by Julia Donner
Footmen waited for her to quit the room. She pressed her lips into a firm line and stared at the wall. After long, awkward moments, Max addressed the problem.
He glanced at the footmen. “Lady Loverton is staying. Place the decanter near at hand and you may leave.”
Moments stretched to minutes. The subtle splash of port being poured and the distant chime of a clock were the only sounds. She shook her head when he offered her port with a gesture at the decanter.
After a long swallow from the tumbler, he set it down and said in a voice devoid of emotion, “I take it you wish to talk.”
The flatness of his tone, so coldly impersonal, put another slice across her heart, but she considered it well-deserved. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He waited until she was ready, watching the movement of the tumbler he slowly rotated on the table’s glossy surface.
“Max, I don’t know how to start, what to say. I have much to beg forgiveness for.”
The tumbler continued to revolve. She waited in silent misery. Her eyelids dropped shut from the hit when he finally asked in the detached manner he used to address upstarts and strangers, “Has your association been one of an ongoing nature?”
Striving for normalcy, she gently cleared her throat to find her voice. “You shouldn’t worry that there will be any controversy regarding the continuation of the line.”
“That isn’t what I asked. To be more perfectly clear, were you intimately involved during his recent presence in the district?”
“No!”
Unmoved by the forcefulness of her reply, he shrugged a shoulder. “It would explain the spitefulness of his recent actions.”
“Please, Max, I despise him and myself for ever—”
“Perhaps you haven’t heard. The rumor that he would lose his leg due to infection has been confirmed.” He paused to study her reaction. “What? You won’t fly to his side to comfort the wounded?”
Her resolve began to erode under the flay of his disinterest. Desperation gnawed at her nerves, the ability to think clearly. “Max, I don’t know you, this cruelty. You’ve always been kind and patient with me, and I’ve certainly given you cause to despise what I’ve done, but I never meant to hurt you or deceive. Can you find any compassion, offer the smallest branch of peace?”
He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Pushing the tumbler aside, he stood. “I believe I will in time. At present, I’m still a bit raw. A time apart might be the best thing.”
Desolation weakened her protest. “But we’ve just married.”
“A separation will allow for perspective.”
His attitude and stance made it clear that this decision was not to be questioned. “I understand and accept, if that is what you wish. How long, Max?”
He set his fingertips on the tabletop, rubbed back and forth over the slickness as he considered. “There is business I must complete in London. While there, I’ll book passage to America.”
For the first time that evening, he looked her fully in the face. The sharpness in his black gaze softened for a moment, giving her hope. He dashed the glimmering glow forming inside when he concluded, “I’ll be making the crossing alone. A good night to you, madam.”
Agnes swallowed down rising tears as once again he shut her out with the closing of a door. Well, she wouldn’t have it. He may think himself stubborn, but he’d not known her as a girl, when she’d been adventurous, laughing, and full of dreams. He was her knight and whether he liked it or not, she had no plans to wait for him to decide to accept her back in his good graces.
She stood, reached for his unfinished tumbler of port, and drank it down. That was a mistake, but she nourished its burn as she went up to her sitting room to construct a strategy. There couldn’t be that many ships heading for America.
Chapter 25
Max tapped the knocker at Asterly House, having chosen a time and day of the week when Lady Asterly received callers. Even though the time for making calls had not yet ended, he wasn’t taken to her. Muffled sounds of conversation bled through the door panels as he and Crimm passed the reception room and went up another flight of steps. He soon realized that he was being taken to the book-room where the Asterlys spent most of their time when not socializing or receiving guests.
Asterly rose from behind the sprawling desk as Crimm announced, “Lord Loverton.”
After shaking hands, Asterly offered, “Something to drink?”
“Whatever you will have, thank you.”
Crimm moved to the sideboard as Asterly strolled to the window and looked down on the street. “Lizzie is detained with callers. I asked Crimm to bring you up. He has information for you, and so do I.”
Max took a sip of claret and glanced at the butler. “I greatly appreciate all you have done.”
Crimm bowed and said, “If that will be all, my lord?”
Asterly gazed out the window as he spoke. “Yes, thank you, Crimm. Oh, before you go, have a room made ready for Loverton. You will be staying with us, won’t you, Max?”
“Why, I have a room at the Claridge.”
“Crimm will have your things collected. Lizzie has a wedding present for you and Agnes.”
“Very kind.”
As Crimm left, Asterly returned his gaze to the window. “What I have to tell you may be on the order of good news or not. I fully comprehend the drive to deliver retribution in person, but this outcome may be for the better. Crimm confirmed that Sir Edmund Hammond did die before reaching port. His body was sent to the bottom of the sea. The other matter has to do with the man he hired to do away with your parents.”
“Now that I’ve had time to look at the estate finances, it’s become apparent why he was desperate that my father never come home to take up the title. The pillaging was appalling. He would not have escaped imprisonment.”
“So Lizzie discovered. If it is not too impertinent, will the losses prove ruinous to the estate?”
“No. I have other resources and means with which to make restoration. What about the assassin he hired?”
“Oscar Kettleton. He worked on the fringes of the Foreign Office. He fell on hard times after coming home from the wars. We aren’t sure how Sir Edmund found him, but the connection is solid. His passage to Canada was paid by Sir Edmund. The dates match. He arrived in Toronto two months before they died, returned not long after by way of Halifax.”
“And where is he now?”
“Dead. Last year. Knifed in an alley off the East India Docks, his purse emptied and tossed on his chest. Crimm knows who did it. Do you want him arrested?”
“I would prefer to give him a reward, but we’ll leave it at that.” Max finished the last of the claret and looked at the residue left at the bottom. “Bit of a letdown to have it over and done.”
“I imagine it’s something that has consumed your thoughts for some time.”
“Yes, in light of my recent marriage, other thoughts, you could say, take precedence.” When Asterly looked at him inquiringly, Max admitted, “I should like to ask your advice on another matter.”
Asterly paused then suggested, “Why don’t we sit down?”
Max took a few moments to collect his ideas after they sat on chairs facing each other by the fireplace. ”If this topic at any time becomes too indelicate, please do not feel obligated to hear me out.”
“I’m not sure what constitutes subjects of an indelicate nature when one is conversing with someone in the military for a decade. I’ve heard and seen enough to toughen my skin.”
“Not indelicate that way. I suppose there is no other way than to just say it. I hadn’t been married more than a matter of hours when I learned some very shocking truths about my wife.”
“I see. Why do you seek my advice on a matter this private?”
Max knew he had to tread carefully and hoped Asterly wouldn’t take umbrage for the extremely personal comment he was about to make. “It’s quite presumptuous of me to say this, but I admire your relati
onship with Lady Asterly. You share a closeness never seen in marriages of your status. I do hope I haven’t offended you with that observation.”
“Not at all. Lizzie and I are cognizant of the rarity of our relationship in the midst of our station, although, since we are being frank, it started out as one of convenience. For her part, not mine.” A grin broke across his face, lighting the penetrating stare and permanently tanned complexion. “You see, Max, I don’t care what happened before we met. I have no scruples when it comes to Lizzie. All bets off and no quarter given. I lied to get her and would happily do it again. But that doesn’t sound like what you need to hear.”
“It is, in a way. You’re saying that if one loves, there should be no obstacles allowed to interfere.”
“That’s how I feel about it. You must ask yourself how life would be without her. Can you forgive her? If you can’t, living amicably sometimes isn’t a bad thing for those of us obligated to marry by specific rules.”
“Oh, I’ve already forgiven her. I’m more concerned about my inadequacies. It may take a man with better resolve and courage than I possess to hand over my trust. If I can’t throw off this wall of protection I’ve erected between us, then we’ll never enjoy the connective sharing we had before.”
“Ah, that would be a terrible loss, indeed. Lizzie and I rely on each other, wouldn’t know how to go on without that unique sense of sharing.”
“Exactly. When I felt it break between us, it was as if an entity, a living thing had died.”
Asterly nodded. “I expect that losing that connection would be similar to the loss of a limb. I see your dilemma.”
“Do you have anything to suggest?”
With an apologetic smile, Asterly shook his head. “Get on your knees, say a prayer, and beg for time to adjust?”
“I’ve already tried the time request. She didn’t look too pleased. I left before we could talk it through. After receiving your message, I was rather anxious to head up here to hear your findings. I expect that I was also using it as an excuse.”
“Well then,” Asterly said, concluding with a slap on his knees before he stood, “that’s it then. Best of luck, old thing. You’re going to need it. If all else fails, agree to anything she asks and do the manly thing of putting it behind you.”
Before Max could thank Asterly for his patience and advice, the door burst open. Agnes flew through ahead of Crimm. He’d never seen her look so adamant, not even when she’d confronted Vernam to save her brother’s dogs.
The first words out of his mouth sounded incomprehensibly stupid and redundant. “Agnes, what are you doing here?”
She dipped a hasty curtsey in Asterly’s direction, whom Max suspected was trying hard not to smile.
“I came to ask Mr. Crimm to find out which ship you booked passage on. And I will tell you that I was going to insist on sharing the same cabin. You can’t brush me off like an old coat, Max.”
Asterly quickly said, “I believe you find me de trop. I shall beg your leave. A pleasant afternoon to you, Lady Loverton. We shall see you at dinner, shall we?”
Agnes blinked in surprise, momentarily distracted when he squeezed her hand as he passed by. “Come along, Crimm. Let’s make sure these two are not disturbed.”
She deflated the instant the door closed, eyes wide, fearful and pleading. “Please, Max, don’t leave without me.”
He couldn’t answer, so he held out his arms, catching her up when she flung herself across the room. The rim of her bonnet pressed into his cheek. He released her enough to untie the ribbons and fling it on the chair.
“No more tears, Agnes.”
“I was so afraid you’d go off and I wouldn’t see you for months!”
“Silly thing. You know how I am about you. Can’t bear being separated from my sweet girl. I almost turned back before getting here. Your hair smells wonderful.”
“How can you say that? I always reek of solvent.”
Leaning back, he smiled down at her eyelashes made spiky from crying. “Hmm, my favorite cologne.”
“Max, you’ll have to tell me how to help you forgive me, won’t you? I never loved—”
He pressed two fingers over her mouth. “No more about that. I don’t care about what went before.”
Solemn and pained, she whispered, “But I hurt you.”
“Agnes, I was at first, but it wasn’t hurt as much as feeling inadequate. No, lost. Lost was how I felt. You didn’t trust me enough to talk to me. And that should have been part of our vows. From this day forward, we must tell each other everything.”
“And you’ll tell me about what happened with your parents?”
“Why, now that you say that, I haven’t talked to you about them. But now, I will. Let me help you with your bonnet. We’ll go for a lovely walk and start afresh.”
As he tied the ribbons under her left ear, she grinned up at him. “Were you really thinking about turning around and coming back to the Grange?”
“Severely tempted before reaching the outskirts of London. Feeling as wretched as an old shoe left in the mud. But I wasn’t going back to the Grange.”
“You weren’t?”
“No. I was coming back to you.”
Chapter 26
Excitement had Agnes clutching Max’s arm as they ascended the staircase at Somerset House. Before setting off for America, he insisted on a visit to the Royal Academy. It seemed impossible that so much had happened to her since she’d last been to a Summer Exhibition. The misery of her past had faded into shadow, becoming less of a consequence every day. Her future bloomed with new vision and colors, like a pentimento’s emerging scene.
Max strolled the gallery where the windows overhead lit the paintings covering the walls. Awed by the names and works, eager to learn from the masters, Agnes craned her neck, not knowing where to look first.
“Oh, Max, this is the most splendid treat. I’m so glad you thought of—”
“What is it?” he asked when she halted. He noted with a pleased grin where she stared. “Ah. You’ve noticed it.”
“How did…why is it here and on the line?”
“Deserving of the placement, most likely. Shall we study it? The plaque says the title is End of Song and Innocence. When I first saw it at Asterly House, I thought it the saddest thing in the world. That was before I learned that the pretty creatures weren’t merely finches, they are ortolans. Lady Asterly explained that they are a delicacy, plunged alive in Armaramac, marinated to death, served with their heads on, eaten whole. Her chef served them only once. After hearing the process, she refuses to have it at her table. Doesn’t care how marvelous they taste. Sinking to barbarism, according to her.”
Still disbelieving, she whispered, “Lady Asterly arranged for it to be displayed here?”
“Yes. Wish I had a quizzing glass so I could peer at it in fashion. Lends a distinguished air whilst bending near. This is stamped as the work of the elusive Josiah Cameron. I believe it’s the same artist who painted the charming piece that hangs in the Green Saloon. You know the one—Asterly leaning against a four-rail fence, hair wind-tousled, Marshfield in the background. Lady Asterly stands beside him, gazing up at him. The painter prefers intimate poses, so she’s smiling in that secretive way women do. He has his hand on her shoulder, she with a little finger hooked in his. Love overwhelms, oozes from the oils. Vernam tricked you, didn’t he?”
The abrupt change in subject sent her mind reeling. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t bring herself to admit to such appalling folly. But they had made a vow, a pact to be candid with each other. Pinching her lips into a line, she refused to run from this and confessed it with a sharp nod.
Max said in an ugly, unrecognizable voice, “I should have killed him while I had the chance.”
Tears threatened. She shook off regret and asked in a gruff whisper, “Can you forgive me for getting involved with so horrid a creature, Max?”
“There is nothing to forgive. I’ve made plenty of mistakes,
been gullible. It’s part of life.”
“Please, may I go to America with you? You never really answered. Don’t leave me behind. I don’t think I could bear it.”
A noise, the subtle clearing of a throat interrupted his reply. Three young men stood behind them, but stepped back in unison, as people usually did when Max directed his focus on anyone encroaching into his area. But the focal point of their intense interest was directed at her. Suppressing recoil, she internally cringed under their rapt gazes. Had they heard the content of the recent conversation?
The young men looked at each other for courage and stepped forward. One swept off his hat and bowed. “We are students here at the academy. Please, ma’am, forgive the impertinence, but do I have the honor of addressing Miss Agnes Bradford?”
Agnes glanced up at Max for direction. He’d put on his intimidating mask to tell them in his loftiest tone, “Whatever do you mean addressing Lady Loverton without an introduction?”
Another one quickly said, “My lord, we mean no disrespect, it’s that we are, all three of us, devotees of the great Josiah Cameron. My lady, you are the master? Perhaps I should say, the artist. Are you not?”
Agnes didn’t know how to respond and was grateful when Max did. “Sirs, my wife does not wish to be known by that name. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
All three beamed. They held their hats to their chests as they bowed and backed away, shuffling out of the hall while exchanging excited whispers.
Max resumed his escort down the room at a slow pace. He murmured with a half-smile, “You didn’t know that you’re famous, did you?”
“It’s a bit shocking, and to be accurate, it’s Josiah Cameron who is connected to any fame there might be.”