Lily looked stricken. That wide-eyed look would haunt him for the rest of his life. As pale as if she’d turned into a ghost, she lifted one hand to touch her mouth. The men were already forcing Adam toward the stairs, their grips punishing on his already bruised flesh, but he caught his wife’s gaze and did one last good thing in his life.
“Search the bottom of my chest. Go. Promise me you’ll go.”
“I promise,” she said. She took a halting step forward, then wrapped her arms around her middle and moved back. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. The sight of them carved him from the inside. “We’ll sort this out, I promise. I love you.”
She wouldn’t sort this out, but she would be safe. Adam stumbled on the first step to the ground, caught by the two men forcing him bodily along. He didn’t fight them, but the bruisers were none too gentle in their handling. Through gritted teeth, he called over his shoulder, trying to catch one last glimpse of her face to sustain him through the dark hours or days ahead.
“I love you, too. Both of you.”
The sailors hauled him past the officer and out of the front door to a waiting carriage. He had no chance to escape. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have taken it. It was more important that Lily and their unborn child leave London unscathed.
His one mercy was knowing that he hadn’t gone through the trouble of entrusting the property in the country to her for nothing.
Chapter Thirty-Three
If she lived to be one hundred, Lily would never forget the look on Adam’s face as he was dragged away from her. He wasn’t fighting his captors. Why wasn’t he fighting?
She hugged herself tighter. Beneath her skin, her bones felt like water. At any moment she might lose the battle with gravity and fall to the floor. But no, she had to be strong. Adam had a plan. Her mouth still burned from his kiss. She turned away.
Adam always had a plan.
Distantly, over the fervent beat of her heart, Lily heard Willa’s shout to release her “bastard of a brother,” as if she couldn’t make up her mind to be angry at him for his absence or worried. Sophie was with her. Lily didn’t worry, couldn’t worry about her sisters now.
The distance between the staircase and Adam’s trunk melted away. She fell to her knees and fumbled with the latch. He would do his part to delay whatever punishment the navy hoped to enact on him; Lily must do hers. She tossed items aside from the half-empty trunk. A book, a bottle of ink, a knife, a set of keys. They jangled as they hit the floor and she came at last to a set of papers scraped from the bottom. They were folded, but Lily drew them open with shaking fingers, noting the thickness of the paper and the fact that they were only written on one side.
This must be it. The record of his birth from his parish or some other item that proved he was Nathan King, a man the navy had never heard of.
Instead, when Lily opened the documents, they began with a single, much less costly page containing a short note in a familiar scrawl.
Her eyes clouded over with tears and it took her a minute to be able to read the note. She slumped against the chest, sheet in hand.
My dearest Lily,
This isn’t a cottage on the sea, but I hope it will provide you with some solace nonetheless. Nothing I do can ever repay what I’ve taken from you, but I want you to know that I never set out to mislead or hurt you. I have always loved you.
Yours, always,
Adam.
The letter was dated before their reunion, as if he’d meant to send it through the post but lost his courage. She sobbed and although she turned to the next page, she couldn’t read a word.
Adam always had a plan. Where was his plan?
She didn’t realize that her sisters had joined her until they enfolded her in their arms, one from behind and the other next to her. They rocked her, cooing nonsensical placations until her tears dried and she hiccupped. Her eyes were sore, but no less red-rimmed than her sisters’.
“What did he say?” Sophie asked, her voice hoarse.
“Reid got the better of him. He must have sent the officers here, too.”
Her older sister looked grim. “Then we’ll force him to make this right.”
“No.” Lily latched onto Sophie’s wrist, stalling her when she looked about to stand. Sophie looked murderous, an expression Lily didn’t recognize on her. “It won’t do any good. It’ll only draw Reid’s attention to our case to absolve our debts. Let him forget about us.”
Willa tightened her arms, out of sight behind Lily. “But Adam…”
“The navy has him now. I thought…if we had proof…”
She fell silent, looking down at the tear-blotched page in her hand.
Sophie asked, “What is that?”
“Not proof,” she said hoarsely. The jargon made her head ache, but the meaning was clear enough.
Willa craned her neck to peer over Lily’s shoulder. “It’s the deed to an estate.”
Upon the death of the estate owner, Mr. Adam Darling, the estate was to be held in trust for his heir, B— Darling. Lily was named as the trustee. Not a cottage by the sea at all, as she noted upon reading the address.
“Ashton-under-Lyne. It’s outside London.” How far, she didn’t know. He’d never said, when he’d mentioned the town where he’d spent the time they’d been separated. She sounded wrung through. And she felt it, too.
Adam hadn’t sent her for proof at all. He meant to send her away. He meant for her to leave him to his fate.
She couldn’t do it. No matter the promise she’d made in haste, she couldn’t abandon him. There had to be something she could do to absolve him.
Lily traced the word heir on the page and narrowed her eyes. She placed a hand over her belly and thought of the child’s father.
And she had an idea.
…
Of the scattered pieces Lily knew about Nathan King, the first was that he was from the north. Northumberland was a big county and even with the speed of the post, Lily would never be able to request parish birth records in time to circumvent whatever punishment the navy meant to enact on her husband, even if she had known precisely where to look.
However, Adam’s father was a magistrate. One who had been awarded a jurisdiction closer to London. As it turned out, Sir Clement Darling was far easier to find, but no less difficult to wrest a response from.
On the eve before Adam’s public arraignment, Lily took matters into her own hands. She would pound down Sir Clement’s door if need be. One way or another, she would free her husband.
Rain poured onto the cobblestones, lending the air a thick, musty taste. It made the air cloudy with the mist rising from the ground, further obscuring the wan light from the streetlight on the corner. Lily hesitated at the bottom of the neat set of steps leading to Sir Clement’s door. She squared her shoulders.
Sophie caught her by the arm as she moved to knock. “Are you certain you don’t wish us to accompany you?”
Lily gave her sisters her best, most brittle smile. “Thank you, but no. I think I have a better chance of persuading him to listen if I’m alone.”
Neither of her sisters looked happy at her decision but both nodded. Willa huddled closer to Sophie beneath the umbrella they held between them, her shoulders hunched. “Then we’ll be with you in spirit.”
Her mouth dry, Lily couldn’t find anything else to say. She turned toward the daunting door. What if she was turned away, as each of her letters after the first had been? She narrowed her eyes and marched up the steps to use the brass knocker. She couldn’t afford to turn craven now.
Not with her husband’s life at stake.
A burly man answered the door. He carried himself with a meekness that belied his size. “May I help you?”
Lily fumbled her calling card out of her reticule and handed it to him. “I know the hour is late, but I must see Sir Clement at once.
”
The manservant squinted at the card. Perhaps the light over the door didn’t carry enough for him to read it, because he asked, “Is he expecting you?”
“No, but the matter is urgent and it concerns his son. He’ll want to see me.”
She feigned bravado. Sir Clement’s lack of response had been very telling of his desire to do precisely the opposite. Holding herself still despite the tempting urge to fidget, she stared her opponent in the eye until he flinched.
“This way, Mrs. Darling. I’ll see if he’s at home.”
Perhaps he had read the calling card after all.
Her knees trembled. She clasped her hands in front of her as she stepped into the house. The butler paused to take her wet shawl before leading her into a sparse sitting room. Nothing in the decor or furnishings gave any indication that it was regularly used. She perched on the edge of an armchair and waited.
She composed herself, fully expecting to be turned away upon the manservant’s return. She would not, could not allow it. Sir Clement was Adam’s last hope at freedom. Having given him nothing else, he owed his son that much.
When the man darkened the doorway again, she stood, hands clasped so hard in front of her they ached. Bowing his head, he said, “Sir Clement is in his study. This way, madam.”
Lily fought for breath. Her legs didn’t want to move, but she forced her feet one in front of the other. At last, she followed up the staircase to a closed door. The manservant knocked twice, then opened it. Lily steeled herself before she went inside.
Her gaze arrowed to the wide oak desk. When she found the seat behind it empty, she stopped short. A short cough from her right drew her attention and, feeling off-balance, she turned to the man who stood in front of a pair of leather armchairs. She’d expected him to arm himself with the mantle of authority and put a desk between him. She’d prepared herself for that—not for a man dressed in his banyan over trousers, clearly interrupted from reading the book he’d laid next to a candle and half-finished tumbler of brandy. It was too intimate a scene with which to greet a stranger.
But not family.
He had Adam’s expressive mouth, but none of her husband’s amusement. The way they cocked their eyebrows was the same, too. Adam’s hazel eyes must have come from his mother, because Sir Clement’s gaze was dark and unfathomable. But the shape of his clean-shaven face was familiar, albeit fleshier and carved with two decades more than Adam’s. His close-cropped hair was threaded with salt.
And, despite the intimacy of his dress, he was far colder. With a measured wave of his hand, he indicated the chair across from him. “Please sit, Mrs.…” He trailed off.
Lily drew in a breath, resettled herself, and reminded herself why she was here. She crossed to the chair and sat. Only then did Sir Clement resume his seat.
“Darling,” she answered firmly, offering no more than that.
Sir Clement reached for his tumbler but didn’t drink. He held it so tightly, his fingers turned white, the only shred of emotion in his body. “My son died unmarried. I would have known otherwise.”
She lifted her chin. “You have more than one son.”
When he hesitated, she started to worry her lower lip. Did he not know of Adam—Nathan’s—existence? She released her lip the moment she realized what she was doing. Adam had taught her better than this. She had to project confidence.
Narrowing his eyes, Sir Clement took a small sip from the glass. After he lowered it to his lap, he answered, “Not by my wife.”
Lily had never wanted to flay a man before now. How could a man, any man, know of his son and turn his back? It was clear this would not be a battle won through emotion.
She clasped her hands tightly as she regrouped. “No,” she agreed, “but yours nonetheless. And the only one to survive the Nemesis. They were both on board, you know. Though Adam…your son…volunteered, whereas my husband did not. I suppose the polite term would be to say he was drafted.” Lily laid her hand over her stomach, a fleeting protection for the life within. “If it had happened to my son at thirteen, I would have called it kidnapping.”
The magistrate looked unmoved.
“We don’t ask for money or your acknowledgment. The opposite, in fact.” She forced herself to remove her hand from her stomach before she gave her condition away. “Tomorrow, your son is being arraigned on charges of desertion from the Royal Navy.”
Sir Clement drained his glass. “I am aware. I’m not the magistrate in charge of the trial. What would you have me do about it?”
His question was more accusation than offer. Lily clenched her jaw to hide her flinch.
“I would like to call you as a witness. If you deny that my husband is your son, who is dead, the matter will be settled.”
“Will it?” Again came that glacial brow so reminiscent of Adam’s expression. “By your own admission, he did in fact desert the Royal Navy. And he stole my son’s identity, to boot.”
“Adam, your son, knew my husband and loved him as a brother. It was a love returned tenfold by my husband. The battle that took your son was a terrible accident, one my husband has had to live with all these years.” The older man looked no closer to sympathy than he had when she’d sat down. “My husband took your son’s name on his request when he died. He wanted Adam to live and to live free. Please, help me honor your son’s last request. I beg of you.”
Unshed tears formed a painful ache along the bridge of her nose. She breathed shallowly through parted lips as she wrestled for her composure. Tears wouldn’t sway a man like Sir Clement Darling.
He stood and motioned to the door. “I believe you’ve said what you came to say. My man will show you the way out, madam.”
Lily turned toward the door, using the bite of her fingers into her palm to stave off the dejection trying to suffocate her. She couldn’t give up. Adam wouldn’t give up on her.
She rounded on the older man and took a gamble. Maybe she would get lucky. “Reread your son’s letters home, sir. My husband was a dear friend, you’ll see. They started off at odds, but their relationship soon changed to so much more.” She hesitated, laying her hand on her stomach again.
But if he didn’t care for the well-being of his own son, he would care nothing for his grandchild.
“Good night.” Knowing she could persuade him no further, she sailed out of the house and into the waiting arms of two women who knew the true meaning of family.
Chapter Thirty-Four
If Adam was to get one last wish, he wished to see his wife.
Perhaps, in the dark, decrepit cell he’d been given, he’d made that particular wish a bit too fervently, because as he was led into the courtroom at Bow Street, there she was. The guards escorting him from the cart roughly elbowed the men and women thronging on the walkway aside as they shoved him into the building. More people, many of them likely paid by various broadsheets to bear witness to the hearing, clogged the short walk from the door into the courtroom proper. Guards stood to either side of the gate in the wooden railing separating the populace from those participating in the trial. Mean-faced men and women shouted profanity at Adam and hurled whatever they happened to have in their pockets. The fracas surged around him like wind buffeting a house, but he scarcely noticed it.
Because, pressed against the railing at the far end of the room next to her sisters and mother, stood Lily. She clasped the waist-high barrier in a white-knuckled grip, her gaze plaintive and piercing.
You shouldn’t be here.
She was too far away to hear, even if he shouted. And his heart wouldn’t be in the reprimand, despite the worry seizing his every muscle. He’d meant her to take the deed to their estate and flee to the country. Some months later, she would read news of his…punishment…and that would be that. She would be safe.
She was impossibly lovely with her hair pulled away from her face and her gaze
flinty with determination. He stumbled as the guards shoved him onward, to the chair where they meant to secure him. He watched her the entire way, trying to communicate without words.
You shouldn’t be here, my love. Oh, my love. His chest ached. He would have rubbed it if the guards hadn’t shoved his hands to the flat wooden arms of the chair and cuffed him there. He balled his fists instead.
He was closer to Lily now, enough that he could call to her. She stood in front of her family, her sisters flanking their mother and clasping each of Mrs. Bancroft’s frail hands. Even she looked more solid than he’d seen her in past months. It must bring her some solace to finally see him punished for the role he’d played in her husband’s decline in health. With an expression like a hurricane, Willa raised her free hand to grip Lily’s shoulder. In comparison, his wife looked deceptively placid, if one didn’t look too deeply into her eyes.
He silently mouthed two words to her. You promised.
She raised her chin, her mouth tightening at the edges in a mulish expression he knew well. Zeus, he loved her, but he didn’t want her to see him like this. He hadn’t wanted Chatterley to drag her into this disaster alongside him.
As the sitting magistrate began the proceedings, Adam didn’t look away from Lily. He barely heard a word of the charges laid against him. He denied them on principle, a perfunctory statement of his innocence that rendered the crowd into titters. The arraignment continued as Chatterley was called on to present his proof. With barely restrained glee, the man presented letters and rosters and Lord only knew what else. The papers beneath his floorboards had not been the only copies.
At least Adam hadn’t put himself in harm’s way for nothing on the night he’d gone back to meet Chatterley. It was bitter solace, given the outcome.
Through it all, Adam watched his wife. Lines deepened around her mouth, between her eyebrows, at the corners of her eyes. Her hands tightened on the railing. Sophie gripped Lily’s other shoulder, almost as if holding her back.
The Price of Temptation Page 33