“It sounds boring.”
Savannah laughed. “Oh, it’s freeing to admit it was. I hated every second of it. And I hated that birthday the most. For some reason, Jonas decided we should have a costume ball to celebrate my birthday. And since my birthday is March 15, that it should be Roman inspired.”
“So that people could stab each other in togas and act like they were killing Caesar?”
“Exactly. By the end of the night, I’d hoped someone had actually brought a real sword and would stab Jonas.” Savannah shuddered as she thought about that evening.
“Well then, no birthday celebration similar to that. I imagine we’d have a cake and quiet time with family.”
“That sounds perfect,” Savannah said as she squeezed his arm.
“As for our home, I’ve found another place, but it won’t be available until May first.”
“That’s fine. I’m eager to start my life with you, but I can wait. Now that the stories are in the newspaper, we no longer have to worry about newspapermen. It’s not as though there’s much of a scoop to say that I’m an unhappy woman living outside the bounds of marriage.”
“I’d sue them for using the word unhappy. For I’ve never seen you more radiant.”
***
“DELIA,” AIDAN SAID as he knocked on her door, poking his head in, noting another woman in the room with Delia. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He stilled his movement in the doorway, as though poleaxed, studying the young woman in front of him. She attempted to scoot around him and out of the room, but he blocked the only exit from the office. He reached forward and gripped her arm, causing her to look up at him in confusion.
He glanced at Delia, noting her pale expression and worried eyes. However, the young woman fascinated him, and he focused on her again. She was tall for a woman, nearly reaching his shoulders in height and had straight black hair tied back in a bun. Her bright blue eyes flashed with irritation, and her high cheekbones were flushed.
“If you’d let me pass, sir,” she said in a soft voice.
Aidan shook his head, kicking the door shut with one foot and inviting the girl to sit. He looked toward Delia, catching a glimmer of fear before she steeled herself into expressionlessness.
“Delia?” he demanded. “Is there anything you’d wish to explain?”
“Let her leave, Aidan. She has her chores to do.”
“Do you live here? Are you an orphan?” Aidan asked, clutching his hands to his side.
“Of course not,” the young woman said. “I live with my mother, Mrs. Maidstone, in the small apartment at the rear of the orphanage.”
Delia groaned softly and closed her eyes. “Zylphia, will you please leave us?”
“Zylphia,” Aidan murmured, his eyes taking in her stature, impeccable posture and work-roughened hands. He watched as she shut the door behind her before spinning to face Delia. “How could you? How could you have our child and never tell me?”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “I’m a respectable widow, raising my only daughter alone under difficult circumstances.”
He slammed his hands on the desk, causing the inkstand to bounce and topple over. She gasped, righting it and placing paper on top of the spilled ink to blot it. “Who is Mr. Maidstone? Did you trick him into marrying you, knowing you were carrying my child?”
She glared at him. “There was never any Mr. Maidstone. What was I supposed to do? You left!”
“Delia—for what, fifteen, sixteen years?—you’ve had the raising of her, and you never thought to tell me? To ask for my help? How could you think so little of me? Of what we shared?”
“You refused to stay. I begged you. I needed you here, but you wouldn’t stay. Roaming the seas was more important to you than me. Than our child.”
“Dammit, I didn’t know we were to have a child. How could I have suspected? You promised me that you’d tell me if you needed my help.”
“And you promised you’d stay, give up seafaring, if ever I asked. And you refused. That’s the value of your promise, Aidan McLeod.”
“I was out of my mind with grief. My family was dead. I couldn’t believe all I’d lost, and you were indifferent to it. Then suddenly it seemed I was losing you too.” He moved around her desk, and she swiveled to face him. He knelt in front of her, clasping one of her hands in his. “I would never have left had I known.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t turn this into my fault,” she said as she blinked furiously to prevent tears from falling. “I needed you to stay for me. If you only stayed for the child, what would you have done had something happened to the baby? Then you’d have resented me and been resigned to living a life with a woman you didn’t want.”
“I would have thought you’d known how much I wanted you in my life by the number of times we snuck out of your mother’s house,” Aidan said. He reached forward but dropped his hand as she flinched at his touch. “I can’t believe you consigned our child to a life working in an orphanage, fatherless, because of your pride.” He rose, pacing away, any concern turning into anger.
“How could you sit there and ask me how I’d feel if I were to hold my daughter in my arms again when you knew I had a living child? A child who stares at me as though I were a stranger. I’m her father. She should never doubt that I’d cherish her. Love her.” He exhaled, sitting heavily into the chair again and staring at Delia as though seeing her for the first time.
“How could you be so cruel as to not tell me? I’ve been back for weeks, and you never thought I had the right to know?”
“How was I to know you wouldn’t leave again? That you would concern yourself for her?”
He slammed his hand against the chair, then rose, kicking it viciously. “Because you should know me. You should have understood, watching me with my nephew Jeremy, hearing my stories. You should have listened, truly listened, and understood how much I value family. Instead, you’ve held your old hurts to your heart, refusing to grant me an opportunity to know my own child.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Delia pleaded.
He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.
“Not as though you despise me.”
“I do. At this moment, I do.” He took a deep breath. “The last time I was in Boston, I left with horrible words between us, and I fear the same could occur again.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and unclenching his fists. “Only you, Delia, have ever been able to move me to such anger.”
“That’s another reason we shouldn’t be together.”
“I disagree. I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m irritated or challenged by you.” He paused, and Delia saw the pain in his eyes. “And I’ve never felt a greater agony than upon realizing you still don’t trust me and that you might never trust me.”
Delia closed her eyes, a resigned sigh escaping her. “Aidan, I wrote you. I sent letters on ships leaving Boston, asking them to be delivered to you. I spoke with your Captain McIntyre. I never heard a word. I thought you’d died.”
“You tried to tell me? You wrote me?” he asked, unable to hide the eager desire from his voice to find some way to vindicate her actions.
Delia met his gaze, hers shattered while his was hopeful. “Yes. I wrote a few weeks after our argument. Even though I hated you for the things you’d said to me, my mother insisted I write you. She said, no matter what happened, it would bring me peace because I would know I’d done all I could for my child.” Delia lowered her head for a moment before meeting Aidan’s eyes again.
“When I never heard from you, I convinced myself it was because you had died. I couldn’t bear to believe it was because you no longer wanted me. That you’d forsake your child. I invented Mr. Maidstone, dead at sea. I knew enough of what seafaring life was like from your stories to concoct credible tales about our marriage. And I found a way to survive.”
“I swear, on my brother’s grave, I never received your letters. And when I left in such haste afte
r our fight, I joined the crew of Captain Aloysius. I never saw Captain McIntyre again.” Aidan clamped his jaw for a moment. “I want my daughter to know me.”
“Aidan, what good will it do her to know you when her entire life she has believed her father dead? You refused to remain here, and this is our life.”
“How can you want so little from your life?” He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, watching her with a keen intensity.
“When you stop wishing for more, you become content with what you have.”
“Well then, maybe that’s why I’ve never been content, because I always want more. I want my daughter to be a part of my life. I will not bend on this, Delia.” He rubbed his forehead, unable to hide the incredulousness he felt. “I want to have dinner with the two of you. During that dinner, if I deem it appropriate, I will tell her who I am.”
Delia flushed, glaring at him and slamming a book on her desk. “Will you listen to yourself? It’s all about what you want and what you’ll do. It’s nothing to do with what I might want or need. Nothing about us. Can’t you understand I’ve raised her for fifteen years and sharing her with you now will be …”
“Difficult,” Aidan said with a gentle smile.
“Heart wrenching,” Delia whispered. “She’s the one thing in my life I did well. I refuse to allow you to take her away from me.”
Aidan frowned. “I’ll never try to separate you from our daughter, sweetheart. I just want to have the opportunity to know her. To be a part of her life.”
Delia blinked away tears, rising to turn to stare at the bookshelf in the room.
“Why are you afraid?” Aidan rose, touching her shoulders in a whisper-soft caress. When she leaned backward slightly, Aidan traced patterns down her stiff back.
“That she’ll want your world more than mine and leave me. Then forget about me,” Delia admitted in a hoarse whisper.
Aidan gripped her shoulders and spun her to face him. He grasped her chin between his fingers. “If she’s anything like you, it’ll take more than a nice meal out and a few sweet words to charm her. She’ll be loyal and stead fast.” He pulled Delia into his embrace, holding her as she cried. “I’d never attempt to take her away from you, Delia. I know you have little faith in my promises, but I do promise you that.”
CHAPTER 22
“LUCAS, WILL YOU PLAY something for us?” Savannah asked as she settled on a settee near the fire. She wrapped her ivory shawl more closely around her shoulders, covering the rose-colored wool of her fitted gown.
“Yes, Lucas, why don’t you play the new song you performed last night? I thought it was quite good,” their father said. He settled into his gentleman’s chair, and reached out his hand for Matilda’s but was ignored.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t dress better for your own birthday celebration,” Matilda hissed as she watched Savannah take in the changes in the room.
“I have to learn to live within my means now, Mother, and they aren’t as extensive as they once were.” Savannah stroked a hand down her skirts. “This is a comfortable, fashionable and practical dress.”
“You should want more from life than that. I taught you better than that.” Matilda’s eyes flashed their displeasure.
“You attempted to teach me to look for gold in tarnished tin. I know better now, Mother,” Savannah said. She closed her eyes as Lucas played, ignoring her mother’s persistent glare.
“Savannah, how is our granddaughter?” Martin asked.
“I believe she is well. I haven’t seen her for a few weeks because she has been ill and unable to travel. Her foster parents write me as often as they can, and I just received word that it appears she is recovering. I’m hopeful to see her in a few days.”
“When can we meet her?” Martin asked, unable to hide his eagerness. Matilda made a small grunting noise of displeasure.
“I’d think the next time I see her, you’d be able to meet her, Father. And you also, Lucas,” Savannah said with a smile. Lucas played a joyous tune and winked at Savannah.
“I’d hardly consider attending a meeting with those who should never have had a hand in raising her proper. She should be with you, in your home, with her father,” Matilda said.
“I refuse to cause my daughter further torment by separating her from those who have raised and loved her as their own. Although I want her with me, I will find a way so that all of us are satisfied with the arrangement,” Savannah said. She smiled as Lucas played a gentle child’s lullaby as she spoke.
“The only satisfactory arrangement is for you to make your home with your husband,” Matilda snapped.
“Never,” Savannah rasped. “That was never my home and will never be again.”
“How are your plans with Mr. McLeod?” Lucas asked, a tune mimicking the wedding march sounding from the piano.
“They are proceeding. I’ll move in with him soon,” Savannah said.
“Savannah, don’t do this to the family,” her mother implored.
“After what she has suffered, she should be free to determine her own fate,” her father said with a severe frown at his wife.
“She will never be free of the scandal! How can you be so selfish?” Matilda asked as she leaned forward in her chair, her jaw clenched tightly as she bit back even harsher words.
“Matilda, you know we’ve discussed this. Savannah and our granddaughter will always be welcomed here, no matter their living arrangements. Their safety and happiness are of our utmost concern,” Martin said with a hint of steel in his voice.
“So you decree. But I will never believe it. And I will never believe Jonas intentionally sent away your daughter,” Matilda said as her lips turned down in a frown.
Savannah shook her head in wonder. “I should no longer be amazed at your callous disregard for me, and yet, every time, it’s as though you pierce my heart with a thousand pinions.”
Savannah held a hand to her forehead, taking a deep breath. “Lucas, will you play me something joyful? Something to help me celebrate my birthday?”
“Of course, Sav. And I can’t wait to be a doting uncle,” he said with a wink. Lucas began playing “Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home?” He inflected humor into the lyrics, while playing the piano and repeating piano solo pieces.
Savannah and her father clapped and gave small cheers when Lucas finished with a flourish. “Well done, Lucas!” Savannah said as he sat back from the piano, and the fierce concentration left him, focusing again on the room rather than the piano. “I agree with Sophie. You are wasting your talents only performing for us. They should be shared with a wider audience.”
Lucas smiled, flexing his fingers and massaging them as he relaxed.
“An interesting thought, Savannah,” Martin said. “I—”
“Isn’t this a heartwarming scene?” Jonas said as he strolled into the room.
Savannah started at the sound of his voice, tensing for a moment before trying to relax. “This is a family gathering. You are not welcome.” She tilted her head up with defiance, refusing to show him any fear.
“Ah, then I’m sure I’m most welcome as I am still a part of this family. Aren’t I, Mrs. Russell?” Jonas said as he approached Savannah.
Lucas sprang up from the piano seat, moving to sit beside Savannah.
“Matilda?” Martin asked. “Were you aware he was to visit tonight?”
“I am tired of the gossip surrounding our family, Martin. I’ve told you again and again that I will never agree with your decrees about Savannah and her life. It is time Savannah returned to her husband, as is her duty. Especially now that she has her daughter back.” Matilda sat with a rigid posture, her mouth turned down in what was becoming her customary countenance.
Jonas pinned Savannah with a severe glare, looking around as though for his daughter.
“She’s not here, Jonas,” Lucas hissed.
“I see you continue to be the unreasonable woman I discovered you to be after our unfortunate marriage. I�
��d have thought you’d be thankful for my sparing you the presence of such a … creature in your life.” He glowered at Savannah.
“Hope is a beautiful girl, and I’m only thankful she’s been spared being raised by someone like you.” Savannah clamped her jaw shut to hide its trembling.
“Brave words, wife,” Jonas said as he slapped his gloves against his palm, each cracking sound of leather against flesh eliciting a flinch in Savannah.
Martin stood, standing next to the settee where Savannah and Lucas sat. “You are not welcome here. Savannah and her daughter will never return to you, no matter how you may have been led to believe otherwise by my wife. I ask you to leave.”
Jonas’s expression lightened to one of mocking amusement. “You mistakenly believe because you outmaneuvered me with regard to your business loans that you have some influence over my personal life. You are under the impression you have any say in the matter of whether Mrs. Montgomery, my wife, returns home with me or not. You have none. She is mine, to do with as I please. And it pleases me to have her at home with me. You granted me that distinction when you gave me her hand in matrimony.”
“Consider it rescinded,” Martin snapped. “I will not have a maniacal, brutal man near my daughter again. I will not have you anywhere near my granddaughter. Do you understand me?”
“Do you truly believe that one such as you can act against one such as me?” Jonas smirked as he watched Savannah who had begun to tremble on the settee. “Mrs. Montgomery, come here. Now.”
His low, harsh words provoked a shudder and whimper in Savannah. She raised tormented eyes to him, but, rather than the defeated look he was accustomed to, she smiled with defiance. “Never. You may have been able to control me in the past with your threats and brute force, but never again. I would rather die than return to that house with you.”
Jonas appeared amused. “Interesting you should say that, my dear.” He extracted a small pistol, pointing it at her. “You are returning with me now.” He pointed it at her and then to a spot next to him. “Come along. I’ve had all I can take with the newspaper stories and the loss of esteem among my business partners from your errant ways. You have much to repent for.”
Undaunted Love (PART TWO): Banished Saga, Book 3.5 Page 21
