“It is ever yours.”
Aidan’s eyes glinted. “Such a good friend. I don’t know what I have done to deserve you.”
“I rather thought it was the other way around,” Gideon murmured sotto voce to the Irishman’s soft chuckle.
“We will pray for Lord Kilgarvan’s health, that God will show His grace at this time,” said Emma.
“Thank you, Miss Emma.” Aidan gave her a considered look. “Is it Miss Emma? Forgive me, but I am struggling to remember how I should address you.”
Emma glanced at Gideon, her own expression twisting. “I confess I hardly know myself. Sometimes it is very hard to remember just what role I am to play. All I know is that I am exceedingly grateful to not be anywhere near Leeds anymore.” She rose, forcing both men to their feet. “Forgive me, I must see what has happened to our tea.”
She left the room, and Aidan sent Gideon a questioning look. “I’m sorry, I did not know—”
Gideon shook his head, saying in an undervoice, “Pratt was a brutal beast. He made her life a misery. When she finally told me of the threats he made when he was in his alts, I could not bear to leave her a second longer. By God’s grace I found her in the nick of time, and we stole away here.”
“And that?” Aidan gestured to the scar adorning Gideon’s left cheek.
He described how it came to be, then went on to explain about the use of his name, a disclosure that had his friend’s face lighten momentarily from the darkness his mien had assumed.
“Then I shall be a simple mister, too.”
“I am not quite sure what the locals think. Some may think she is my wife, but it does not matter as long as she is safe and he cannot hurt her.”
Aidan’s face had darkened once more. “He beat her?”
“The bruises have cleared now, and the local apothecary has been excellent in his ministrations to assist her recovery.” Thank God. And thank God his sister held no other awful legacy of that beast. If she’d been with child he feared such news might further injure his sister’s delicate state of mind, and lead his friend into hotheaded actions to match the color of his hair.
Even now the Irishman was muttering quietly. “How anyone can think of harming such a gentle creature as your sister I do not know. The man must be a fiend!”
Gideon nodded.
“How such a union could ever have been countenanced—Forgive me. I have spoken out of turn. It is not my place to cast aspersions.”
“My father was under an illusion in thinking Pratt as honorable a man as his father. I hate to think how blinded we were.”
The other man’s face closed. Gideon’s friend had once expressed a preference for Emma’s company, a preference scorned by Gideon’s father and elder brother because they had no wish to see Emma forced to move to the west coast of Ireland, so far from the proper medical care afforded by proximity to London. Too soon was Emma introduced to Lord Pratt and persuaded to put aside any thought of another. Too soon had the good and dutiful daughter exchanged her vows and moved to Keighley, before they could learn the truth about her husband—and Aidan could learn his sweetheart had married another.
“Time heals, so the poets say,” Gideon offered gently.
“Perhaps. But they never say how much time, do they?” Aidan offered a queer twisted smile, before shaking his auburn head. “Anyway, it is good to see her safe, and looking well. And you, too.”
“And how long might we have the pleasure of your company?”
“A week or two? I shall need to return to London at some point, then I must return to Father. The estate is not flourishing as it ought, what with Father’s poor health and our attentions being taken up with that.”
“That is understandable.”
Emma reentered the room, closely followed by Mrs. Ballard carrying the tea tray. Emma’s eyes looked suspiciously red, her smile tremulous. “I am sorry it has taken so long.”
“No apologies necessary,” Aidan said, his expression lightening, gentling, as it did whenever he gazed upon Emma. “I understand it would take quite some time to sail to China, pluck the tea leaves, prepare them as one ought, then return to England. Your absence was far more expedient.”
The slight look of strain around her eyes eased as she chuckled, then murmured something about his nonsense. And Gideon felt hope softly stir. Perhaps his friend’s visit might provide a mite of ease to his heart also.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NEXT TIME at services Caroline did her best to recall why she attended, to fix her thoughts on the service, and not on the gentleman seated two rows behind her on the left. The fascinating gentleman, the gentleman with the scarred face, the gentleman who was dressed somewhat carelessly again, but in clothes of a superior quality, that showed his trim figure and broad shoulders to advantage. She would not think on him. She should not think on him. For did he not belong to another?
But those good intentions had been knocked almost asunder by the intriguing sight of another gentleman beside him, a handsome young man with hair a reddish hue, and an expression that gave rise to thoughts he could prove mischievous. She’d quickly averted her eyes, but the wondering remained, all through the catechism, and the sermon on Levitical tithes, and the prayers, and the closing hymn. Earlier she had resolved to not look or speak with him at all, but such intentions were impossible to fulfill after they had shaken the cleric’s hand and she was waiting while Grandmama talked with Lady Dalrymple. She couldn’t help notice the two men smiling as the young lady shook hands with the minister.
Something that felt a little like envy streaked through her chest. Why did that young lady have so many young men look at her like that while Caroline had none? She fought the desire to fluff out her hair and smooth the Pomona green velvet of her pelisse. Surely it did not matter what these people thought. Only, she was, perhaps, a little lonesome …
“… looks rather too fond of himself,” Grandmama said, jerking Caroline’s attention to their conversation again. “And do you know that young gentleman’s name?”
An expression of distaste crossed Lady Dalrymple’s face. “A Mr. Kenmore. Irish, I’m afraid.”
“Oh dear.”
“But I think …” Lady Dalrymple’s brow knit. “I’m nearly sure I once read in Debrett’s of a Kenmore being related to an earl, so I suppose that makes up for it.”
Grandmama sniffed. “It might go some way, I’ll allow, but if an Irish earl, it scarcely signifies.”
“Well, such things cannot be helped. But we may find he has some notion of drawing attention to himself, so if I were you, I’d be keeping an eye on that granddaughter of yours.”
“I do not think Caroline would countenance such a connection, even if the man were an earl himself. She knows what is expected of her.”
“I thought as much,” said Lady Dalrymple, as if she hadn’t just suggested the opposite. “One can always tell a brought-up gel, and one could scarcely envisage you with a family member who did not know her rightful place in this world.”
“Thank you,” said Grandmama, a look not wholly pleasant in her eyes, not dissimilar to that worn by her crony a minute earlier. Was it possible Grandmama could see through the other lady’s pride and sad pretensions and realize them for the empty things they were?
Caroline blinked and turned away, and in that instant became aware that the young lady who had elicited feelings of envy just moments before had drawn close.
Their eyes met, the other lady smiled, and Caroline found herself responding in kind.
“Excuse me. I know we have not yet been introduced, but I could not help but notice you before.”
Caroline’s brows rose.
“Nothing to alarm, I assure you. I merely wanted to know where you obtained such a pretty pelisse.”
“Oh!” Caroline felt herself thawing. “This old thing? I’m afraid it is last season’s, but I love the color so much that I could not bear to let it go.”
“I see.”
Remorse str
uck Caroline in the echo of her prideful words. Judging from the other lady’s somewhat shabby pelisse, a new wardrobe was scarcely within her means. How could she make amends? She put out her hand and smiled. “I am Miss Caroline Hatherleigh.”
“Emma,” she said before adding, with no small degree of hesitation, “Emma Kirby.”
Caroline’s heart sank as she noted the confirmation of Mrs. Kirby’s marital status. Well, she smiled, drawing up her chin, that was not supposed to concern her anyway. She also noted that Mrs. Kirby’s grasp was featherlight, as if she had no bones. Was she ill? She peered more closely at the pale face, but the delicate features held nothing that indicated illness; instead, her eyes shone with a kind of luminous contentment. That feeling of envy again prodded deep within.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Caroline said. Something about the dark green eyes gazing so directly into hers suggested this young redhead was as free from pretension as her husband. What was it about this couple that drew her so?
“From the first time I saw you, I felt like we were destined to be friends, and not just because we seem to be the only two young ladies in this parish. My brother says—”
“Caroline, come here.”
“Excuse me.” Caroline turned obediently to her grandmother, who was glancing at Emma askance.
“We have been invited to Lady Dalrymple’s manor for tea. Hurry up now, we cannot keep her waiting.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Kirby,” Caroline said, dropping a slight curtsy, which met a deeper one from the other young lady.
“Oh!” She blushed. “But I’m not—”
“Caroline! At once if you please!”
“Forgive me, I must go.” She hurried after her grandmother, still refusing to look at the two gentlemen who had moved either side of Emma.
Although, as Caroline joined the older ladies, she couldn’t help wondering what Emma’s husband might say, and why she once again felt the disquieting sense of being a mere spectator in life.
“Now who is that lovely lass?”
“That is Miss Caroline Hatherleigh,” Gideon was glad to hear Emma say. He was still processing how much a smile could transform a lady’s face.
“Hatherleigh, Hatherleigh.” Aidan’s brow creased. “Why does that name ring a bell?”
“That is something only you can answer, my friend,” Gideon said, in an attempt at joviality.
“Well, she’s got a fair sense of style about her, though the lady she be with has a look on her that’d turn a funeral down a country lane,” his friend continued, as the object of his attention ascended the sour-faced woman’s carriage, her gaze fixedly averted.
Gideon’s heart panged. Why would she refuse to look at him when she had been so bold as to speak with him before? Something didn’t make sense. Had she somehow learned of his family’s sad situation? Was she now disinclined to associate with them?
“She appears a wee bit toplofty,” Aidan said, speaking Gideon’s very thoughts aloud. “I don’t know if I would care to get to know her.”
“She seems quite nice,” Emma said stoutly. “Although I do think she might have been a little confused.”
“What do you mean?” Gideon asked.
“I believe she thinks I … that is, we … are married.”
Perhaps that was why she refused to look at him. The tension lining his heart eased, a smile hovering about his lips at his foolishness, until the reality of their situation caused him to sober once again. “You know it is not such a bad thing if we are thought to be married.”
“I know. It is for my protection.”
“Exactly. We do not want that man to learn where you might be.”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Aidan glanced between them. “I know you think this a grand plan, but I cannot help wonder about its wisdom.”
“Yes?”
“Tell me, what should happen when you meet a young lass you would wish to make your bride?”
Gideon’s throat tightened. He swallowed. “I can assure you I have no thoughts of matrimony when things remain uncertain with Emma.”
“Really? Because from the way you’ve pretended to not notice Miss Hatherleigh, and the way she seemed determined to not look at you, one has to ask the question just why there is so much averted interest.”
He felt his cheeks grow hot at the smirk on his friend’s face. “I can assure you, there is nothing to be gained from pointless speculation.”
“Really, Gideon?” Emma said, worry pleating her brow. “Because if there is any interest, I would not have you deny your happiness at my expense.”
“And I cannot be happy unless I know you are safe, so we are at an impasse, are we not?”
She shook her head sadly at him. “I wish you could trust God with this.”
“I am, which is why we have removed you here.”
“Is that trust? Or is that simply hiding?”
“Would it have been trusting God to leave you in such a circumstance?”
She bit her lip.
“Please, do not ask me to consider another when your safety will forever be paramount to me.”
“Forever?” Aidan said, one brow hooked.
God help him. However long it proved necessary.
CHAPTER EİGHT
CAROLINE GLANCED ALONG the bookshelves, the dust of which suggested it was not often frequented. While Wallis’s Marine Library couldn’t quite compare to the circulating libraries of Bath or London, she had been pleasantly surprised to learn such a small village boasted its existence. Clearly the books were stocked by someone whose taste ran very different to her own, but she was nevertheless thankful that the library provided further opportunity to be out and about, and not stuck at Saltings with thoughts she was ashamed to own. Grandmama’s companion, Miss McNell, was at the haberdashery securing some ribbons to trim a bonnet. Caroline had declined the excursion. She had no interest in ribbons, not when all her thoughts were caught up in wondering about Emma Kirby.
They had encountered one another a couple of times in the past week. Once, when Caroline had been sketching near the harbor; another time when she had come across Emma leaving the apothecary. On both occasions they had done little more than exchange nods and the briefest of greetings. Such encounters had only served to increase her curiosity about this woman who had been so quick to offer friendship.
Could she feel lonely like Caroline did? Would she one day have opportunity to rectify this? How did one keep a friend, anyway? Friendship seemed a delicate balance of openness about oneself whilst showing interest in others. Had propriety made her too aloof? Perhaps sharing her true feelings might help people see past the polite façade to know her for herself. She winced as memories of past friendships fueled by self-interest crept into mind. Is that where she had failed with Serena? Surely proper behavior did not eschew interest in others, no matter how humble their position in life may be. Perhaps this quest for friendship would be better served if she asked other people about themselves, rather than sought opportunity to display her thoughts about everything.
But could she ask such a thing of Emma? This past week, Caroline could not help but ponder the nature of Emma’s illness. She still owned that paleness, that air of fragility, yet she possessed a peace that made Caroline wonder about it all.
“Hello, Miss Hatherleigh,” came a female voice.
Caroline glanced up from the table of seaside-themed knick-knacks. “Mrs. Kirby!”
The other lady blushed. “Please, may we talk?” At Caroline’s nod, she gestured to a room beyond them, one used for reading, currently devoid of anyone save themselves. “You must forgive me,” Emma said in a lowered voice. “I find I am quite puzzled as to what to do.”
Caroline waited, sure she would hear an explanation soon.
After much biting of her bottom lip, Emma continued. “I am sure I can trust you, can I not?”
“Of course.”
“You … you have not been near Leeds, have you?”
<
br /> “Never.”
A look of relief crossed the other woman’s face. “Then I shall tell you, no matter what Gideon says. I cannot stand for such a lie to stand between us, not when I have hopes that you will be my friend.”
Interest mounted within but she forced herself to say politely, “Only tell me what you are sure you will not regret, Mrs. Kirby.”
“Such solicitude has quite decided me. You see”—she leaned close—“I am not Mrs. Kirby.”
Caroline blinked. “Forgive me.” How scandalous! “Then what is … ?”
“Gideon is my brother.”
“Oh!” Something tight within her chest released. “I didn’t realize. I thought you were married.”
“I’m afraid it is a little complicated.” The pale cheeks tinted rose. “You see, I am married, but my husband is, well, he is a terrible man, and he hurts me, so I have escaped here with my brother.”
“Oh my!”
“Yes. It is a little awkward to feel I am deceiving people by not using my proper name, but I cannot risk people finding out the truth. It could be scandalous for Gideon’s career, and would be so awkward to explain. And I simply cannot risk my husband learning the truth and finding me.”
“You poor thing.”
Emma gave a small smile. “I am not so very poor. I might not have very much compared to some people, but I know my brother loves me, and that makes up for more than most things.”
“That is a wonderful attitude to have.”
“Isn’t it?” came the surprising response, along with another of those disconcerting smiles. “Forgive me, I’m sure you are not quite used to my sense of humor yet.”
“Your brother seems to share it also.”
“You have spoken with him?” The green eyes sparked with interest. “I did not know.”
“I … I met him on the beach last week.”
“Well, he certainly was closed-lipped about that.” Her red head tilted. “I wonder why.”
“I’m sure I cannot say,” Caroline said, stifling the sudden surge of eagerness that demanded to know such things also.
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