Emma hadn’t come prepared for the relentless assailment of heartache and pain that hit her. As it battered unyieldingly, wave upon wave, the intensity numbed every part of her. The carefully constructed wall of resolve and certainty she’d erected since Lena’s death teetered, ready to collapse in a pile of unrelenting grief. Her throat burned with unshed tears as the reality of Lena’s painful last days came crashing down.
“Did she get to hold the baby?” Emma gasped as the anguish lacerated her insides.
Mary stared at the floor and nodded. Big tears fell to her skirts.
Emma closed her eyes as her body shuddered with two sobs. She brought her hand to her mouth, but the powerful grief escaped into a landslide of tears.
“Did she name her Audra?” Emma choked out.
The maid nodded again.
Oh God, if she hadn’t stayed in London. She should have defied her mother and left for Lena. Nothing important happened at the party, but Lena’s whole world was destroyed that night.
It was pure torture, but she had to know. “Is the baby buried with her?”
“Yes,” Mary whispered. “I prepared the bodies myself. They looked so peaceful. I tucked Lady Audra next to Lady Lena’s side. Her Ladyship had the most gracious smile, as if happy she didn’t have to suffer anymore.”
Completely defeated, Emma dropped her head and allowed the burning tears to run free. A hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed. Without looking, she placed hers over Nick’s. The firm grasp kept her grounded when it seemed as if she’d be swept away by the heartache. He didn’t move, resolute by her side. His comfort forced the cascade of tears to lessen. After a few moments, he stepped away, but she felt him hover close by.
“Come to London with me. You can work at my house.” Emma moved to the edge of her seat to squeeze Mary’s hand. “Once you’re stronger, I’d like for you to visit my father’s solicitors. They’re known as the best legal minds in London. They’ll protect you and help us find justice for Lena.”
The maid shook her head. “Please, my lady, don’t think I’m not grateful or don’t want to go. But don’t ask. I can’t.”
“Mary, you’ll be safe. No one will harm you.” Emma wiped away her tears and gentled her voice. “I promise.”
Mary was more adamant this time with her refusal. “My lady, I can’t and I won’t. My mum still works for Lord Aulton. Besides, he comes to check on me at the house every week. I expect that before Lord Sykeston returns, I’ll be back in Lord Aulton’s employment.”
Nick had moved closer to Mary and sat in the chair next to her. “Mary, your mother could come work for me. I don’t have a housekeeper, and my staff would welcome her.”
Emma’s chest constricted at the kindness in his voice. In response, the carefully crafted moorings broke free of her heart.
Enough! She could not fall in love with him.
For the first time since Mary had entered the room, her pale countenance flashed with a look of hope that shaded her cheeks with a hint of pink. With a gentle shake of her head, she quickly doused the smidge of optimism. “I can’t, my lord. But thank you for the generous offer.” She stood and took a step toward the door.
Emma grabbed her hand and held her in place. “Why, Mary?”
Mary drew herself to her full height. Her serviceable uniform of a dark gray dress and crisp white apron accentuated her steadfastness. “My lady, if I don’t do as he says, he promised to have both me and my mum arrested for stealing. He has witnesses prepared to say I took Lady Lena’s letters and her jewelry.”
Lena’s directive that Emma receive the letters would be a strong defense against those charges. And Emma was sure there was no truth to the charges of Mary stealing the jewelry. The girl had been with Lena for over ten years and was as trustworthy as they came. “I won’t let that happen.”
By now, Mary had opened the door. “I’m sorry, Lady Emma. It was truly a blessing to see you.”
Before the maid escaped from the room, Emma ran and caught her in an embrace. “My door is always open. Please reconsider our offers. If you ever need anything, I’ll be there for you. I’m at the Ruby Crown for the duration of my stay. If you change your mind after I leave, send for me and I’ll come for you the next day. I won’t let you face this alone.”
Mary nodded once, but the evidence of doubt dulled her soulful brown eyes. “You can’t help me, my lady. No one can.”
Mary slipped from her grasp and disappeared out the door like an apparition.
Aulton’s evil haunted them all.
Strong hands clasped her arms from behind, and she allowed herself to fall back against his chest. If he offered another tender gesture in comfort, she’d be inconsolable. She pressed her eyes closed and released the breath she’d been holding. “Do you see what he’s done?”
Nick squeezed her arms. “There were rumors, but I had no idea.”
Emma swallowed. “He’s getting away with murder.”
* * *
After she and Nick left Lord Sykeston’s, they wandered the streets of Portsmouth aimlessly and ended up at the harbor. Emma stared out to sea, but she couldn’t focus on anything but the sky. The wind had picked up, but she hardly noticed the cold as the sun started its elaborate performance of slipping into the western sky.
Astutely, Nick didn’t make an attempt at conversation, proving he was a mind reader, or more probably, he couldn’t decipher her mood. Frankly, neither could she. How could she have changed Mary’s mind, or at least eased her concerns over Aulton’s threats of arrest? Emma had replayed that conversation ten times since they’d left Lord Sykeston’s home, and she still didn’t have any answers.
Her hand rested on the railing before them. Nick’s gloved hand covered hers, the breadth of his strength evident through the length of his fingers and the size of his palm. For one wild moment, she craved an escape and wanted him to take her in his embrace. She needed his hands against her back, pressing her close.
She shook her head at such dreamy thoughts and laughed in a mocking tone. “I’ve always thought myself strong with an intelligence that would rival any man’s, a woman to conquer the world. Portsmouth has made me realize what a liar I am.”
“Don’t ever doubt yourself. You’ve given Mary an option if she chooses to change her mind. You can’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want.” He tugged her hand. “Come, let me escort you back to the inn.”
She didn’t contradict him—there was no need. She was a fool who had pinned unrealistic hopes of redemption on this lark of a trip to Portsmouth. If anything, her actions today and the maid’s recollections enlarged her guilt. The burden she carried was like an infection that slowly seeped into every crevice of her soul.
“I’m not ready to return to the inn. I’d like to see the water without any people or ships nearby. There’s something I want to do before I go back to London.” She pulled her hand away but didn’t face him. His powers of observation would pierce what little composure she had. “If you’re tired of my mood and want to go back to the inn, I can’t blame you. I’ll ask Harry to accompany—”
His fingers nudged her chin, and she closed her eyes to hide her vulnerability. All along, the hope this trip would cleanse her shame was a farce.
“I’ll take you wherever you’d like to go,” he answered.
A blast of wind lashed her skirts around her legs. She inhaled the salty scent of the sea and wished the pungent smell would clear the melancholy fog that enveloped her.
“I’d like to be with you.” Nick took her gloved hand in his and led her away from the docks. Such contact might not be appropriate in public, but she needed his touch. It’d been a grueling day for both of them.
“Emma, look at me.” His voice enfolded her like a rich brandy that burned before it soothed with a gentle warmth. “Your complicated and confounding mood is worrisome. Your grief is raw, too raw, for the time that’s lapsed since Lena’s death. Tell me what else troubles you.”
How could
she explain that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t cleanse the blood from her hands?
Chapter Twelve
Nick and Emma made their way up a small hill that overlooked Portsmouth harbor. Ribbons of red, pink, and purple waved across the evening sky as the sun set over the sparse clouds.
Pure wonder and awe at her surroundings magnified her every thought, every sensation, and every vision. The trappings of a London ballroom could never compare to the beauty that encircled her this evening. With this journey, she prayed she’d find a little solace from the guilt and the grief.
The wind picked up speed, causing several loose strands of hair to whip across her face. Dust blew into her eyes. With a turn in the opposite direction, she tried to tame the disorder with little success. Nick must have seen the struggle and taken pity on her. He pulled her close to fend off the unrelenting gusts. He tucked the offending hair behind her ear and brushed her cheek with his thumb. The leather of his soft glove proved tender, like the most luxurious velvet to the touch.
“We’re almost there.” When he tilted his head close to hers, his lips brushed across her ear. “Keep close to my side.”
She did as directed until they reached the shore. A dark shale outcropping of rocks laid a pattern that made an uneven walkway to the shoreline. Isolated and distant from the bustle of Portsmouth, the view exposed the unfettered breadth of the sea. Close to the harbor entrance, two rowboats crept close to the shore. Each trailed a string of kegs that floated in the wake of their movements. The bobbing action mimicked a brood of ducklings following their mother.
“It’s an amazing sight.” Nick stood beside her in such a way his body blocked part of the wind’s assault. Perfectly at ease, he clasped his hands in front of him and regarded the view. “Is that why you wanted to come up here?”
Emma shook her head and reached into her reticle. Her fingers traced the corner of Lena’s letter to Audra, a remembrance she’d not possess much longer since she planned to give it to Sykeston. She found the locket and brought it out for his inspection. The chain draped across her fingers.
“What do you have, Em?” The wind immediately quieted, and his whispered endearment loosened the weary knots of distress that resided in her chest. His gaze paused at her hand, then captured hers, the bemusement in his eyes evident.
“It’s a locket. Lena and I gave each other one to celebrate our entrance into society. We were such silly girls believing that such a superficial event warranted a commemoration.” She didn’t stop the tumble of words. “We gave each other a snippet of our hair and several petals of the first flowers we’d ever received from an admirer. I don’t remember who gave me my flowers, but Lena would have. She had a memory for such events.”
His face and eyes softened as if he knew this confession hurt her. He gently took the locket and examined it. “It’s lovely.”
“She always wanted us to sail from Portsmouth and visit Italy. For some reason, she thought the trip would be a grand adventure.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps she thought the men parading up and down the docks in their crisp naval uniforms would be a sight worth seeing.”
Emma made the mistake of gazing into his mesmerizing eyes. The blue color reflected the darkening sky, and for a moment, she was lost. She leaned close seeking the comfort of his embrace, then remembered where she was and returned her attention to the locket. “She’d always considered her home in Portsmouth the center of her universe—her personal North Star so to speak.”
There was no use delaying as the setting sun threatened to disappear. She stepped to the water’s edge where the waves lapped the rocky ledge. She closed her eyes and kissed the locket. Heartfelt, she prayed her love for her lost friend would seep into the silver and provide some warmth and consolation for all of life’s moments that Lena had lost forever. With all the strength she possessed, Emma heaved the locket into the water. Wherever it landed, she hoped Lena enjoyed some freedom and peace from the simple gesture.
Slowly, like an incoming storm from the sea, hot tears and grief combined into a frenzy that stole her breath and made her gut twist. She bent at the waist, desperate to escape the pain. She was still a wretch who deserved no succor.
Suddenly, Nick swept her into his arms. His eyes searched hers. “Why?”
Shamefully, she turned away. Yet his question offered her what no one ever had before—an opportunity to avow her duplicity in Lena’s death. “Why” was such a simple word, an offer that tempted her to expose every black mark on her soul and wait for her richly deserved condemnation.
When she tilted her gaze to his, everything blurred and made her confession easier. “I had to set her free. She deserved so much more in life than Aulton.”
He didn’t press her for more. There was no need as she was ready to share the truth. Whatever judgment he passed on her inactions would hurt a thousand times less than her own silent perfidy.
“Do you remember when I was banished to Falmont and you gave me Bentham’s Essays?”
“Yes.” He pulled her close until her head rested against his chest. The steady beat of his heart assured her she could trust him.
“Lena became engaged to Aulton and married a month later. I only saw her one more time before she died. I was invited to stay for a week at their estate.”
His hand played with the lose tendrils of her hair, a touch she wanted and needed but knew she didn’t deserve.
“It was horrible. Every time Aulton attended us, he was so cruel with his mocking. He’d ridicule Lena’s faults and mistakes to me, her friend. I never understood why a husband would torment his wife like that.” Her thoughts clouded with images of the past. “Lena wore above-the-elbow-length gloves the entire week. I’d ask her why so formal, and she’d immediately come up with an excuse. Her day gloves were dirty, or she’d misplaced them. I actually thought Aulton suffered financially, and the gloves were a way to economize. I’d decided to send her a half dozen when I returned home.” She shook her head at the idiotic reasoning. “At an afternoon tea, a glove slipped down her forearm, exposing a bruise in the shape of a handprint. Embarrassed, she immediately tugged it back in place.”
“Did you ask her what happened?” He rubbed his lips across the top of her head.
“I did. She told me she was standing on a chair in her bedroom trying to straighten a picture. Aulton grabbed her when she lost her balance and fell.” She found the courage to face him, ready for the disappointment she’d find in his eyes. “I didn’t press her for more of an answer, but I knew she’d lied to me. When I left for London, I begged her to come with me. She said she could never leave him.”
His arms tightened around her waist as if encouraging her to continue.
The agony became unbearable, but she perservered . “Every letter I received from her told of some clumsy accident.” A sob tried to burst free, but she made herself finish. “I knew, Nick, and I didn’t help her.”
He gritted his teeth, causing a muscle to flinch in his jaw. “What could you have done? Even if you’d witnessed the violence, neither you nor anyone else could have stopped him. Have you ever heard the rule of thumb?”
Emma shook her head.
“Some men in society accept the convention that a man shouldn’t hit his wife with anything that’s wider than his thumb. Gillray had a cartoon of Sir Francis Buller titled ‘Judge Thumb.’ He carried a bundle of sticks, each the approximate thickness of his thumb. Behind him, a man beat his wife in the background with one of those sticks. It’s heinous in the extreme, but some men advocate that type of discipline. Aulton adopted it to an unspeakable level. I’m not certain anyone could have stopped him.”
“I should have made her leave with me or hidden her someplace. If I had to do it all over again, I—”
He tilted her head with a gentle tug of his hand. “Aulton would have found her. He’s the type of man who’d have brought some legal suit. Not even your father could have stopped him.”
When she search
ed his face, the vehemence in his eyes and the set of his jaw gave her hope. His strength might help her shed her sins. A fervent need for such redemption broke through her like a flash of fire. “Would you kiss me?”
His gaze never left hers as his fingers trailed across her skin. She didn’t wait for his reply but stood on tiptoes. She twisted her arms around his neck for balance and touched her lips to his. A sweet shudder coursed through her.
He growled in response, but as if he knew she needed comfort, his kiss was gentle. She whimpered at his soft touch and the resulting relief from the pain. All too soon, he pulled away, yet the evident heat of their passion resided in his eyes.
“Come. Let’s return to the inn before…” He stepped away and held his hand out for hers. The throb of desire in his voice was unmistakable.
“Before what?” she asked.
He grimaced. “Before I lay you down in that grass and make you mine.”
“Oh,” she whispered. It was the only answer she could muster.
* * *
The remnants of Emma’s rose scent floated around him, and Nick leaned back in the cramped slipper tub. He’d ordered a bath for her on their return from the shore. After seeing the carriage and horses were ready for tomorrow’s departure, he’d arrived back to their suite to find Emma behind the closed door of the bedroom.
Surprisingly, the water held a comfortable warmth after she’d finished. With a dip of his head, he rinsed, careful his movements didn’t cause the water to overlap the edges of the copper tub. Relaxing for a few minutes, he realized he’d wear her fragrance as he slept.
He’d take more than her sweet scent with him to bed. What he’d witnessed this evening held him enthralled, and frankly, terrified. All his life, he’d been careful to guard against the type of heartache Emma had forced herself to suffer in Sykeston’s home. He’d never allowed himself close enough to another human being that their loss would devastate him so. Because of his father’s dismissal and the lack of friendships as a youth, he’d learned the lesson well. Granted, Pembrooke was as close as a brother to him, but the desolation he’d seen from Emma reminded him of his father’s exodus from his life.
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