by Julia Kelly
“When was that?” she asked.
“In three months’ time. As I said, it was a tiny village. I managed to talk my way onto the traders’ boat and eventually landed myself in a port town, where I could arrange for passage to the British base at Kingston. From there it was a simple matter of getting home.”
“Except it wasn’t simple when you arrived,” she said quietly.
“No,” he said.
The word hung around them heavily until finally he said, “And now you. You’ve told me some of what happened while I was gone. What of the rest of it?”
Lavinia squeezed her eyes shut tight as though trying to work up the courage to tell him. Except she didn’t need courage for that. She was already the boldest woman he knew—brave enough to steal papers from a dangerous man’s home, all while clad in an evening dress of her own design and construction. No matter what, his respect for her would never be diminished again.
“Your father received a letter from the shipping company. Your ship had been lost at sea. No survivors.” Her eyes opened and he could tell she was reliving the depths of whatever emotions had gripped her on that day. “He came to the vicarage as soon as he’d read it and told me. He said it wasn’t right that he should know before I did since we were to be married.”
“He was a good man,” Andrew said quietly, regretting that he hadn’t been there for his father’s twilight years before the hardworking ferryman had slipped away in his sleep.
“He was. When he told me . . . I never thought once that I’d lose you. Even when you were at sea where all number of things could happen, I’d always thought that you’d be safe because you were mine.” She coughed once to clear her throat. “But you were gone. It was written on the page with such certainty, but I didn’t want to believe it. How could I?
“At first my mother and father thought I was just showing the appropriate respect and mourning you as any woman would, but after three months they began to disapprove. I wouldn’t wear anything but black. I hardly left the house, and I refused to go out in society. My mother began to ask her friends to bring their unmarried sons to call. It was uncomfortable for them and humiliating for me.”
“What of Parkem?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“I told you—”
“I want all of it.”
She blew out a breath, and he could feel her steel herself next to him. “Six months after you’d been reported dead, Mamma and Papa called me to Papa’s study and told me that a proposal from Alistair would be imminent. He’d called a time or two, but I’d hardly paid him any attention. I should’ve realized that his mother was great friends with Mamma and the two of them had been trying to engineer a match for years. With you dead, she saw her chance.
“Alistair proposed the following day. I turned him down thinking that the matter was finished, but he came back. He came back every single day for nearly two months, and I still refused. I couldn’t—” Her voice thickened. “I just couldn’t.”
He didn’t want to hear this. The physical intimacy they’d shared was one thing, but this was rewriting everything he’d assumed he knew about her. He needed to believe that she’d moved on from him. That she’d chosen to marry another man—even loved him. It was the foundation upon which he’d built these last twelve years and if that foundation was shaky—or, worse, nothing more than a figment of his imagination—then what had his life been built on?
The lies he’d told himself.
The wrongs he’d done to Lavinia without remorse.
Those realizations ripped at his chest, as though his heart were being pulled in two, and yet Lavinia kept speaking, hardly knowing what her words were doing to him.
“Mamma got her way in the end,” she said with a weak smile.
“By posting the banns and locking you away?” he asked, fury striking in him at the thought of anyone trying to steal Lavinia’s spirit. Her freedom.
“Papa was the one who posted the banns, but yes. She told me in no uncertain terms that I would marry Alistair or she’d let it be known that I’d let myself be ‘defiled’ by you and cast me out. That’s what she called it, as though what we did was something improper and nasty.”
Something in his chest twisted. He’d known her mother to be a hard woman, thoroughly disapproving of him and his working-class father. Yet he hadn’t thought the woman would stoop to threatening the ruination of her own daughter just to break her.
“Mamma was the most determined woman I’ve ever known when she thought she was right,” said Lavinia. “In her own delusional, misguided way, she must’ve been trying to protect me. Alistair could provide me with a life and a seat at the forefront of the community that she thought I should have. Except Alistair lied. He lied about the security of his business and his worth. He was nothing more than a confidence man, moving money around to make it seem as though he was always flush with cash. All it took was one ship sinking and the loss of its cargo to ruin him.”
“How did Alistair die?” he asked. “Did he . . . ?”
She shook her head, dismissing the idea of suicide outright. “The doctor said that he had a weakness of the heart that couldn’t have been diagnosed. And so, after two years of marriage, I was a widow.”
Not knowing what else to do, he gathered her closer, thankful to be able to feel the soft beat of her heart against his chest and the faint tickle of her hair where it spilled over his arms.
“When I returned to Eyemouth and saw him with you, I thought you’d wanted this.”
“How could you not?” Her soft voice was laced with regret. “It wasn’t even a year, and already I was married. But I never wanted to be, Andrew. You must believe me: I never could’ve given my heart so easily after you.”
I never could. It was a far cry from I never have, but he wanted to believe, lying on the wide feather mattress of his rented rooms in a city that wasn’t his own, that it was what she meant to say. If only she could.
“What’s happened tonight . . .” he started to say.
“Was inevitable.”
It was same word she’d used when he kissed her in her workroom. The way she said it had made it sound like a mistake, but that wasn’t tonight. Tonight had been intentional.
“You like that word, don’t you? It means that you can do what you like without having to face the fact that you wanted this enough that you hoped for it,” he said.
She jerked a little, her natural defenses no doubt rankled by this gentle admonition.
“We didn’t just fall into bed tonight because we’ve done this before, Lavinia,” he said slowly. His old distrust of her was hard to shake but he wanted to be free of it—oh, did he want to—if only to recapture something of what they’d lost and look ahead to the future.
After a moment’s consideration, she said, “No.”
“And we didn’t just have sex because you spent most of the evening in danger and I wanted to hit something.”
“Did you?” she asked, trailing her finger across his chest.
“Yes. I was convinced that something had happened to you and like a brute, it was the only thing I could think to do.”
There had been a time long ago when he would’ve moved heaven and earth if it had suited her whim and, although he’d never tell her, he was beginning to remember what that devotion had felt like. Powerful. Awe-inspiring. Terrifying.
Moving with the grace of a selkie sliding through dark waters, she twisted and rolled on top of him. Pressing up on her hands, she let her hair spill over her shoulders as she looked down at him. His breath caught in his throat. He’d been wrong when he’d thought—hoped—that age would in any way diminish her looks. Instead, maturity had changed her from merely pretty into a breathtaking, soul-stirring beauty, one who rendered him defenseless. He was a man who’d done things in the service of the War Office that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life, but this woman he’d known his entire life could still slay him with a simple look.
“I think, Andrew Co
lter,” she said, a smile tipping her lips, “that it’s time to reassure you that I’m not only alive, but very well.”
And that was exactly what she did.
Chapter Fourteen
LAVINIA PULLED HER cloak a little tighter around her as she darted to the back door of her shop. It was absurd to be a woman of thirty-two sneaking around like she had when she was just sixteen, but it was thrilling too.
The previous evening had whipped her between fear and ecstasy in a way that she could scarcely keep up with. Nearly getting caught by Wark had terrified her, true, but she couldn’t deny the thrill of doing something. For years she’d done exactly what she should, building her business, taking care of her brother, never putting a foot wrong. It had been exciting to toe the line of danger even if she wasn’t sure that anything she’d found out that evening would be of help to the cause.
More than anything, however, the evening had been worth it for the expression on Andrew’s face when she’d burst through the door bearing those slips of paper. He’d looked at her with such relief and perhaps a little joy too. That was the reason she’d slid so easily into his arms. It had been too long since any man had lit up when she walked into a room, happy that she was there.
And oh, what a wonder it had been falling back into letting him love her body. It wasn’t just that he’d remembered the things that could make her purr and cry out in swift succession. Just as she had, he’d become a more experienced lover, schooled by need over the years. She might’ve expected that it would make her jealous, but instead it excited her. This was the Andrew she’d known and the Andrew she’d never imagined.
A little smile played on her lips as she pulled out her key and let herself into the kitchen of her shop, swiftly closing the door behind her.
“It’s nearly five o’clock.”
Lavinia whipped around with a gasp. Her brother, a man who rarely rose before nine, was seated in a chair before the stove.
“Caleb, what are you doing here?” she asked, her hand pressed against her chest to try to still the rapid beating of her heart.
Her brother toyed with the handle of a teacup set out in front of him. “I haven’t gone to bed. And neither have you.”
“But you left,” she said.
“I came back thinking that if Wark ran you home in his carriage, he might try something.”
She sighed. Caleb, misguided though he might sometimes be, had been trying to protect her.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, frowning at the stove. The embers had died down and there was hardly any coal in the scuttle. Normally Lavinia would refill it each morning after raking out the stove, and it appeared Caleb hadn’t bothered to do it. Or maybe he didn’t know how.
“What will the neighbors think of your sneaking back home at five o’clock in the morning?” her brother asked.
“That I’ve had a jolly time wherever I’ve been,” she said in jest, but all it did was draw his lips into an even tighter grimace.
“I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to conduct your life—”
“But you will,” said Lavinia.
“You have a reputation to uphold,” he said.
“So I’m acutely aware.”
He cleared his throat. “On the other hand, you could do worse than Mr. Wark. He is your landlord, after all.”
Lavinia’s eyebrows jumped. “Are you suggesting that I conduct an affair with Mr. Wark in exchange for his forgiving the rent money?”
“What? No!” Caleb sputtered. “I’m suggesting you marry the man.”
Lavinia began to laugh.
“I don’t see what’s so absurd about the suggestion,” her brother grouched. “It isn’t as though you haven’t thought about it before. If you married him, you’d never have to work again,” her brother pressed.
“I like working! It’s the one thing in my life that’s been entirely mine.”
“Mr. Wark could elevate your situation,” said her brother.
“You’re starting to sound like Mamma,” she said.
“I know you resent her pushing you into marrying Alistair, but was it so wrong for her to want what was best for your future?” he asked.
“No,” she said, slashing her hand through the air to cut the conversation dead where it stood. “You weren’t there, Caleb. You were off playing at being a wealthy wastrel in Edinburgh while I was at home with my grief. You don’t have the right to tell me how to feel about that time.”
“Mamma and Papa only wanted what was best for you.”
“Did they though? They never asked me if I wanted a husband. I never said yes to any proposal.”
They stole my chance at happiness and you were nowhere to be seen, she wanted to shout. Describing it all to Andrew less than an hour ago had broken her heart all over again. They could’ve had a chance—a real chance at love—but instead she’d seen what it could be like when the man she loved turned against her. He’d spent so long believing in her betrayal, she could hardly have hoped for his forgiveness let alone a reconciliation. Yet hadn’t that been what this night was about? It felt like a renewal, a rebirth, a second chance.
“I was sorry when we thought Andrew died too,” said Caleb. “You weren’t the only one who was upset.”
But I was the one who loved him.
“He’s here,” she said, her voice flat.
“What?”
“He’s here in Edinburgh.”
Caleb’s expression sharpened. “Is that where you were? Slumming with a ferryman’s son?”
It took just three steps for Lavinia to cross the gap to her brother’s chair. Her cloak slipped a little on her shoulders when she leaned down, bringing her face close to his. “When our parents died, I promised myself that I would take care of you because that is what family does for one another. However, I don’t have to endure your complaints or give you money every time you ask. I also don’t have to indulge you coming to my home at all hours and passing judgment on how I choose to live my life. I have been nothing but tolerant for years, but if you are ever disrespectful of Andrew to me again, you may find yourself someone else to pay off your debts.”
Caleb’s mouth worked noiselessly several times until finally he managed to croak out, “Come now, Livy. You know I can be a cad sometimes. I was only joking.”
“I’m going to bed to get some sleep,” Lavinia announced, straightening. “And from now on, if you come to this house, you will be expected to work. You can begin by helping Kelsie cut out patterns.”
“Cut out patterns,” her brother repeated, dumbstruck.
“That’s where Kelsie began her apprenticeship, and that is where you’ll start yours. No one in this house eats unless they also work.”
Lavinia left her brother sitting there, staring into the faintly glowing stove and looking more like a man old before his time than ever.
Lavinia slept for a few hours that morning, not rising until nine—an extraordinarily late hour for a woman who usually took advantage of the peace of the morning to review accounts and appointments and make sure she was ready for the day, but she felt it was her due. When she awoke, she stretched long and lithe on the soft sheets of her bed, a delicious throb between her legs and the tenderness of her nipples reminding her of Andrew.
She dressed quickly, donning a simple dress of light gray with playful loops of black piping at the cuffs and neck, and clattered down the stairs in her serviceable black boots. She’d be going out today, as she was due to make a call to Lady Barrett’s Rothesay Place home, where she’d fit Mrs. Moray and the lady of the household. Both women ranked among Mrs. Sullivan’s clients, and both had made happy marriages, with Lady Barrett expecting her first child with the baronet in five months’ time.
On her way down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Lavinia stuck her head into the workshop.
“Siobhan, could you . . .” She trailed off before she could finish the sentence, because her brother was in the workshop wearing a plain blue coat and standing nex
t to the cutting table. He was folding a piece of inexpensive calico in half under Kelsie’s watchful eye.
When Caleb looked up, there was challenge in his eyes. “I came for breakfast.”
Whether he liked it or not, her brother had heard Lavinia and stayed to show her he understood. It wasn’t an accord or a peace offering, but it was something.
“I was just looking for Siobhan,” Lavinia said slowly.
“He is cutting,” said Siobhan, stepping into view from between several stacked bolts of fabric.
“I see that,” said Lavinia, glancing at Caleb again.
“He says he must if he’s to have any food. Doesn’t he have an occupation?” Siobhan asked.
Sometimes she wondered that herself.
“We’ve so much work and my having to go to dinner yesterday didn’t help. We can use all the extra hands we can get,” she said.
“What can I do?” asked Siobhan.
“Mrs. Moray’s and Lady Barrett’s dresses. Could you package them? I’ll take them directly for their final fittings,” she said.
“It’s a wonder Lady Barrett’s ordering a new dress with her confinement so near,” said Siobhan.
“She’s only four months along, and we discussed a design that could be easily altered after the birth.”
“Confinement? Is this the sort of thing you all speak about up here?” asked her brother.
Siobhan’s mouth pressed into a line as she tried to hold back her laughter. “You’ll be wanting a cup of tea. I’ll see to the gowns.”
Downstairs, Lavinia filled the kettle. She’d just set it on the stove plate to boil when a rap came on the back door. When she opened it, Anika was standing on the step, a thick shawl wrapped tightly around her with the cold condensing her breath.
“Good morning,” said Lavinia.
“Tea,” Anika croaked, and pushed past her into the warm kitchen. “How you can stand this weather, I don’t know.”
Lavinia grinned. “You’re either born with it in your blood or you aren’t.”
“You wouldn’t last a week in the Bombay heat,” Anika grumbled.