by Bree Wolf
“I know what you mean,” Victoria mumbled, and the mask on her face slowly evaporated, revealing the misery she felt in her heart.
Sighing deeply, she opened her mouth, only to close it again, uncertain of what to say or where to begin. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away, her mind and heart still at war about how to proceed and whether to trust in another person.
For a long moment, they sat in silence. While Victoria averted her eyes, Charlotte’s were almost forcefully drawn to the young woman’s face. However, when her sister-in-law shifted on the settee, Charlotte’s gaze dipped lower and came to rest on Victoria’s right hand as it lay carefully, even protectively, draped over her belly.
It was such a small, ordinary gesture that it took Charlotte a moment to realise its significance.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte willed her own hammering heart to calm down. “You’re with child; are you not?” she whispered as tears rose to her eyes.
Instantly, Victoria’s head snapped up, eyes wide with shock, and yet, it was quickly replaced by a deep sense of relief. Her breath came quickly as though she had been denied oxygen for too long and now relished in its life-sustaining presence. “How do you know?” she whispered. “Not even Mother saw it.” Glancing around, she leaned forward. “No one knows.”
“Not even your husband?” Charlotte asked, forcing herself to focus on Victoria as an old pain returned with such force that she never would have expected it.
Victoria shook her head vehemently. “I can’t. I … I …” She swallowed, arms wrapped around herself as though cold. “I don’t want him to know, not yet. I can’t … I … I hope he won’t read it on my face.”
“I doubt it,” Charlotte said as her eyes became distant, and her own hand involuntarily travelled to her empty belly. “Few people see the truth that is right in front of them. Only those who can relate know what to look for, know the signs.”
Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes and found Victoria looking at her, a quizzical expression on her face. “Do you have a child?” her sister-in-law whispered, shock evident in her voice.
Swallowing, Charlotte shook her head. “No, but I was with child once,” she admitted as another burden left her shoulders with the small truth that spilled forth. “A child that I loved and hated at the same time.”
Tears filled Victoria’s eyes as she held her gaze, then nodded, a new sense of desperation coming to her beautiful eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I think I’m a horrible person for feeling so; yet, I cannot help it.”
“You’re not a horrible person,” Charlotte assured her as tears of her own spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “Life is not always black and white. Yes, a mother is supposed to love her child, but sometimes it isn’t that simple.”
“But how can I not?” Victoria sobbed. “I’ve always wanted children. I just …”
“You don’t want his.”
Meeting her eyes, Victoria nodded her head. “He’s my husband, and yet, the thought of baring his child … it terrifies me.”
“It terrified me, too,” Charlotte whispered, remembering how love and hate had warred over her heart whenever she had thought of her child.
Shortly after Kenneth had persuaded her to agree to his proposal, she had discovered that she was with child. Northfield’s child. A man who continued to haunt her dreams. A man whose mere presence made her feel sick to her stomach. A man whose face she would one day see in the child in her arms.
Children reflected their parents; did they not? How often had she heard proud mothers exclaim, ‘He looks just like his father’? Or ‘He gets his tenacity from his father’?
Could one despise a man but love his child? Could one ever truly forget how that child had come to be? Was there ever a moment when that knowledge would cease to matter?
Despite Charlotte’s best efforts, Northfield’s face rose before her inner eye in that moment. She saw the sneer that curled up his lips, the disdain in his eyes as he’d looked at her, and a cold shiver ran down her back as though he was right there in the room with them.
“What happened?” Victoria asked, compassion in her eyes as she looked at Charlotte. “What happened with your child?”
“One morning, I woke up and it was gone,” she whispered, wondering if it had all truly happened or had merely been a dream. A nightmare.
Victoria sighed, hands clasped together. Then she glanced at her belly. “How did you feel then?”
Charlotte swallowed, then met her eyes. “It didn’t help. I was as torn then as I was before. I felt incredible sadness as well as unadulterated relief.” She took a deep breath. “But more than anything, I felt guilty for feeling either.”
Nodding, Victoria closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, then met Charlotte’s gaze. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Nothing they’d said would change what was. Facts were facts. And the fact was that Victoria was expecting her husband’s child. A man she despised. And yet, facts weren’t all there was to life.
Knowing that she wasn’t alone in her feelings, knowing that others experienced the same regret and shame, the same confusion and uncertainty was utterly liberating. Charlotte could see it on Victoria’s face and feel it in her own heart, and she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d been able to share her own feelings back then with someone who would have understood.
She could not change what was, but she could help Victoria not to lose herself in this turmoil of right and wrong, of knowing and feeling. Maybe, just maybe, Victoria could come to love her child and see him as a separate person from the man who had fathered him.
Rising from their seats, the two women took a step toward each other, forever connected through their shared experience, when the door opened and footsteps echoed on the parquet.
As Victoria quickly wiped the tears off her face, Charlotte turned to the door, disappointment filling her heart at having this intimate moment interrupted.
A man strode in. A man who failed to greet them. A man who crossed the room in long strides and poured himself a drink, his back turned to them. “I insist that you accompany me to the theatre tonight,” he ordered, his voice hard. “After all, you’re my wife, and we have certain societal obligations. What you choose to do with the rest of your time is of no interest to me, but I will not have you sully my good name.” He turned on his heel and met his wife’s eyes, his own hard as steel. “Am I understood?”
In that moment Victoria’s husband noticed they weren’t alone in the room, Charlotte felt as though she would faint.
For right there, only a few steps away, stood the man who had ruined her life.
Lord Northfield.
Victoria’s husband.
Chapter Twenty-Eight – A Night at the Theatre
Like a ghost who had risen from the earth below, Baron Northfield stood before her, shock evident in his eyes as they stared into hers. “You’re dead,” he mumbled, and the drink slid from his hand, the glass bursting into a million pieces, its explosion almost deafening in the life-shattering silence that had hung over the room a moment earlier.
As though nothing had happened, as though no time had passed, Charlotte felt herself respond to his presence with the same repulsion and disgust as the last time she had laid eyes on him.
Instantly, the memories of that night returned with such force that her knees began to tremble and the breath caught in her throat. Terror seized her, and her stomach threatened to expel its contents.
“How is this possible?” he mumbled, eyes fixed on her face, completely unaware of the confusion resting in his wife’s eyes as she glanced back and forth between them. “You’re dead. They said you were dead. Thrown off a horse.” Taking a step toward her, his boots scrunched on the glass shards littering the floor.
The sound pierced Charlotte’s ears, shaking her awake. Seeing him advance on her once again, instinct took over, sending her from the room as fast as her fee
t would take her.
Blindly, Charlotte fled down the corridor and crossed the front hall, eyes fixed on the door that was her means of escape. As the footmen saw her coming, their eyes widened in surprise, they could barely pull open the doors in time to let her pass.
Almost tripping on the hem of her dress, Charlotte sailed down the few steps to the pavement, her legs unwilling to slow down, and continued down the street. Dimly, she heard someone call her name.
The coachman, yes.
Deep down, Charlotte knew she ought to return home. After all, she had nothing with her but the clothes on her back and nowhere to go. And yet, she could not bring herself to stop.
For if she stopped, the reality of the situation would bring her to her knees.
No, she couldn’t stop. She needed to keep going.
***
Climbing the large staircase to the upper floor of Covent Garden, Sebastian glanced around at the crowd pouring in through the doors, and he couldn’t help but wish that his wife was among them. A night at the theatre might just be what they needed!
As his eyes swept over people he’d known most of his life as well as those he’d rather not meet again, let alone speak to, Sebastian reminded himself that it was probably for the best that his wife had gone to call upon his sister that afternoon.
Her insistence on leaving his life, on leaving him, had shaken him to his core, and in that very moment, he had realised that he loved her.
It was as simple as that.
He loved her.
Finally realising that, he felt liberated; yet, the threat that loomed over his happiness occasionally choked the air from his lungs.
Now, she was with Victoria, he reminded himself, and maybe, just maybe, his sister would find the right words to convince his wife to stay. Not that she knew of the looming threat on the horizon, but …
Shaking his head, Sebastian sighed. Had life always been this complicated? While he knew that his wife was not who she claimed to be, the rest of his family did not. And yet, his wife and sister had shared … something with each other. Almost from the beginning, there had been a silent understanding between them as though they’d recognised one another as kindred souls. Therefore, it wasn’t all that far-fetched to assume that his sister knew more than he thought. Maybe she knew more than even he did.
He had to speak to her!
Turning on his heel, Sebastian hurried back toward the large staircase, knowing that even the most engaging play would not be able to distract him sufficiently as he’d hoped to achieve in coming here.
“Huntly!” a voice called over the buzzing excitement of the crowd moving toward their seats, and Sebastian stopped in his tracks.
Craning his neck, he felt a small stab of pain pierce his heart as he glimpsed the Marquess of Elmridge and his wife moving toward him. Would he ever be able to look at his friend’s younger brother and not feel Leopold’s loss as acutely as the day he’d learnt of his death?
“It is good to see you,” Frederick Lancaster greeted him, one hand gently clasped over his wife’s as it rested on his arm. She had been a beautiful woman once until a fire had tainted her beauty with ugly scars, and yet, the happiness and love that radiated from her eyes whenever she smiled up at her husband made her shine. “I heard you’d travelled to the continent.”
Sebastian sighed, knowing only too well that the mention of the continent meant nothing more but the memory of war to Frederick. “I did,” he admitted, trying to think of something to say that would steer their conversation into a different direction. “And I’ve heard that you have a son now.”
A beaming smile came to Frederick’s face. “Yes, he’s almost one year old now and the most wonderful little boy you can imagine.”
Chuckling slightly, the marchioness looked at her husband, then turned to Sebastian. “Well, Leo will be one year old … in a few months.”
“Leo?” Sebastian asked as his heart twisted with the memory of his friend.
His face sober again, Frederick nodded. “Yes, we named him after my brother.” He took a deep breath then, his own sadness just as evident as Sebastian’s.
Gently squeezing her husband’s arm, the marchioness looked up at him, and a soft smile came to her face.
Watching them, Sebastian could see the comfort Frederick drew from his wife and the closeness that existed between them. Words were unnecessary. A single look was enough for her to know exactly how he felt just as he understood without a doubt that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone right beside him … and always would be.
Sebastian could only hope that he and his wife would one day be that close.
Swallowing, he decided to acknowledge rather than ignore the loss of Leopold Lancaster, his childhood friend. “Allow me to renew my condolences,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Sometimes I still cannot believe that he is gone.”
Frederick nodded. “I know how you feel. Some days, I still expect him to walk through the door or rescue Mathilda from the crown of yet another tall-standing tree.” A wistful smile curled up the corners of his mouth, and yet, his eyes held utter sadness.
“How are Maryann and Mathilda?” Sebastian asked, remembering that both Lancaster brothers had found true love in life.
“It was hard for them for a long time,” Frederick said, “and sometimes it still is. But I think they’re beginning to do better. In fact, Maryann and my mother are here with us today. However, they wished to avoid lingering out here in the crowd and proceeded to our box.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I−"
“Sebastian!”
Frowning, Sebastian turned toward his sister’s voice, her face tense and rather pale, as she came toward him on her husband’s arm.
Something was very wrong. He was certain of it.
“Please excuse me,” he apologised to Frederick and his wife, who graciously nodded their heads and then proceeded to join Maryann and the dowager marchioness in their box.
“Victoria, what are you doing here? I thought …” Stopping in his tracks, Sebastian finally noticed the strange sneer plastered on Northfield’s face as the baron studied Sebastian with rather unexpected curiosity. Turning to the man, he drew himself up tall. “Is something wrong?”
Northfield laughed, an evil tone to his voice. “Nothing at all,” he replied, his eyes still regarding Sebastian as though he were an oddity sprung from the earth. “I merely wish to congratulate you on acquiring a wife. To my great regret, I didn’t have the opportunity of making her acquaintance until today.” Again, his lips curled up into a sneer. “I must say she is quite a surprise. Do tell, where did you meet?”
Eyeing his brother-in-law with apprehension and no small amount of suspicion, Sebastian could tell that Northfield was fishing for information. Who was this man? And how did he know his wife? From what he said, it was utterly clear that he did. “Through a mutual acquaintance,” Sebastian said, doing his utmost to remain vague. “If you would excuse us, I need to speak with my sister in private.”
Taken aback, Northfield’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my wife,” he declared, a rather possessive tone to his voice.
“And my sister,” Sebastian insisted, holding the baron’s challenging gaze.
“Fine,” Northfield relented after a while. “I shall be in our box.”
As he disappeared in the crowd, Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to see you here. Something utterly strange happened today, and I’m truly worried about Lotte.”
At his sister’s words, Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat, and it took him a moment to speak. “What are you talking about? She told me she intended to call on you. Did you not see her?”
Victoria nodded, wringing her hands nervously as the pulse in her throat hammered the way he’d never seen it. “She did come, and we … talked.” Her eyes dropped to the ground for a second, and Sebastian knew that they’d shared something with each other he wasn’t privy to. “But then …” She shook her head, at a loss fo
r words.
“What happened?” Sebastian pressed, regretting the harshness of his tone. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” his sister replied, and the blood froze in his veins. “She didn’t come home?”
Sebastian shook his head. “When did she leave?”
“About three hours ago,” Victoria said, her eyes round with fear. “She stormed out when …”
“When what?” Sebastian snapped, grabbing her by the arms. “When what?”
Victoria swallowed, then met his eyes. “When my husband walked in,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t know what happened, but when they saw each other, it was as though they were both seeing a ghost. I heard him mumble ‘You’re dead.’ as he stared at her the same way she stared at him.” She swallowed, wiping away her tears. “They knew each other. Somehow, they knew each other, and now she’s gone and … Oh, Sebastian, how do you think they know each other? Where could she be? She looked so terrified. For as long as I live, I shall never forget the look in her eyes.”
As stars began to dance before his eyes, Sebastian forced himself not to submit to the blinding panic that seized him, squeezing the air from his lungs. “I don’t know,” he whispered, trying to remain calm … if only for his sister’s sake. “Go to your husband before he …”
Gritting his teeth, Sebastian met his sister’s eyes and realised that she, too, was in desperate need of rescuing. He would have to find a way to free her from this marriage, and he would. However, tonight, he needed to go before his wife vanished from his life for good. “I’ll find her,” he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on his sister’s forehead. “And then I’ll come for you.”
A soft smile came to Victoria’s lips as she nodded, tears standing in her eyes. “I’m not yours to protect, but she is.”
A memory echoed in his mind, and Sebastian leaned forward, eyes determined as he nodded. “I shall protect you both.”