by Sadie Bosque
“Is that all?” Blake peered at his friend’s face. “Is that everything they say about the Shadows?”
Ford nodded with a bemused expression. “As far as I know.”
“You’ve never heard of any mark they wear on their body? Something that might identify them?”
“No.” Ford narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“I think that’s what their leader was looking for. And after he didn’t find it—whatever it was—he became angry that they got the wrong man and ordered me killed.” He shook his head, lost in memory. “He saw my signet ring while he performed the search. Perhaps that’s the part that got him angry. Whether he had been looking for something else, I do not know. But he realized I was an aristocrat and most likely decided that killing me would be better than demanding ransom. Capturing a peer is as much offense as killing one, so he doubtless thought it wise not to leave the witness around.”
“Didn’t work well for him, did it?”
Blake shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you anything about him if I wanted to. My only lead to him was what you call a myth, and if you’re right and it doesn’t exist….” He trailed off, staring gloomily into the void.
If he didn’t find the men responsible, they’d be bound to come after him again. And he was certain he wouldn’t slip through their fingers this time.
“Well, perhaps they don’t exist,” Ford answered thoughtfully. “But from what you’ve told me, there’s a criminal group that believes in their existence so much that they are willing to kill to find any clues about them.”
Blake leaned his hands on the desk and looked into his friend’s face. “Then that’s how we find them.”
Ford grinned, and Blake couldn’t help an answering smirk.
* * *
Annalise went down to breakfast the next morning and was surprised to see her husband sitting in his regular place, breaking his fast, perusing the morning paper as if nothing was amiss. She’d walked into his room in the morning but hadn’t found him there. Somehow, she wasn’t expecting him in the dining room, either.
She paused at the entrance, taking in the tableau before her. Her husband, all fresh and rested, sat at the head of the table. She’d imagined this peaceful domestic scene would be frequent when she had married him. It hadn’t turned out that way. So seeing him there now, after everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours—after the last fourteen months—squeezed her heart until it ached.
She had seen her dreams shatter before her eyes once before because of Blake. She wouldn’t let him do that to her again. She took a fortifying breath and walked toward her place at the table.
“Good morning,” she said, trying to lighten her tone. “I didn’t think you’d be dining out of your room so soon.”
“Morning.” Blake put aside the paper and looked at her, his gaze running over her form. The intense perusal sent goosebumps along the length of her spine. “I am all right. I think it was just fatigue and shock. There is nothing wrong with me and my health.”
A footman brought a plate filled with kippers, eggs, toast, and butter and put it in front of Annalise. He poured her some chocolate and returned to stand at the side of the room.
“Did you sleep well then?” she asked, looking down at her plate.
“The bed is…” He cleared his throat. “It is too soft. I am afraid I’ve gotten quite used to rougher surfaces.”
“There wasn’t a mattress where you were?” She furrowed her brows.
“Not so much, no. How about you? How did you sleep?”
“Well, thank you,” she said as she pushed her food around the plate with her fork.
The fact was, she hadn’t slept well at all. After Blake left his room, she’d tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. She’d walked around the room, stared out of the window, waiting for her ill husband to come back home. This was all too familiar not to cause her pain.
After she finally saw his carriage return with the first light of dawn, Annalise had lain in her bed, listening to the sounds of his footsteps as he came to his room, performed nightly ablutions, and finally quieted down. She had managed to fall asleep shortly after that, only to be awakened a few moments later by the chambermaid, who came in to stir the fire in the hearth.
Unable to rest further, she got up and walked straight to Blake’s room. Only he wasn’t there. Instead, she found him breakfasting in their dining room as if nothing was amiss.
Annalise raised her head and saw Blake staring at her. She cocked a questioning brow.
“I can’t seem to take my eyes off you,” he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “You are more beautiful than I remember.”
Annalise shook her head. “Blake. I do not know how to respond to your flatteries.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’d rather we talked about something more meaningful.”
“The fact that I have missed you is not meaningful enough?”
“That is not what I mean.” Annalise bit her lip and gently returned her fork to lie beside her plate.
“What do you mean, then?” he asked softly.
Annalise grimaced, her heart beating rapidly. He was playing an adoring husband. The man Annalise thought he would be when she agreed to marry him, and this memory, the bitter betrayal she’d endured after their wedding, clawed at her heart.
“I’d like to know where you’ve been,” she said softly. “These past months.”
“I told you last night, Annalise. I can’t tell you where I’ve been. I am sorry.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too gruesome, too savage, too horrible to even contemplate, much less put into words. I don’t want to burden you with this.”
Annalise heaved a sigh. “What would you like to talk about then?”
“How about instead of talking about our past, we talk about our future?”
Annalise stifled a scoff. He didn’t want to talk about his own past. Apparently, he assumed Annalise’s past didn’t matter, either. And the future? What future did they have without circling back to their past? It would just be a repeat of more of the same, and Annalise didn’t want the same. She didn’t want to relive all that pain. She knew what she had to do if she wanted to avoid it. And since Blake wanted them to concentrate on the future, she would acquiesce to his wishes.
“I suppose since you do not seem to require my assistance anymore, since you are not ill… Perhaps I should move to Sussex, just as I—”
“What?” Blake’s question was more of a roar.
Annalise’s head shot up, and she blinked at him. “That’s what I was planning to do before… before your disappearance.”
“But that was in the past. Why would you still want to move out?”
“Blake,” Annalise said as softly as she could. “You seem to want to disregard the past altogether, but that’s not how it works. I was going to move away because our marriage was far from perfect, and without working through the issues of our past, I don’t know how we can move forward.”
“We can start from the beginning. A clean slate. Just give me a chance to prove that I’ve changed—”
“But you haven’t.” Annalise cried in frustration, then willed herself to calm down. “You haven’t. You still leave in the middle of the night to God knows where. You still deem it unimportant to tell me anything about your life. You don’t care what I’ve gone through these past few months, nor do you care about what I want. How do you expect me to believe you have changed?”
Blake scrubbed his face with his hand and leaned back in the chair, looking weary. “I do not mean to keep things from you, I promise. It’s just—it’s difficult with everything that has happened to me. I wish you could just… stay. We were happy once, weren’t we?”
Annalise swallowed, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. The laughter and happiness that had surrounded them during their courtship flashed before her eyes. “I don’t remember,” she whispered.
*
* *
Blake stared at the downturned face of his wife as she struggled to keep her tears at bay. How had it come to this? This wasn’t supposed to be his life. Not with Annalise. They were supposed to be deliriously happy, frolicking in the gardens, swimming in lakes, making love on every piece of furniture they could find in the house. Instead, there were silent nights, tense meals, and harsh exchanges.
And he was the one to blame.
He knew that now more than ever. Perhaps he’d always known but suppressed the ugly truth from himself because—what? Because his father wouldn’t have considered him to be man enough if he didn’t.
He cleared his throat. “Annalise, please, can you look at me?”
She raised her head. My brave little wife. He smiled internally.
Blake turned to the footmen standing by the sides of the room. “Leave us.”
As the servants scrambled away, he stood and walked to his wife’s side of the table and sat in a chair beside her. Annalise blinked up at him with her innocent wide eyes, her lips parted. It took all his will not to bend his head and lick across those pretty lips. Oh, how he wanted to devour her mouth and damn the issues between them.
“I know that our marriage hasn’t been perfect,” he started, and his wife scoffed delicately. “I know that I’ve made a mess of things. But I want to make it right.”
Annalise stared at him as though he was some kind of specimen she hadn’t seen before in her life.
“What would you say if we started from the beginning? I’ve spent the most hellish fourteen months of my life, and I’d rather forget them. The only way I can do that is with you by my side.”
Annalise licked her lips and leaned toward him. “Will you tell me what happened during that time?”
“No,” he said, perhaps too harshly because she reared back. “Ask anything, but that.”
“How do you expect us to build a marriage when you don’t trust me?”
“It has nothing to do with trust.” Blake saw her eyes take on a distant look, the one he’d witnessed all too often since the night of their wedding, the one he never wanted to see again. He took her hands in his. “It is too difficult to talk about, darling, trust me. I have been taken against my will—”
“By whom?” Her brows furrowed, her expression turning concerned.
He didn’t want to bother her with things she could do nothing about. He was carrying the burden for both of them. Blake wished he could keep her innocent and undisturbed by his gruesome past. His head started to ache.
“I do not know,” he finally said. “But I am going to find out. Whatever I went through while I was in captivity… It is too depraved for you to hear. I would rather forget it all, and I’d rather you were unburdened by my past.”
“Whatever it is you went through, Blake, perhaps I can help.”
Blake shook his head. “These are my demons to fight, my darling Annalise. Please don’t ask this of me. Anything but that.”
She looked at their joined hands for a moment before lifting her eyes to his again. “All right. I shall concede to your wishes for now. But how do I know it won’t turn out exactly the way it did the last time? How do I know you won’t—” She broke off and bit her lip.
Blake closed his eyes in agony.
“How about this?” He looked into her eyes again. “How about we make a deal? Give me two months. Just two months to prove to you that I am not going to disappoint you and let you down again. That’s how long it took me to court you, wasn’t it? And that was also how long it took me to destroy any regard you had for me.”
“And if you don’t?” she asked with a slight frown between her brows.
“If I don’t convince you to stay with me, then I shall set aside a large sum in a trust for you, and you will be free to do whatever you wish. You can leave for Sussex as you planned before my disappearance or travel to Italy as you’ve always dreamed.”
Annalise glanced at him, startled. She obviously hadn’t thought he’d remembered. How could he not, when it was the only thing she was excited about when she talked? Italian fables and books, Italian art and music dominated their conversation when they were courting, and he remembered it all with a smile every time he closed his eyes.
Annalise quickly composed herself, and then she narrowed her eyes on him. “What’s the catch?”
My clever little wife. “You must promise to give me a fair chance, accompany me to social gatherings, grant me your company during the evenings—” And nights, he wanted to say but didn’t. It wasn’t time. Although that was really what he wanted. “If it doesn’t bring us together,” he added hastily before she could refuse, “at least it will go a long way in dispelling any gossip surrounding us. It would arouse too much suspicion and unwanted chatter if you were to leave my side right after I came back, don’t you think?”
Annalise tugged her hands out of his grip in one swift motion. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding them this entire time. The cold air wafted around his fingers as her warmth deserted him, leaving him feeling bereft.
“Very well,” she said, rising from her seat. “It’s not as if I have any choice.”
“You do,” he said vehemently, standing after her.
She smiled sadly at him as if she pitied his gullibility. He didn’t like that look on her face.
“I accept your deal,” she finally said. “Good day, my lord.”
My lord. Two polite words like whiplash from her lips. Annalise turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
Blake stared after his wife for several long moments before looking down at the table. Annalise hadn’t eaten a bite.
Chapter 4
Blake spent the rest of the morning closed behind the doors of his study, going over estate details with his secretary. He didn’t know how to even start wooing his wife back, but at least he’d won himself some time to try. In the meantime, there were plenty of other issues for him to address. For example, the issue of his earldom, which he had neglected from the moment he came into the title.
Before leaving their household, Townsend had offered his help, and Blake would gladly take him up on it, but he wanted to look at the books by himself first. Blake noticed the estates hadn’t suffered in his absence. On the contrary, they’d only prospered. Townsend had invested in some risky ventures, but they’d paid off, and his accounts had soared.
In fact, according to the ledgers, Townsend had nearly tripled his income. In one blasted year. How did the man do that?
Granted, Blake had never paid much attention to his lands. He was a gentleman of leisure. His father taught him only the necessities and bare minimum of what was needed to keep up the good income of the estates. He’d condemned people who invested in business and technology, calling them heathens and saying that it would only harm farming in the long run. He also didn’t believe that spending all his time behind books or meandering over his estates was what gentlemen of leisure did.
Lords of the peerage, he used to say, have a responsibility in Parliament: to make sure the working class remains working and aristocrats remain enjoying their benefits accorded them at birth.
What a pile of horseshit, Blake thought now. How he could have admired his father and aspired to emulate everything he did was beyond him. He was a complete fool a little over a year ago. The fact that he’d managed to woo Annalise at all was a miracle. Probably attributed to her youth and inexperience. Well, at least he’d done something right in his six and twenty summers of useless existence. Though he’d almost managed to ruin that as well.
The bitter pill to swallow, however, was the fact that his estates had prospered without him; Annalise was happy without him. Everything was better in his absence. He should have stayed gone.
A knock sounded at the door, and Blake called his butler to enter.
“Lord St. John for you, my lord,” Crane said with an inscrutable face.
“Good. Let him in.” Blake turned to his secretary then. “We are done for today
. Thank you. Please, report back to me on the morrow at the same time.”
Just as the secretary bowed out, Blake’s best friend, Jarvis, Viscount St. John, slunk into the room.
“Blake!” he exclaimed from the doorstep before stalking farther into the room with purposeful strides. “I thought I’d see you sprawled on the bed, sick as a dog, yet here you are.”
He extended his hand, and Blake jumped up to shake it.
“Glad to see you,” he said jubilantly. “It’s been too long.”
Jarvis grinned at him. “Maybe for you. I just saw you last night. Quite a dramatic entrance, if you ask me.”
Blake laughed. He’d missed his friend. Jarvis was always good-natured and ready with a jest. He indicated for his friend to sit and walked toward the sideboard. “Would you like something to drink? Brandy?”
“Brandy’s good. Now tell me. Where the devil have you been hiding for the past year? If not for Annalise’s betrothal, would you even be here?”
Blake studied Jarvis from the corner of his eye. Did he really think Blake had been intentionally hiding all this time, or was it another one of his jests? He decided to take him at face value. “A total coincidence, I assure you. Or a providence of God if you’d like to believe that instead.”
He took both glasses of amber liquid, extended one to Jarvis, and sat back behind his desk. He swirled the brandy in his hand. He poured it out of habit, but wasn’t about to drink it. However, having it by his side soothed his mind. “I was seized and kept prisoner against my will.”
“By whom?” Jarvis didn’t look surprised.
In fact, he seemed completely unperturbed. Perhaps it was because that’s what everybody already suspected.
“I don’t know,” Blake said dryly and placed his glass on the desk.
Jarvis frowned and took a sip of his own drink. When he put it down, he looked Blake over. “You’ve changed. I almost didn’t recognize you. What have you been doing? Where were they holding you? Judging by the tone of your skin, it wasn’t in a dungeon.”