No. Every muscle within her body strained in protest. She didn’t want to cross over to that blasted desk and sit and engage in a discussion… that had traces of “goodbye” hovering within the room.
They still had four more days before the terms of their agreement were met. Four more days. Elsie drifted over and claimed one of the leather seats.
“I received the entire file on your father.”
She jerked.
Of everything she’d been expecting, that had certainly not been what she’d thought he might say. He’d vowed to find out. He’d pledged to learn everything there was to learn. But never had she truly believed he would share that privileged and confidential information… with her. An outsider. She wet her lips. “And what have you learned?”
William sat back, and yet, his corded biceps strained the fabric of his black wool jacket, making a mockery of that hint at calm. “I learned your father was a skilled doctor committed to his patients,” he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled, and she bit at that flesh to steady it. “He was,” she managed to at last say. But the unspoken regret and remorse hung heavy in his tone. “But?”
Gathering up the file he’d been reading, William stood and came ’round the desk.
Bear sprang to his feet and accompanied a man who’d become his new loyalest of friends and joined him at Elsie’s side.
Or mayhap it was just that Bear sensed she needed him more in this instance than William did. She wove her fingers through the dog’s coarse fur, seeking comfort—and this time, finding none.
William held out the leather folio etched with a golden seal. “What is this?” she asked, making no move to take it.
“These are the men you and your father treated. You’re not mentioned.”
She glanced at the seal. “No,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t be.” Women weren’t included in the marks upon pages that mattered.
William dropped to a knee beside her, and she ached to feel his touch again, that most meaningful of connections, a tender caress, a show of support. “But you should be. You should be, Elsie.”
With a sound of frustration, she sailed to her feet. “It was never about that,” she cried, whipping away from him. “It was about—”
“Helping,” he supplied for her, and there was no judgment there. He proffered the folder again. “And that is precisely what your father did.”
Elsie recoiled, jerking her hands close, refusing to take the records still. For when she did, everything would be established as fact, and coward that she was, Elsie didn’t know if she wanted all of it. Coward that she was, she was content with the image of her father and what they’d done and wanted nothing that called any of that into question, in any way. “Just say it,” she whispered. “Be done with it already.”
William unfurled to his full height, towering over her. “I will not.” He drew forth an aged yellow paper from his jacket.
Her heart jumped at the scrawl across the front, barely distinguishable, dashed in the hand of one whose mind had been far too busy attending his craft to worry about the quality of his penmanship.
She shook her head and, holding her hands up protectively, backed up a step.
“You should read it, Elsie.”
No.
“You are no coward, love. It is what makes you so wholly different from me and any other man or woman,” William said with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.
Blinking back those bothersome drops, she made herself take the note, and before her courage deserted her, Elsie unfolded it and read.
I will preface the contents of this note by taking ownership of my grave mistake and expressing my sincerest of apologies.
Her stomach lurched. Don’t read anymore. It doesn’t matter. You know who and what your father was. Only, why did that now ring with a good deal less conviction in her mind? Why did it seem like it had only been a lie she’d fed herself? The page shook wildly in her grip, and she forced herself to steady those digits and kept reading.
I am guilty of the crimes which you will soon learn of. I revealed the existence of the Brethren. I confirmed my role within it. I offered the name of but two patients—
Bile climbed her throat. Her father had revealed the identities of young men who’d served the Home Office. Her piteous moan filled the office. “I was so sure,” she whispered into the quiet.
All the while she read, William stood close. Hurled epithets and accusations would have been easier than… this, his quiet support.
Needing to have the rest of those damning words finished, she hurried through the remainder of the letter.
Should I have failed to confirm and provide some evidential proof, my daughter’s existence was threatened. I pledged my loyalty to the Brethren, king, Crown, and country… but not at the expense of her. I ask that you please send supports for mine and my family, so that—
Elsie quickly read through the rest and then folded the page along its original crease.
It had been a confession… and an appeal for help—help that he’d not deserved. Unable to speak through the emotion clogging her throat, Elsie held the letter out.
William took it and tucked it back inside his jacket.
“Just say it,” she said tiredly.
He shook his head. “I will not.”
Because he was far more honorable and trustworthy and good than she’d ever credited. “Just say it,” she cried, and this time, the tears flowed freely, and she let them. “Say it.” Elsie slammed a fist against his chest, over and over.
He caught her wrist in a delicate hold, halting the next blow. With reverent gentleness, he raised her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss atop them. “Your father was a traitor. Is that what you wish to hear?”
There it was. Words she’d believed didn’t matter ran through her like a blade, slashing at every myth she’d believed and proving the greatest lie she’d managed to convince herself of. She did care. She didn’t want to know that her father had betrayed king and country. Before, she would have snarled and hissed at that, calling William all kinds of liar. But now she could not. The intensity of his gaze upon her pierced her, and unable to meet that regretful stare, she yanked the folder from his hands.
Stepping around him, she wandered over to the drawn curtains and stared out.
“The thing about… the truth, Elsie,” William said from over her shoulder. “We tend to take it as white or black. Something definitive. Something clear. One is either a liar, or not. Good or bad. Truthful or dishonest.” The floorboards groaned, indicating he’d drifted closer, and she studied his towering frame in the crystal windowpane. “It is an understanding that exists among most. That belief in absolutes once drove my own life and every decision I made.” He rested his palms upon her shoulders and leaned down. “Until you, Elsie.”
She stiffened, refusing herself that warmth and reassurance, and then she weakened, collapsing against him.
William placed a fleeting kiss against her temple. “You taught me that the world exists in varying shades of gray, and people and circumstances cannot exist in absolutes. We’re all a product of life and loss and… love.” Her heart lifted and then, with his next words, fluttered back to its usual place. “Your father loved you and did what he did to protect you. I cannot… will not fault him for that, Elsie.” He gave her shoulders a light squeeze and stepped away.
Those words moved through her, light and freeing and healing in every way. She’d been so fixed on resenting those who’d wronged her father and seeing him as a martyr who’d been failed… when the truth was as William had said. He, just like William and every man who’d come to their cottage, had been merely human. A man who sought to be the best he could be, but who inevitably faltered and failed.
Elsie hugged her arms around her middle and faced him. “Thank you.” How very inadequate those words were.
William gave her another sad smile. “You’d thank me. You never owed me your gratitude. It was wrong of my
brother to bring you here.”
And there it was.
Elsie drifted closer to him. “I want to be here.”
“I wanted you to be here,” he said softly.
Wanted. His use of a past tense spoke of a parting, an end. A pressure was weighting her chest, squeezing at her airflow, making it impossible to breathe.
“I didn’t do anything, William.”
“No. You did everything.” He cupped her cheek. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be drinking and whoring and locking myself away indoors when there are people who need me. You showed me how I’d shut everyone out. My brother. My nephew…” His Adam’s apple moved. “My late sister’s young son, Leo.”
Leo. A child related to this man, and she knew nothing of him. Would never know anything about him. He’d remain a stranger.
Elsie bit at the inside of her cheek, focusing on the pain of that. “You’re sending me away.”
“I’m setting you free,” he corrected.
How was she going to pick up her life and go on without him in it? All the teasing and joy she’d had in simply being with him and speaking to him would fade into memories. “You are sending me away,” she repeated, forcing him to own that, even though he’d never pledged anything more than his body in the gardens three days ago.
He drew in a slow breath through his lips. “You have helped me recover in ways I believed I never would or could… but you are not safe here, Elsie,” he said, faintly entreating. “You would never be safe with me.”
Elsie wandered back to the window and stared at the fancy conveyances and fine horseflesh traversing the fashionable streets of Mayfair.
William’s words were the closest he’d ever come to hinting at wanting her here. This time, Elsie did fold her arms close in a solitary embrace. Even so, his words weren’t of love but of keeping her safe. The sad smile on her lips reflected back in the window.
All the while, did he not see that she was no “safer” alone in her corner of the Cotswolds?
Elsie gave her head a slight shake and let her arms fall to her sides. Either way, she didn’t want him that way. She loved him, wanted a life with him, but would not guilt or worry him into keeping her close. Returning to his side, she stretched a hand out.
He stared at it in befuddlement before folding his fingers into hers.
She shook his hand. “I have enjoyed my time here”—with you—“more than I’d thought possible,” she said softly. Oh, God. How am I so steady when I’m splintering apart inside? “I will miss”—his grip convulsed around hers—“it,” she settled for lamely.
“That is almost a compliment,” he said, retaining hold of her hand, and she clung to him, stealing those last vestiges of warmth.
“Almost,” she agreed with a teasing grin. Reluctantly, Elsie drew her hand back and smoothed her palms down the sides of her skirts.
“I’ve had your belongings packed,” William went on in peculiarly flat tones that effectively killed her smile. “Stone will accompany you back. You’ll be safe with him.”
What was safe anymore? Her heart was crumpling into dust within her chest because of this man’s rote accounting of her travel plans.
“Given you and your father’s service, I’ll see you afforded the same protections as any other member of the… Home Office,” he was saying. “Someone who will… remain in Bladon and…”
She shook her head. What was he saying? “And… look after me?” she ventured.
He frowned. “See that you’re safe.”
The guilt he carried over his late wife would be forever with him. She’d not allow it to cloud the remainder of her existence. “I don’t want that, William.”
“Elsie,” he pleaded.
“I do not want anyone assigned to me, William. I’m a grown woman. I’ve lived for nearly five years on my own without incident, and I’ll continue…” alone. Oh, God. Elsie averted her gaze slightly to hide the next wave of tears. He’d offered her his body. But so had he done with countless other women—and many more who’d come after she was gone.
He reached for her hands, and she hid them behind her back until his own fell uselessly to his sides. His features spasmed. Was it grief? Good. Let him share the weight of misery now crushing her. “I wish you the best, William. I wish you peace and happiness.”
With that, Elsie dropped a curtsy. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. It was a mantra that beat in her head in time to her footfalls. Just go, before you dissolve into a pathetic, blubbering mess. Only, she could not. She stopped at the door, facing him again. “William? What happened to your wife, the fault does not lie with you. It lies with soulless men who carry out that evil. Your guilt… nearly destroyed you, and it will once more, if you let it.”
Two hours later, her meager belongings packed and stored within his carriage… she left.
Chapter 22
William awaited a meeting that was long overdue.
To be precise, nearly a year overdue.
He should be thinking solely of the exchange to come, and yet, William’s gaze went to the slumbering dog on the Aubusson carpet at the center of his library.
She’d left her dog.
Nearly a week after she’d gone, Elsie haunted his memory and thoughts still… and her dog served as an eternal reminder.
That beloved pup had been part of her life and household for nearly fourteen years. And just as important, the dog had provided her, a woman on her own, some degree of protection and companionship.
He slid his eyes closed as a familiar cold swept through him.
Images flitted forward of Elsie alone in a cottage that Stone, upon his return, had reported was modest. Beyond that, he’d said little more.
She’s returned, safely, and was polite at our parting.
That had been it. The first and only report he’d ever sought on Elsie Allenby, and it had offered none of what he’d truly sought from Stone.
Had she been happy to return? Sad at her departure? Fearful? What had she been? What?
I’m going mad.
Only, this—he swallowed hard—this jagged hole that had been ripped open wide came not from mere worry, but because he missed her. He missed her clever wit and her unabashed challenges at every turn. And the gardens. He missed their time spent there, too.
And what was worse? This misery? This emptiness? No, the fact it was all a product of his own making. He’d sent her away. He’d made the decision for her to leave, when everything within her eyes had indicated she’d wanted to stay.
Or had she? Had he merely seen what he wished in a woman he’d come to love—
His body jerked ramrod straight, much the way it had when he’d been run through with a blade in his earliest training for the Brethren.
He couldn’t… It wasn’t possible… He missed Elsie. He enjoyed her company. But love? He’d vowed to never again give in to that dangerous emotion.
“I love her,” he whispered. He’d thought there was nothing left in his heart to give or receive and that he was destined to a fate of deserved misery. Only to be proven so very wrong. He loved her. He loved her for her wit and talent and ability to talk on topics that no woman or man of any station in his whole existence ever had.
Bear rolled onto his back and wiggled on the carpet, emitting a forlorn whine that cut across William’s panicky musings.
With a sigh, William joined the dog on the carpet. “I miss her, too,” he confided, running his fingertips through the gray fur.
Bear stared back with wide, accusatory brown eyes.
“Yes, yes. I know. It’s quite my fault. But I’ll have you know… it is in her best interest.”
It was.
Or, that was what he’d told himself with her departure. No matter what became of William’s role with the Brethren, the threat of danger would remain for all those who were in his life. There would always be enemies lurking and peril for the work he’d done on behalf of the Home Office.
And he’d been selfish en
ough before that he’d taken what he wanted and put those desires first before another’s well-being—his late wife’s.
William sucked in a shuddery breath. Knowing all that didn’t do anything to ease the ache that had come with Elsie’s leaving.
Bear nudged at his hand, and he resumed stroking the dog in the way he so favored.
Rap-pause-rap-pause—rap-rap.
William found the ormolu clock atop the fireplace mantel and shoved to his feet. He is here.
Clasping his hands behind him, he called out for the expected pair to enter.
His brother came in first, a boy following after him. Somber, with too-serious-for-his-age eyes, his nephew who was never without a book cautiously came to a stop.
Another swell of emotion crested and threatened to pull William under.
Leo.
Only somehow more serious. More guarded.
Unable or unwilling to meet his gaze, the gangly boy shifted on his feet. “Uncle…” Then Leo’s eyes formed round circles. “You have a dog!” he exclaimed, rushing over. Several curls tumbled over Leo’s brow, giving him the look of one so much younger than his fourteen years.
From over the boy’s head, William and Edward shared a smile before his brother backed out of the room. “I do. He’s a loyal fellow.” And Elsie had left that cherished gift for him. Emotion balled in his throat.
“When did you get him?” With an uncharacteristic excitement, Leo wrapped the surprisingly compliant dog in a tight embrace and continued before William could answer. “What is his name?”
“Just three weeks ago.” Had it really been just twenty-one days in which Elsie Allenby had entered his life and upended his world in the most splendorous way? And I sent her away? William briefly closed his eyes. “His name is Bear.”
“That is a good name,” Leo was saying. “He looks like a Bear. Is that why you named him such?”
“Is that why…?” he echoed. I don’t know why she chose that name. He knew the creature’s history and how beloved he was, but he knew nothing more. I want those pieces. I want every last detail about Elsie and her life and…
Her Duke of Secrets Page 24