by Kristi Jun
The problem was, it was nearly impossible to track her down, and he needed more time. Diving through the crowd, he lost track of the magistrate in the sea of people. He spent nearly an hour checking private boxes and the crowd below with no success. He had been away far too long, and he no choice but to return to Ms. McBride.
When the opera was over, the three of them walked down the steps of the London Opera House to the waiting carriage. It was then she saw Johnathan and fought a frown. The bloody man simply wouldn’t stay away.
Why couldn’t he leave her be?
Instantly, the runner who was by her side gripped her arm in a hasty manner and stopped her. “Wait here,” he said to her.
However gallant the gesture was, she would face Johnathan alone. After all, she would not allow this man to bully her. “I can handle Johnathan, Mr. Roberts. Thank you. If you can wait here for me with Miss Wentworth in the carriage, I would appreciate it.” She waited for them to enter the carriage before approaching Johnathan.
Kate went up to him. “What is it you want, Mr. Hawk?”
“No need for the formality,” he said. “You and I have known each other a long time, if you care to recall.”
Eighteen years, but she refused acknowledge that. “Are you here to threaten me again, Mr. Hawk?”
His jaw twitched at her comment. “No,” he confessed. “I surmise you are aware of the kind of predicament you are in and there is no need me to remind you of that. At least for now.”
“How noble of you.” Sarcasm bled through her tone.
He pulled out a sealed envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to her.
“What is this?” Kate asked, looking at it.
“From my mother. She wanted you to have it.”
Kate recalled how kind Johnathan’s mother had been to her when she came to work in their estate. She took it. “Thank you.”
When he started to walk away, Kate asked, “How is she…your mother?” She had a difficult time saying goodbye to the only woman who been so kind to her as a child.
“She’s dead.”
A jolt of emotions ran through her. Disbelief at first, then sadness. A deep sense of sadness because this world had lost a kind and generous person. “I am so sorry. When?” No wonder he’d been full of venom, full of anger. Everyone he loved was gone.
“She fell ill after hearing the news of Ethan. She never recovered.”
She lowered her head for a moment to take in the news. Kind Ethan and now his mother? “I don’t know what to say.”
“I am not blind, Kate,” he started. “I know my mother thought of you dearly, although I can’t understand why after the hell you put her through. But tonight I am here on her behalf.” He paused, as if recalling an old memory. “This letter, according to the family lawyer, was to be given to you upon her death. She thought of you fondly.”
“I am truly sorry.”
“I can’t say I believe you,” he said. “You may have fooled my mother, but I will never be fooled, not again.”
She looked at the hard features of his face, his dark eyes that harbored so much hatred. There was no kindness in those eyes of his. Nothing that resembled the man who had been like a brother to her. “What happened to you, Johnathan?”
“Life happened.”
She shook her head. “You were kind once. I know he’s in there somewhere. The kind and generous man I came to know over the years.”
“That foolish man is long gone, Kate, so wake up. This is the reality.”
“Then why are you here? Why give me this?” she said, extending the letter out to him.
“It was my mother’s last wish. I will not be the one to deprive her of that. If I had it my way, you would be rotting away in prison where you belong.”
“Then there must be some decency in you to fulfill her last wish.”
“This gesture is not for you. It is for my mother. You didn’t deserve this,” he said, pointing to the letter. “Or her kindness.”
True, she had been a thief. She was good at it. Very good actually. There was part of her that felt regret and shame, but hunger and homelessness had a way of making one resort to desperate measures.
“Who is the witness, Johnathan?”
“I won’t give you the satisfaction of telling you who it is.” With that, he opened the carriage door and ordered his driver on.
She stood there for a moment, holding the envelope, watching the carriage drive away in the distance. In many ways, she understood Johnathan’s rage. He lost the people he most cared about. His wife, his baby, then Ethan, and now his mother. There was part of her that was tired of running, tired of the struggle.
But she did not kill Ethan. It was a fight she needed to face.
Breaking the seal, she pulled out the folded paper and read it.
My Dear Kate,
If you are wondering why I am writing to you, it’s because I am dying. I’ve been thinking about you often. Wondering if you are well. If you’ve found some peace and happiness in your life. When you first left us at such a tender age, I should have stopped you. I regretted not doing so. I had wanted to give you this when you left, but I was advised not to. It was a mistake I had to live with for many years. It’s not a fortune, but it will last you a lifetime with some investing. Be well, my child.
With much love,
Elinore G. Hawk
Why her? Even in her deathbed, she was thinking of others instead of taking care of her own needs.
Perhaps if Kate had stayed, she would not have passed away and Ethan would still be alive. She didn’t know how, but it didn’t stop her from thinking about it. The first time she left, she felt she didn’t belong. She was naïve, afraid to trust anyone at that age. The second time she departed, she left with the knowledge she was never coming back.
Ethan had a difficult time letting her go, so he remained in contact with her over the years and their friendship continued to flourish.
Kate wiped the tears and took in a deep breath. She looked at the attached document. It indicated she was the new owner of several thousand shares of multiple stocks Mrs. Hawk had owned. In addition, there was a stack of bank notes.
She shook her head. No, she couldn’t take this from her. This did not belong to her. Rightfully, this should belong to Mr. Hawk. With a heavy heart, she stared at the letter, contemplating what she should do. She needed to return this. But to who?
Johnathan? Yes, it rightfully belonged to him.
She felt a large hand on the small of her back and she instantly jumped with fright. Mr. Roberts looked at her most curiously, almost tenderly. Emotions reeled in her heart. This aching pain that she didn’t know what to do with.
Why Ethan? Why Mrs. Hawk? They were the most deserving, kind people she had known. Without thinking, she embraced him and quietly sobbed. She had held on for so many years and she couldn’t do it any longer.
He caressed her back gently, and she felt the tightening of his embrace. She welcomed it, and before she knew what was happening, she brushed her lips against his mouth. It was almost instinctual, this need to be touched by a man. To feel his hand on her. To know the feeling of anything other than the regret and anguish she felt right now. When she opened her eyes, he was looking down at her with tenderness, a look that she was quite unfamiliar with.
God, she wanted him. She wanted to know what it felt like to be in his embrace, naked and making love. It had been so long since she felt the warmth of another human being. She wanted him, almost desperately. To taste his mouth, to inhale the fragrance of him.
From the periphery, she heard whispers and saw several women standing with their mouths open at their intimate embrace. One whispered something to another woman. It was then she quickly pulled away.
“Shall we?” he said, leading Kate to the carriage.
Ignoring the galley of women gawking at her, she stepped into the carriage. Emily was already inside. The ride back to the Blackthorn’s estate was silent, and she welcom
ed it. She listened to the clip-clopping of the carriage driving down the cobblestone street and tried to let the mounting tension to slip away. Once they were back at Blackthorn Hall, she thanked Emily for the entertainment and bid her good night.
“We need to talk,” Roberts said.
This day was never going to end. “Regarding?”
“Your conversation with the American, of course.”
“Must we do this now?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. Part of her wondered if he wanted to finish what they started back at the Opera House. But from the expression on his face, she knew otherwise. “If you insist,” she said, walking to her room and opening the door for him.
“Perhaps we can discuss this downstairs?”
Interesting, the man was worried about her propriety. “We are both adults,” she said with a sigh. She was…what did the English call it? Ah, a spinster, on the shelf and way past the respectable age to marry, so she didn’t see the point of being discreet, not that she was that kind of woman.
“Even so, you are unwed.”
“I am eight and twenty, Mr. Hawk, and certainly not a virgin.”
“The things you speak of, Ms. McBride.”
“I’m honest,” she retorted. “Not that the ton would appreciate the meaning.”
When he seemed hesitant, she walked over to him and grabbed his hand and said, “If you wish to speak with me, we’ll have to converse in here. Or we may speak about this another day.”
He followed her into the room, which was dimly lit by the fire still burning in the hearth. The servants always warmed the room by starting a fire in the hearth unless otherwise instructed. She walked over to the table and lit the taper candles on the candelabra. One by one, each candle brought warm glowing light into the room.
In this light, Mr. Roberts looked sinfully handsome. She imagined running her fingers through the thick strands of his dark hair and down further. Was it the kiss? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, but surprisingly, he seemed to enjoy it. She took in the full length of him, the finely knotted cravat and the deep burgundy waistcoat topped with a black outer coat that fit to perfection. There was not one single piece of clothing, a single strand of hair out of place. But then again, as annoyingly as it was, he always looked perfectly put together.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Your expression is…rather perplexing.”
She couldn’t very well reveal the thoughts running through her mind about him, now could she? “It’s nothing important.” She turned away from him and sat down on the decorative chair by the fireplace.
“The American?”
“Oh, yes…that.”
“Has he threatened you again?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No, not exactly.” Something in her shifted, and she didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was the last conversation about his mother. Or the letter. Either way, she couldn’t deny that he was unusually kind to her today. Had the situation been reversed, she didn’t know what she’d do.
“I feel very much sorry for him.”
Mr. Roberts’s expression was one of confusion. “Why is that?”
“You see,” she started, “Mr. Hawk wasn’t always this angry.” She paused, searching for the right words. “He was kind once.”
“There is no reason for you to defend this man.”
After receiving the letter, she couldn’t help but recall the buried memories. “We all have our reasons for what we do, don’t we?”
“I suppose so.”
“Mr. Hawk’s family was part of Boston society. His father heartlessly disowned him when he refused to marry a woman his father had handpicked from a list of well-to-do families in Boston. Instead, he married a simple but kind woman from a poor family.” She paused. “A farmer’s daughter.”
“What does this have to do with your conversation with him?”
“That there is a lot of history you are unaware of.” She lowered her head and rubbed her hands together. “About a year before I left for Scotland, his wife died giving birth to a son. Two days after his wife’s passing, the baby joined her.” She paused, trying her best to keep her emotions at bay. “I fear he blames me for everything and he seeks retribution.”
“And you’re his target?”
“We all have our own predicament, don’t we?” she said.
“Still, there is no reason for his actions, the threats,” he said.
She watched him, and his eyes went dark, and for a moment she thought she heard bitterness in his tone. “I don’t know why I am sharing this with you.”
“Then why are you?”
She watched him intently and searched his eyes. “I don’t know.” She looked away. “Johnathan took me off the street at the tender age of ten, gave me a position and a roof over my head. I can’t deny that.” She paused to look at him as he attentively listened to what she had to say. “I owe his family much.”
“Are you telling me you are considering going back with him?”
“No,” she said. “I simply wanted to share my thoughts with you.”
“I appreciate it, Ms. McBride.” He walked over to the fire and placed his hands there to warm them. “But you still haven’t told me what you’ve discussed. I saw him hand you something.”
He was watching her? Of course, he was. He was her guardian, a protector, or whatever one called it. “It was a letter from his mother. She passed away after I left for Scotland and he wanted me to have it. He said it was her last wish.”
“How noble of him to deliver such a precious letter considering he wants you hanged.”
“It’s complicated.”
“If you say so.”
Did she? Even if she did, he was being a complete ass. “You don’t have to be rude. You requested this meeting. Not I.” She hated how he affected her.
“Let’s not mistake my meaning, Ms. McBride. I have no patience or sympathy for a coward like him.”
“A coward?”
“Indeed,” he said. “Suffering is part of life. You learn from it and move forward. Not bully those who are innocent and can’t defend themselves.”
“You think I am innocent?” she asked. For the first time, she wondered, what had this man suffered from? What troubles did he endure to say such things to her?
“I didn’t say that.”
She thought about the conversations she’d had with Johnathan thus far, the tension between them. Lord Blackthorn had asked if he would resort to hurting her; then there was the time he gripped her neck so hard that she truly feared him. Caution was in order.
“There is something else I must confess.”
“Go on…” Mr. Roberts said, watching her expression.
“I am uncertain what this feeling is,” she said. “I suppose it’s an uneasiness that sits at the pit of my stomach.” She didn’t want to reveal to him that she feared Johnathan for dread of Roberts confronting him, especially after what Mr. Roberts just revealed to her about her foe. Yet, there were times she was unsure what he was capable of after seeing him in London.
“That’s understandable.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s more than that.” She paused, thinking of the right words to say. “Or rather, it’s just this foreboding sense that something might happen.”
“What are you saying? Do you think the American will resort to hurting you?”
She shook her head. “He isn’t that kind of man.”
“Even after he accused you of murdering his brother?”
“Thank you for those colorful words.”
“Just trying to make a point.”
Johnathan would have done anything for Ethan, even if it meant in exchange for his life. No, he was not that kind of person. “I will not speak ill of him just because he is blind and grieving.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
“He is angry and in grief and that is the truth.”
“It’s
curious to me how you can defend a man like him. I am beginning to think you are in love with this man.”
She frowned. He may have been more like a brother at one point in her life, but not a lover. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Maybe he is in love with you. After all, he sailed the Atlantic for you.”
“Is this why you ask to speak with me? To find out if I was in love with him?”
“Of course not.”
“And why are you so concerned about my feelings for the man, I wonder? If he had said anything of importance, I would have shared it with you.”
“Would you?”
He took several steps forward and looked squarely at her. He took her by surprise how close he was to her now. Her eyes lowered to his lips before meeting his angry eyes. “So, you don’t trust me?”
“None of that matters,” he concluded. “Whether you are guilty of the crime he is accusing you of isn’t my concern. I’m not a judge, far from it. I am only here to fulfill a promise I made.” He walked toward the fireplace again, giving them some distance.
“I understand full well why you are hitched to me, so you needn’t remind me.”
“Considering what you have told me, you should carry this,” he said as he pulled out a pistol from the inside of his coat pocket. “Do you know how to use this?”
She never liked pistols. “I have no need—”
“Take it, otherwise I will camp out here tonight.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Considering what you’ve confessed about the American, it is.”
“Fine.” She took it from him and held it at the grip as if she were holding a dead rat, then dropped it on her pillow.
“It seems I may have to teach you how to use it.”
“That’s all right. I think I can figure it out.”
“Shouldn’t you be a little more serious about this?”
“I despise pistols, Mr. Roberts, and now you expect me to sleep with one.”
He ignored her comment. “It’s ready to fire, so be careful with it.” He started walking to the door. “I will be next door if you need me.”
“Good night, Mr. Roberts.” Before she could finish her sentence, he closed the door on her. “Irritating man.”