Innocent Betrayal

by Mary Campisi

  He snatched it from her. “That’s Billington’s job,” he snapped. He did not want her touching him, not after she’d lain with his enemy. His gaze shot to her stomach.

  “Noah? I want to help.” There was no need to look at her face to know there were tears in her eyes, but she would get no comfort from him.

  “You’ve already helped me enough. You almost got me killed.” He ignored her gasp and turned to Billington. Holding out the cloth, he said, “Here. Do what you need to do.”

  Billington took the cloth but hesitated, his eyes darting to Emily. “Sir, perhaps Lady Emily could help.”

  “No. I said she’s helped enough. If you can’t do the job then leave me the hell alone, and I’ll do it myself.” Billington clamped his mouth shut and within minutes he’d assessed the wound, applied pressure and a dressing. The other cuts were superficial and required less attention.

  Emily sat a few feet away, her eyes never leaving him. Noah pretended to ignore her, but he smelled her lilac scent, glimpsed the cascade of curls trailing from her shoulders. He should hate her for her betrayal and part of him did, but a deeper part couldn’t hate her, still wanted her, even now, in the hour of her greatest deceit, and he despised his weakness.

  There was only one solution.

  “Billington, in the morning I want you to send servants to help Lady Emily pack.”

  “Noah, what are you talking about?” Emily stood, hands on hips. “Where are we going?”

  Noah forced himself to meet her gaze one last time as she looked at him, a mixture of anger and confusion etched on her beautiful face.

  “We aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “You, on the other hand, are going back to your brother’s.”

  “What?” She took a step closer. Then another. “Why are you doing this? Last night you told me you loved me and today you won’t even look at me.”

  He waved a hand in the air, annoyed with her questions. “Spare me the theatrics, Emily. It will do you no good. You know better than anyone, the reason for my decision.”

  She inched closer, her small hands balled into fists. “Do I? Do tell, what is the reason? Is it because I couldn’t trust you enough to admit my love for you before? Because I wanted to be certain you wouldn’t leave again?” Her voice rose and he was certain half the household perched on the other side of the door. He cared less.

  “Let it be. Don’t embarrass yourself any further. Just leave. Tomorrow,” he finished on a ragged sigh. Why did it cause him such pain to say the words?

  “I will not leave, Noah Sandleton. I love you and you told me you loved me,” she half shouted. “I am not running away.”

  “Tomorrow, Emily,” he repeated, his eyes burning into hers.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough. Please forgive me,” she whispered, bending to place a kiss on his forehead.

  Noah jerked back before her lips touched his skin. Hurt and shock crossed her face but he’d do whatever it took to make her leave. His salvation depended on it.

  She straightened and squared her shoulders, her gaze travelling over his face, from eyes to nose, to hair, to chin and back again as though she were memorizing it. When she spoke, he had to strain to hear her words. “I’m carrying your child.”

  “No!” he roared, half-jumping out of his seat. The pain in his side forced him back down. “Do not,” he bit out, “speak of your bastard child as mine!”

  She gasped and stumbled back.

  “The child isn’t mine. It’s Kleeton’s, and I’ll be damned if I’ll be cuckolded just because he’s dead.”

  “Andrew? No! It wasn’t like that at all. We were friends, nothing more. How could you think such a thing after we…after we…” She shot a pleading look at Billington who’d faded to the far end of the room. “Tell him, Mr. Billington, tell him the truth.”

  “I don’t want a goddamn testimonial from Billington. I heard it from your lover’s own mouth,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue.

  “Why would you believe his words over mine?”

  “You and I have never shared much in the way of the truth, but some people think honesty is a virtue, though I do doubt Kleeton was one of them.”

  “Yet, you choose to believe him.” Her voice grew cold now, emotionless. “Well, if you won’t listen to me and refuse to ask Mr. Billington, then let’s find Cyrus and ask him. He’ll tell you the truth.”

  Noah shot a sharp look at Billington, who coughed and sputtered into his hand. “Sorry. Can’t do that,” Noah said, clenching his jaw.

  “Why not? Cyrus won’t mind losing a little sleep. I’m surprised he hasn’t woken up yet.”

  “I’m not,” Noah said.

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to him? Did you harm him? Where is he?” Her voice rose with each rapid-fire question.

  Noah shrugged. “Gone.”

  “Gone?” she echoed. She inclined her head, trying to get into his line of vision. Noah fixed his eyes on the Ming vase on top of the bureau. “He can’t just be gone.”

  He raised a weary hand and signaled Billington. God, but he just wanted to be done with this whole mess. So many lies. No wonder he and Emily never stood a chance. “Billington? Would you care to enlighten Lady Emily?”

  Emily’s gaze flew to Billington. The butler cleared his throat. Once. Twice. Three times before daring to speak. “Ah, Lady Emily, it seems as though Mr. Mandrey is no longer with us.” He shot a reproving glance at his employer.

  Noah scowled back. “Because?”

  Billington straightened his shoulders. “Because,” he dragged the word out. “He’s been called away on an emergency.” He finished in a rush, the words tumbling over each other in a blur. So much for Billington’s preciseness.

  “What kind of emergency?” Emily asked, taking a few steps toward Billington.

  “Billington.” Noah didn’t try to hide the warning in his voice. Or the exasperation. He needed to make a clean break from this whole business, and he didn’t want Emily thinking her knight in shining armor, or in this case, her protector in hairy disarray, would rescue her. She might as well learn right now there was no such thing as charming princes or happily ever after. He’d been foolish enough to forget that for a short time and he’d pay for his error for the pain of love, loss and betrayal had seared his heart, scarring him worse than The Serpent’s hands.

  Billington’s expression softened. “It seems there’s been a bit of confusion concerning Mr. Mandrey,” he began in a gentle voice. “Actually, quite a lot of confusion.” There was a long pause as his throat worked but no sound came out.

  What was wrong with the old crust? Had he gone soft after all these years? Of course, just one more sap ready to do Emily’s bidding. Well, Noah would no longer be included in that number. “I’m Cyrus Mandrey,” he said.

  Emily whirled around. “You?” A choked laugh escaped her. “Where is he, Noah? What have you done with him?”

  “He’s me,” he said, giving her a small salute. “I’m him. Ask Billington.”

  She turned to the older man, a question on her face. Billington nodded as though someone held a string around his neck, forcing him to respond.

  “But you can’t be Cyrus,” Emily said, advancing on Noah. “Cyrus is gentle and warm and caring.” Noah stiffened but she didn’t seem to notice. “He’s honest and trustworthy. Filled with integrity.” He heard the conviction and admiration in her voice and it irritated him.

  “Of course I couldn’t be him,” he snapped. “How could I possibly know anything about those qualities? Nevertheless, I was Cyrus Mandrey. If you are so inclined, the wig and beard are in there,” he said, pointing to the secret passageway. “But they might be a little bloody.”

  “Why?” The word was a mere whisper.

  “The man you knew as Andrew Kleeton and I had a score to settle. I had to insure your safety first, before I took care of him.” That was as much as he would tell her about his past life.


  “I see.” Her voice wandered off. “This was just like a play. The characters weren’t even real.” Her gaze moved to the butler. “And Mr. Billington?”

  “Is not really a butler,” Noah said, eyeing her.

  “Oh.” She looked at him then and he saw the hurt and torment in her eyes. “This was all just an act, wasn’t it?” she breathed.

  She wanted to know if his words of love were real, if the passion they’d shared meant something or was just part of a well thought-out script. His heart clenched, pounding against his ribs so hard it hurt. He had to save himself. The words stuck in his throat, but he pushed them out. “It was all part of the plan.”

  She gasped and turned away, running for the shelter of her room. The door slammed behind her, and he knew he’d been successful in shutting her out of his life. He rested his head against the cushions and gave himself up to the pain.

  ****

  Emily scanned the chamber one last time. Nothing remained to indicate she’d ever been in this room, ever shared intimacies here with her husband that made her blush. Everything looked the same, but nothing would ever be the same.

  Noah had stripped away every vestige of pride along with any hope for a reunion. He’d done it with such callousness she found it hard to believe he’d ever looked at her with warm, caring eyes or spoken soft, gentle words of love and devotion. But it hadn’t really been him, that person was an actor, reciting lines from a script, not his heart.

  Her bags and trunk were packed and waiting. It would be best to leave Glenview Manor as soon as possible. It appeared Noah planned to continue his life here, and he’d made it quite obvious she would not be part of it. Emily gathered her wool cloak and with one final glance, left the room.

  She’d declined a proper breakfast, preferring a cup of cocoa and toast in her bedroom. Her emotions were too raw to risk an encounter with Noah this morning, though he probably felt the same way.

  She trailed a hand along the oak railing, finding comfort in the polished wood beneath her fingers. Glenview Manor had become her home and now she must leave it. Reaching the bottom stair, she pulled on her cloak, took one last cursory glance behind her, and stepped outside into the brisk fall sunshine.

  Of course, she knew Mr. Billington and Henry Barnes would wish her farewell and perhaps Cook and maybe even the shy young maid who changed her linens. She did not expect to find a line of servants peering at her from the top step to the carriage door. The entire household had come to send her on her way. Tears sprung to Emily’s eyes as she worked her way among the foray, hugging and exchanging words with the well-wishers.

  “Best of luck to ye’,” Mrs. Connelly, the scullery maid whispered, her bony hands clasping Emily’s.

  “We’s heartbroken by it all, jest heartbroken,” Cook murmured, the flesh under her chin jiggling with each shake of her head.

  Mrs. Reeves, the downstairs maid couldn’t speak for the tears streaming down her face. Emily gave her a quick hug.

  “Thank you,” she said fighting back tears. “I will miss you all.”

  She worked her way through the remaining servants, hugging and reminiscing.

  “I ain’t gonna git all teary eyed, so don’t go expectin’ it,” a gruff voice said in her ear.

  “Mr. Barnes.” Emily smiled.

  Henry Barnes clasped her upper arms, shaking his gray, frizzled head. “He needs ya, the boy does. Too bad, ’e’s too stubborn ta admit it.”

  Emily did not want to discuss Noah’s shortcomings. He’d made his decision and from the line of sad faces surrounding her, they’d all pay for it.

  “Take care, Mr. Barnes. Thank you for providing such wonderful care for Allegra. I’ll send for her as soon as I’m settled.”

  A shadow fell over the groomsman’s weathered face. “Take as long as ya need. No problem.” Emily met his black-eyed gaze and saw sadness in its depths. She hugged him and stepped away, turning to the final well-wisher.

  Mr. Billington.

  He stood tall and erect, just as he had the first day she’d seen him, but that’s where the resemblance ended. The gray eyes which were once cold and emotionless were now filled with warmth and compassion. The pinched, sour lemon expression was gone, replaced with a softer, more relaxed visage. And sometimes, like right now, his lips actually curved into a semi-smile. Mr. Billington guided her away from the ears of the crowd. He cleared his throat, a habit she now knew, signaled nervousness. “Maybe when he settles down, things will appear differently to him.”

  Emily shook her head, a wistful smile haunting her lips. “I don’t think so.”

  He shifted his weight from one long leg to the other. “You were caught in the middle of a very dangerous situation. Mr. Sandleton could think of nothing but ending it.”

  “There’s no need to make excuses for him, Mr. Billington. You were there. You heard what he said.” She sighed, tired of thinking of him. “I have no great desire to know about Noah’s conflict with Andrew or whatever his real name was. Whether Noah admits it or not, the baby is his.” She straightened her shoulders. “And that will be his loss.”

  “What will you do now?” Mr. Billington asked, searching her face.

  “I suppose I have no choice but to return to my brother’s for the rest of my confinement.” She shrugged. “But after the baby is born, I’ll seek a house for myself and the baby.”

  Mr. Billington nodded, opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. Some things were better left unsaid.

  Emily gave him a gentle smile and clasped his bony hands. “I will always remember you. Thank you.” Her smile deepened. “For everything.” Before he could see the devastation on her face, she hugged him and ran for the safety of the carriage.

  Not until the wheels rolled down the cobbled drive, away from Glenview Manor, did she give herself over to the gut-wrenching grief in her soul and let the tears come.

  ****

  Noah brought the bottle to his lips and let the amber liquid trickle down his throat in a slow, steady burn. He’d discarded his glass long ago, after the third drink, he thought. The past several hours blurred before him like a haze of jumbled words and vague images teaming with numbed emotions. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the bottle down.

  Why the hell was he drinking anyway? He couldn’t remember. Screwing up his eyes, he forced himself to concentrate. Something had happened. What? He looked down at his rumpled shirt. Torn, splattered with red. Blood. There’d been a fight. He’d killed a man. A glimpse of terror flashed through his mind. There was a face to go with the dead figure lying on the cold floor. Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. The image sharpened.

  Another vision swayed before him. Emily. He pushed her sweetness away with another swallow and a curse. He would not think of her.

  A light rap on the door disturbed his soulful musings.

  “Come in,” he said, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and too much liquor.

  Edward Billington entered, his expression more stoic than usual.

  “Is she gone?” Noah asked, torn between pride and hope.

  A slight nod of Billington’s balding head told him more than he wanted to know.

  “Good,” he muttered, lifting the bottle again. Halfway to his mouth, Noah noticed Billington’s gray eyes fixed on him. “What are you looking at?” The raw meanness in his voice echoed throughout the room.

  “Nothing, sir.” Billington took a step forward. “I was merely observing your choice of breakfast beverages.”

  Noah held the bottle back, squinting one eye, trying to bring the print into focus. “Damn, if I know what it says, but I know what it is.” He held the bottle up. “Besides,” he continued, his words slow and purposeful, “I haven’t slept yet, so this isn’t breakfast.” He took another swig. “Whiskey. Want a taste?”

  “No, thank you, sir.” Billington approached Noah and pulled a white envelope from his pocket. “This is for you, sir,” he said, holding out the envelope.


  Noah rubbed his stubbled chin. “Read it to me, Billington. I’m having a little difficulty focusing at the moment.”

  “Yes, sir.” Billington opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

  Noah sat back against his leather chair and rested his hands over his belly. “Just give me the gist of it, man. Don’t bore me with the whole thing.”

  Billington scanned the paper. “Very well, sir,” he said, looking up to meet Noah’s bleary gaze. “It seems as though the entire household has resigned.”

  “Resigned? Resigned from what?”

  “From your employ, sir,” Billington said, clearing his throat.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Billington extended the paper. “They’ve signed their names, sir.”

  “They can’t resign,” Noah barked, slamming the desk with his fist. “They’re as much a part of Glenview Manor as the house itself.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do they want to leave?”

  “It seems they took a great liking to Lady Emily and sympathize with her.”

  “Of course,” Noah said, his voice quaking with anger. “Everyone wants to rush to do her bidding. Fine. Let them feel sorry for her. See if it feeds their bellies. We’ll replace every last one of them.” He slashed his hand through the air. “Get on it, right away, Billington.”

  The older man cleared his throat and coughed. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said in a quiet voice. “I won’t be able to do that.”

  Noah tilted his head to one side. “Why the hell not?”

  “My name is on this list as well.”

  “You?” Noah sputtered. “You? Resigning?”

  Billington squared his shoulders. “I’m afraid so, sir.”

  “Because of Emily?” He braced his elbows on the desk and rubbed his temples. Billington couldn’t leave. “I thought you two didn’t even like one another.”

  “We came to an understanding of sorts,” Billington confessed. “I hold Lady Emily in the highest regard.”

  “I see,” Noah said, but he didn’t. He didn’t see one damn thing.