Amelia craned her neck to view the longboat rowing in their direction. The man would help guide their ship over the sandbar, or so Jake had explained earlier.
“I never realized how difficult it would be to reach New Orleans,” she said.
“Only the more daring attempt it.”
Progress through the shallow, muddy waters was arduous, but Amelia stayed by the railing, unwilling to miss any sight. The beds of mud eventually gave way to lush vegetation, untamed and mysterious. Ahead, a smattering of huts huddled together as if grouping the fragile domiciles might lend protection against Mother Nature.
She pointed. “Who lives there?”
“Fishermen, pilots, and their families. We’ve reached Balize Island. We will wait here until permission is granted to proceed.”
“How long?”
He offered that heart-stopping grin again. “Don’t worry. You’ll eat well tonight. Are you hungry?”
“A little.” Blasted ravenous is more like it.
“Splendid.” His eye twinkled as if he knew she misrepresented her true state. Her appetite had become a demanding beast over the last couple of weeks, and much to her embarrassment, Jake appeared to have noticed.
She cleared her throat, ready to deflect attention from her expanding figure. “I want to accompany you to the bookshop when we dock. Perhaps if I speak with him—”
“Not until I’ve had a chance to see him.”
“Why not? He’s my husband.”
Jake’s jaw twitched. “Because I’m going to beat the gentleman senseless if he’s truly David Caine. No man worth a shilling would leave you, Amelia.”
She smiled despite her worries and the seriousness of his threat. “I promise to step outside if a thrashing becomes necessary.”
***
Once the Cecily reached the mouth of the Mississippi, Amelia had thought their journey at an end, but they’d still had a difficult leg ahead. Uncooperative winds left them sitting for more than half the day at times, making her question if they would ever reach their destination. Yet, now that they had arrived in New Orleans, and Amelia left the Dauphine Orleans on Jake’s arm en route to Mr. Canaan’s bookshop, she wished they were back on ship.
The harsh New Orleans sun seared her skin, and she raised her parasol in search of a reprieve. Whoever said ladies did not sweat had never worn the ridiculous layers favored by her contemporaries in a place where clothing should be banned all together. As they hurried along the walkway, there was little time to appreciate the charming ironwork balconies, not that she was in any state to enjoy the sights. All she could think on was the coming confrontation with her husband.
Her stomach whipped itself into a frenzy when Jake led her down a narrow passageway between two buildings. A wooden sign swung in the slight breeze, the metal links creaking with the effort of holding its weight. Black scrolled letters announced their location.
“Carlyle Book Shoppe,” she whispered. Her legs trembled as they neared the entrance. Carlyle Manor had been in the Audley family for four generations, the home where her husband had reportedly lost his life.
She froze at the large shop window, fighting the urge to run away.
Jake looked to her, his brows drew together in concern. “Do you want to return to the hotel?”
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding, and then she saw him. His hair was darker and longer, and held back with a tie. A tailored coat skimmed his narrow shoulders, and his breeches fit to perfection. Her husband was nothing if not immaculate in his grooming.
Audley conversed with a patron, his back to the window. Fury flared inside her, and she broke away from Jake to confront the horrid man she had been fool enough to marry.
“Amelia, wait.”
She pushed through the door, setting off a jingling of bells.
Audley didn’t turn to investigate. He spoke softly to the exotic young man in front of him.
“Mr. Canaan,” she called, her voice reminiscent of a cracking whip.
“Yes?” He spun around and gasped. “Lady Audley?”
All her pluck and anger slipped. It wasn’t her husband.
Thank God. Jake wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her from sliding to the floor. A small smile played about his lips.
“Lord Patterson, I can’t tell you how happy I am to find you here,” Jake said.
The gentleman snarled. “Sorry I cannot say the same, Hillary.”
Amelia drew back. Jake’s smile slid from his face. She sensed his hesitation, the stiffening of his limbs.
“M-my lord, what are you doing in New Orleans?” she asked.
Patterson turned back to the gentleman aiming curious looks their direction and whispered something in his ear.
“Why must I leave?”
The men argued back and forth in a flurry of hissed words.
“As you wish.” The man brushed past Patterson and bumped hard against his shoulder before stalking from the shop. The door slammed behind him.
“I take it he didn’t find the book he wanted,” Jake mumbled.
With a sigh, Patterson rubbed his temple. “Who sent you? My father? No, he can’t wish to see me again.”
“No one sent us,” Amelia said. “We came here seeking my husband.”
Patterson’s hand fell to his side, and he scrutinized her with eyes narrowed. “Your husband is dead.”
A flash of heat burnt her cheeks. “Well, yes. I can see how that might sound a bit peculiar, but we thought there might have been some mistake.”
Jake offered his arm. “And now that we see there has been no mistake, we won’t take up any more of your time.” He directed her toward the door.
“You are seeking answers, Amelia. Not your husband.”
Jake spun on his heel and thrust a finger at him. “Don’t you dare address her by her Christian name. Have you any idea the suffering your little charade has brought us?”
Patterson frowned. “I shouldn’t think any more than Audley’s did.”
Thirty-three
“What do you mean by Audley’s charade?” Amelia’s grip tightened on Jake’s arm. “Are you indicating he is alive?”
“No, Lady Audley. I can assure you he’s gone.” Patterson pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes closed. “I had the misfortune of bearing witness to his demise, and you are fortunate to have been spared the sight.”
Jake pulled Amelia closer, tucking her up under his arm. There was no need to make her relive the past. Audley was dead. That was all the answers he needed. “Perhaps we should go and leave Lord Patterson, or Mr. Canaan, in peace.”
“Peace,” the gentleman spat. “What an abstract concept. I’m more likely to stumble across fairies or leprechauns.”
“Fairies and leprechauns,” Jake repeated under his breath. Patterson had always been an odd sort.
Jake tipped his hat. “Well, we wish you luck in your search for peace, fairies, and such.”
A wry smile twisted Patterson’s lips. “Your husband had no intention of returning to you, Mia. Were you aware?”
Amelia’s breath caught. “How do you know that?”
Jake stepped between them, his shoulders squared. He didn’t know what riled him more, the man’s brazen use of Amelia’s pet name or his insensitivity. “Recall your manners, sir.”
The gentleman’s lip curled. “David ruined the lady’s life. Don’t you think she deserves to know the reason?”
“My life hasn’t been ruined.”
“Not in the least.” Jake offered his arm and directed her toward the exit. “We needn’t stay any longer. We’ve discovered everything we need to know.”
“Not everything, correct, my lady?” Patterson called after them. “You remain in the dark about the reason David married you.”
Amelia halted.
Damnation! If Patterson was toying with her…
“Allow me to close the shop, and we may speak in my apartments above stairs,” Patterson said. “I promise not to tak
e much of your time.”
Jake wanted to tell him to go to the devil, but Amelia released his arm. “Did my husband tell you he was leaving me?”
“In a manner of speaking. I can explain once there is no risk of anyone intruding.”
Her blue gaze was uncertain as she looked to Jake.
He tamped down his frustration. If Amelia required something more to put her past behind her, he couldn’t interfere.
“If you wish it,” he said. “I won’t leave your side.”
She nodded.
Patterson moved to the shop door and turned the lock. “Follow me.”
A weighty silence hovered on the air as they wound through the tight aisles between bookcases, the musty scent of old volumes familiar. Nothing said awkward quite like an encounter with an impostor posing as the husband of one’s betrothed.
When they reached a staircase nestled in the back of the shop, they braced their hands against the walls in absence of a railing. The stairs creaked with each footstep.
They stopped on a landing outside a paneled door, and Patterson glanced back at them. “It’s smaller than what I had in England.”
“We shall endeavor to hide our shock behind masks of apathy,” Jake said. Really, the man could live in a cave as far as he was concerned.
Patterson twisted the tarnished brass handle and pushed the door open. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the arched windows. Disjointed shadows marked the scarlet upholstered settee and sagging chairs, lending an air of wretchedness to the space.
The size of his lodging should be the least of Patterson’s concerns. He should be demanding an apology from his decorator.
Patterson motioned toward the furniture grouping. “Please, have a seat.”
Jake and Amelia moved in unison to the settee.
She cleared her throat. “You said Audley wasn’t coming back to me. How do you know this unless he told you?”
“David rarely spoke of his thoughts or feelings, but he kept a journal. After the accident…”
“A journal?” Amelia leaned forward. “Is that how you knew of the house party? Please, I wish to see it.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Patterson’s Adam’s apple bobbed and his gaze flicked toward a doorway. “I threw the diary away.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. A liar and a thief. Apparently Jake’s education at Eton had been lacking for he had missed those courses, unlike his classmates, Audley and Patterson. “I believe you know exactly where the journal is. Retrieve it for the lady unless you would like to discuss the matter further outside.”
Patterson scowled. “You’re a suspicious sort, Hillary. And insulting. To accuse a gentleman—”
“Retrieve the damned journal,” Jake said, rising from the settee. “I haven’t traveled halfway around the world to play games.”
Patterson’s lips thinned and defiance sparked in his eyes. Jake clenched and unclenched his fists, sorely tempted to thrash the man even if he did give over the journal. He could imagine at least thirty different ways to spend his afternoon. Decidedly more pleasant ways. He glanced back toward Amelia. And his imagination was rather vivid.
“Now,” Jake snapped.
Patterson bolted from the chair. “Very well.” He held himself erect as he disappeared into a back room.
Jake sat again, listening for Patterson’s hurried movements, but the man moved at a speed that would make a tortoise appear fleet of foot by comparison.
His gaze slid down Amelia’s legs and rested on the delicate curve of her ankle peeking beneath her skirts. He adjusted his position on the settee. “What’s keeping you, Patterson?”
He reappeared in the doorway with a worn leather book in hand. Instead of passing the object to Amelia, he lowered onto his chair and hugged it close to his chest.
“This belonged to David,” he said. “I think he never meant for anyone to see it.”
Jake lifted a brow. “No one?”
“I had no choice,” Patterson snipped. “You should thank me for taking it.”
Amelia sharply inclined her head. “You also possess his ring, I see. It’s a family heirloom.”
Patterson held a shaky hand out in front of him and studied the black stone. Placing the journal on his lap, he tugged the ring from his finger and held it out to her. “My apologies, Lady Audley. I had no right to keep it.”
“Do you also keep a stash of Audley’s drawers some place?” Jake said. “You seem to have taken everything else.”
Amelia’s fingers closed around the solid piece of jewelry. “Jake,” she chided, but the corners of her mouth curved slightly. “Lord Patterson, what are you doing here? No one has seen you since the fire at Carlyle Manor.”
His gaze flicked toward the windows. “How did you find me?”
“We share a mutual acquaintance, Mr. Isaac Tucker. He’s a chatty fellow.” Amelia recounted her discussion with the American.
“I see.” Patterson scrubbed his hand over his face. “Tucker was never one to keep his own counsel, but I suppose I’m to blame. David wrote about the incident at your relatives’ country home. Had I known the tale would travel halfway around the world, I never would have repeated it.”
“That hardly excuses your lie, sir. Why on earth would you claim I was your wife?”
A telling blush crept up Patterson’s neck, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. “I had need of a wife. Since I’ve remained unmarried and lack imagination, I modeled my fictional wife after you, from the things David wrote about you. Do you think anyone else knows I’m here?”
“I wouldn’t know. Is someone searching for you?”
Patterson shrugged and began tapping his fingers against the armrest.
Amelia blew out a long sigh. “Lord Patterson, what is it you wished to tell us?”
Jake captured her hand and rubbed it between his larger palms. Her pale complexion stirred his concern for her well-being and that of his child. “Yes, man. Get on with your explanation. Can’t you see the lady tires from this conversation?”
Patterson aimed a pointed look at their joined hands. “What a desperate fool David was, unwilling to accept that his love would never be returned. His obsession held him prisoner.”
Amelia entwined her fingers with Jake’s and held on. “Your estimation is wrong, sir. I have come to the conclusion Audley never loved me.”
The man stared at her, his lips parted as if he debated his response.
Amelia shifted on the settee and pulled her hand from Jake’s hold. “I said my husband never loved me.”
“No, he didn’t,” Patterson agreed in a quiet voice.
“But you indicated my husband was a desperate fool in love. You speak in riddles.”
And they weren’t even clever riddles, in Jake’s opinion. More like the nonsensical jokes Amelia’s niece had peppered him with when they had visited Crossing Meadows.
Why did the mother hen travel to Bath? She likes ham and cheese. Jake chuckled under his breath. Complete balderdash.
Patterson’s unblinking eyes settled on him. “I apologize, Amelia, but I was referring to David’s attachment to Mr. Hillary.”
Jake laughed, a loud barking sound amplified in the small space. He had underestimated the man’s ability to amuse. He stood and offered a hand up to Amelia. “Shall we? He knows nothing of value.”
The man flipped the book open. “A reading from David’s journal. ‘I have committed the unforgiveable today. I offered for Miss Barton’s hand. I do not know what came over me. As she spoke of Jake, I could see it in her eyes and my heart sank. She loves him, as much as he loves her.’”
Jake froze.
“‘I could not catch my breath as I imagined the two of them together. I have never known such intense sorrow. I felt as if I were dying, a drowning man clutching on to anything to keep from slipping under the dark waters of despair. I begin to lose hope of him ever becoming mine, but I cannot stomach the tho
ught of my love with any—’”
“Give me that.” Jake closed the space between himself and Patterson and jerked the journal from his hands. “Dark waters of despair,” he mumbled as he read Audley’s script. What a melodramatic twit!
As he read further, fire began to churn in his guts. Audley’s deception and disdain for Amelia set off a tremble that traveled down his arms and legs. Jake tossed the offensive book back at Patterson.
“He married me to keep us apart?” she asked.
Patterson made a sympathetic sound at the back of his throat. “I’m sorry, but you deserved the truth. David wasn’t the man I thought he was. He excelled at hiding his true self.”
Audley wasn’t the man any of them had believed him to be. Early on, Jake had considered him a friend. Later, a traitor. But he had been more than that. Audley had been a selfish blackguard who had misused Amelia cruelly and played Jake for a fool. Worse, Jake had allowed him to hurt Amelia.
One glance at her pale face compounded his shame. “How will you ever forgive me?”
She lifted her head, a determined set to her jaw. “You have no reason to apologize.”
“I failed to protect you. I walked away.”
“No, you are a man of honor.” She rose from the settee and wrapped her arms around him. “Audley lied to us both. I won’t allow you to take on the burden of guilt.”
Patterson crossed his leg over his knee and jiggled his foot. When his eyes grew misty, he looked away.
Amelia followed Jake’s gaze. She worked her bottom lip with her teeth. “My lord, it appears we are not the only ones who suffered at Audley’s hands.”
Patterson shook his head and flicked a hand across his cheek.
Amelia released Jake and moved to stand in front of Patterson. “I hope you understand that I must take the journal. I assure you, no one else will ever view the contents.”
Patterson’s arms hung limply at his sides as she retrieved the journal. She held it close. “If my husband named you in his journal, please don’t fret.”
He turned watery eyes on her. “There’s not a single mention of me. Just your Mr. Hillary.”
Lady Amelia's Mess and a Half Page 29
