by Deborah Hale
When it came time to interview the women who wanted to become Simon’s mistress, Hadrian found himself comparing each of them with his wife.
One or two were attractive enough, though in a conventional, obvious way that could not hold a candle to the luminous grace of Artemis. For all that, they were so vain about their looks that Hadrian feared they might stoop to entertaining other men behind his partner’s back. Having suffered an unfaithful wife, the last thing Simon needed was an unfaithful mistress.
Most of them jabbered on without saying a single clever or interesting word. It made him recall all the conversations he and Artemis had shared about history and books and their lives. Even when they’d argued, she had challenged him to see things in new ways.
But his plan to return to Singapore was one he could not permit her to make him question. Could he?
“Come in,” he called in a dispirited voice when the final applicant knocked on his door. If she was no better than the rest, he was not certain what he’d do.
The door swung open, admitting a fresh-faced lass with red-gold hair and a wholesome country look about her.
“Miss Bethan Conway?” He rose, waving her toward an empty chair opposite his. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hadrian Northmore. I’m acting on behalf of my partner, Simon Grimshaw, to find him a suitable…companion.”
Miss Conway bobbed a curtsy and settled onto the chair. Perhaps because she was his last hope and her looks reminded him vaguely of Margaret, he felt more nervous about interviewing her than he had the others.
“As I mentioned in my newspaper notice, Mr. Grimshaw resides in Singapore.”
Her lips spread into a wide smile. “Yes, Singapore.”
“You’ve heard of it, then?” Two of the other applicants had not. When he’d informed them it was between India and China, they’d decided the situation would not suit them after all. “You know where it is?”
“Of course, sir.” She sounded surprised by the question, as if anyone should know.
Her short and direct answers were a refreshing change from the flighty chatterboxes before her.
“And you would be prepared to go to Singapore, even though it would require a voyage of many weeks?”
“Yes, sir!”
She certainly sounded eager. Perhaps she’d read about Singapore in the newspapers and taken a fancy to the place. Miss Conway seemed to have a cheerful, obliging disposition. That would be good for Simon, who had turned rather severe since the troubles with his late wife.
“I reckon you’ll suit Mr. Grimshaw very well, Miss Conway.” Hadrian extended his hand. “The position is yours if you want it.”
“Oh, yes!” She wrung his hand with surprising strength. “Thank you, sir!”
“Thank you, Miss Conway. You have no idea the trouble you’ve saved me.” He took out a handful of gold guineas. “This should cover whatever kit you’ll need for the voyage. I’d suggest you have a number of serviceable, lightweight gowns made up.”
Her gray-green eyes widened as he dropped the coins into her hands. “Thank you, sir!”
Hadrian handed her a card with the name of a respectable inn near the docks. “Meet me at this place on the third of January.”
“Yes, sir.” Miss Conway stuffed the card and the money into her reticule. “The third of January.”
“That’s right. I shall look forward to seeing you then.” Hadrian rose and bowed. “Good day, Miss Conway.”
She jumped from her chair with a delighted but vaguely bewildered look, as if she could not believe her good fortune. “Good day, sir!”
Without another word she rushed off, leaving Hadrian to sink back onto his chair and heave a sigh. He wished he were as eager to get back to Singapore as Bethan Conway.
She seemed a pleasant, respectable young woman, better suited to be a wife than a hired mistress. Perhaps Simon would recognize that, too, and make an honest woman of her. Hadrian hoped so, for Simon’s sake and his little daughter’s. The child’s amah was devoted to her, but that could not make up for the lack of a mother’s love…and a father’s.
Though Simon was too decent a fellow to intentionally turn his back on his own child, the little girl’s uncanny resemblance to her beautiful, wayward mother made it impossible for him to look at her without stirring painful memories. Unable to glimpse the least likeness to himself, Simon could be forgiven for doubting he had sired the child in the first place.
Hadrian hoped Miss Conway might persuade his partner to give marriage another try. Just because one woman had betrayed him did not give Simon grounds to mistrust the entire sex and declare he would never wed again. It would not be an easy job convincing him, though. As Hadrian had told Artemis, his partner had a deep aversion to risk.
Was he any better? a rebellious part of Hadrian demanded. Was it any more reasonable to believe that because he had lost so many loved ones in the past, he was doomed to lose anyone he let himself care for? Reason told him it was absurd. But there was a place inside him, deeper than reason or discretion, black as a mine pit, ruled by sensation, raw instinct and gnawing fear. A dark vein of despair ran through that place, fueling his fatalism.
With all that was left of his heart, he yearned to stay in the land of his birth, after so many years of exile. He wished he could love Artemis and his nephew as they deserved and be everything they needed. But it was for their sake, because he loved them so much, that he dared not tempt the hand of Fate to strike them.
Was he truly acting out of concern for Artemis, trying to protect her? Or out of cowardice, fearing the devastation of losing her?
Chapter Nineteen
“Your uncle said the most foolish things before he went away.” Artemis pressed her cheek to her nephew’s silky hair as she sat in the nursery rocking chair with him on her lap. “He said he’d made a mistake in making me love him. Can you imagine? And he thought I could never love him because there are so many differences between us.”
Lee fussed a little, popping his thumb out of his mouth to whine, “Papapa?”
“Whisht, now!” Artemis tried to soothe him with the word Hadrian often used. “I know you miss Papapa. So do I. We may seem as different as two people can be in background and situation. But beneath all those outward trappings, we are very much alike. We are both interested in history and books. Our families matter a great deal to us and we take our responsibilities to them very seriously. We are both rather proud and neither of us gives our affections easily. But when we do—”
“Papapa,” said Lee again in a more demanding tone.
“He’s only gone to Newcastle.” Artemis patted her nephew’s back. “Whatever he may say to the contrary, I know you will miss him terribly if he sails off to Singapore. I wish I knew how to persuade him to stay, for all our sakes.”
Lee’s eyelids were starting to droop, but he struggled to resist sleep. Did he think Hadrian might come home while he was napping? “Papapa. La-eeoo.”
“I know you love Papapa,” Artemis whispered. “Whether he says so or not, he loves you, too. There is nothing in the world he would not do for you. He is so afraid of losing you and me through some calamity, he would rather lose us by sailing away to the other side of the world.”
Was she being selfish, asking Hadrian to stay and live with the constant fear that she and Lee would be taken from him? And what if something did happen to one or both of them? There were so many illnesses that afflicted small children. Many women died in childbirth or afterward of milk fever. The thought of dying troubled Artemis less for her own sake, than for Hadrian’s and Lee’s and her baby’s.
If only Laura and Genia were still there to offer wise advice and staunch support. Artemis felt desperately in need of both. Perhaps one of her friends had written to her.
She glanced down to see that Lee had fallen fast sleep, like a proper little Northmore. He did not stir when she carried him to his cot.
Once he was resting there, Artemis hurried downstairs in search of Mrs.
Matlock. She found the housekeeper just outside Hadrian’s study.
“Has the post come yet, Mrs. Matlock?”
The housekeeper cast a skittish glance over her shoulder. “Not long ago, ma’am. I just put the master’s correspondence on his writing table.”
Artemis wondered why such a simple question appeared to ruffle the woman’s usual brisk composure. “Were there any letters for me from Lady Kingsfold or the Countess?”
“I don’t believe so, ma’am.” Again Mrs. Matlock gave a furtive look, as if something were bothering her conscience.
“You don’t sound very certain.” Artemis peered around her into Hadrian’s study. Was the housekeeper trying to hide something? “Are there or not?”
“One letter was in a woman’s hand.” Mrs. Matlock sounded as if the information were being extracted from her by torture. “But it came addressed to the master.”
“Perhaps Lord and Lady Kingsfold both wrote to us and her ladyship addressed the letter.” That made sense. Artemis could not wait to read it. Laura’s kindly good sense might help her decide what to do. “I’ll have a look.”
She slipped past the housekeeper and headed for Hadrian’s writing table.
“I’m certain the writing is not her ladyship’s.” There could be no mistaking the alarm in Mrs. Matlock’s voice. “Let it be, ma’am…please. I fear the master wouldn’t like you reading his post.”
“Why should he mind?” Artemis extracted a pair of folded, sealed letters from under Hadrian’s heavy pewter inkwell. “Unless he has something to hide. We both know Mr. Northmore is far too honorable for…”
Her voice trailed off as she stared at the second letter. Not only was it addressed in a woman’s hand, the faint but unmistakable scent of eau de cologne rose from the paper. The smell revived her morning nausea. It also revived the memory of Hadrian thrusting several letters into the top drawer of his writing desk.
When Artemis could open her mouth without fear of vomiting, she looked up at the housekeeper with a reproachful stare. “This is not the first such letter my husband has received, is it?”
Mrs. Matlock shook her head. “There were several others, perhaps a dozen, all within a fortnight. But that was over a month ago and nothing more until today. I hoped he might have thought better of it. He didn’t go to any great effort to hide what he was doing. I thought you must know, but you don’t, do you?”
Know what? Artemis feared her brain would burst from struggling to make sense of all this in a way that would not break her heart. There’d been one or two incidents that had given her passing qualms of suspicion. They had come and gone so quickly she could not recall the particulars, just the vague sense that something was not right.
With a violent tug, she jerked open the top drawer of Hadrian’s writing table and pulled out every piece of paper she could lay her hands on. There were some notes about Sunday schools for children in mining communities, the draft of a letter to the local Members of Parliament, a note from his solicitor about changes to his will, but no other letters from women. Then her eyes fell upon a scrap of newsprint.
It was a notice of employment for a personal companion—a healthy woman between the ages of twenty and thirty to go to Singapore, all expenses paid, generous terms offered. Interested parties were instructed to write Mr. Hadrian Northmore for particulars.
Personal companion, indeed. A mistress—that’s what Hadrian was looking for. Was that the true reason he’d gone to Newcastle—to hire a young woman to accompany him back to Singapore? No wonder he’d refused her offer to go with him and her plea for him to stay.
Artemis sank onto Hadrian’s writing chair, assailed by memories of their disastrous wedding night when she had coldly advised him to find some strumpet to gratify his desires. Had he taken her at her word, even after she’d surrendered her body and heart to him? At the moment, her heart felt as if he’d ripped it from her chest and flayed it raw.
“Such goings-on,” the housekeeper muttered in a tone that mingled exasperated censure with grim sympathy. “Eliza Northmore would turn in her grave. She raised those boys proper, even after they went away to Fellbank. I know rich folk have their own ways and all, but…”
Though Mrs. Matlock’s words fell on her ears, it was Charles Nugent’s scathing abuse that echoed in Artemis’s heart—The only way I could stand being wed to such a pallid, scrawny milk-and-water miss would be to engage a plump, pretty mistress at the earliest opportunity. It appeared her husband shared that sentiment.
Then why had he gone to such lengths to persuade her of his passionate admiration and entice her to consummate their marriage? Another qualm of nausea reminded Artemis of the tiny life growing inside her. Was that all Hadrian had wanted her for—a brood sow on which to beget another Northmore heir? She’d longed for him to need her, but not for that alone. Even when Charles Nugent had denounced her so cruelly, she had not felt so worthless. An anguished sob rose in her throat and a tear as hot and caustic as acid trickled down her cheek.
“Come away from here and let me fetch you a cup of tea.” The housekeeper’s unusually gentle voice called Artemis back from the brink of despair. “I know you and I got off on the wrong foot at first, but you deserve better than this from him.”
Perhaps Hadrian had not given her what she longed for from him, Artemis reflected, but he’d helped her discover something precious within herself. The assurance that she deserved to be loved, not contingent upon what she did, but because of who she was. If she truly believed that, she could not allow his betrayal to take it away from her.
“You’re right, Mrs. Matlock.” Slowly she rose, like a newborn filly testing her legs. But when she got them under her, they held firm. “I do deserve better.”
It rained all the while Hadrian was in Newcastle. Thick clouds had shrouded the northern sky, mirroring the doubts and fears in his mind. The wind had sighed around the eaves of his inn at night like a broken-hearted lover. Raindrops had trickled down windowpanes, the way his tears might have fallen if he’d ever been able to weep for his lost loved ones.
Now as he rode home over muddy, rutted lanes, his heart ached with longing for Artemis and Lee, as if he’d already lost them, too. But he hadn’t lost them yet—at least he hoped he hadn’t. The tragedies that had twice robbed him of his family were not his fault. Indeed, one of the worst things about both was that there’d been nothing he could do to prevent them. This time would be different.
The rain ceased and the clouds began to disperse. Shafts of golden sunshine burst through, striking raindrops that clung to leaves and branches, giving the world a fresh, clean shimmer.
The moment he reached the stable yard at Edenhall, Hadrian sprang from his saddle and rifled his pack for an item that had caught his eye in a shop window. By the time he found it, the stable boy had come running to attend his horse.
“If ye’re looking for missus and the wee lad—” the young fellow pointed toward the garden “—I spied them out walking not long ago.”
Hadrian nodded and smiled. “I’m obliged to you for saving me the trouble of hunting them down.”
Catching the sound of his nephew’s infectious laughter in the distance, he followed it and soon found them.
Lee spotted him before Artemis did. Wriggling out of his aunt’s grasp, he pelted toward Hadrian. “Papapa! Papapa!”
“That’s right, Papapa’s home.” Hadrian swung the child up into his arms. “I hope you were a good boy for your auntie while I was gone. I brought you a present from Newcastle—a boat with wheels and a string so you can pull it around, just like your friend Theo had when he was here.”
Lee gave a shriek of glee when he saw the toy, but he seemed even more delighted to have his uncle home. Hadrian returned the sentiment. He bounced and swung the child around, making comical faces and strange noises until Lee could scarcely catch his breath for giggling.
“There, now.” Hadrian held his nephew to his shoulder and rubbed his back to calm him down. “I mus
tn’t get you too wound up to eat your supper or your auntie will have my head.”
He risked a glance at Artemis, wondering if she would have his head. Would he blame her if she did?
She started when their eyes met, but quickly composed herself. “Welcome home. I trust you accomplished everything you wanted in the city.”
Though her lips curved in a faint smile, she was clearly not as happy to see him as he was to see her. It was as if, in his absence, Artemis had reverted to the cool, formidable lady she’d been when they first met.
“It was a very productive few days.” He moved toward her, hoping a kiss might thaw the frost in her manner.
But Artemis averted her face and took a quick step backward. “Were you able to find someone suitable for the position?”
“To manage the northern branch, you mean?” He shook his head. “I didn’t meet anyone who quite fit the bill. I believe you were right about who would be best suited for the job. But I don’t want to talk about business now. How have you been? I thought about you a great deal while I was away and the things you said.”
“Did you?” she replied in a brisk, biting tone. “I am surprised you had the time or the inclination with so many more agreeable things to occupy you.”
Hadrian tried to defuse the growing tension by addressing Lee. “You know, lad, I get the feeling there’s something troubling your auntie. Has she told you what it is?”
“Ee-oo!” echoed Lee.
“Me?” Hadrian gave an uneasy chuckle. “I was afraid of that. Tell her I’m sorry for what I’ve done to vex her. I’d like to make it up to her if she’ll let me.”
He hoped an appeal through their nephew might soften her resistance. Instead it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“I will thank you not to drag the poor child into the middle of this sordid business.” Snatching Lee out of Hadrian’s arms, she set the lad on his sturdy little feet and gave him his toy boat to play with.