by Mary Campisi
Billington cleared his throat again. “Now that I am no longer in your employ, sir, I would like to make one comment.”
“By all means, comment away.”
A dull flush crept up Billington’s cheeks. “Lady Emily loves you, sir. She did not betray that love. Crowlton knew she was your weakness, and he pressed his advantage, telling you a terrible lie. If you believe him, then he lives on, not in an unborn child, but in you, festering, and growing, until his hatred becomes your hatred. It will destroy you.”
“She told him about the baby, not me,” Noah said, letting the pain spill over his words.
Billington shrugged. “She also told Cyrus, but you didn’t accuse him of fathering the child.”
“That’s absurd.”
“No more so than what you’re suggesting.” Billington took a step closer. “But if you’ve a notion of putting matters right, you had best be on your way. Her carriage left over twenty minutes ago.”
Noah sat slumped in the chair, his face buried in his hands. He didn’t move, nor did he see Billington’s lips twitch.
“She still loves you though, despite what’s happened,” Billington said. “Though she did mention America again.” He paused, tapping a long finger to his pointed chin. “Is it possible, sir, that Lady Emily would forego her brother’s house and set sail for America? In her condition? A pregnant woman, travelling alone?”
Billington’s words swirled about the empty room, crashing to the ground in a careless heap. He turned just in time to see Noah bound out the door. Edward Billington smiled and for the first time in his adult life, threw back his head and laughed.
****
Noah flew down the road on Flash, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Sandleton carriage at each turn. But as he rounded each bend, he saw nothing but a vast stretch of tree and road before him. Had he somehow missed her? Had she taken a different course? Panic squeezed his heart. Was he too late?
Billington’s words echoed in every hoof beat. America. America. America. A pregnant woman travelling alone. Noah pressed on, harder, faster. The carriage shouldn’t be much farther ahead. Unless she’d decided on a different route? One that did not lead to her brother’s house. Dread washed over him, frightening him with possibilities.
He was about to turn around and head in the opposite direction when he spotted the carriage. Urging his mount forward, Noah came alongside the black conveyance and signaled the driver to stop. He slid to the ground and grabbed the carriage door, flinging it open to find his wife, wide-eyed and open mouthed, staring back at him.
“You’re not going to America,” he said. She may as well know he would fight to keep her and his unborn child with him.
“I’m not?” She stared at him as though he were a mad man which he might appear to be, given his current rumpled state.
“No. Unless you want to go after the baby’s born.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Then, if you’d like, we can visit my family and Christopher.”
She merely stared at him as though he’d come quite unhinged.
“Whatever you want.” He climbed into the carriage and took her hands in his. “I love you, Emily. I’ve always loved you,” he said, his voice ragged with emotion.
“You love me,” she repeated.
“I do,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “With my whole heart. I’ve been such a fool. I almost let my hatred destroy us.” He placed a hand on her stomach. “I want our baby. Very much.” Noah leaned over and brushed his lips over hers.
She pulled away, her beautiful face blank as she said, “Yesterday you couldn’t stand the sight of me. Today you love me. Pray Noah, what will tomorrow bring?”
Her response unsettled him. He had hoped she might profess her love as well, but perhaps she needed reassurance before she risked the words again. He took her hand in his and said, “My dear sweet wife, I will love you tomorrow and the day after that and all the days to follow.”
Her eyes grew bright and her lips trembled. “A day ago, I begged for those very words”—she withdrew her hand—“today they are too late.”
A trickle of panic spread through him but he fought it, determined to drive it away. “Too late for what? I’ve admitted my love and my desire for our baby as well as my foolishness. What more do you want? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
The emptiness in her gaze made the panic spread. “I want nothing else from you. I shall return to my brother’s to wait out my confinement.”
She was leaving him. Even after he’d professed his love for her and the baby. “And that’s it? We’re finished?”
She swallowed hard and looked away. “We were finished before we started.”
“You can’t mean that.” He grasped her hands, willing her to listen as the panic engulfed him. “Despite our past difficulties we belong together.”
She shook her head and said in a sad voice, “Lies and distrust kill love. We were never honest with one another, from the very beginning. How can love last where there is no trust?”
“But I do trust you. I was a fool. Please, Emily, I promise on our baby’s life, I won’t disappoint you.” He would do anything for one last chance.
“I’m sorry, Noah, truly I am.”
“Emily.” He reached for her but she pulled away.
“These past days have been a source of great upset, and I should like to put an end to them lest they harm the baby.”
“I would never do anything to harm our child. I only want—”
“Then leave.” She met his gaze and the cold determination in her eyes killed any hopes of reconciliation. “This constant upheaval is wearing on me and soon will affect the welfare of the baby. Please, Noah, just leave. When the child is born, you will be notified.”
Chapter 20
Emily ascended the steps of Marbrook, anxious to be done with the inevitable questions and the gawking and the uncomfortable silence—not from the servants, but from her brother and sister-in-law. Upon her direction, Mr. Billington had sent word she was returning to Marbrook. There was no mention of the reason or the duration of the stay. That messy business would be taken care of face-to-face though once Ian and Augusta spotted the trunks and suitcases, they would guess the worst, and they would be right.
Noah was well and truly gone. She’d pushed him out of her life with words of fear for her child’s safety though the greater fear was irreparable damage to her battered heart. He’d spoken of love forever in the confines of the carriage with such conviction and sincerity she’d almost succumbed to him. But she’d held fast. What future would they have if their foundation was built on physical desire and distrust? What would happen the next time an obstacle arose which appeared questionable, say in the form of a handsome man? Would Noah accuse her of unfaithfulness? Would he turn her out once again?
Emily stifled a cry as she thought of Cyrus Mandrey, a man she considered honorable and filled with integrity—a man who did not exist. The extent of her husband’s treachery shocked and pained her.
“Emily!” Augusta rushed down the steps and threw her arms about her. “I’m so very glad you’re unharmed and that horrid man is gone.”
Was she referring to Noah or Andrew Kleeton?
“Ian told me about him. Awful man and to think you never knew.”
Indeed she had not known about either man. Noah or Andrew. For that matter, she hadn’t known about Cyrus. Or Mr. Billington. Perhaps Henry Barnes was the only man at Glenview Manor who was who he proclaimed to be.
Augusta pulled away and frowned. “Something’s horribly wrong. I can see it on your face. Where’s Noah?”—she glanced at the carriage—“and what are you doing with all of the trunks? Why if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were moving back,” her voice diminished to a whisper, “home.”
“Yes, well, that is exactly what I’m doing,” she paused. “But only until the baby comes. Then I shall find a home of my own.” She squared her shoulders and proceeded up the stairs and past Pierce whose face resembled a cooked beet.<
br />
“Baby?” Augusta ran after her in a frenzy of concern and confusion. “Baby?” she repeated as though the word were foreign. “What baby?”
Ian chose that exact moment to appear. Of course. Tall, dark, and wearing a frown—his usual self. “What baby?” His eyes darted to her stomach and then back to her face.
“Mine, of course.” She turned to Pierce, ignoring his open-mouthed stare and said, “Please see that my things are delivered to my room.”
Ian closed the distance between them in three steps. “Emily, I wish to speak with you in private.”
Odd, but he didn’t intimidate her as he once had. Perhaps when one faced what she had, other fears were reduced to mere inconveniences. Her brother wished to speak? Well, she harbored the same desire. She nodded at him and proceeded past him with a casual, “In your study, please.” He had no choice but to follow her and once inside, closed the door with a loud click.
“Augusta will not be joining us?” she asked. “I rather thought she might like to be part of the inquisition.”
Her brother found no humor in her words. “What are you doing here and where’s Noah? And what is this talk of a baby?”
She considered this and actually smiled at his confusion. Ian was not often perplexed and his current state gave her a small amount of satisfaction. “In answer to your first question, I think it obvious. I am returning to Marbrook but only until the baby arrives. Yes, I’m with child, oh, but that was your third question. As for Noah, why I imagine he’s at Glenview Manor.” She paused. “Where he belongs.”
Ian’s jaw twitched. “Which is where you belong.”
She raised a brow and pretended surprise. “Indeed? You’ve reconsidered your thoughts on my union with him?”
The jaw twitched again and she noted a tiny flare of nostrils. “When my sister is pregnant with his child, yes, I have reconsidered.”
Oh, he was indeed upset. Perhaps she would just add to it a bit, so he could understand her true situation. “Are you certain the child is Noah’s?”
Ian sputtered, “Are you mad? What kind of idiotic comment is that?”
Emily took in her brother’s countenance—face the color of a beet, a twitching jaw, flaring nostrils, mouth straighter than a line. Indeed, he was not pleased. “My husband did not think it an idiotic statement when he insisted Andrew Kleeton was the father.”
“Kleeton?”
She shrugged. It pained her to recount Noah’s accusation but she must if her brother were to understand the truth behind her departure. “Of course he later apologized for the accusation but the harm was done.”
“Emily.” He clutched her hands. “People say things they don’t mean in a fit of anger or jealousy.”
“Yes, they do,” she agreed, “but do they also dress up as other people and engage in various forms of espionage involving their wives and persons with dubious backgrounds? I think not. You were not there, Ian. You did not witness my husband as he drew me in and gathered my confidences. I told him things that were not meant for Noah to hear, and to think he knew this, knew everything, yet continued to plot and plan to trap a man he deemed an enemy.” She shook her head and tried to still the memories. “It’s unconscionable. The man flipped back and forth from Cyrus to Noah like a chameleon.”
Ian gasped for air and rasped, “Never say that word again.”
“What word? Chameleon?”
“Emily!” His gaze narrowed as he hissed, “Cease. Immediately.”
Ian could be such a bully but he no longer intimidated her. “Oh, for goodness sake, why not?”
Her brother grabbed her arm and led her to the sofa. “Sit,” he commanded. She only did so because his face had contorted into a visage not unlike a rabid dog she’d once seen. When she’d plopped on the sofa he sat beside her. His features began to settle back into the Ian she recognized as he took her hand and said in a low voice, “What I am about to tell you is known by few. Not even Augusta is aware of it, but I fear if I don’t tell you, then you may well blabber it about and cause great unrest for all of us.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” She’d merely likened her husband to a lizard, and she certainly could have called him worse.
Ian cleared his throat, hesitated, and plunged forward, “Noah and I worked together years ago.”
“At sea. But what does this have to do with me calling him a—”
“We were not always at sea. We had other,” he paused, “missions as well.”
“Missions?” Her lips twitched. “You make it sound as though you and Noah were—”
He clamped a hand over her mouth before she could finish. “Do not say the word.”
Emily yanked his hand away. “What word?”
“The word you were about to speak.”
She leaned close and whispered. “You mean, spies?”
“Emily!” He tightened his grip on her hand and said in a low voice, “Your husband was known for his ability to change—his appearance, his voice, his mannerisms. This garnered him the code name you used.”
“You and Noah?” She could hardly believe it. They had been spies for The Crown? “What part did Andrew Kleeton play in this?” Mayhap he was a villain they’d been tracking years past.
Ian’s expression hardened. “He was one of us until he turned traitor. Good men died because of his treachery. There were files that had to be destroyed before he got his hands on them. We didn’t know he was in the building when the fire started but we believe he tried to get the files and burned his hands badly. He spotted Noah from a window right before the building went up in flames. Everyone believed him dead, but Noah maintained the absence of a body meant he could still be alive.” Ian ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You can imagine Noah’s panic when Kleeton appeared wearing gloves he never removed and sending an invitation with a particular creature on it that had been his code name.”
“I assume his real name was not Andrew Kleeton?”
“No, it was not.”
He offered no more and she didn’t ask. It was an impossible story and yet, she’d seen the dark interior of Andrew Kleeton’s home, witnessed the disfigured residents eyeing her as though they would relish squeezing the life from her. Even Andrew had on occasion studied her with such intensity it unsettled her. What a burden Noah must have carried, yet he’d told her nothing which further marked the lack of trust in their relationship. “Had Noah told me I could have helped him.”
“You would have been about as much help as Mrs. Florence. Besides, the risk to your safety was too great.”
Mere opinion and one she did not share. “I should have been told.”
“Emily, we did what we thought best to protect you. Now that this is over you need to return to your husband and patch things up.”
She didn’t miss the annoyance in his voice. Well, he wasn’t the only one who was annoyed. “There is no patching, Ian.” She removed her hand from his and stood. “The hole of distrust and untruths between us is too great to repair. I shall have this child, and then I shall seek my own residence.” She did not add, with or without your approval, but the firmness in her voice left no doubt what she meant.
“Emily—”
“Please. Nothing you can tell me will change my mind. Now if you will excuse me, I should like to rest.” She nodded and made her way toward the door, eager to reach the quiet of her room. Her brother could be so trying at times. Like now.
“What if I told you Noah was forced to leave you after the wedding?”
She swung around. “Why are you doing this? Can you not leave this alone?”
He stood and moved toward her. “It is not often I’m wrong but when I am, it does not sit well with me.”
“Indeed?”
“Certainly not.” He settled his large hands on her shoulders and actually looked contrite. “I’ve a grave confession to make. Noah’s leaving is my fault.”
“Yours? How?”
“I didn’t think he had it in hi
m to settle down with one woman, and I was not going to see my sister hurt. I called in an old debt and forced him to honor it by leaving.”
Emily sucked in breaths of air as Ian’s words swirled around her. “You forced him to leave,” she murmured. “You watched me suffer and agonize over his disappearance and yet you said nothing.” Her voice grew stronger as anger crowded out. “How could you?” And then, “How dare you?”
“I am sorry.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I should have given you this long ago. It’s from Noah.”
She eyed the unsealed enveloped. “You’ve read it.” Of course he had. Wasn’t that what constituted good espionage? Staying two steps ahead of the opponent?
He nodded.
She accepted the letter and stepped away from him. “I should like privacy.”
He hesitated a moment and then said, “Of course.” When he reached the door he stopped and faced her. “I doubt I’ll ever be able to make this up to you, but if it’s America you want, I’ll get you there.”
“Thank you.” The door clicked behind him, leaving Emily alone with Noah’s letter. She lifted it from the envelope and began to read.
My dearest wife:
I miss you. Immensely. I never believed the depth of longing could be so great or all-consuming and though this feeling is not easy to admit, I will not deny it. I cannot deny it. You have captured my heart. Would that you might find it in yours to forgive my numerous lackings and grant me one more chance to be a true husband, I vow I will spend the rest of my days in honest endeavor.
Your faithful husband,
Noah
Emily clutched the letter to her heart and whispered her husband’s name. After all that had happened between them, did they stand a chance or was it too late? She reread the letter once more. After the sixth time, she knew what she must do.
****
Noah ignored the clamoring in the hall. He did not need to witness his staff packing up their carriages as they moved out of his home. They’d certainly wasted no time making their grand exits. He didn’t blame them. Why would they want to be around him when they could look for a mistress with the charm and grace and beauty of his wife? They’d all be gone soon and with them the memories of Emily. Her smile. Her laughter. Her kindness.
