She’d wondered at first if perhaps he was weeping for everything he’d suffered, everything he’d lost, everything he’d missed. But when she looked more closely, the fact that his eyes were dry made his desolation somehow worse.
She raised a shaking hand to touch him, then thought better of it. Tension hummed around him like a thousand angry bees.
“Should I go?” she asked unsteadily, fighting her impulse to fling her arms around him and draw his head against her breast, to comfort him the way she comforted Kerenza.
But Kerenza, for all her quirks and intelligence, was a child. Robert was an adult man. A hug, however loving, wouldn’t solve his problems.
He blinked as if struggling to make sense of her question.
“I should go,” she said in a thick voice. She turned away, although leaving him in the dark, alone and distressed, went against every instinct.
He shifted infinitesimally. If she hadn’t been so attuned to his slightest reaction, she wouldn’t have noticed.
Still, it was clear that he wanted his own company, and she was an intruder into thoughts too bleak for sharing. She stepped back so the candle no longer shone such a cruel light on his stark expression.
“No,” he said, almost inaudibly.
Chapter Fifteen
* * *
Morwenna paused and regarded Robert intently through the gloom. “No?”
That muscle in his cheek was back to its erratic flickering. His face was drawn and austere, with the skin stretched tight over the bones. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted her to stay.
She sucked in a breath that tasted of defeat. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
“No.” More loudly this time. He reached out to catch the filmy material of her skirt. “Wait.”
She cast him a troubled glance, but didn’t retreat. When he realized she wasn’t going to move away, he dropped his hand.
She set the candle on another chest and dragged up a trunk to sit on, disturbing a cloud of dust. She didn’t touch him, but remained within touching distance if he decided he needed physical contact. “Are you ill?”
His lips twisted downward. “Only in my mind.”
She shook her head. “You’re not mad.”
He gave a snort of self-derision. “It might be easier if I was.”
“Don’t say that.” After what he’d been through, some men would have lost their senses. But whatever else ailed him, his wits remained as dauntingly sharp as they’d ever been.
A thorny silence descended between them.
“What can I do?” she asked eventually.
With a shaking hand, he grabbed her wrist, the way he’d grabbed it that first night. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t mind. She could see he teetered on the edge of disintegration.
“Just...just stay with me.”
“Of course.”
For a further interval, they sat unspeaking. Slowly his awful tension receded. At last, she took a chance on him being ready to talk.
“Why the attics?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Then he started to speak slowly, as if unsure whether he’d muster the words. “I was asking Kerenza about her favorite toy. She wanted to know what had been mine.”
Ah. “The ship.”
In the shadows, she heard rather than saw him put the toy down on the bare wooden floorboards. “Yes.”
She could imagine how memories of his childhood had overwhelmed him when he’d found the ship. Memories of his childhood, and his forsaken dreams of a brilliant naval career. “I worried...I worried perhaps you had a problem with Kerenza.”
“No. She’s absolutely delightful.” He slid his hand down and linked his fingers with hers. “Just like her mother.”
He spoke more naturally, but she didn’t fool herself that he was anywhere near ready to come downstairs. At least he no longer clung to her like a drowning man snatched at flotsam to save himself from sinking.
“That’s odd.” Gently she squeezed his hand. “In my opinion, she’s just like you.”
“In looks, perhaps, although I think she’s most like Helena. But her brightness and her joy are yours, all yours.”
Absurdly she found herself blushing. “Thank you.”
“It’s...”
She finished his sentence when she realized he couldn’t. “It’s all been overwhelming.”
His fingers flexed against hers. “Yes,” he admitted in a muffled voice. “The change in my circumstances has left me staggering. It’s only weeks since I was locked up, awaiting execution.”
Horror rippled through her. He hadn’t mentioned that before. She was more certain than ever that he’d kept the worst of his ordeal to himself to protect people’s feelings. “It’s too soon for you to feel safe.”
His free hand made a sweeping gesture. “Coming home has been like entering a mythical kingdom. None of it feels real. None of it, except you. And now Kerenza.” He made an impatient sound deep in his throat. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
He paused, then went on in a low voice. “I’ve spent five years freezing cold or boiling hot. I’ve never been clean, or at ease, or dressed in anything but rags. I never had enough to eat, and I was always in pain from a beating.”
His hand clenched on hers to the point of discomfort, and she bit her lip to stifle a protest. Sour bile rose in her throat as she thought about his captivity. Yet she didn’t dare speak, in case he stopped. In the cold light of day, she’d never get him to confess so much.
“Then I come home to a loving family and every comfort. It feels insubstantial, like it could all be ripped away in a heartbeat. It feels…wrong.”
She licked dry lips. “Give yourself time.”
“I know. But I can’t feel I deserve all the blessings that...” His voice cracked and faded.
Unable to stop herself, although she didn’t know whether he wanted her comfort, Morwenna leaned forward to run her hand down his cheek. The tender caress said all the things words couldn’t. His beard prickled under her touch.
“Of course you do.” Her heart threatened to crack. She loved him so much. If only she could make him see himself the way she saw him. As someone strong and brave and resilient, despite all the damage the world had tried to do to him. “You deserve everything marvelous that heaven can grant. Don’t you know that?”
“No. No, I don’t think I do,” he said in a dull tone. He went on before she could gather an argument. “It’s like every nightmare has turned into a dream come true. I’m back with my loving family. I have a chance at a useful, happy life. I have a daughter who makes me so proud, I’m ready to burst.”
Warm moisture soaked the fingertips that lay against his face, and she was desperately glad that she’d shifted the candle away. These tears would help to heal him, but he hadn’t yet abandoned his pride, despite this aching vulnerability. He’d hate to break down in front of her like this.
He went on in a whisper. “I have a wife who says she loves me.”
For a moment, the words hung in the air, as if written in fire on the shadows. He had heard and understood her. She hadn’t been sure.
Where did this leave them? She noticed he wasn’t rushing to tell her he loved her in return. She lifted her hand away from his face. “Do you doubt it?”
“I did. I don’t anymore.”
“I know how it looked with Garson...”
He made a sweeping gesture. “It’s forgotten. I know how you grieved. I’ll never forgive myself for causing you such pain.”
She summoned a smile, although she doubted that he could see it. “Yes, I was wretched without you. But you’ve also given me so much joy.”
“Kerenza.”
“Kerenza, of course. But just you. I wondered if I’d mistaken how alive you make me feel. But I hadn’t.” She paused, and spoke the words that had been true from the moment she first saw him. “I love you, Robert. Forever.”
His
hand tightened on hers. “The need to come back to you was all that kept me alive.”
That was something. That was a lot.
Childish to be disappointed that he didn’t respond to her declaration with a declaration of his own. She knew—who better?—the demands the last days had placed on him. After all this turmoil, she couldn’t blame him if he had no idea of what he felt about anything, let alone the wife he hardly knew anymore. “I’m glad.”
“So am I.”
A silence fell, less fraught than the last one, thank heaven. Because the atmosphere was easier, and because it was dark and he wouldn’t read the desperation on her face, she spoke. “I hope one day you’ll love me the way you once did.”
She heard a sharp intake of breath, and he snatched his hand away from hers. “What the devil?”
She summoned all her courage. “I love you. I want you to love me.”
“Who the hell says I don’t?” he asked, sounding angry.
She stood on legs that felt like string and wished she hadn’t broached this issue now. Hadn’t she spent the last two days lecturing herself about not putting any pressure on him? Her sigh was desolate. “I’m sorry, Robert. It’s not the time.”
He stood, too, and caught her arm. “Why in Hades don’t you think I love you?”
“You haven’t said anything,” she said flatly, although she made no attempt to pull away.
“Damn it, Morwenna, I’ve tupped you every chance I got.”
“You’ve been alone a long time,” she said stubbornly, knowing she should let this go.
“And you’re convenient? That doesn’t flatter either of us.” He sucked in a furious breath. “You should be able to judge my feelings by my actions.”
“Why?” she snapped.
“Because you love me.”
“And did you know that before I told you?”
“I hoped.”
“Well, so do I. And I’ve said I’m willing to wait.”
He slumped back onto the chest, his anger abruptly evaporating. “The last time I told you I loved you, I was a whole man, instead of a half-mad ghost, returned from the dead.”
She bit back a gasp of dismay. Dear heaven, she should have realized what was wrong. Hadn’t she already read the shame that lay beneath his relief at being home?
“You’re a whole man to me, Robert. You’re...everything. And I don’t care that you’re exhausted and scarred and eaten up with your agonizing memories.” She bit her lip, cursing her inability to express what she felt. “No, that’s wrong. Of course I care. But the most important things of all—the only really essential things—are that you came back to me, that you’re alive, and that we have a chance to be together.”
“But I’m not the person you fell in love with.”
“Nor am I. I’ve lived through years of sorrow, and I’ve raised your child, and I’ve had experiences you’ll never be part of. Does that mean you can never love me?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
She struggled not to take too much encouragement from that. Her wish for a happy ending had already caught her out today. She straightened and stared at him through the darkness. “Then look at things from my point of view.”
“I have. I don’t see why the devil you’d want me.”
“Because I love you.” She paused and swallowed before she asked the one question that truly mattered. “Do you love me?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, her heart contracted into a hard little kernel of misery. Then his breath escaped in a heavy sigh, and he stared at the floor. “I’m not worthy to love you.”
That sounded promising, if she discounted his stupid, masculine pride. “Does that mean you don’t love me?”
He gave a grunt of laughter, genuine laughter, however sardonic, and lifted his head to stare at her with wary eyes. “Of course it doesn’t.”
She’d gone too far to let him get away without saying the words. “So you do love me?”
His lips twisted in self-derision. “You never used to nag.”
“Robert,” she said in warning.
He spread his hands, and she saw those straight shoulders that bent under the weight of so much loss loosen as he finally surrendered. “Yes, damn you, Morwenna, I love you.”
Thank God. She sucked in her first full breath since this conversation started. New hope cautiously fluttered to life. Surely this meant that everything was going to be all right. She hadn’t been mistaken to trust that now Robert was back, they could solve every other problem. It might take time. But then with him here, fate granted them a lifetime.
“You could say it a bit more nicely.” She tried to speak lightly, but the tightness of her throat defeated her.
He loomed up beside her, tall and powerful, and above all hers, and she shivered with animal awareness. She’d only shared this link with one man—and she’d believed him lost to her forever. The fact that he’d come back remained a miracle in her eyes. She’d never take their love for granted.
“I don’t know whether I want to kiss you, or give you a good shaking,” he said drily.
His nearness warmed her skin, although he hadn’t yet touched her. “I think I know.”
He gave a low growl of frustration. “But first you want me to spread my heart out before you.”
“Yes, please.”
With him standing in front of the candle, she couldn’t see his expression. But when he cradled her face, his touch was tender. The sweetness seeped through her like new honey on fresh bread.
She waited for more reluctance, but his voice emerged serious and calm and certain. “Morwenna Nash, you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved. I’ll love you until the day I die. Without you, I’m nothing. Now I’ve come back to you, I swear I’ll devote every minute of the rest of my life to making you happy.”
Oh, dear. Be careful what you asked for. It was her turn to start crying.
“For...” She stopped to swallow the jagged rock blocking her throat. “For a man who had trouble stringing two words together, you can certainly rise to the occasion when you have to.”
Robert leaned in and kissed her. She tasted the salt of her tears—and perhaps a few of his, too. The kiss was gentle, the way they’d kissed when courting all those years ago. And it held a poignant touch of innocence that made her weep anew.
Robert drew away slowly, as if he, too, didn’t want the magic to diminish. “Now, my love and my wife, let’s leave this place of darkness, and go downstairs into the light.”
Epilogue
* * *
Richmond Park outside London, May 1837
“Here are Sally and Charles,” Amy said, waving to the newcomers from where she stood with Morwenna on a rise above the river.
As her friends’ elegant carriage rolled onto the broad field beside the Thames, Morwenna looked up from the baby daughter sleeping in her arms. Now everyone she loved was here, it was a celebration indeed. “Oh, how lovely. I thought they might have stayed in Italy this spring.”
“You know they hate to miss Vernon’s picnic.”
Every May, Vernon and Helena, Lord and Lady West, invited family and friends to this extravagant open-air gathering. Morwenna wasn’t sure what had started the tradition. It wasn’t anyone’s birthday, and when she’d asked if the date marked some anniversary, her brother-in-law smiled at his striking wife and didn’t answer.
Today the weather was perfect. Through some alchemy, it usually was, although once or twice they’d had to retreat to the Wests’ elegant house in Mayfair. Morwenna looked around at a scene that could have graced a medieval tournament. Flower-bedecked tents and pavilions, bowers of cushions and divans, tables groaning with food and wine. And for the guests’ entertainment, horses, gigs, dogs, boats, a maypole, archery butts, and a string quartet, doing their best to be heard above the shrieks and laughter of a crowd of overexcited children.
“I haven’t seen the Kinglakes since Christmas.” Sally and Charles had stayed at Belleville for a co
uple of weeks over the Festive Season. Morwenna had worried that her stylish, fastidious friends might find her rambunctious family too much to handle en masse, but it had turned out to be a happy reunion. She and Robert rarely came to London, and even when they did, Sally and Charles were often away traveling.
How she loved her life on the beautiful and now prosperous estate that Robert had bought from Silas seven years ago. Seven eventful years for the family, as a quick check around the field proved.
Silas and Caro were here with their four children, their oldest Roberta now fourteen and growing into a beauty like her mother. Traces of gray showed in Silas’s thick tawny hair, while Caro glowed with the contentment of a life well lived. Helena and Vernon, of course, with their three children. Fenella and Anthony Townsend had brought their son and daughter, Henry and Emily, while their older boys, Carey Townsend and Brandon Deerham, had come along to help keep the boisterous youngsters under control.
The first three Dashing Widows had found love and fulfillment and paved the way for the second trio of Dashing Widows to make their way to happiness.
Morwenna was certainly happy with how everything had worked out. Robert had wanted a big family, and fate had delivered one. Her sons, seven-year-old Michael and six-year-old Frederick, both lean and dark like their father, were playing around the boats along the riverbank. Robert’s fascination with sailing had continued into the next generation.
Her daughters Kate and Bella trailed their older sister Kerenza about the field, no doubt driving her mad. At twelve, Kerenza had to cope with endless adoration from the little girls of three and four, although most of the time, she took it in her stride. Kerenza, Morwenna was pleased to say, took most things in her stride.
She stared down at Jane, six months old, and already promising to be another child who wasn’t too fussed about unimportant things.
A bark caught her attention. Kerenza had stopped to lift Kate onto a fat piebald pony, while Bella played with Kerenza’s dog Rascal. Rascal more than lived up to his name. Morwenna often wished they’d called the black spaniel Little Angel.
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