Willoughby 01 - Something About Her

by Jeannie Ruesch

  “No, I most assuredly should not, however….” She paused and looked down. When she looked up again, her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “Is the Duke at home?”

  Blythe did not know what to say. She didn’t know what Anne was aware of.

  “Please forgive my rudeness. He…the Duke came to see me a while back. He gave me this address to reach him if I needed anything in the immediate future. He told me….” She stopped and wiped at a tear that fell from her cheek. “I am sorry.” Her voice was hoarse.

  “You do not need to apologize.” Blythe set her hands in her lap, uncertain what to do.

  Anne took a deep breath and looked at her. “I know Thomas died. Your husband was kind enough to come to see me personally and tell me there was an accident.”

  “Accident?” Adam asked, frowning.

  Anne looked at him. “The duke said Thomas was in an accident of some kind. But to be honest, he was quite vague and I cannot help but feel he was not telling me the truth.” She turned to Blythe. “That is why I am here. I need to know what happened to my husband.”

  Husband.

  Blythe realized in that very moment that Anne was asking for answers, answers Blythe herself had searched for. Answers that Anne had a right to know, just as much as Blythe did.

  Her mother had asked her to put herself in Michael’s shoes. Well, she had been in Anne’s shoes. Blythe had lived for a year after Thomas’s disappearance with nothing but questions. She refused to do that to the other woman.

  She took a deep breath. “Mrs. Ashton—”

  “Please, call me Anne. We are family,” she said with a small smile.

  “Anne, the Duke—-” Blythe stopped. Please forgive me, Anne. “Thomas’s death was not an accident.”

  “Blythe—-”Adam interrupted.

  Blythe ignored him. “It was a tragedy, and you need to know how it happened.”

  Fear leapt into Anne’s eyes, and she laid her hands over her belly as if to hold her child. Thomas’s child.

  The move was so reminiscent of Mabel, who had constantly rubbed her belly throughout her pregnancy, that unshed tears choked Blythe.

  She, Blythe, would want answers. But what would have Mabel wanted? Blythe was not in Anne’s shoes and never had been. For all intents and purposes, Thomas had planned a life with Anne. He’d continued to visit her, while trying to keep her separate from the disaster he’d created. Perhaps he truly had loved her.

  But more importantly, Anne had a life ahead of her with a child who would either be a reminder of the man she loved or a reminder of the man who had betrayed her.

  “Please tell me,” Anne implored.

  A child who would be a bastard if the truth was known.

  “Blythe, may I speak with you?” Urgency rang in Adam’s voice.

  Blythe looked down at her hands, fisted into tight balls, and she forced herself to loosen them. She wished she knew what was right. She wished… She took a deep breath.

  It is not always so easy to see the right path when you are in the middle of the choice. Her mother’s words hit as if with a physical force to her heart.

  But Anne deserved the truth! her head argued.

  Blythe closed her eyes. Was that really true? Why did Anne deserve that kind of pain? Thomas was gone. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

  But she could. The truth as Blythe knew it would destroy Anne’s life. Blythe opened her eyes and met Anne’s worried gaze.

  She could not destroy Anne’s life.

  She took a deep breath to prepare herself to lie. If she stuck as close to the truth as possible, it would be easier.

  “Thomas was…caught by stray gunfire,” Blythe said.

  Just as Anne gasped, Blythe glanced at Adam, who looked stunned. “Forgive me, Adam, but I need to tell Anne this.”

  He stared at her, his eyes haunted.

  “There was a robbery here. Someone was in the house, attempting to…take something, and I stumbled upon him. The man had a gun, and he was going to shoot me.” She rushed the words out in a jumble, ignoring the pangs of anger in her heart at her deception.

  “He did shoot you.” Adam narrowed his eyes. Blythe met his gaze, willing him to understand what she was about.

  “Oh my,” Anne breathed.

  “Thomas—” Blythe paused and met Anne’s eyes, round with fear. “Thomas showed up, looking for Michael, and he came upon us. He was shot.”

  Anne’s eyes glowed with tears. “How?”

  A strangled gasp came from Adam and Blythe yanked her gaze to his. She hated the vivid memories that lurked in his eyes, and she would not villianize him to make Thomas seem less than horrible.

  “The robber shot him,” Blythe said.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Adam muttered before striding out of the room. Blythe’s heart broke. She hadn’t realized it would be so hard for Adam to hear the false version of the story. But she was too far into it now to retreat.

  Just as Michael had been.

  Blythe shook her head to remove the thought. There was no room for Michael right now.

  “He died instantly,” Blythe told Anne truthfully. “He did not suffer any pain.”

  Tears fell from Anne’s face. “He came here to make things right, I know he did. He wanted it to be right for me and our child. He was such a good man.”

  The very idea of calling Thomas a decent human being, much less a good man, gnawed at Blythe’s resolve. She forced a smile and hoped it was convincing. “Thomas died while trying to revisit his past.”

  Anne wiped at tears that fell unchecked down her cheeks. “Your husband didn’t want to tell me this?”

  “I imagine he did not want to distress you with any details.” Blythe reached into a box on a side table, pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Anne. “You really should not have stress of any kind.”

  Anne smiled through her tears. “I could not sleep, I could not eat for worry of what had happened to Thomas. You would not believe the terrible things I imagined.”

  Blythe imagined the reality was likely much worse.

  Anne met Blythe’s gaze. “I thank you. I know it must not have been easy for you to tell me.”

  Adam’s haunted expression came to mind, and Blythe took a deep breath. If she had known how much it would hurt him, she might have done differently. But by that point, she had to see it through. And seeing the relief and the small measure of peace that had come over Anne, Blythe knew she had made the right choice.

  She frowned as a realization hit her. She had lied the minute she let Anne continue to believe she was Michael’s wife. Just as Blythe had gone too far to back out of the lies she had started, how could she say that Michael hadn’t made the right choice for his situation?

  She stood. “You must be exhausted. You will stay with us for the night. I could not, in good conscience, allow you back on the road.”

  Anne tried to stifle a yawn. “I find myself suddenly exhausted, so I will gladly partake of your kindness.” She stood. “I’d…like to see Thomas’s grave. His Grace said Thomas was buried here.”

  “In the morning, I’ll have someone escort you. Rest here a moment, I shall go and see to your room,” Blythe said, anxious to find her brother.

  ****

  A few hours later, Blythe escaped from the house. She had ensured Anne was settled into a room and then found her brother. He had understood her reasons and agreed with her, but it had been harder than she thought to see the hollow look still in his eyes. She feared it would remain for some time to come. Taking a deep breath of chilled air, she took to a pathway and arrived at her destination before she even realized where she’d been headed.

  “Hullo, my friend.” Blythe stood on the hillside in the brisk, chilled air. The still-fresh grave before her still seemed so terribly wrong. It sat among others, old and young, who’d passed long ago. Flowers sat on some, and others stood alone against the wind. And yet, Blythe could not get used to visiting her friend here.

  Blythe wa
lked over to the tombstone and knelt down to run her fingers over the cold stone, over the indentation where Mabel’s name was inscribed.

  Mabel Elizabeth Howard. Beloved mother, wife and friend. May she rest in peace.

  “I miss you,” Blythe said on an exhaled breath. She gathered her skirts together and sunk to the cool grass next to the grave, crossing her legs under her skirt. “Nothing is the same without you.”

  Blythe smiled even as tears welled in her eyes. “You would probably roll your eyes at me now and tell me what a ninny I am for letting the fine, handsome Duke get away.

  “But how do you forgive someone when you are so angry with them?” For the first time, she understood a little. That didn’t banish her anger or her hurt, but she could perhaps understand why Michael had kept his silence. If nothing else, she could not condemn him any longer, or she would be the very worst of hypocrites.

  She shook her head. “Why can I not find a man like your Arthur? He is such a good man and a good father. And little Ian is his very image. Such a handsome young boy.”

  “Thank you.”

  Blythe looked up and smiled as Arthur wound his way up the hill, Ian wrapped in a blanket in his arms. “Arthur.” She pulled herself to standing and brushed the grass from her morning gown.

  Arthur looked down at the grave, and Blythe studied him for a moment. Grief had etched a few more lines into his weathered face and added a few gray hairs at his temples. She almost smiled. How was it that men wore grief so handsomely, and women simply looked older?

  “How are you?” she asked quietly.

  “It rather depends on the moment you ask.” He held tightly to his bundle and looked at her soberly. “I planned to come to the manor house later today, but since you are here now…”

  “What is it?”

  “We’re leaving, Lady Blythe.”

  “Leaving?”

  He nodded slowly. “I have family—my sisters—in Dorsetshire. They will help with Anna and Ian and…I need to go, my lady.” He reached a hand and wiped at his tears. “It is too painful here. Everywhere I turn, there are memories of Mabel.”

  Blythe understood. Memories of someone she loved and lost seemed to hide around every corner. Her heart constricted inside her chest. More loved ones to miss.

  “What about Ian? How will you take care of him?”

  “Tessa has agreed to come with us to Dorsetshire and from there, she will return and Colleen, my youngest sister, will nurse Ian. She has a babe just six months.”

  Blythe nodded. “You shall be with family, and that is good.” And yet she was choosing to let hers leave her alone. Again.

  “If I may be so bold, Lady Blythe…” Arthur started to say. He paused, until she looked back at him.

  “Yes, Arthur?”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to my Mabel. We have hurt for all ye have been through, and Mabel would have known what to say or what to do to help.” He shifted the babe in his arms slightly. “I don’t know how to do that, but I can tell ye that love is so very precious. I had Mabel.” He paused. “And she was the love of me life.” His voice was hoarse, and tears began to fall from his eyes. “I would give everything I have for another day with her. To bring her back to me.”

  Blythe felt tears well in her own eyes. “She loved you so much.”

  “If ye love him, don’t let him go.”

  “I’ve already done that, Arthur,” she replied softly.

  The baby stirred and made mewling sounds. Arthur bounced him slightly. “Then pick up and fight with everything you have to get it back. Love is worth it. It is more important than anger, than hurt feelings. Than pride. It is everything.”

  “It isn’t a matter of whether I loved him, more a matter of his love for me.”

  Ian smiled. “Oh, he loved you plenty.”

  Startled, Blythe met his gaze.

  “I am a man, my lady. And I know well and good when a fellow’s heart has been captured. That one, the Duke — you had his heart. He deceived ye, and he lied. But he loved you.”

  From somewhere in the depths of her pain, a tiny kernel of hope flared.

  Arthur looked at Mabel’s grave and then back at Blythe. “We came to say goodbye to Mabel. Since you’re here, would you mind holding Ian for a spell so I can bid my love farewell?”

  “Of course.”

  He handed her his bundle, carefully cradling Ian’s head until she had a firm hold. Arthur moved to Mabel’s grave and sank to the ground next to the headstone, his hand resting on the ground.

  Blythe pushed back the folds of the blanket a small bit, just so she could see Ian’s tiny face. “Little Ian, your mama was the best woman I know. You grow up and make her proud.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his brow.

  Arthur stood up. “I need to take him back to Tessa.”

  “Goodbye, little Ian,” Blythe said. She leaned down, kissed his soft cheek and then handed him back. “God keep you safe, Arthur. Both of you.”

  Arthur reached out a hand, and she grasped it tightly.

  “If I’d have hurt Mabel as he hurt you,” Arthur told her, “she would have hit me with her frying pan. And then she would have kissed the bruise. That kind of love is worth any price, even the price you don’t think you can pay. That is what my Mabel would have said to you.”

  She reached out and hugged both Arthur and Ian. “Thank you.”

  He offered her a smile and turned back down the hill to head toward a new life.

  Worth any price.

  That was easy to say and rolled nicely off the tongue. Love couldn’t miraculously heal the betrayal and lack of trust. She’d been played for a fool, twice now, and…

  Worth any price.

  Love itself was simply a word. But when one attached that word to a person—to Michael—and his portion of her heart and soul, it was most definitely worth anything.

  Forgiveness is a choice.

  Love was about choices. While one couldn’t control how one felt, she could certainly control how she acted upon said feelings.

  She could choose to forgive him.

  And even as she thought it, she felt it.

  The chill in the air surrounded her, pressing icy fingers against her skin. But fragile threads of hope began to warm her from the inside.

  She loved him: enough to try to forgive the mistakes he’d made, enough to find out if they shared that love Arthur spoke of, the love worth any price.

  She looked at Mabel’s grave and then looked up at the sky with affectionate exasperation. “It would seem you still find a way to have the last word, don’t you?” She wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I hear you, my friend. I hear you.”

  She set off for the house. She had packing to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Blythe scratched the tiny ears of the kitten in her lap as she set her into the small basket. “In you go, little one.” She closed the lid on it and stifled the urge not to run back upstairs to her room.

  She was finally going to see Michael. Traveling to London had seemed to take months, although it only took six days. One hundred and forty four hours. Eight thousand six hundred and -

  “Where are you going?” Cordelia interrupted Blythe’s math equations as she wandered into the entry way.

  “To take the kitten to Bethie.”

  Cordelia snorted in a most unladylike manner. “You are going to grovel.”

  Blythe raised an eyebrow. “And how would you know this?”

  Cordelia turned a lofty expression at her. “I know you, Blythe. You should make him come to you.”

  “And your knowledge is based on…?”

  “I am a female. Capturing a man is inherent in my blood.” She lifted the lid of the basket and peered inside. “Besides, he is the one who should do the groveling.”

  “He did,” Blythe admitted as Cordelia scratched the kitten’s head. “And I not only eschewed his efforts, I insulted him, as well.” She stood up, unable to sit any longer for the nervo
us twitches running through her legs. She had to do something. “I am going to take this kitten over there.”

  “You cannot go alone.”

  “Mama is going with me.”

  “Mama is not home yet,” a voice piped through the open doorway that led into the front parlor.

  Blythe followed the voice. “Goodness, Lily, I didn’t know you were in here.”

  Lily blushed, as she was wont to do when she was discovered in a room, as she often was, after a revealing conversation. “I could not help but overhear.”

  Blythe turned around the sofa. “Where did Mama go?”

  “She went to pay a call on Lady Bainbridge. She heard a bit of gossip that she wanted to confirm.”

  Blythe let out her breath in frustration. “Blast it.” She looked about. “Where is Adam?”

  Cordelia had walked to the sideboard and grabbed a scone. “Gone for the day.”

  “I shall go without them. I can take Mary.”

  “Blythe, you will ruin your reputation,” Lily said.

  “I’m a widow, Lily. I am hardly scrutinized as a debutante would be.”

  “There is likely scandal enough about Thomas. You could ruin our chances of a respectable future if you add our family to it.” Cordelia took a small bit of her scone. “If I have to sit on you for you to remain here, I shall.”

  “Cordelia, you are exaggerating. No one cares what I do.” Though secretly she almost wanted to give in and wait. She was terrified of having the kitten snatched out of her arms and the door slammed shut in her face. That might be easier to face if she could hide behind her mother. She doubted the Duke would slam the door shut in her face. “I have to do this. It’s not as if he’s going to come to me.”

  Considering he had no idea she was here at all.

  “There is the ball at the end of the week,” Cordelia suggested. “If you’d like to wait until then, I would be happy to accompany you.”

  Blythe wrinkled her nose. “Ever so kind of you, Cordie, but you know you must make your court debut before Mama will allow you to any balls, and that isn’t for another week.”

  “It would have been four weeks ago, when the season started if we hadn’t had to go to Rosemead in the first place.” Cordelia stuffed a piece of scone in her mouth and fixed a scowl on her face. “You are ruining my chances at a good match.”