by Deborah Hale
He heaved a sigh so deep it seemed to fill the whole room. “I know I didn’t cause the explosion…or the epidemic…or the duel. But the dangers of taking you and Lee to Singapore are real enough.”
Artemis could not gainsay that. And after this undeserved reprieve, she was not about to risk saying anything that might turn Hadrian against her.
He fumbled in the darkness for her hand. “I am touched that you’d be willing to put yourself and Lee at risk for me. But it is not a chance I can take. Do you understand?”
Did she? Artemis struggled with that question even as she slipped her arms around Hadrian’s neck and pressed her cheek to his, so he could feel her nod.
To her, caring for people meant holding them close and doing everything in her power to give them what they needed. But Hadrian seemed to be saying he must leave her and deny her the one thing she wanted most from him because he cared for her.
Chapter Eighteen
What had put the mad whim of going to Singapore into Artemis’s head?
Hadrian spent the final few days of the house party doing everything possible to keep from thinking about her offer. But late on the last evening, when he and the other men gathered in his study to drink their brandy, his powers of diversion failed him. While the others talked about business, politics and fishing, he fell to brooding.
His wife’s gentle whisper in the darkness had caught him off guard. At first he’d thought he must be dreaming—or caught in a nightmare. It was a powerfully tempting fancy, to take his little family away with him. Show them all the wonders of the wide world. Have them to come home to after a long day’s work. Watch Lee learn and grow.
But that’s all it was—a fancy.
The truth was what he’d forced himself to remember and to remind Artemis. The likelihood of Lee falling overboard and drowning. Their ship attacked by pirates or wrecked by a violent storm. Artemis catching some fatal fever. How could she expect him to consider a course of action so fraught with danger?
And why did she want to go? Did she think he needed her so desperately that he could not manage without her? The way her family had needed her? Well, he didn’t! Her family’s need for Artemis had been entirely selfish—taking everything she’d so capably provided without sparing a thought for her needs. He was not about to place her in jeopardy, no matter how much he cherished her company.
Hearing his wife’s name suddenly spoken jarred Hadrian back to his friends’ conversation.
“I have known Artemis since we were children,” said Ford, “but I never heard her laugh until the other day when we were larking about over the pall-mall wickets. You know, my grandmother once hoped I’d marry her.”
“You and Artemis?” Hadrian scowled at his partner. “Absurd!” The thought of any other man married to Artemis made his jaw clench and his fists itch.
“That’s what I thought.” Ford shrugged. “Though she was younger than me and quite pretty, she seemed almost like a mother to Leander and Daphne. Not to my taste at all.”
Blade and Sidney sputtered with laughter.
“Then you were a damned young fool,” Hadrian growled. Much as he disliked the idea of Artemis with another man, he resented Ford’s casual dismissal of her charms.
“My cousin certainly was different from other young ladies.” Jasper drained the last of his brandy. “She was the only one who didn’t make me feel as if I had two left feet, ten thumbs and a tied tongue.”
“The only one?” asked Blade with a sly grin.
“Yes…well…” Jasper ducked his head. “Until very recently, I mean.”
Ford and Sidney exchanged a knowing look, as if placing a silent wager on how soon Lord Ashbury would join their close-knit family circle.
“Be that as it may,” Jasper persisted, “I always thought it a shame that none of the family ever paid Artemis much heed, other than expecting her to look after them. I am delighted to see her so happy with you, Hadrian. I often thought she deserved a husband and family who adore her.”
Jasper’s kindly meant words drove a stab of guilt deep into Hadrian. That was what Artemis deserved…but could never have from him. And since he had chained her in the bonds of matrimony, she would never have the opportunity to find a man capable of cherishing her without putting her in danger.
“Adore?” He gave a dismissive grunt that did not sound all that convincing, even to him. “I agree she is a fine woman and we get on well together. But we married for the sake of our nephew. It was never meant to be a love match.”
“It may not have meant to be—” Blade wore an insufferably smug grin “—but somewhere along the road your feelings changed, didn’t they?”
Hadrian would rather have had a blacksmith pull his teeth than submit to this good-natured ragging on such a private subject. “I cannot deny we’ve put our differences behind us and grown rather close.”
“Rather close?” Blade let out a whoop of laughter that Hadrian longed to cram back down his throat. He raised his glass toward Jasper. “Our young friend may not have much experience in such matters, but I reckon he’s struck pretty near the mark. You adore the woman. Admit it. You’re besotted with her.”
“They are right, old fellow,” Ford weighed in. “You love your wife. It’s as plain as the scowl on your face! No need to be ashamed of it. Blade, Sidney and I love our wives and it hasn’t done us a bit of harm.”
“Not yet, perhaps.” Hadrian slammed down his glass and stalked toward the door. “But let some harm come to them, then see what you have to say about it!”
A few days after their guests departed, Artemis sat at her dressing table one evening, wishing Genia and Laura were still there so she could seek their advice. Though they’d promised to write and had invited her to come south for a visit, those were no substitute for their presence—the camaraderie, advice and support they’d offered. Never had she needed those things more.
That morning, after wakening with a queasy stomach for the third day in a row, she’d consulted her calendar and realized something she’d been too busy to notice during the house party. For the first time in over ten years, her monthly courses were more than a month late. She was going to have a baby!
The prospect of bearing Hadrian’s child brought a rush of intense contradictory emotions. Indeed, all her emotions seemed more intense of late. Was that an effect of her condition or was it Hadrian’s fault for breaking through her reserve and making her care so deeply for him?
One minute she was elated at the thought of bearing a child who would need her and love her in the innocent, uncomplicated way Lee did. A child who would be like a brother or sister for her beloved nephew, giving him a taste of the closeness she’d shared with Leander and Daphne. A child she might not have to share with anyone else—not even its father.
Part of her was attracted by that thought. It was everything she’d once dreamed of and more—two dear children, a comfortable home in which to raise them and the means to give them every possible advantage. And no one to interfere or tell her how best to bring them up. But now that she had come to know and love Hadrian, her old dream no longer seemed so idyllic.
Would the pure and uncomplicated love of her little ones be enough, or would she yearn for the complex passion and powerful intimacy she had known with a man? She would miss watching him play with them, guide them and love them in a different way than she did—but a way she sensed they needed. She would miss watching them grow with him, talking over all their small doings, sharing the pride in their accomplishments.
And when she thought of how much Hadrian would miss by being so far away, knowing the children only through a yearly letter, it made her heart ache for him. He had lost two families already. Would those tragedies compel him to turn his back on a third? She feared it might.
She had sensed a growing closeness to him in the past weeks, as they’d fit so well into the company of other happily married couples—until she had made the mistake of asking him to take her and Lee to Singapore
. From that moment, a subtle but distressing coolness had crept into their relationship, like the first hint of autumn frost after a sun-drenched summer. Though Hadrian was as kind and attentive as ever in some ways, she felt a distance widening between them and did not know how to bridge that gulf. She was afraid even to try, fearing she might do or say the wrong thing and make matters worse.
She sought comfort in the reassurances of her new friends.
“Of course he cares for you,” Laura insisted when Artemis had reluctantly confided in her. “That’s why he would do anything to protect you. Ford was just the same when he believed he’d been tainted by scandal. He tried to drive me away…for my own good, of course.”
“Men.” Genia shook her head. “They are such dear, exasperating creatures, always certain they’re the only ones who know what is best for us.”
She, Laura and Belinda all went on to tell of risks taken and obstacles overcome in their quests for lasting happiness with the men they loved. Though their stories inspired her admiration, Artemis feared she did not have their courage.
“Of course you do.” Laura gave her hand a heartening squeeze. “You have been through such a lot, yet still carried on taking care of everyone else, trying to make them happy. Is it not time you put as much courage and effort into securing your own happiness?”
Was it not, indeed? Artemis asked her reflection in the glass. Thanks to Hadrian, she’d gained new confidence in herself—confidence in her looks, her abilities and her judgment. She must not let him undermine her newfound sense that she was worthy of love, even when she did not cater to every whim of those she cared for. She felt certain that was the last thing he would want.
“Will you be wanting to dress for dinner this evening, ma’am?” asked her lady’s maid. “With all the guests gone and only you and the master dining?”
Artemis thought for a moment. She had more than just herself to fight for. There was Lee and her unborn child and Hadrian, too. “I believe I will, Emily. The wine-colored taffeta, I think. Can you dress my hair the way you did the first evening I wore it? Mr. Northmore admired it very much.”
But her effort to attract Hadrian’s attention did not work. At dinner that evening he gave no sign of noticing her gown or her hair, but sat eating in preoccupied silence. During the house party, he’d taken up the host’s customary place at the head of the table. Since then, he had not returned to his prior custom of sitting beside Artemis. It was as if his heart and mind had already sailed off to Singapore, leaving behind a handsome but lifeless statue in his place.
If this was all their marriage would be for the next three months, what did she have to lose by confronting him? Emboldened by that thought, Artemis picked up her plate and silverware. Marching to his end of the table, she sat on the chair to his right.
“There.” She echoed the explanation he’d given the first time he’d come to sit beside her. “Now we won’t need to shout ourselves hoarse to carry on a conversation. Not that we’ve done much talking of late.”
Hadrian shot her a wary look. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“If I offer a penny for your thoughts,” she asked under cover of a falsely bright smile, “will you drive me a harder bargain?”
“I’m an honest merchant.” A welcome glimmer of warmth crept back into his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to overcharge you. I was only thinking I must go to Newcastle for a few days on business. I spoke to Ford about opening a branch of Vindicara here in the north and he reckons it’s a fine idea.”
Why did she get the uneasy feeling there was something more he was keeping from her?
That vague suspicion fled her mind when she realized Hadrian had given her a perfect opening to broach the subject that had occupied her thoughts for some time. “If you have a branch of the company here, won’t you need someone to manage it?”
Hadrian nodded. “I’ll hire someone. I plan to make enquiries while I’m in town.”
“What sort of person would you be looking for?” Artemis picked up her fork and took a bite of her dinner, to make it appear as if her question was only casual mealtime conversation.
Hadrian did not seem to guess it might be anything else. “Somebody who knows both the East Indies trade and northern industries for a start. He must be able to get a good day’s work out of the men under him and show some initiative. If he does a good enough job, we might consider taking him on as a partner.”
“You could be describing yourself.” Artemis raced on before Hadrian could protest. “Wouldn’t you be the perfect man to run a northern branch of Vindicara?”
“I might…” Hadrian bolted a mouthful of wine “…but I can’t very well be in two places at once, can I?”
“Then why not stay in the one place where you’re needed most—here, with Lee and me?” It was on the tip of her tongue to mention the baby. But she could not be certain whether it would persuade him to stay or drive him away.
“You’re not on about that again?” he muttered. “I thought we agreed.”
“I agreed not to badger you about taking us to Singapore.” Artemis reached for his hand and clung to it when he tried to pull away. “I understand why you object to that. But why could you not stay here? It would not put Lee and me in any danger. And it would keep you out of danger. If you go, I shall worry all the time about some harm coming to you.”
“No harm ever comes to me.” He squeezed her fingers. “Only to the people around me, the ones I care for.”
The next instant he ripped his hand from her grasp and pushed his chair away from the table. Its feet scraped harshly against the floor as he rose and backed away from her. “I must return to Singapore, Artemis. You’ve known all along that was my intention. What makes you want me to change my plans now?”
Though she longed to go to him, to hold him so tightly he would never break free, Artemis stayed in her chair. If she pursued him, he would flee. But if she kept her distance, perhaps she could hold him with her words and make him understand.
“I want you to change your plans because I have changed and so have you. We are not the same people we were when we first met and our feelings for one another are not what they were then.”
Should she tell him what else would change by next spring? Surely a man so desperate to continue the Northmore line would want to be on hand for the birth of his child. What more compelling reason could she give him to alter his plans? But if she did and if he stayed, she would always be haunted by the fear that his feelings for her had not been enough to hold him.
“If it is a matter of your fortune,” she continued, “what does that signify compared to your happiness and mine and Lee’s? Edenhall is a lovely house and it has become even more of a home to me than Bramberley. But it is not the portico or the rooms or the grounds that make it so. It is the three of us being here together! Playing in the nursery, going for walks in the garden, taking an outing to Vindicara. I would be happier in a tumbledown pit cottage with you and Lee to cook and care for than I could ever be in this fine house with you thousands of miles away. If that is not what you want, too, you should never have made me love you!”
There it was, that wonderful, perilous word, spoken aloud at last after being locked in her heart for weeks like a precious child growing inside her, waiting to be born. Like a newborn infant, it was so fragile and vulnerable, exposed to the cold, harsh world outside. But from the look of anguish in Hadrian’s eyes, it might have been a fullgrown warrior, armed to slay him.
“No,” he choked out. “I should not. I should have left you alone as you should have left me. And I would have, I swear, if you’d been any other woman. I would have kept you at arm’s length and never taken the chance of something like this happening. But, with all the differences between us, and all the strife between our families, I was certain you would be the last woman in the world I’d ever have to fear that from.”
“You fear someone loving you?” Artemis struggled to hold together the tattered shreds of her compo
sure. “Why in heaven should you fear that? I have spent my whole life craving it. I hoped perhaps I had found it at last. It seems I was mistaken.”
“The mistake was mine,” Hadrian confessed in a hoarse voice as he headed for the door. “Forgive me.”
It had been bad enough to let himself fall in love with Artemis. As he rode to Newcastle, Hadrian faced the harsh tribunal of his conscience. To hear from her own lips that he’d encouraged her to fall in love with him, when he had no business doing anything of the kind, was more than he could bear.
He trotted out a dozen excuses in his defense, each more lame than the last.
He’d meant to help Artemis, to make her realize what a beautiful, desirable woman she was. He’d counted on her being too sensible to lose her heart to a man she knew would eventually sail out of her life. But that responsibility should never have rested with her. He was the one who’d known what was at stake. He should never have taken the chance.
He’d thought that what she felt for him and he for her was only passionate attraction…and mutual understanding…and the enjoyment of one another’s company…and…How could he have been so blind not to recognize love when he saw it?
Upon reaching the city, he strove to put the matter out of his mind and concentrate on what he’d come to do. He would lay the groundwork for a branch of his company and interview the women who’d answered his newspaper notice in order to find a suitable mistress for Simon Grimshaw.
But putting Artemis out of his mind was not so easily done. Every warehouse he inspected, and every merchant he spoke with, made him more and more eager to stay here and build a business, perhaps invest in other industries, like the new locomotive engines that were all the talk.
Every time he made enquiries about a potential manager for the branch, he ended up comparing the fellow unfavorably with himself. Artemis had been right, as she was so often—he would be the perfect man for the job.