by Delia Parr
Finally, when she was half afraid that Harrison had forgotten all about her, she heard footsteps approaching. She peeked around the pillar, saw his silhouette, and rushed out to meet him. She closed half the distance between them before she could see him clearly, stopped abruptly, and gasped out loud.
He was holding her evening cape in one hand, but he had a bloodied handkerchief pressed to his lips with the other. Blood splattered his shirt and frock coat, and he had a slight bruise already forming on his cheek. “Wh-what happened? What did you do?”
He stopped in front of her and shrugged. “Other than defending my wife’s honor, I would guess that I’ve also managed to give the gossipmongers something new to chew on. I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but I have a blistering ache in my head. Maybe we should continue this discussion later before someone else finds me and decides to take a poke at me.”
Later turned out to be very late that night.
They were traveling back to Graymoor Gardens when the fireworks had lit the sky over the city of Philadelphia, but neither of them had seen them. They did not engage in any conversation, either, for fear Harrison’s lip would start bleeding again.
By the time they finally arrived home, the staff had all taken to their beds. While Harrison went to her room to change out of his bloodied clothes, she hurried out to the cottage. After gathering up some clean cloths and pumping water into a deep bowl, she went outside and filled a pot with snow. She added it to the tray and carried everything back to her room, where she found Harrison sitting in front of the fire he had already rebuilt.
“I doubt the snow I scooped up for you will last very long in here,” she offered as she set the tray on top of the serving table he had set between their two chairs.
Bypassing the pot of snow, he dipped one of the cloths into the cold water, folded it into a makeshift compress, and held it against the corner of his mouth and shook his head. “I’d rather not stir up memories of being packed in snow. This should be enough.”
She sat down across from him. “The snow will help more, but the cold cloth is better than nothing. Your cheek needs attention, too,” she suggested. “Have you bothered at all to look in the mirror?”
“Why should I? I can feel the damage.”
“You’re still a terrible patient,” she quipped, getting up to moisten another cloth with water.
He leaned away when she approached him, but she ignored the glare he shot at her. “You’ve got dried blood on your chin,” she explained. Once he reluctantly removed the cloth he had pressed against his lip, she cupped his chin with her hand. With her other hand, she gently started to wash away the dried blood, but she was unprepared for the warm sensations that traveled up her arm and spread throughout her body.
She could feel his gaze on her, as well, but she dared not glance up at him for fear he would see the effect he was having on her. When his chin was wiped clean, she pointed to his cheek. “I can’t tell if your cheek is merely bruised or if the skin is broken. Do you want me to cleanse that or would you rather do it yourself?” she asked, still deliberately avoiding his gaze.
“You may as well go ahead,” he said, but his voice was uncommonly husky.
After rinsing the cloth, she patted his cheek. Satisfied the skin had not been broken, she took a clean cloth, packed it with snow, and put it against his cheek. “Hold this in place while I make another one for your lip.”
Surprisingly, he offered no protest except a brief wince, and handed her the cloth he had been using on his lip. His fingers brushed against hers a second time when he took hold of the compress, which triggered yet another swell of sensations.
Annabelle made a second compress with the snow that was quickly melting in the bowl and handed it to him. “The split in your lip isn’t very big, so I don’t think you need even a single stitch. It should heal up in a matter of days, but you’ll fare better if you can get the swelling down quickly,” she assured him and returned to her seat.
Grumbling, he planted his other elbow on the other arm of the chair and held the second compress in place, too. “Do I look as ridiculous as I feel?”
She cringed. “I’m afraid you do, but you’ll feel much better come morning, and you’ll be glad you took the time to take care of yourself tonight.”
He snorted. “I’d feel a whole lot better right now if that foul-mouthed idiot had simply apologized for what he said about you, which is all I asked him to do, instead of socking me in the face. He blindsided me, the dolt! I never even had the opportunity to hit him back. He just swung at me and took off with his friends. If the room hadn’t been so packed, I would’ve hit the floor instead of knocking into a few heads before I caught myself. I’d relish the thought that I’d be able to find him again, but I have absolutely no idea who he is or where to look to find him.”
“What did he say that made you ask him to apologize?”
He did not reply for several long heartbeats. “Let’s just say he spoke unkindly about your virtue,” he whispered.
She suspected he had heard the same thing that Vienna had been telling the group of people she was with. Still, she was surprised at his actions, since he had made it clear some weeks ago that he was simply going to ignore the gossip about her.
Rather than confuse the issue at hand by mentioning that, she let out a long breath of air before she looked up at him. “I overheard a bit of nasty gossip tonight about both of us. Perhaps it would be best if we didn’t attend any more evening social affairs for a while.”
“That may be a good idea. I only have one appointment next Thursday that’s rather important, but Philip can still go and make my apologies if I have to cancel that, too,” he replied. He paused briefly to adjust the compress on his lip before he quickly explained about meeting Eric Bradley and the man’s interest in making a sizable donation to a new charitable endeavor Harrison himself had in mind, although he was not inclined to discuss what that might be.
Now that he had confirmed Eric’s claim to have a meeting with Harrison next Thursday, she was hopeful that if he did not appear, she might be able to put off seeing Eric earlier that same morning—until she realized that Eric might interpret that as a ploy on her part and seek Harrison out himself.
“I’d rather not make an appearance socially until I look normal again,” he said. “How long do you think that might be?” He placed the compress back on the table, tested out his injured cheek, and winced again.
“No more than a week, I’d guess. But when we go out again socially, there’s no need for you to defend my honor every time you hear someone gossiping. If you do, you could end up hurt far worse than you are now. Perhaps it would be better if you ignored any gossip you hear, like you’ve done in the past.”
His gaze softened. “I was wrong to ignore it,” he admitted. “As long as you’re my wife, it’s my duty to defend you and protect your name. You’ve done nothing to deserve anyone saying anything against you. Absolutely nothing,” he insisted, and his dark eyes glistened with tenderness. “I believe I know you well enough now to be confident that you couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything that would bring shame to yourself or to me.”
Annabelle’s heart began to race. Apparently the past two weeks they had spent together at Graymoor Gardens had affected him, too. But his softly spoken words added yet another layer to the guilt that already burdened her for keeping her previous marriage and divorce a secret. Even though she knew it would change his opinion of her, she made the decision to tell him the whole truth about her past just as soon as she knew what kind of threat Eric posed to them both.
He leaned forward in his chair and set aside the cloth he had been holding to his lip. “Perhaps if we had met under different circumstances . . .”
Her cheeks warmed, and she lowered her gaze yet again. “Perhaps it’s best if we accept the reality that we never would have met at all. We . . . we come from two very different worlds, and we have very, very different views about how we want to live our lives,”
she whispered. She was surprised by the depth of disappointment that filled her heart, and she held very still until she was able to think clearly again.
When she heard him groan, ever so slightly, she looked up and found that he had leaned back, placed a cold cloth on his forehead, and closed his eyes.
“Would you mind terribly if I didn’t sleep in the library tonight?” he asked. “I know you might want to argue that the frigid air in that room might be good for my face, but since that warming stove still hasn’t been installed—”
“Of course you can sleep in here,” she gushed, concerned that he might have suffered more than a split lip or a minor bruise on his cheek. “Wait just a moment so I can turn down the bedclothes for you,” she suggested and got to her feet.
He never opened his eyes, but his smile was still a bit lopsided. “I’m fully dressed and out of sorts, so you needn’t bother lining up some logs to make a bundling board. Besides, I’m not certain you’d be able to explain to Irene why the sheets were covered with bits of bark or splinters of wood.”
“I’m not very tired. By the time I need some rest, you’ll be asleep. Even if you aren’t, I believe I know you well enough now that I can trust you,” she replied.
But the truth was that Annabelle was quite uncertain she could trust herself not to let him wrap his arms around her, where she would feel safe and protected and loved—if only for one night—before she accepted the fact that he would never, ever be able to love her forever.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Since New Year’s Day was on a Sunday this year, Harrison reluctantly left his bed much earlier than usual. If there was ever a day he wanted to sleep late, which he typically did, this would be it. His head was pounding, his cheek was stiff, and the cut in the corner of his mouth had reopened twice while he was getting dressed.
He finally saw Annabelle as they left for services at the country church for the first time in weeks. Inclement weather had kept them at home, and yet another snowstorm was imminent. Since it was entirely possible they could end up being stranded on the way home, all he cared about as he escorted her and the rest of his staff into the church was getting back home as quickly as he could.
When Annabelle noticed the new glass panes in the window and the heat pouring out of the woodstove, she looked up at him with such admiration, he smiled instinctively and winced. He pulled out one of the several handkerchiefs he carried in his pocket today and dabbed at the blood oozing from the cut on his lip before it trickled down his chin.
As he walked with her to the bench where they had sat once before, he could not recall a single moment in his life when anyone had made him feel proud of himself without saying a single word. Granted, he had heard more than a few people praise him for one donation or another, but he always dismissed that praise as nothing more than self-serving platitudes.
Once the service actually began, he had the perfect excuse today not to sing or to join his voice with the others for prayers. But he was surprised to find that it bothered him a bit. When Reverend Bingham stepped into the pulpit to start his sermon, however, he tensed, although he had no reason not to trust the young minister to keep his word.
Reverend Bingham opened his arms and smiled at the congregation. “My dear brothers and sisters in faith, we have much to celebrate on this very special day, have we not?” He paused when the entire congregation responded with a hearty applause and waited for several long moments after silence returned before he continued.
“As we mark the start of another year to serve our beloved Father in heaven, we are indeed blessed to have received an anonymous donation that allows us to celebrate today in more comfort, but I should warn you that this may also encourage me to be a bit long-winded when I preach.”
A few people chuckled out loud, but Harrison also detected several deep groans.
The minister motioned for silence. “After reading the passage from Corinthians to you earlier, I am led today to implore each of you to follow God’s example and fully embrace the concept of love. Pure, unconditional, infinite love. Beyond faith and beyond hope, love is the greatest of the three virtues and is the very cornerstone of your faith.”
He paused to shove his glasses back up to where they belonged. “Embrace His love and then share it, and you will find you have simply made more room in your heart to receive. And as we sing one final hymn together, I encourage all of you to sing with gusto as a commitment to the challenge I have set before you all.”
As the congregation erupted into song, Harrison did not even realize he was humming along with them until Annabelle smiled up at him. Not long ago, he would have dismissed today’s sermon without giving it a second thought. But when he very carefully offered her a lopsided smile, he knew that the woman standing beside him did not need today’s faith message at all.
Although they had only been married one month ago, as of today, he already knew that Annabelle was the embodiment of love as the minister had described it. He also envied the strength of her faith, which was all the more remarkable because she had every reason to doubt it, considering the events of the past few months.
He escorted her to the coach immediately after the services ended to avoid having to answer questions about the injuries on his face. He also did not want to face anyone who suspected he was the anonymous donor, although he feared it was probably very obvious. He did not even pose an argument when she asked to invite Irene to ride back to Graymoor Gardens with them while the remaining staff stayed behind for some refreshments before returning home in the separate wagon they had used to get to services again today.
Once he was seated across from the two women, he tapped on the roof to let Graham know they were ready to depart.
“Was that you I heard singing along with us today?” Irene asked him.
“Hardly. I can barely manage to talk without breaking my lip open, so if you don’t mind, I’ll keep quiet now, too.” He pressed another clean handkerchief to his mouth to emphasize his point.
Sitting beside Irene, Annabelle nodded, but ignored the warning glare he gave her. “He was humming. I’m so glad you felt up to coming with us today.”
Irene sighed. “Coming to services is a great comfort to me. And I’m so grateful you’re letting Melanie and the girls come to stay with me,” she whispered tearfully.
Although he had already dismissed her offer to void the arrangements that had been made for her to stay at Graymoor Gardens for the rest of her life, he nodded and accepted her gratitude. He handed her the last clean handkerchief he had, and she dabbed at her eyes. “There’s a lesson to be learned from all this, and you two should keep it well in mind,” she cautioned, but stopped to hold herself steady when the wheels hit a rut in the road and bounced hard before it settled again.
He braced himself for one of Irene’s lectures, but he knew better than to try to stop her.
Irene looked from Harrison to Annabelle and back again. “I’ve never heard you two argue yet, but you will. All married couples have disagreements. When you do, don’t let it fester and sulk about it. Talk things out and be honest with one another, even if you have to swallow your pride,” she admonished.
He was not surprised by her brashness, and it suddenly occurred to him that she was so ornery with him at times because she thought of him not as her employer but as the son she had adopted after losing her own. And for the second time that day, he found himself looking at a woman whose faith remained strong and enduring, despite the heartache that life that hurled at her.
He just could not decide right now whether he would be better off if the two women of faith sitting across from him were part of his life or not.
Less than an hour after returning from services, Harrison decided his life would be considerably less complicated if one of those two women, namely Annabelle, was no longer a part of his life. Since that was clearly not possible where Annabelle was concerned, he planned to keep her here at Graymoor Gardens, well out of view of the elites in the c
ity, until their divorce was final.
While they waited for dinner to be served, he sat across from Annabelle in the parlor and kept his gaze steady. He kept his voice as firm as his determination to convince Annabelle to follow some new rules he had decided would make this next month more bearable for him. “We’re living here at Graymoor Gardens for reasons I explained to you when we first arrived in Philadelphia. Since there’s merely a month left before we can expect news of our divorce to arrive, I’ve decided I don’t want you going into the city anymore during the day. The severity of the weather, along with my desire to offer no fuel of any sort to those who gossip, is reason enough to remain here. While I find your interest in performing some sort of volunteer work in the city at the Refuge to be admirable, it’s absolutely out of the question. Find something else to occupy your time here.”
Annabelle stiffed. “Y-you don’t want me to volunteer at the Refuge anymore?”
He drew a deep breath. “No, I don’t,” he replied, a bit more forcefully than he intended.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You sound like you’re giving me an order and that you expect me simply to obey you without giving me the opportunity to explain how important it is for me to—”
“There’s nothing to explain,” he argued. “I simply don’t want you to be traveling back and forth to the city, and I shouldn’t need to remind you that you agreed to abide by my will . . . which means the issue is settled.”
“Obviously, I have no choice in the matter, but perhaps I should remind you that while I know I’m obligated to obey your wishes, I don’t have to like them any more than I have to like you,” she snapped.
She tossed the diary she had bought for him onto his lap, then swept from the room, leaving him with the distinct impression she had dismissed him as easily as he had dismissed her request to volunteer in the city.