself for bed.”
Zachary took one last bite of his pudding and put down his spoon. “Yes, Mam.”
“I will come up to check on you in a few minutes. Mind you brush your teeth.”
“Yes, Mam,” Zachary said again as he trundled out of the room, the sound of his little feet fading as he ran up the stairs.
She finished mixing the bread and set it aside to rise overnight. It was a cold evening, so it would take longer than usual to rise.
She went out into the dining room, where the last few patrons were paying for their meals.
She gave them a warm goodnight and locked the door behind them. Adam, the bartender, finished wiping down the bar and bid her good night. She proceeded to look over the inventory, deciding what she needed to order when the brewer came by tomorrow afternoon.
A knock sounded on the door and she jumped, startled. She considered not opening it, but then she thought that it might be Edward, so she raced to the door.
Weston. Damn.
“Miss Templeton.”
“Mr. Weston. We’re closed. Last call was an hour ago.”
“Surely you would not mind having a private drink with an old friend.”
Anna sighed. “That would presuppose we are friends.”
Weston put his hand on his heart and sighed dramatically. “You wound me, Anna, you truly do.”
“What do you want, Weston?” Anna placed both hands on her hips and glared at him. “It’s too late for me to serve you whisky.”
“A cup of tea, perhaps? It is a cold night.”
Anna sighed again, her distaste of the man warring with her natural inclination to provide sustenance to her fellow villagers.
“Fine. But just a few moments.”
She gestured him to a table and then went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Fortunately, the stove was still warm from the evening’s meal preparations, so it didn’t take long to heat up the water. She gathered
a teapot and a cup on a tray. Although she was annoyed to admit it, she did remember Weston took his tea black—dark and very strong. A memory for her patrons’ preferences was one of her most useful traits. Privately, she thought his preference was most fitting—he liked his tea as black as his own heart, without a bit of sweetener.
She went into the dining room, where he had removed his coat, hat, and gloves, and sat expectantly at the table. She poured his tea and returned to her tasks behind the bar.
“Won’t you join me, Anna?”
“No, thank you.” She looked up to find him standing right beside her.
“You aren’t being terribly welcoming, Anna.” He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. She shuddered in revulsion, but he was apparently encouraged. His lips begin to travel up her arm, covering it with dry, scratchy kisses.
“Mr. Weston! You must stop this at once!” Anna tried to tug her arm out of his grasp, but instead he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“You don’t really want me to stop, do you, Anna? I know what a passionate woman you are.”
She placed both hands on his chest and pushed, but he was stronger than she. He pressed her back and closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his own. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she squirmed. Revulsion and fear giving her strength, she finally succeeded in pushing him away—only to see Edward standing at the window, his face ashen, as he witnessed Anna in Weston’s embrace. She lost sight of him when Weston pulled her close again, his mouth on her neck, and she slapped him. Edward was gone.
Anna was afraid now, not just of Weston and his unseemly advances, but that Edward had drawn some terrible conclusion. As Weston reached for her again, clearly finding her resistance arousing, she slapped him again, hard, across the face.
“Get out, Weston. You are no longer welcome in this establishment. Come near me again and I shall report you to the constable.”
She marched to the door and held it open for him as he gathered his things. His eyes sparked with fury. “You will regret this, Anna. I was planning to propose, to make that unruly child of yours my heir. But now I will ruin you.”
“You don’t have the power to ruin me, Weston. Not any more.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He stormed off into the night, and she slammed the door shut behind him, taking comfort in the sound of the bolt sliding home in the lock. She leaned against the door, willing her breathing to slow.
Her resolve to see Edward tomorrow deepened. She could not let his glimpse of Weston’s hands on her go unremarked.
****
Edward hurried away from the pub, his mind racing. Did he really just see Anna, her lips locked with David Weston? A ball of rage lodged itself in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to hit something, but the dull, throbbing pain in his hand reminded him that he had already done that this morning, and it hadn’t been a good idea.
Yesterday he and Anna had made love three times. This morning they had nearly done so again. Then the fight, and she was already with another man. Kissing another man. One who had tried to steal his family business and who had possibly killed one of his employees. His heart ached from the pain of her betrayal.
He retrieved his horse from the shipyard and returned home, his mind in a fog as he tried to reconcile what he had seen with the feelings he thought Anna held for him. She had looked like an active participant in Weston’s groping. He could only hope he had been mistaken, but he could not bear to ask her, too afraid she had already dismissed him, thanks to one ill-conceived, impulsive comment.
Chapter Twenty
Anna found it difficult to sleep, her mind spinning tales of more and more disastrous outcomes. Edward would leave. He’d give up on her and his home and return to America. Or even worse, Edward would stay and wed another woman, forcing Anna to see them together with regularity. It even occurred to her for a fleeting moment that she could leave, take Zachary and go, start over.
But by the time dawn peeked through the curtains in her bedchamber, she knew she could never leave. She could never rip Zachary away from the only life he’d ever known, and she could never take him away from Edward. No matter how angry he was with her, she suspected Edward would want to remain a part of Zachary’s life. At least she hoped so.
She was not one to accept defeat easily. She rose and dressed quickly, then hurried downstairs. She left Zachary asleep and ran a few doors down to rouse Margret, who agreed to come over. She returned home to kiss her sleeping son, then left for Tynemouth as soon as Margret arrived.
There were very few occasions on which she wished she had a horse, but this was one of them. It was too early to rouse the stable hand at the train station, so she had no choice but to walk the four miles to Edward’s house. Fortunately, the weather was fine, and she actually began to enjoy her hike.
An hour or so later, she approached the house. She expected to see a hulking ruin, but instead she saw scaffolding, piles of stone blocks and barrels full of crushed stone and sand for mixing into mortar. Edward really was rebuilding, and quite a bit of progress had already been made. She could not stop herself from walking along the paths that had been laid out, partial walls already constructed, imagining the building she had played in all those years before.
“What are you doing here?” She whirled around at the sound of the voice. Edward stood several feet away, a glowering expression marring his handsome features.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Is there anything to say?” He started to walk away, toward the intact section of the house. She ran after him, put her hand on his arm. He stopped but didn’t look at her.
“Do you really think I consented to Weston’s revolting touch, Edward? Do you really think so little of me?”
He turned to look at her, his face hard, unyielding. “You seemed to be willing enough.”
Anna was angry that he could believe it of her, but she tamped it down. She had to convince him now, or she was afraid she’d lose him forever. “Had you stayed, you would have seen me slap the man and order him out of the pub. You would have heard his threats.”
Edward’s features softened then, ever so slightly, even as he stiffened. “He threatened you?”
“Yes. The man wants to marry me, for reasons I cannot fathom. I have never given him the slightest encouragement. And he insulted my—our—son.”
“What did he say?”
Realizing she may have gone a little too far, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. But he said I would regret rejecting his advances. I don’t—I never could, no matter what he does.”
She tightened her grip on Edward’s arm. “Edward. Please forgive me for what I said yesterday. You took me by surprise.” She tugged on his arm, pulling him toward her, placed her other hand on his scarred cheek. “Please. I cannot lose you again, even if keeping you means I need to give up my pub, my very independence. It means nothing without you.”
He placed his hand over her own, then leaned in and kissed her. “I am sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean to rush you into something you weren’t ready for. I just…I need you close to me, and if it means we live in the pub, well, so be it.”
They kissed again, then simply held onto each other. Anna was reluctant to let him go, and it was with a small moan of protest that she relinquished her grip on him.
“Come,” he said. “I am quite sure the Grahams have already seen you through the window and are preparing a full breakfast.”
Her stomach growled at the suggestion of food. She had rushed out of the pub so quickly this morning she hadn’t even considered eating, and her body reminded her that a four-mile walk in the crisp autumn air was invigorating to the appetite. He reached for her hand, and they strolled to the house.
Mrs. Graham was waiting for them, hot cups of tea ready. She bustled Anna out of her coat, chastised Edward for failing to wear one, clearly in mother hen mode. A tear sprang to Anna’s eye, and Edward saw it.
“What’s wrong?”
Anna gave him a watery smile. “It’s been a while since anyone’s taken care of me.”
“It will never again stop.” Edward kissed her cheek and pulled out a chair for her, then took the seat beside her. They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, eating far too much food.
Although she wanted to check on Zachary, she was reluctant to leave. Her visit to the manor had taught her that she was ready to sell the pub. She relished her independence, but she was tired of being the one who took care of everyone else—the entire village relied on her, or at least that was how it felt sometimes. She needed to allow someone else to take over that role.
Edward offered to take her back to Wallsend in his gig, but she decided that horseback would be preferable. She wanted to sit close to him, feel his back against her chest, his chest warm beneath her hands. Edward had just finished saddling the horse when a rider galloped toward them from the road. It was one of Edward’s youngest workmen, Nigel. He was out of breath, his cheeks bright red from the wind.
“Miss Templeton! Come quickly! The Gull’s on fire!”
****
Edward watched the color completely drain from Anna’s face. If she weren’t the strongest woman he’d ever known, she would have fallen in a heap at his feet.
He pulled her close, giving comfort as they both said simultaneously, “Zachary!”
“The boy is fine; he’d already left for school when Margret smelled the smoke and called for help. She said you were here and asked me to fetch you.” Anna collapsed against Edward’s side in obvious relief. She turned her face to his, quietly pleading.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted her easily and placed her atop Galahad, then scrambled up in front of her. She placed her strong hands at his waist, and they took off, Nigel beside them. Edward thought for a moment of telling him to rest his horse, but he suspected the boy would never agree.
Thoughts raced through Edward’s mind, thinking of what might have happened. What if Anna had been there? What if the fire had started in the middle of the night, his son and the love of his life asleep upstairs? What if he had lost them?
Secret Promise Page 15
