by Merry Farmer
“Thank you, Miss Yates. You may go,” he said.
Miss Yates curtsied and turned to flee the room as though the fireplace were about to explode. Niall could only imagine what sort of courage it took for a woman who didn’t appear to be naturally outgoing to come all the way to Selby Manor to share what she knew.
“Mr. Dobson,” Niall called next, pulling Blake toward the doorway. The concerned butler appeared in an instant, as though he had been listening to the entire exchange. He glanced uneasily at Niall, reminding Niall of what else the man had overheard in the parlor, but Niall ignored it. “Have one of Lord Selby’s carriages prepared to take us to the train station in Leeds.”
“Yes, sir.” Dobson nodded, then marched down the hall.
“Where is your valet at this time of night?” Niall asked Blake.
“I’ll have him fetched as well, your grace,” Dobson called over his shoulder.
A wry grin tugged at the corner of Niall’s mouth. “I suppose having a whole team of servants at your beck and call is useful after all.”
“I’d give them all up in a moment if it meant I could have my children back,” Blake said, sounding as though he’d spent the time Niall used to order his servants around to calm his overworked nerves. “And if I could have you.”
The anxiety and affection in Blake’s eyes as he looked to Niall, shifting his arm so that he clasped Niall’s hand, sent spirals of bitter-sweetness careening through Niall’s heart. More than just Blake’s appearance had changed in ten years. At university, Blake was the golden boy, destined to be a duke, who won at every game and scored top marks, while Niall was a country boy who was handy with a pen. After a decade, Niall was a celebrated theatrical genius with even more promise ahead of him, while Blake was a shell of a man who had been so beaten down by the circumstances of his life that Niall had a feeling it would take years to build him back up again. And yet, the urge to be the one to put Blake back together pulsed through him like the blood in his veins, an integral part of him that he couldn’t separate himself from. Blake needed him, and if he were honest with himself, he needed Blake to be whole.
But none of it was going to be easy or quick.
“I hope you learned your lesson in there,” he said, letting go of Blake’s hand and crossing the hall to the stairs so that they could retreat to their rooms to pack their things. “Dobson will likely hand in his notice tomorrow.”
“He’s a good man,” Blake said, following Niall. “I’m sure if I just explain things to him—”
“Like you explained things to that footman years ago?” Niall arched a critical eyebrow at Blake when he reached his side. Blake had enough sense to look sheepish. “You’re too trusting, Blake. Even after everything everyone has done to you, you believe too much in the good nature and circumspection of others.”
“Don’t you?” Blake asked, genuinely surprised.
Niall breathed out heavily as he reached the door to his room. “I’ve learned never to believe what someone says unless I see it in writing. I’ve learned that even someone who professes to love you with their whole being can hurt you in ways that cannot be healed.”
He could see at once that his words were as pointed as a dagger in Blake’s heart by the bereft look that came to Blake’s face.
“Go pack your things,” he went on, lashed by guilt that he figured he deserved to feel. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
It didn’t take long for Niall to repack the things he’d only just unpacked that morning. His suitcase still rested on one of the guest room chairs, and most of his things hadn’t been unfolded or pressed yet. He packed everything, not particularly wanting to return to Blake’s estate once their mission was completed, no matter what the outcome. The kiss they’d shared in the parlor still burned on his lips. He could still feel Blake’s hands on his flesh as if he’d been scorched. His heart ached as though the wound of their love being ripped apart were new, and he was certain that if Dobson and Miss Yates hadn’t stopped them, he would be in Blake’s bed that very second, fucking as though his life depended on it. And it probably did.
But he couldn’t bear to put himself back in a position where he would be hurt all over again. If the supper party at Lady Inglewood’s had proven anything, it had proven that even if Annamarie divorced him, Blake would be expected to marry again. And after the way Blake had behaved, the bastard would go along with everyone else’s plans, smiling and being affable and dying on the inside. Niall wasn’t going to stick around to see it. He would help Blake get his children back, then he, too, would return to his life.
The journey to Blackpool proved far more arduous than Niall had the patience for. They only just managed to catch a train heading west at the late hour once they reached Leeds, but it was far from being a direct route. After switching trains twice, they arrived in Liverpool by midmorning, then were forced to wait for hours, drinking copious amounts of coffee to keep from passing out with exhaustion, until they could take a train to Blackpool. Niall managed a few minutes of restless sleep on that leg of the journey, but was no more refreshed when they reached the seaside town than if he’d stayed awake the whole time.
“I’ve always thought Blackpool was a holiday town,” Blake commented when they departed the station and stared dumbly up and down the street, no idea where to go or what to do next to find Annamarie, Ian, and the children. “It doesn’t look like much.”
Niall sent him a flat, sideways look. “It’s October,” he said. “No one goes to the beach in October.”
Blake made a small sound as if conceding the point. “So where are they?”
Niall turned to stare at him fully. “They aren’t going to meet us at the train station with the children dressed in their Sunday best, ribbons in their hair.”
Blake’s eyes flared with indignation as he dragged his gaze away from the traffic and met Niall’s eyes. “I wasn’t expecting a welcoming committee.”
“With a question like that, you could have fooled me,” Niall snapped in return. He spotted several signs for hotels near the train station and started forward.
“I’d forgotten how pissy you can be sometimes,” Blake said, trailing after him.
“Me?” Niall skittered to a stop, waiting for Blake to catch up so that they could walk on side by side. “I’m the pissy one? I’m not the one who’s spent the last twelve hours complaining about uncomfortable train seats, cold coffee, and biscuits without chocolate.”
“I’m worried,” Blake snapped in return. “Who knows what Annamarie and Ian plan to do? If they take the children out of the country, I might never see them again. So forgive me for not being my usual, jolly self.”
“Is that who you were being at Lady Inglewood’s party?” Niall snorted as he picked the hotel that looked the most discreet from the selection down the street in front of him and headed toward it. “Your usual, jolly self?”
“They expect things from me,” Blake complained. “I oblige. And what’s so wrong with that anyhow?”
“It’s not who you really are,” Niall said distractedly as he paused at a street corner and watched traffic for an opportunity to cross.
“No one would accept who I really am,” Blake said sullenly.
“Did you ever even try?” Niall muttered, seeing his opportunity and crossing.
Blake kept up with him, frowning and looking half his age. “I was never given a chance.”
“Well, you have a chance now.” Niall stepped up onto the far curb and turned to face Blake. “Who are you going to be?”
Blake blinked and stumbled back as though Niall had elbowed him. A lost look came over him. “I don’t know,” he said at last with a shrug, shaking his head.
“That’s your problem.” Niall moved on, stepping up to his hotel of choice’s front door. “Once you’re ready to stop being who they tell you to be and to make a decision about who you really are, let me know.”
Blake opened his mouth as though he’d’ve liked to say something else,
but he didn’t have a chance. The hotel’s small lobby wasn’t crowded, but there were just enough people lingering to make free conversation impossible. Niall stepped up to the desk and asked the concierge for a room.
As initial payment was made and a key was handed over, Blake stepped up with his friendliest smile and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know where the Archibald family lives, would you?”
Niall gaped at Blake as though he’d grown another head. “How many Archibald families do you think live in Blackpool?” he asked incredulously.
“Do you mean Sir Richard Archibald?” the concierge asked.
Niall’s brow shot up as he turned back to the concierge.
“Yes,” Blake said, a note of surprise in his voice. “I believe that’s Ian’s father’s name.”
“Right.” The concierge added. “Sir Richard’s son showed up a fortnight ago with a family no one knew he had. They live down near the pier, somewhere around Banks Street, I believe.”
“Thank you so much.” Blake beamed at the concierge, then turned to Niall with a self-satisfied smirk. “Haven’t you heard that you catch more flies with honey?” His entire mood had been bolstered in the space of the brief conversation.
“Unbelievable.” Niall shook his head, checking their room key and heading for the stairs. Truth be told, his mood had been bolstered by the snappy, prickly conversation as well. Bickering with Blake was a thousand times better than watching him fall apart under the strain of having his life turned upside down. In fact, their irritated banter had Niall heating in ways that were best not to think about.
They did little more than toss their suitcases on the two, narrow beds in the cramped hotel room before rushing downstairs again and out into Blackpool. The town had the distinct tang of the ocean in the air, and sea birds cried and circled above them as they asked directions, then headed to the pier. Niall had the feeling that the town would be the scene of all sorts of fun and merriment during the summer months. It had the worn out look of a chorus girl who had danced her feet off during the main show and was now catching her breath, getting ready to do the whole thing over again soon.
“What do you plan to do when we find the Archibald’s house?” Niall asked as they turned onto a street that ran parallel to the beach. “You can’t just charge in like the cavalry and demand to have the children back.”
“Why not?” Blake’s whole countenance had taken on a militant feeling. “They’re my children. She can’t legally keep them from me.” His expression dampened as he added, “Unless she takes them to America.”
“She took them for a reason,” Niall spoke his thoughts aloud. “If she thinks they’re a bargaining chip of some sort, she won’t just hand them over, even if she stays here.”
“I have no idea what she wants,” Blake said with a frown, scanning the buildings they passed. “All I know is that she left because she found out about you.”
Niall huffed an ironic laugh. “She’s going to be thrilled to see me with you, then.”
They reached Banks Street and asked the first person who passed them which was the Archibald’s house. As soon as it was pointed out to them, Niall felt an odd tightness in his chest as Blake took the lead in approaching it. Blake could get what he was after with just a knock on a door. So where would that leave him?
He would go back to his life in London, as he’d intended to all along. At least, that was the easy answer. But as Blake squared his shoulders, scowled, and knocked on the Archibald’s door, he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted after all.
“Yes?” a young man asked as he opened the door.
“I demand to speak with Ian Archibald at once,” Blake said.
The young man—a footman, or perhaps a butler in training—tried to shut the door, but Blake wedged his foot into it. A moment later, the lad disappeared and a stately, grey-haired woman took his place.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Are you Lady Archibald?” Blake asked, still trying to be personable in what could have been the confrontation of his life.
“I am.”
The woman’s eyes were already growing round with recognition before Blake said, “I’m Lord Selby, and I want my children back.”
“They’re not here, your grace,” Lady Archibald said, trying to shut the door on Blake.
Blake jammed his hand and foot against the door. “Then where are they? Your son has absconded with them and my wife. I demand to know where they are immediately.”
“They are not here,” Lady Archibald said with more feeling. “I found out who the lady was and what Ian was up to last week and I told them they had to go.”
“Where did they go?” Niall asked, stepping in. “Are they still in Blackpool?”
“Yes,” Lady Archibald answered. Blake’s shoulders sagged with relief, but only for a moment. “At least, I think they are,” Lady Archibald added.
“You think?” Blake stared incredulously at her.
Lady Archibald wrung her hands and shifted restlessly. She glanced over her shoulder, then stepped into the street, shutting the door behind her. “They argued. That woman, Lady Selby, wanted to take a ship to America as fast as possible. Said her father could help them. Ian refused to go.”
“Refused to go?” Niall shrugged and shook his head. “Why would he refuse to do exactly the thing that would protect him the most and enrich him in the process.”
“He said his business here wasn’t finished, but once it was, they would take the first ship sailing,” Lady Archibald reported.
“What is his business?” Niall asked.
“I don’t know,” Lady Archibald said with more feeling, stepping back toward the door. “I want nothing to do with it. Please leave me alone.”
Blake lunged after her, grabbing her wrist. “Please,” he pleaded with her. “I just want my children back. Ian can have whatever it is he wants. He can have Annamarie. She never loved me anyhow. I’ll grant her a divorce on favorable terms if she will just return my children.”
“I….” Lady Archibald stammered, staring at Blake in alarm.
“Are you in contact with them?” Blake rushed on. “Can you tell her that? Tell her that.” He stood straighter, letting go of the woman. “Tell her that I’ll give her anything and everything, except the children. The children are all I want.”
“Tell her we’re staying at the Graydon Hotel,” Niall added. “She can meet us there, or we’ll go wherever she wants to meet.”
“And who are you?” Lady Archibald narrowed her eyes at Niall suspiciously.
“My friend,” Blake answered. “Please, just get the message to her.”
“I cannot promise you anything, your grace,” Lady Archibald said, opening her door and hurrying inside. “I’ll…I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” Blake managed to turn on his charm, in spite of the circumstances, in a way that had Niall shaking his head. As soon as Lady Archibald slammed the door on them, his smile dropped. “Do you think she’ll contact Annamarie?” he asked, his powerful stance slackening as he and Niall stepped back into the street.
Niall let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “If she truly knows where they are.”
“We should hang back and see if someone leaves the house,” Blake said, backpedaling down the street and studying the buildings on either side of the Archibald home. They were in a relatively prosperous neighborhood filled with stately houses, most of which had attractive gardens.
“That’s not a half bad idea,” Niall agreed.
They pretended to walk away, heading toward the beach, but paused at the street corner and took up a position to watch the house.
Except that after an hour, not a soul had come or gone from the Archibald house. A few maids dashed between houses, as though they were running errands, but none of them went near the Archibald’s house. What had started out as a good idea filled Niall with increasing irritation as each second ticked past. His back still ached from traveling,
his stomach growled, and even with the cold sea breeze blowing off the water, his eyes were drooping. He and Blake had leaned against the stone wall of the building on the corner. Their shoulders were jammed together, as if they were propping each other up.
“Either she’s not leaving the house to contact them or she doesn’t actually know where they are,” Niall said at last, as the sun dipped into a bank of clouds near the horizon.
“Or she was lying to us and they are all inside that house somewhere,” Blake grumbled. His voice was thick with exhaustion.
A jolt of anger flickered through Niall. “That’s a possibility too. But what do we do? Stand here all night? Go back and demand to search the house?”
“That’s what I’d choose to do,” Blake grumbled.
“I’m not sure it would do any good,” Niall sighed. He pushed away from the building. “Honestly, Blake, I think the only thing we can do is go back to the hotel and wait for Annamarie to contact us.”
“There has to be some other action we can take,” Blake hissed, straightening as well. “I hate this feeling of helplessness. I hate that we’re so close and still so far apart.” His eyes flickered to Niall as surprise entered his expression.
Niall’s chest squeezed. “I know.” He rested a hand on Blake’s arm, well aware of the double meaning of his words. “But there really isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.”
Blake nodded reluctantly, starting forward when Niall tugged him into motion. Niall hated it as much as Blake did, but sometimes there was nothing at all to be done when one’s life hung in the balance but wait.
Chapter 16
By the time they returned to the hotel, Blake was so weary with defeat that he could only nod gratefully when Niall thought to purchase pasties and bottled beer to take up to their room, then sit on the end of one of the beds and eat the simple supper without conversation, barely tasting anything. It frustrated him beyond belief to think that his Greta, Jessie, and Alan were so near after they’d been apart for so long, but that he wasn’t any closer to having them back in his arms than he had been at Lady Inglewood’s party.
