It's Always Been You

by Victoria Dahl

  Setting the glass against the tabletop with a distinct thump, he pressed his fingers hard against his eyelids and watched lights dance against the black with exhausted fascination. His tired mind drifted for a long moment, floating with the blurry peace liquor provided. The anger softened, the pain lost its edge. Ten minutes of time not revolving ’round Katie.

  Unfortunately, he’d used drink to dull his mind once too often in the past, and his brain ground slowly back to life, eager to remind him of the damage being inflicted to his eyes. Reluctantly lifting his face from his hands, Aidan stared blindly at the stained oak of the table.

  It was only eight, according to the distant chime of the inn’s clock. He’d planned to see her tomorrow but now had to fight the urge to rush back to Guys Lane and toss rocks at her window. She wouldn’t appreciate it; the woman obviously wanted him gone. Why the reluctance to see him? Given a choice, he would have clung to her side and stared at her for days.

  “Idiot,” he muttered darkly. She had a husband. Little wonder she didn’t know how to react to the unexpected appearance of an old lover.

  Restlessness twitched his limbs with sudden urgency, pressed at his head. Aidan surged up from his seat, wincing when the chair tipped and hit the floor with a loud clap.

  “Sorry.” Ignoring the curious stares of the few other patrons, he righted the chair and stalked out the door, moving with determination, as if he actually had some destination in mind. The need to take action clawed at him, but there was absolutely nothing to be done except stalk and glare at people. There was no changing what had happened. The past could not be corrected.

  By the time the fresh air settled the churning of his stomach and cleared his head, Aidan saw that he’d made his way to a less-than-respectable area of town. Good. One of the lounging drunks might make a move toward him; a sailor could stumble out of a tavern looking for a fight. But he walked on unmolested, unnoticed, until he finally arrived at the docks and made his way to the Valiant. She was small and sleek, and Aidan could well afford to repair her storm damage and get her sold quickly. A few repairs to make her seaworthy and she could be run up to London for a full rerigging.

  There was nothing to keep him here, nothing but Katie, and he couldn’t hang about much longer with no more reason than a need to be near her. Still, he could stay to supervise the repair job—it would take at least a week, perhaps two.

  A week or two. That would allow him time to make some peace with this situation. To say his farewells to Katie and send the past back to hell where it belonged. He kicked a cigar butt into the debris-strewn waters below, and as he watched the moon glint off the ripples it created, he wondered why his blood felt warmer beneath his skin than it had in years.

  Chapter 6

  “Mrs. Hamilton!”

  Despite her weariness, Kate felt a genuine smile tug at her lips as she finished tying up a sample of ground coffee.

  Lucy Cain had come to call. The woman was lively and bright and Kate actually liked her. Miss Cain was smart enough that she had decided not to marry. Despite her father’s grumblings, she told everyone who asked that she was happy without a husband.

  “The day is finally here!” Miss Cain trilled. “This little dinner is my favorite of the year.”

  Kate smiled. “A little dinner, is it? I understand half the town is invited.”

  She tossed her red curls over her shoulder. “Pah. My father’s business associates and every married couple in town, if I’m not mistaken. And not a soul to gossip about gentlemen with.”

  “I’m sure to be a disappointment as well then, I’m afraid.”

  Miss Cain’s eyes narrowed with mischief. “Really? And yet I hear that you’ve been strolling with a handsome gentleman, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “You . . . I . . . Pardon?”

  “Oh, indeed,” she giggled. “The baker’s wife saw you and has been joyfully spreading the news.”

  Kate rushed to her tall counter and took a seat behind it so that she could shuffle ledgers about and look busy while she panicked.

  “My word,” Miss Cain said. “You’ve turned red as a cherry, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know why.”

  “Perhaps you’ve only taken too much time in the sun.” She aimed a pointed look at the gray light in the window. When Kate didn’t answer, the girl clapped her hands. “Well, I’m relieved to see you are not so awfully serious as you have seemed. From the moment we met, I knew there was something about you I liked.”

  Kate had been confused by that from the start. Lucy Cain had brought a basket of cakes and breads before Kate had even finished arranging the shop, then she’d sat and talked with—or at—Kate for the next hour. She’d concluded that visit with the argument that there were so few young, lively women in Hull that they must band together.

  So confusing. Kate was not young and lively and felt disturbed that Miss Cain could make such a strange assumption. Kate was nearly thirty, first of all. And she was so tired. Much as she loved her shop, she sometimes wished she could stay abed all day.

  Miss Cain, on the other hand, fairly vibrated with energy. In truth, she made Kate feel very old. And she made her smile when no other could.

  “Do you have a gown?” the girl asked.

  “I do.”

  Miss Cain cast a doubtful glance around the shop. “And a girl to help you dress?”

  “I’m sure I shall manage.”

  “Nonsense! I’ll send my maid along! And the carriage too!”

  “Miss Cain, that’s unnecessary.”

  “Yes, but it shall be fun. Don’t you wish to have fun, Mrs. Hamilton?”

  Fun? It was a temptation. . . .

  Miss Cain drew close to the other side of the counter and reached out to take Kate’s hands in hers. Her gloves were dainty and white, and Kate imagined her bare hands must be too. She was so very young.

  “Mrs. Hamilton, you remind me of my sister. Have I ever told you that?”

  She wanted to draw her hands away, but the girl’s fingers curled tighter.

  “She is close to your age, but she is not free like you. You understand? She lives beneath her husband’s thumb. And you . . .”

  Kate felt a moment of pure, horrifying fear. A surety that somehow this girl had found her out. But then she met Lucy Cain’s sweet brown eyes and saw in them a wisdom she had never noticed.

  “You remind me of her,” Miss Cain repeated. “So please let me send my maid and a driver. And let us enjoy ourselves tonight, because there is no husband about to tell us we must not.”

  Inexplicably, tears clogged Kate’s throat with the suddenness of a clenching fist. What could she do but nod?

  Miss Cain gave her hands another squeeze before she stepped back. “I shall see you tonight then, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “Please,” she managed to say. “Call me Kate.”

  Her smile stretched to a blinding grin. “Yes, I think I shall. And you must call me Lucy.”

  Warmth prickled through her so quickly she pressed a hand to her chest. “All right,” she said. “I will.”

  “Mrs. Hamilton!” a gruff voice called, startling her from this new place where people called her Kate. She stood and rushed toward the alley door to find a great oxlike man standing in the doorway. She recognized him by his white curls. He was the new driver who brought supplies from Mr. Fost’s warehouse.

  “Good day, sir. Have you brought the Sumatran?”

  “I’m not right sure, ma’am. I’ve got four crates here for you. Hope one of ’em has what you like.”

  “Bring them in, please.”

  He set them in the short corridor, stacking them against the wall. “Did I hear your husband was in India, Mrs. Hamilton?”

  She glanced up from her examination of the label on the first crate. “You did.”

  “I’ve a brother there. With the John Company, ’course. Where abouts is your plantation? Perhaps you might know him. Can’t be too many Englishmen there. I reckon you all kno
w each other.”

  Neither of the first two crates was Sumatran. “The plantation is quite isolated. In Mysore. I’m sure your brother has never been there. There were no Company stations nearby.”

  “Oh, I’m sure, ma’am.”

  She stood and put her hands on her hips. “There is no Sumatran here. Will you please tell Mr. Fost that I cannot go another week without?”

  “I’ll pass that on, and hopefully I’ll be along with it shortly. Afternoon, ma’am.”

  Kate dusted off her hands, then remembered Lucy and hurried back to the counter. “I’m so sorry!”

  “Oh, please don’t apologize. I swear my father gets up from every meal at least four times to tend to some emergency. I wouldn’t know what to do with undivided attention. But I must go now. So many things to do before the party. Are you excited?”

  Kate smiled. “I suppose I am.”

  “Of course you are. It will be impossibly wonderful.” Lucy reached for Kate and clasped her tight in an unexpected hug. “I am so pleased you are coming. Good day, Kate.”

  After Lucy swept out, Kate found herself humming a waltz as she went about her work.

  Lucy had entered like a spring storm, and just as after a storm, the air of the shop felt cleaner and brighter now. She’d swept all the staleness away, and even Kate’s worries about Aidan York could not keep her from watching the clock in anticipation.

  Lucy Cain was a force of nature and Kate had finally let herself be overtaken. And it felt . . . fun. She could almost hear the slide of another stone back into place. The tragedy she’d left behind did not matter. This was a new life, and already she was stronger.

  Chapter 7

  There was no point in staring into the wardrobe. She owned only one dress that could possibly be worn to the Cains’ reception. Though it was modest and staid like the rest of her gowns, the material set it apart—a dark aquamarine silk that seemed to cast shadows upon itself when she moved. She ran a hand over the lovely fabric and felt a thrill course along her spine.

  Silly, she supposed. She’d once worn gowns of silk and lace and fabrics shot through with silver. But this was a new time, a new place, and this dress made her happy.

  She refastened her hair into a roll at the base of her neck and studied her own face in the mirror. What did Aidan see when he looked at her? She traced one finger over her cheekbone and the tiny scar that still lingered. Her face was thinner, certainly. She thought she looked tired, but perhaps the slight hollows in her cheeks sculpted her into a mysterious beauty.

  She smiled at that, and though her smile was slightly marred by the small pucker of the scar, it was a real smile. The sight of it set her eyes sparkling. She was no beauty now, if she ever had been, but she was free. And despite all her brave thoughts of living a solitary existence, she was excited about the party. And she was trying very hard not to be excited about her suspicion that he might be there. She’d been on pins and needles all day, waiting for him to step into her shop. He hadn’t, and her suspicion was growing into a knot in her stomach.

  “Mrs. Hamilton?” a tentative voice echoed from downstairs.

  “I’m here!” she called back. Lucy’s maid hurried up the stairs.

  Before Kate could finish thanking her for her troubles, the short, round maid was tugging Kate’s corset strings with brutal strength.

  “I’d say we can get another two inches off that waist, missus.”

  Kate put an alarmed hand to her stomach. “I don’t think that’s—” But she watched in amazement as the tightening stays pushed her breasts higher. Her fingers slid up to hover over the pale skin of her bosom. When she dared a breath in, the mounds of her breasts swelled. “Oh,” she breathed.

  Did she still have this body? Was she still a woman beneath all her ghosts and memories? How very strange.

  “There we are,” the maid muttered. “Lovely.”

  The maid swept the dress over Kate’s head, briefly turning her world into hills and folds of twilight seas. Wanting to hold on to the moment, Kate closed her eyes and did not open them until every tie had been tied and every hook fastened. When she opened them, she saw a stranger in the mirror. A slim and regal woman whose face showed false depths of peace and confidence.

  She realized then that she needn’t have worried she’d be recognized and connected to her parents or her departed husband. There was nothing of the rosy-cheeked optimist she’d been as a girl. And she was no longer the dull-eyed wraith she’d become in Ceylon. Not quite.

  “Are ye ready then?” the maid asked.

  Kate nodded. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

  The bodice didn’t dip low, but with the corset tightened so expertly, the barest hint of rounded bosom was visible above the neckline. Kate traced the pads of her fingers over her skin, amazed that she could look so feminine.

  She had sold all her jewelry, so she didn’t even have a brooch to pin to her dress, much less a pendant to draw the eye to her skin. But for the first time in years, she touched the barest hint of rouge to her cheeks and lips before retrieving her slippers and cloak.

  By the time the coach stopped in front of the Cain house, Kate was shaking with nervous excitement. After she handed her cloak to a footman, she clutched her reticule tightly between her hands and looked around. A thrill spiraled through her at the sight of dozens of elegantly dressed people.

  In Ceylon there had been parties, but David had never taken her. A few women had stopped by the plantation upon her arrival, wanting to know who she was and what news she had from England, like vultures picking at the carcass of her lost life. But David had sent them away.

  Eventually, they’d left her alone.

  The sound of bright laughter distracted her from her memories, and she looked up to see Lucy Cain hurrying over. Her red curls were piled high atop her head, and an emerald green dress showed off skin as pale as untouched snow.

  Kate closed her eyes as the girl hugged her. “You look so beautiful, Lucy.”

  “And you are lovely, Kate. So pretty. If your handsome gentleman is here, he will prostrate himself at your feet in worship! What is his name?”

  “Have we begun to gossip so soon?”

  “It is always time for gossip, silly.”

  “Well,” Kate murmured, “he is not my gentleman, as you know. I have no idea whether he’ll be here or not.”

  “If he is, may I borrow him for a turn about the gardens? As he seems to belong to no one.”

  Kate kept her smile bright as she answered. “Of course you may. Though I cannot say whether he belongs to someone or not. He’s merely a business associate. Now tell me all the other gossip. I am a blank page, you know. Fill me up.”

  Lucy’s eyes blazed with joy as she took Kate’s arm and swung her around. “Splendid. Let’s see who is here.”

  Half an hour later, Lucy was in the middle of the scandal of Mrs. Mortimer—who married her husband’s apprentice before Mr. Mortimer was even cold in his grave—when Kate found her eyes drifting. When she spotted Aidan York watching her from the doorway of the parlor, she didn’t feel even a twitch of surprise.

  In that moment, she knew she had dressed for him. When she’d smoothed her hair and touched pink to her lips, she had known he would come.

  Lucy’s words snapped to a stop when he drew near.

  “Mrs. Hamilton,” he murmured. “You look amazingly lovely.” His deep voice stroked over her as he offered a bow.

  “Mr. York,” she said in answer, her chest so tight she had to look away from him. “Miss Cain, may I present Mr. Aidan York of . . .”

  “London,” he filled in.

  “Oh, sir!” Lucy trilled. “What an honest pleasure.”

  He bowed over her hand. “I have cause to do business with your father on occasion, Miss Cain.”

  “Are you a sailor, sir?”

  “I am in shipping,” he answered, bringing a frown to Kate’s brow. She had been so eager to avoid examination that she hadn’t asked a single thing ab
out him. Shipping. What could that mean? When she’d known him, he’d been the second son of a modest baron, with nothing to recommend him as a husband. Nothing except his wit and smile and gentle hands. Nothing except his love.

  Aidan’s warm laugh filled the space around her, and Kate blinked herself back to the present.

  “Coffee,” he was saying. “I’ve provided Mrs. Hamilton a shipment once or twice.”

  “Oh?” Lucy chirped. “I had no idea importers provided such immaculate service, sir. I am thoroughly impressed.”

  Aidan’s answering smile was all charm and affection. “May I offer my service to you now by delivering punch? Or perhaps champagne?”

  “Oh, champagne!” Lucy insisted. “Thank you, Mr. York.”

  His smile touched on Kate for a bare moment, and she felt it like a charged arc between them.

  “Kate,” Lucy hissed as he walked toward a servant.

  “My goodness. That is him, isn’t it? The man the baker’s wife saw you walking with?”

  “He . . . he’s an importer, as he said,” she stammered, her lie making her words skip like stones on a river.

  Lucy wisely ignored her. “He is so very handsome! And the way he looks at you . . .”

  “He hardly looked at me at all.”

  “Exactly. He could not bear it, Kate!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered as Aidan walked back with two glasses. “I am a married woman!”

  “Ladies.” His voice was all rumbly good humor. She actually shivered at the sound of it.

  “Thank you, Mr. York,” Lucy said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must greet some of our other guests. A buffet is being served in the ballroom. Perhaps you might escort Mrs. Hamilton to a table?”

  Kate knocked her elbow hard against Lucy’s but the girl didn’t even wince before she walked away with an innocent smile.

  Aidan offered his arm. “I have worried about the state of your stomach.”

  She pressed a hand to her waist. “Pardon?”

  “The war with your stove. I assume it is a drawn-out affair? The beast is clearly a hated and vicious adversary.”