…
Aiden heard the front door slam some minutes later.
Had she gone already?
He couldn’t believe he’d actually said the words that passed his lips, though now other words came easily to mind. Stupid. Fool. Insane. Life without Tess seemed unfathomable and yet he’d told her to go, for God’s sake!
Definitely a fool.
Aiden stabbed at the envelope in his hand with the letter opener. The cream parchment easily tore apart. There was no postmark, and though the script seemed vaguely familiar, his attention wasn’t focused on letters at this moment, but on Tess—and his stupidity.
He began to read, then stopped, only to start again from the beginning.
Dear Brother, I am mortally sorry for my stupidity—
Jasper!
Aiden breathed a sigh of relief. At last he is admitting his foolishness. He continued reading.
You are right. I have squandered my monies without thought to where it comes from, living beyond my means. Times must change. I have an opportunity to put things right, a chance to make a new life in the colonies. Please meet me at the Joker’s Inn on the Isle of Dogs as the Lady Annabelle leaves on the fourteenth of February.
Your loving, ever repentant brother, Jasper.
Leaving? On the fourteenth.
That was tomorrow.
Sorrow filled Aiden’s heart. And remorse. Had he forced Jasper to seek a life elsewhere? Mary did not need him anymore, exactly as Tess said. Now Jasper intended to travel to the colonies and make a new life.
And Tess? Independent, strong, stubborn, and determined Tess. Sweet Tess. He’d told her to leave.
Fool! When she came back he would tell her he had been wrong. For so long he’d been so hell-bent on bringing Nash to justice it had blinded him to the truth. That Tess was innocent. He would tell her…apologize…ask her to stay.
“Barlow!” Aiden’s shout for his butler echoed through the household as he exited the breakfast room.
The man came scurrying instantly. “Your Lordship?”
“Jasper is leaving for the colonies and I intend to stop him. Get my horse ready. I head to the Isle of Dogs immediately.”
Barlow went to leave, but Aiden clamped a hand on his shoulder. “And another thing. Has her ladyship come back yet?”
“No, sir. She’s still out walking. She said she needed some fresh air.”
Aiden relaxed a fraction. “Thank God. Do you know which way she went?”
“No, m’lord. Is there a problem?”
“Only one of my making, but unfortunately I cannot wait for her return. With the ground as frozen as it is, travel will be slow and I must get to Jasper before he departs. Tell her…” Aiden scrubbed a hand through his hair.
Think. Think, Goddamn it.
“Tell my wife when she returns…no insist that she not go anywhere until I return.” Aiden dragged a hand across his eyes. “Dear God, I told her to leave, Barlow, but…” He clutched the man’s arm. “Make sure she stays, Barlow. Hell, if you have to lock her inside, do so. She must not go before I have the chance to—”
“Never fear. I understand.”
Aiden only hoped his trusted servant did.
“Her Ladyship is a brave woman, and loved, m’lord.”
“Aye, she is.”
Just then, Aiden spied Alexander’s forlorn face peering through the banister at the top of the stairs. Another mistake he need put right.
A brave wife. And a brave son. Such blessings.
He took the stairs to where Alexander sat and sank down onto the step beside him. “Do you want to talk?”
The little boy’s eyes were wide, fear-filled. “You will not shout at me?”
Aiden chastised himself. How could he have instilled such fear in his son? A sigh rumbled from his chest. Thinking those words…his son…felt…good. Wonderful.
Blood did not matter. Only this little boy mattered. And Tess. And his brother. First he had to find Jasper.
“No, Alexander, I will not shout.” He patted the space beside him, and though still wary, Alexander released his white-knuckle grip on the railing and shifted furtively toward him.
Aiden stared down the length of the staircase, then turned to his son. “You know, sometimes,” he said, “I am foolish.”
Surprise registered in the boy’s sweet face.
“Papas are meant to be wise, but sometimes we make mistakes.” Big ones.
“Mama says we should learn from our mistakes.”
Mama. Not Lillian. Tess. His Tess.
“Your mama is a wise woman.”
“Wiser than you?”
Aiden’s mouth curved into a true smile, and inside he felt his heart smile too. “Most surely wiser than me.”
“But she cannot make snowmen as good as you, Papa.”
Adoring eyes stared up at Aiden and for the first time in his entire life he felt the enormity of parenthood along with the joy and overwhelming sense of responsibility.
Snowmen? Damn it, he’d promised.
“Alexander.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Papa!
Aiden’s chest swelled with pride. It was as if it were the first time he’d heard that.
Papa!
“I need to go find your uncle Jasper.”
“Is he lost?”
Aiden hesitated a moment, then realized the perception of the young. “Yes, Alexander, yes he is, and he cannot find his way home. So I must go and help, but that also means I cannot make a snowman with you today.”
Alexander pondered that for a moment, tipping his head one way, then the other. “Papa, does that mean we can make one tomorrow?”
Oh, sweet Jesus!
Sliding his hand down his thighs, Aiden stood. “I will be back soon and then I promise we will make the biggest snowman in all of England.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Whooping with delight, Alexander climbed atop the stair railing and scooted down its length, shouting all the way. “A snowman, the biggest in England and my papa and I are going to make it.”
Rumbling laughter burst from Aiden’s chest, mingling with that of his son’s. Father and son. Together. It felt good. Right.
He’d remedied one wrong. Now he had more to attend to.
Chapter Seventeen
The path of life is a wandering
Never true, nor easy shall it be
But there is Lord a rambling
until his eyes and heart can see
Mirabelle’s Musings
February 13th 1814
With the low-lying mist circling and roads icy underfoot, Aiden’s journey from Charnley to the Creekside ferry dock proved dangerous. Finally, with the dock in sight, he reined in Phantom. The horse pawed at the ground, his impatience as blatant as his rider’s.
Dismounting, Aiden drew his fur-lined cloak about him, unsure if he would ever feel warm again.
In Tess’s arms you will.
His jaw clenched. Tess. His Tess. God, how he wanted to be home. To find her. Hold her. Apologize.
He only hoped she wouldn’t get it into her stubborn brain to ignore Barlow’s plea on his behalf.
Wrapping the reins around a post he went in search of the ferryman.
Huddled beneath the overhang of a shanty by a dilapidated dock he spied a wayfarer. “You! Where’s the ferryman?”
The man’s red-rimmed eyes swiveled in Aiden’s direction. “Back soon.” He took a swig from a stone vessel hooked over several fingers. Dribbles of whatever the man imbibed trailed down his chin before he wiped them away with the filthy sleeve of his threadbare tunic.
Aiden tossed him several coins. “Get yourself a hot meal, old man, ’tis too cold to be out in this weather.”
“What’s ye hurry?”
Despite the man’s state of inebriation, Aiden witnessed his interest. He couldn’t blame him; only fools would venture out in such harsh weather, which was exactly what he’d been. Every kin
d of fool.
Impatient to keep going, his foot tapped against the solid ice beneath his feet, the echo a hard thud.
“’Tis unbreakable,” the vagrant called. “The river is frozen over three feet thick in parts.”
Aiden frowned, staring down at his black-booted feet, a stark contrast to the gray-white ice. He tapped at it again. Three feet thick? Would he be able to cross the river? God, he hoped so. He didn’t have time for a convoluted journey.
Just then, the ferry master appeared out of the mist. Icicles hung from the brim of his hat and his bushy brows looked more like a ridge of ice across his forehead.
“I need to cross,” Aiden said as the man came close.
“Not going anywhere. You’ll need to take the road up to Surrey Docks near Rotherhithe.”
Urgency spurred Aiden on. “I can make it worth your while.” And to prove his point he dug into his coat pocket and withdrew several large gold coins.
The man’s eyes widened with interest. He reached out to the coins, but Aiden curled his fingers up, closing them from reach.
“Two now, and two when you get me to the other side,” he promised.
The man’s weather-beaten face spread into a wide grin. “Make it three now and three later, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Aiden didn’t hesitate, but offered a sharp nod. “We leave immediately.”
“In a hurry then,” the ferry master scoffed. “The regular boat can’t get through the ice, but me flat bottomed barge might make it. Not so much resistance, but it won’t hold out for much longer.”
“So let’s go. I need to get to the other side.”
Thankfully, the man didn’t delay and turned to walk back the way he’d come, muttering about the young whelps of today being impatient.
Aiden followed. He wouldn’t rest easy until he’d seen Jasper, but more importantly, until he returned to Charnley and to Tess.
The journey across the frozen width of the Thames on the barge, which was more like a few bits of wood tied together, proved slow beyond measure and increased Aiden’s frustration as each minute passed with minimal movement.
“Can you not speed up?”
“Not if you want to arrive in one piece, I can’t.” The man muttered about impatient travelers, but Aiden ignored him.
Finally, as they drew alongside a wharf on the Isle of Dogs, Aiden doffed his hat at the boat master and gathered up Phantom’s reins, ready to lead him off. He hesitated a moment. “Do you know the Joker’s Inn?”
“That place? You’d do well to steer clear. Ne’er a seedier place be along this river’s edge.”
“The directions, if you please.”
The man snorted, but pointed to his right. “Head that way, about a mile down. You’ll hear the revelers before you see the place.”
Aiden passed from ferry to solid land. One glance up and down the embankment confirmed no ships, big or small, were readying for the ocean.
Disquiet swirled in his brain. Something wasn’t right.
Digging in his pocket, he retrieved the remaining coins he owed the ferryman and tossed them to him.
The man promptly bit down on one and then grinned his pleasure. “Just testing,” he said with a chuckle. “Ne’er can tell these days and with you going to the Joker…well,” he said, taking off his cap momentarily and scratching at the icicles hanging from it before repositioning it. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
He turned from Aiden and pushed off with the large paddle. It slid across the ice and the ferry remained motionless. “’Ain’t no hope in Hades of getting back,” he said with a resigned shrug. “Guess I’m stuck here for a while.”
Determined not to waste a moment longer, Aiden headed along the path. The ferry master proved correct, the dissonance of revelers reached him before he sighted the establishment.
With one hand curled around his pistol grip, he turned the corner and scanned the outside of the Joker’s Inn. That Jasper wanted to meet in such a disreputable place still plagued him. However he had no time to second-guess his brother.
He tethered Phantom to a secure post rail behind the building and entered the inn.
In an instant, the room fell eerily silent as every set of eyes swiveled toward him. He clutched his pistol even tighter and did a quick mental tally of the patrons. Thirty, at least. If they converged, he wouldn’t have a scrap of protection.
Thankfully, within seconds the revelry erupted again, their attention drawn away from him by the ale in front of them or by the presence of a woman offering other enticement.
Aiden breathed a sigh of relief, though his hold on his pistol remained firm.
Though the light offered from the lanterns swinging from rafters across the large room was feeble, he scanned the room several times. There was no sign of Jasper.
Disappointment swirled. Had he already departed?
On the back wall, several slabs of wood atop strategically placed barrels served as a bar of sorts. Aiden strode over and dropped his hat onto it. “A rum, if you please, and make it a large one.”
“A cold night,” the innkeeper said as he poured Aiden’s drink.
“Cold is putting it mildly.”
“So what brings you out?” The man recapped the bottle, but Aiden motioned for him to leave it. He downed his drink in one long, burning gulp.
“Another?”
“Until I thaw,” Aiden acknowledged. He turned and gazed about him again. Still no Jasper. “I’m looking for my brother Jasper Masters. He was—is,” Aiden corrected, “to meet me here.”
The man’s expression froze. “‘E’s already here.” The man’s gaze shifted across to the other side of the room.
Aiden followed it. Nothing there but a ragged length of fabric hanging partially across the wall.
“Where is he?”
“Behind that curtain be a door. Go down the stairs.”
“Downstairs? What on earth is he doing down there?”
The man shrugged, but kept his gaze averted. “No idea.”
Aiden had thought if Jasper were anywhere in this hovel other than the bar, it’d be upstairs, maybe a last moment with a woman before he set off to territories unknown. “Has he taken a room?”
“Of sorts. Down there, m’lord,” the barman reiterated.
Aiden downed the remainder of his drink, placed his tumbler on the bar, and with a sense of foreboding inching down his spine, sought out his pistol beneath his cloak for comfort and walked toward the curtained door.
Not hesitating, he opened it, greeted by the muted flare of several tallow candles lining the side of the stairway. Waiting for his eyesight to adjust, and using his free hand as a guide, he made his way downstairs until he reached the bottom. “Jasper, where the hell are you? Jasper? Is this some game?” If it was, Aiden was definitely not happy. He wanted to be home with Tess, not chasing his brother into the pit of some slop house.
“Welcome, Lord Charnley. I did wonder if you would come.”
Aiden spun round a moment too late as something plummeted down on his skull— the same moment realization kicked in. The innkeeper had called him m’lord! The man knew who he was.
…
He wanted her gone. Gone!
Tess stomped down the path, ignoring the frozen ground beneath her, even knowing that with one wrong move she would end up flat on her back.
A thief of the roads. An informant. That’s what Aiden thought of her. She wanted to cry, but the moment she did the tears crystallized into frozen droplets on her cheeks. “Oh, Aiden.”
Then there was Alexander. Aiden’s son—but not his son. Was it any wonder he had been so vitriolic whenever she questioned him about the child? A man as loyal and steadfast as her husband would have felt his wife’s betrayal intensely. And now he accused her of betraying him, too.
Her heart ached for her husband, for his pain, for the life that was stolen from him by Lillian’s betrayal. But he still had a son in Alexander.
She kept on wa
lking. Part of the river had frozen and as she negotiated its edge, she tried to ignore her chattering teeth. Tiredness had seeped into her bones, every inch of her desperate to lie down. To sleep. Even her lungs hurt to breathe.
She would rest a while. Just a moment. That’s all.
Spying an upturned tree trunk, Tess went to brush the snow from it, but the snow was frozen solid. Uncaring, she plunked herself down. A rest. Then she would go home…
No, not home any longer.
A tearful hiccup purged from her throat. She would return to the Hall to pack up and then leave forever.
“You’ll freeze if you sit there much longer.”
The witch.
Tess lifted her head, though it felt so, so heavy. “It doesn’t matter. At least the cold numbs the pain.”
“Love does that.”
Through lashes that had nearly frozen together, Tess peered at the woman. “You know.”
“Of course, ’tis clear to see,” she said with a gentle smile, “why else would a woman wander in such God awful weather if it wasn’t because of love?”
“Unrequited love,” she countered. “He distrusts me and thinks the worst.”
“He also loves you.”
“No. No.” She shook her head, or tried to, but it took too much effort. “You’re wrong, he is sending me away.”
“Then his Lordship is a fool.”
“Quite possibly. He seems to send everyone he loves away. Jasper. Alexander. Me.”
“The boy. ’Tis hard for him with no mother.”
“He calls me Mama and I have come to love him as thus, but Aiden does not care one iota.”
“He does. He’s just too afraid to show it. Come with me, my lady. You need sustenance and warmth.”
“Sleep is what I need. And love returned.”
The witch reached for her hand. “Lean on me, child.”
With dwindling strength, Tess began to walk, only to glance down at her feet, surprised they were moving, for she could barely feel them.
No matter. Perhaps it was better that way. Maybe the numbness would reach her heart, for the pain there seemed almost unbearable.
Inside the small cottage the witch called home, Tess stood stock-still.
“Sit down, dearie,” the woman instructed. She led Tess to a rickety chair, the cover threadbare and grayed with age.
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