“I—” He cut off his words. “What would make her happy, in your opinion?”
“Freedom.” She drew the word out with emphasis. “You seem a good man. Living each day within the mores and rules of society stifles her. She cannot even remain in this house longer than a few hours without the need to go outside for fresh air.” Mrs. Whitney gave a slight shrug. “She has lived a very different life.”
Her words stirred the vague worries he had about a future with Aria, but he thrust them aside. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitney, for your help.”
As the door closed behind him, Adam took the steps and stood on the sidewalk. He looked up and down Somerset Street, with no sign of Aria strolling toward home. Rubbing his hands together to ward off the chill, he moved toward home.
Mrs. Whitney believed that after everything that had happened, Aria would attend the theater that evening, without a care weighing her thoughts.
But that shallow woman was not the willful, spirited and passionate woman he couldn’t imagine his life without.
His Aria would never run. She wouldn’t let anything stand in her way if she could help her father.
Which woman was real?
* * *
Adam returned home to screeches of outrage.
“I am not going!” The near hysterical cry was accompanied by a sob and came from the upstairs. Adam strode up the staircase, shedding his coat as he went. He dropped it over a railing and followed the sounds much like that of a disturbed hornet’s nest.
In Georgiana’s room, he found his mother and all of his sisters frozen in positions as if posing for a portrait of an angry family. Blythe sat on the bed with an arm around Georgiana, and Cordelia and Lily both stood toe-to-toe with their mother.
“What is going on here?” he called out, but no one heard or cared.
“You can’t make us go!” Cordelia’s shriek overrode the rest.
Adam squared his stance. “Girls!”
Five sets of eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. Georgiana pulled away from Blythe and ran toward him, launching her arms about his waist. “Tell her we don’t have to go, Adam. Please tell her! We can stay with you.”
Adam placed a hand on top of her head. “Tell whom what, Georgie?” He looked over her head at Blythe, then his mother. “What is this about?”
Blythe stood. “Has mother told you her news?” she asked grimly.
Suddenly it all made sense. “Of her desire to marry Mr. Calebowe?”
“It isn’t a desire, young man.” His mother swiveled on her heel to pin him with a glare. “I am marrying Franklin, and while I appreciate my children’s feelings, it is not your call to make.”
Georgie shifted to look up at him. “But we don’t have to go to America, do we? We can stay here.”
“Of course you can,” Adam replied slowly, with a frown directed at his mother.
“Adam, you don’t even know what the discussion is about.”
“Mama,” Blythe intervened. “The girls heard the news and are understandably upset. Why don’t we take this discussion into another room and give them some time?”
“Excellent idea,” Adam said. He gently pulled Georgiana from him. “Sweet, why don’t you give us a moment to talk with Mama.”
She wiped at a tear. “But I can stay. You said.”
He shared a look with Blythe and then squeezed Georgiana’s shoulder lightly. “A moment.”
The three of them moved into their mother’s suite.
“I will not be gainsaid by you,” his mother started as Adam clicked the door closed behind them. He moved to the fire to stir the embers. “This is my decision.”
Adam shot a plea for help at Blythe.
“Mama, until today, we had not heard of Mr. Calebowe,” Blythe said as she sat in a chair near the fire. “You have never mentioned him, even after Papa died. Now, all of a sudden, you are announcing your betrothal to a man who lives in America. Surely you can understand our reaction.”
Hypatia sighed. She headed to the table beside her bed, opened a drawer, and pulled out a stack of letters. These, she dropped in Blythe’s lap.
“What are these?” Blythe asked.
“Letters Franklin has written to me over the years.”
“What?” Adam rose to his feet, his fist clenched around the fire poker. “He’s been writing to you, while Father was alive? While you were married?”
His mother crossed her arms. “He never sent them. He’s been writing since he left for America. Every week, almost.”
“Truly? He wrote you every week, even though he knew he would never send them?” Blythe’s reply was soft.
Adam set the fire poker against the fireplace stone. “Do not tell me you are enamored of this.”
“It’s romantic, no matter what you say.”
Adam paced to the window. “If he thought he’d never see you again, why was he writing?”
Blythe untied the ribbon that held the letters together and lifted one from the pack. “Because he always hoped he would see her again, you nincompoop. May I read them, Mama?”
“That’s why I am giving them to you. So you may know the man that I know.” She sank into the chair next to Blythe’s. “Franklin is a good man. He told me he had given up on ever being in my life again once he learned I had married, but he couldn’t let go of sharing his life with me.”
“He never married?” Blythe asked.
“He did, a long time ago. His wife died during childbirth. He has one child, a daughter named Rebecca. He has been raising her in Boston.”
Adam’s heart stopped, and he turned around to face his mother. “In America.”
“Yes. His family still lives in England, and they keep in touch with people where I grew up. That is how he learned of Robert’s death, shortly after your father died.”
Blythe looked up from the letter she held open. “He waited this long? It’s been years.”
“He wanted to give me time. He didn’t want to intrude.”
As their mother explained, a dreamy softness crossed over Blythe’s face.
“For God’s sake, Blythe. And what about America, Mama? How does this work? Is he returning to England for good to live with you?”
She let out a soft breath. “No, Adam. I’ll be going to live with him. In America.”
“And Cordelia? Lily? Georgiana? Will you leave them behind?” His throat swelled at the idea of his family splintering apart, and he swallowed back the painful thought.
“They will come with me.”
“No.”
She rose to her feet. “Adam, this is not your decision to make.”
“Actually, it is. I am their guardian, Mama. And how can you even consider pulling them away from their futures?” He paced in a circle, his heart hammering in his chest. This couldn’t happen. If his father was alive, this would never have happened.
Not that Adam didn’t see the stupidity in that statement. But Adam was responsible for his family now. How could he take care of them if they were across the world?
“Franklin has built a good life, and he wishes to share that life with me. What is so wrong with that?”
Blythe looked up from the letter in her hands. She waved the letter at Adam. “You should read these.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Don’t be such a stubborn mule.” Blythe focused on the letter again. “‘The house is finished, ‘Patia. It is with great sadness that I stride room to room, in the home I once longed to share with you, with the children we would have. I have wanted nothing but your happiness and I hope that you have found it. And yet, still I cannot walk these halls without the Ghost of What Could Have Been by my side. My regrets are many, numbered by the distance each mistake took me farther away from you.’” Blythe smiled at their mom.
“Mama, it’s so poetic. So beautiful.”
“Some are like that—others are simple accountings of his day,” Hypatia replied, sitting in the chair again and leaning toward Blythe. “This is only a handful of the letters. There are hundreds of them. He tells me everything of his life.”
“Doesn’t anyone find the concept of him writing to you for so many years a little disturbing?” Adam demanded. “Thirty years and the man never let go?”
As he said the words his mother’s face softened, and Adam knew he’d lost. “After thirty years, he never let go,” she repeated with a gentle smile. “He never stopped thinking of me.”
“It’s wonderfully sweet.” Blythe folded up the letter and placed it in the envelope again. “I cannot wait to meet him.”
“This is a mistake.” His head screamed against the threat of everything in his world shifting. Of his family being uprooted.
Of no longer being needed.
“I cannot explain to you why I know it is not a mistake, but I do,” his mother said. “And it’s my choice. I want to be happy. I want to be with Franklin, and truly, I am quite excited at the prospect of going to America. It will be such an adventure, at a time in my life when I thought the only adventures I would have would be through my children.”
“But the girls...”
“I am not leaving tomorrow. Franklin wishes to get to know the girls, get to know you. We’ll stay through the year and leave after the holidays. And we’ll get married at Merewood, around Christmas.”
“What if Cordelia finds a husband by the end of this season?”
Hypatia sank back into the chair. “I have no illusions that Cordelia will come to America. She is too ambitious, wants a fortune and a title too much. I fully expect her to choose a husband before the season is up, and if she does not, I will not force her to leave.”
“But Lily and Georgiana will be forced.” Adam turned and walked to the window, as an ache spread in his chest. He had a duty to his family. To his father. He’d made a vow to protect them, to ensure they married well, that they had good lives. How was he supposed to do that now? How could he protect his mother if she married a man he barely knew?
A soft hand landed upon his shoulder and he glanced back to see his mother standing there. “You cannot control everything.”
“It’s my responsibility to—”
“It is your responsibility to be a good son and a good brother, and you are both of those.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I need your support. I need you to be happy for me.”
He couldn’t give her that. He couldn’t stop worrying. He couldn’t stop the incessant voice in his head saying this was wrong, this wasn’t how things were supposed to be.
In his silence, his mother let out a sigh filled with resignation. “Very well. But I will not allow you to wreak havoc upon your sisters with your displeasure. They are going to America with me, and everyone needs to adjust. You need to accept that.”
Adam stared out the window at the street as she turned away. Seconds later, he heard the soft click of the door opening and closing. Blood rushed hot through his body, urging him to do something.
Anything that would keep his family the way they had been.
If they left, what did he have? If Aria was the woman Mrs. Whitney believed her to be, he could expect an unhappy existence with a miserable wife. If she stayed, that is. If Aria had run away to sulk, if she returned in time to go to the bloody theater of all things...
“You’re making a mistake.”
At Blythe’s voice, he turned in surprise. He’d forgotten she was still there.
“How do you know?” he asked, his mind still on Aria.
“Mama’s situation is different from mine with Thomas,” Blythe said, pulling him back to the situation at hand.
“You are overlooking the bald truth because those letters,” he flicked his wrist toward the bundle in her hand, “are sweet and romantic. You should know about sweeping romance better than anyone. It’s not real. And by the time she figures it out, she’ll be in the bloody Colonies.”
“I believe they call it America these days,” she teased, but her smile quickly morphed into a concerned frown. “But Mama knew Mr. Calebowe long ago. These letters are simply an extension of the man she already knew him to be.”
“One who left her once before with nothing more than a goodbye note.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn it, there has to be a way to stop this.”
“Adam, you cannot be that large of an idiot. You cannot manipulate our lives to suit your expectations of what is right.” She stood and placed the letters on the chair behind her, before strolling toward him. “I heard the gossip about you and Michael the other night. This has to stop. All of it. I know what you”—her voice broke—”did for me. I would not be alive had you not killed Thomas. You saved my life. You gave me that second chance, and I’m living it the fullest.”
“But with—”
She smacked a finger lightly against his mouth. “Shut it, Adam, and listen to me. We’ve had some version of this conversation too many times, and I do not plan on having it again. I don’t know what it will take to get through your thick head. You think your job is to stop us from making any choices whatsoever, to tell us what’s right and wrong for our lives. That isn’t what we need you for.” She took a step back and held her palms up. “We need our brother. Mama needs her son. We need you to support us, not control us.”
“I am not trying to control you.” He wanted them to make good choices, not stupid ones. What was so wrong with that?
“Yes, you are. In your own loving, stubborn, wonderful way.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want to marry Michael. Mama wants to marry Mr. Calebowe. These things make us happy.”
Anxiety coursed through his veins, urging him to walk, run, anything to outpace the growing unsettled ball that spiraled through his stomach. His feet stuck as if glued to the ground.
“If you continue this way, you will irrevocably damage this family,” Blythe added, very quietly.
Everything was slipping from his grasp. His family was in danger of separating for God knew how long and the woman he was betrothed to was missing. And he couldn’t stop any of it.
The harder he tried to hold on, the farther everything flew out of his grasp.
This was the only way he knew how to be. The way his father had been. The man who protected them, who made decisions from logic, not emotion. Didn’t that mean approving their choices? Making sure they didn’t make mistakes? If he didn’t do that, if he wasn’t here to guide them, then what the hell was his purpose?
And if he had so completely misjudged Aria—or worse, if she had disappeared while under his protection—what kind of man was he?
“How is Miss Whitney?” Blythe asked, as if she read his thoughts.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because since she came into your life, you’ve been on edge constantly, quick to react.” Her brows raised. “Quick to consider physical violence.”
“He provoked me,” Adam muttered, knowing she referred to Ravensdale.
“Yes, I’ve expressed my displeasure to Michael as well.”
Somehow the image of that scene cheered Adam slightly.
“Tell me what’s going on. Has she returned? Have you found anything more?”
The door flew open and Georgiana barreled into the room, stopping inches from them. “Do I have to go? Tell me I don’t have to, Adam, please! Let me stay here with you.”
Adam met Blythe’s gaze and heeded the warning in her eyes. Georgiana’s misery was clear, and Adam realized that expressing his own displeasure would be of little comfort. It would serve no purpose other than satisfying his own need to control the outcome.
And his mother had made it perfectly clear that was not going to happen.
<
br /> Georgiana’s youthful face was flushed with previously shed tears.
We need our brother. We need you to support us.
Blythe’s words played over and over in his head, and Adam thought back to when their father was still alive. When Adam had been a brother and not a man trying to be both. Not a man trying to fill shoes the size of volcanoes.
He didn’t know if he could be just a brother again.
He placed a hand on Georgiana’s hair and ruffled it lightly. “I wish I could go to America.”
She peered up at him in shock. “You do?”
Adam nodded, forcibly shoving the million doubts out of his mind. She didn’t need to know his worries. She needed to know it would be all right.
He moved to sit in the closest chair. He gestured toward her and she came to sit on his lap. “America is an adventure, Georgie. So much to see, so many possibilities.”
“I don’t want adventure. I want home.”
“My little sister doesn’t want adventure? Since when? What of all the times you set out to conquer the wilds of Merewood lands? Or how you learned to swim when you were but two years old?”
“I did?” she asked with a sniffle. “That was smart of me.”
He laughed and gave her a quick hug. “Yes, it was. And soon, you get to visit a new world, to see new places. You can come back here to visit, but there is a whole unexplored life ahead of you.”
Interest flickered in her expression, and she pursed her lips as if pondering his words.
The parallel between what he was telling Georgiana and what Aria’s life had been thus far was not lost on him. The situations were entirely different, he knew, but the fact was that as soon as his mother and sisters left for America, they’d be living an entirely different life than the one he knew. Not only a new city, a new home, but a world separate from his. A small ache settled in his heart.
From the time he was a boy, he’d known he was the heir to a title and all the responsibilities that went with it. And much like his father had, he’d loved the land. He loved everything about Merewood, about owning and running the estates. He recalled his father teasing him one day that Merewood dirt ran in Adam’s veins, and that had made him as proud as a strutting turkey. He understood the appeal of travel, the excitement of new cities and new places.
Cloaked in Danger Page 21
