“You’ll return to the conflict?”
He couldn’t look at her. “Yes.” And then he cleared his throat. “It’s for the best.”
“I love you, Luke.”
Her words sliced right through him—because he felt the same.
Gil had always complained that Luke was given more than him in life. Luke had been born the second son of a duke—Gil, of an earl. Gil had joked that nobody ever milorded him. And then Luke had risen to the rank of major and Gil that of captain.
But for now, Gil had Naomi. He’d fathered her child. The child’s future was all that mattered. And Naomi’s reputation.
Luke jerked his head and when he met her pleading eyes, he nearly threw caution, honor, everything to the wind in order to beg her to run away with him. They could go somewhere far away.
“I love you.” Luke fisted his hands at his side upon making the admission. He wasn’t sure what the future held. “I always will.”
She watched him and then dipped her chin. “There is no choice, is there?” She sounded bitter. And of course, she had every right to be. “When are you—” She inhaled a shaky breath. “When will you go?”
It was the only way he could keep away from her. “A fortnight. I’ll reside at Crescent Park for a few days.” He wasn’t sure why. He needed to breathe the same air she did though, if only for a very short time. “Then I’ll go down to London before returning to Portsmouth.”
“Lydia and Lucinda will like that.” Her smile was a tremulous one. Of course, his sisters would not have left her alone, especially after Amelia had been born.
“She’s beautiful.” It didn’t make sense that he should feel so much love for a child who wasn’t his own. But he loved her mother.
“Not blonde.”
“Not blonde, or blue-eyed. But she has her mother’s mouth, her lips.” Luke went to lift his hand but then checked himself. “She is yours.”
Unable to show one another how they felt, knowing the future wasn’t theirs, the atmosphere between them was suddenly uncomfortable, stilted.
Luke cleared his throat. “I will visit before I leave.” It would be expected of him. He’d been the person to ‘save’ Gil, after all. They’d been friends and companions for a good part of their lives. And it was possible it would be the last time he’d see the man alive.
It was Naomi who stepped back this time. “Arthur will appreciate that.”
Something in the way she spoke indicated she was slipping into her role as Gil’s wife again.
Luke clenched his jaw and frowned. “Don’t let him touch you.”
It was none of his business but… Damn it all to hell, she most definitely was his business. Even if Gil hadn’t contracted the clap, Luke would tear dear Gil to pieces before allowing him to touch her.
And how the hell had Gil contracted it if he’d been kept locked away and tortured?
Prisoner?
Luke had doubts; he simply hadn’t any evidence. When he’d asked Gil the most elementary of questions, he’d answered that his memory was impaired. He’d then denied Luke’s implication emphatically—too emphatically.
And yet, Luke hadn’t taken his suspicions to the War Office. Gil was likely on his death bed, and if he was wrong… Due process would consume Gil’s remaining days.
Luke would conduct interviews, collect evidence, and report his findings. It was more than his mission; it was his duty. He owed it to the men who had died. His findings could just as easily exonerate Gil as condemn him. But either way, Luke needed to know.
He hoped like hell he was wrong.
But someday. Someday all of this would be over.
Luke turned away and reached to open the door. And then her voice halted him.
“The world may see Arthur as my husband but, Luke, you are the other half of me.” Emotion rolled off her in waves. The longing to turn around, to taste her lips, sweet heaven he’d dreamt of for months, was nearly too much to resist. His arms ached to hold her again. His body ached to reclaim the intimacy they’d shared.
He clenched his fists at his side. If only he could steal her and little Amelia away… If only Gil hadn’t…
If only…
Unable to bear the torment of his thoughts, he pushed forward and escaped into the sunlight.
Chapter Nineteen
When Naomi had first arrived at Galewick Manor, Lady Tempest allotted Naomi one of the guest chambers near the nursery. The countess had confessed that she hadn’t the heart to move Arthur’s effects out of his chamber. Naomi had been grateful for this at the time but was even more so now.
The day following Arthur’s return, Lady Tempest had demanded everyone throw off their blacks and that the black crepe paper be taken down at once.
Whereas before the household had mourned, they now waited anxiously while the prospect of death merely hovered.
Three separate physicians had examined Arthur on different days, all providing a similar prognosis. Treat the malaria with quinine. His condition would be touch and go, but even if he survived, it would compromise his health for the remainder of his life.
It was not, however, considered to be catching.
No one dared speak of the scabs although one of the physicians had sent Naomi a warning look. She had nodded in understanding.
Arthur’s fevers would come and go, and that was to be expected. Even so, Naomi was surprised when he made an appearance in the nursery.
She had been feeding Amelia, rocking her and singing to her. Her daughter gave her comfort she never would have known.
When she glanced up from watching chubby little cheeks move as her daughter suckled at her breast, Naomi startled to see the door open and Arthur leaning against the door frame watching her.
Instinctively, she covered herself and the baby with a small blanket.
“I was certain we would have a boy,” he commented casually.
He appeared slightly healthier than he had on the day of his arrival, which was to be expected. His shoulders slumped, his breathing slightly labored.
Part of her pitied him but she was also repulsed by a new scab on his cheek, covered with paint.
She could not blame him for the havoc he’d brought into her life, last spring and then after, and now with his return. He’d given her Amelia. For that, she would stand by him.
She could not hate him.
She had lain with him ages ago. She’d given herself to the creature standing before her and together they’d created a child. She glanced down at the tiny face that was staring up at her with absolute adoration and trust.
“I wouldn’t trade her for anything. She is perfect.”
Naomi would protect this child with her life.
Arthur moved into the room and dropped into one of the wooden chairs beside her. She resisted the urge to cringe away from him. “Are you in much pain?” His faithlessness now lacked the ability to torment her.
Apparently, Bridget hadn’t been the only one.
“Pain? What is pain, Mimi?” His expression was oddly reminiscing. “Pain of looking like half a man. Pain of being utterly helpless. I had to stop and rest twice while I was looking for you.”
She flicked a glance to the sore on his hand, and he immediately covered it with his other. “Why did you do it? Why did you need other women? Wasn’t I enough?” This had bothered her ever since her run-in with Bridget.
“I never intended to settle down.” He lifted one shoulder casually. “You were ruined—so I married you. But I didn’t think that would mean I’d have to become a monk.”
He had ruined her. He’d planted his seed in her belly. No, they both had done that together. She’d take responsibility for what she’d done.
But the truth was somewhat lowering. When Arthur had said he’d love her forever, declared her to be the loveliest lady of his acquaintance, he’d not been courting her for marriage. It had only been flirtation on his part. Knowing this was painful, but it also helped to relieve some of the guilt she’d
felt for falling in love with Luke so quickly after Arthur’s “death.”
“You know I love you though, right, Mimi? And I’ll be better in a while. The fevers come and go. I’ll take you and the babe back to Milton Cottage and we can start over.” He reached across the space between them and dropped his hand on her knee. “Nothing has to change.”
Surely, he didn’t think— Naomi bolted off the chair, clutching Amelia, and then scurried across the room. Her heart was suddenly racing. She could not allow him to believe she’d ever be a wife to him again. She’d lain with him for the last time—before he’d gone away—at a time when she’d believed what they had was real.
“Are you insane?” she finally managed in a whisper, careful not to upset her daughter. “I’m not fool enough to not know what those lesions are. I would have been loyal to you forever. Do you realize that? Speaking those vows meant something to me.”
“Men are different, Mimi.”
“Don’t call me that.” It was what he’d called her when she’d thought he loved her. At the time, the shortened version of her name had been special. He had made her feel special.
And then he’d made her feel dirty.
“You’re overreacting.” He waggled his eyebrows in the manner she’d once considered to be charming. Dear God, she’d found him irresistible. And now she felt nothing but sadness, regret, and revulsion.
“I am not.”
“Luke poisoned you against me, didn’t he? In that letter he sent.” Suddenly, Arthur’s expression wasn’t so amiable at all. His entire face turned dark with suspicion.
Naomi was shaking her head. “I never got the letter. I didn’t realize you were even alive until you arrived and found me in the garden.”
“But he’s been telling you lies. You think I caught a disease by rutting with some trollop? These are simply sores… from the fever.”
She flinched. He’d never spoken to her with such disrespect and callousness before. And that he would lie… that he would put her in danger.
He had changed in so many ways. She wanted to believe he had not been this way before. If he had been, then what did that make her? Because… she had loved him. Not in the way she loved Luke, but she had found contentment and happiness. Yes, she’d found some happiness with him.
Amelia chose that moment to squirm and make a cooing sound.
The darkness fled from Arthur’s face and he was once again looking nothing if not amicable. Had she imagined his outburst?
“May I hold her?” His brown eyes warmed into a pleading look.
Naomi never could have imagined the turmoil his return would bring. Arthur was Amelia’s father. But he was also ill and unpredictable and a little bit… frightening.
“Please?” For all his misdeeds, she couldn’t refuse him this.
Naomi liked to wrap Amelia so she was snug and safe inside her blanket. She was easier to hold this way. Arthur wouldn’t drop his daughter. The blankets wouldn’t allow any of the scabs to touch her baby soft skin.
For all his ugliness, he seemed to genuinely care for their daughter. It was in his eyes.
Arthur adjusted his posture and reached out to her. As she settled her most precious darling into his arms, a wave of memories washed over her. Of their wedding day, when he’d clasped her fingers in his and solemnly recited vows as instructed by the man at the anvil. Those few weeks had been exciting and fun and filled with new adventure. And then other memories crept in.
The doubt that had niggled at her when he hadn’t written to her from the front, when the funds necessary for living hadn’t arrived, and then that day when Luke had arrived. Her hands shook while she helped arrange Amelia in his arms.
“Luke’s been nothing but kind to me.” She took a half step away but hovered anxiously, to take her baby back if need be. “He informed me of the assault in person. When he saw that the house needed repairs, he stayed at the coaching inn at Hull Crossings so he could take care of them.” And when we discovered your ultimate betrayal, he protected me.
“She looks just like me, doesn’t she?”
Something unraveled from around her heart. “She does.” This was a special moment for him. Despite his unfaithfulness, he would always be Amelia’s father.
“Hello there, little darling. I’m your father.”
Naomi clutched her hands in front of her as Amelia reached a tiny fist up to Arthur’s chin. Don’t breathe on her. It made her anxious. His sores. The ague.
“It’s time for her nap.” Arthur was Amelia’s father, but Naomi would protect her child first. Always. It was what mothers did.
Arthur slumped into the chair after Naomi removed the baby from his arms. Such a small thing had tired him. It had been good though, for him to hold her.
“Once I’m well again, we’ll return to Milton Cottage as a family. You’ll see,” But the whites of his eyes appeared even more yellow today. He was weakening.
It wasn’t necessary for her to remind him that they would never be a family.
“You must rest now. Mr. Webbs can assist you back to your chamber.” She crossed the room and tugged at the bell pull.
“Mimi?” His voice had her turning back to meet his gaze.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
All she could think to do was nod. Forgiveness ought to be easy. Perhaps in time.
She would never love him again. But she had no idea how much longer he was of this earth.
“I am too.”
Chapter Twenty
Naomi couldn’t sleep that night. Luke had promised to visit before he left—to say goodbye.
Four days had passed since she’d seen him.
He wouldn’t break his word—his word mattered to him.
When she rolled onto her side, a tear slid down her face and dropped onto the pillow. She belonged with him. In his bed.
This wasn’t fair. So much wasn’t fair!
Father would think it was fair. As would Walter. They would believe she’d brought all of this onto herself.
She had ached for Luke for months, knowing he’d been in danger and hundreds of miles away, and now that he was here, he might as well be on the other side of the world. She hadn’t been able to hold him or kiss him or even touch him.
Her body craved the satisfaction only he could bring, but she would be just as happy to talk with him. She wanted to tell him all about how Amelia thought she could crawl but then flopped onto her belly. She wanted to tell him about an interesting book she’d found in the Tempest library. She wanted to ask what he was feeling, what he was thinking. He’d been so closed off the other day. She wanted to be with him.
How long could she endure the emptiness of their separation? Could their love survive it?
She lay in bed trying to imagine some scenario where they could be together now. She refused to allow herself to hope for Arthur’s death.
She and Luke could run away together, but that would eliminate any chance for her to reconcile with her sister and her mother. They had loved her for all of her life. Surely, they hadn’t stopped loving her because of one mistake? She hadn’t lost hope.
Running away would also result in Amelia not knowing her grandmother, Lady Tempest. And what of Lucinda and Lydia if she took Luke away?
No. They needed to wait.
After what felt like hardly a few minutes after she finally dozed off, the nurse knocked on her door and brought Amelia in for her breakfast.
Naomi must think of her daughter first. She tucked Amelia beside her and then simply lay watching those precious little cheeks work. When Amelia paused to simply stare up at Naomi, awe reminded her of life and hope. Motherhood was a miracle. Mama and baby stared back at one another in a magical moment of trust and love.
This baby.
Naomi would do whatever she needed to for this precious little life.
When the feeding was over, Nurse returned and whisked Amelia back to the nursery so Naomi could dress and break her own fast.
<
br /> Downstairs, she drank her coffee and ate her toast alone. Her time here had been peaceful, but in the absence of Lucinda and Lydia’s visits, Naomi found herself feeling lonely.
She had Amelia to keep her occupied, but if she was to remain at Galewick Manor much longer, she needed something else to do. Good heavens, she actually missed the chores she’d done with Ester. She missed discovering new repairs that needed fixing and solving the simplest of problems that arose each day when managing her own household.
Lady Tempest had the management of Galewick well in hand.
Naomi pondered on how she’d entertained herself when she’d lived in her father’s home. She’d assisted her mother. She’d spent time with Theodosia. She’d worked in the garden some, but she’d mostly been… silly.
She supposed she was grown up now.
With her coffee and toast finished, Naomi fetched a floppy bonnet from her chamber and changed out of her slippers into a pair of half-boots. She would seek out the Tempest gardener. Surely, he could suggest some way that she could be useful. She had planted late last year and managed to grow a few useful herbs and vegetables.
And flowers.
She’d planted flowers in between the rows. They seemed frivolous but they had warded off some of the insects that would have otherwise attacked her plants. Just as a person needed beauty in the midst of trial, the useful plants needed the help of flowers.
When she stepped outside, a cool breeze floated over the lawn and had her gown swirling around her ankles.
She could also just walk.
Discarding her initial plan, and without any particular destination, she found herself marching along a path that led to the edge of Tempest land where a rushing creek separated it from Crescent Park. It was partially worn, she knew, as Lucinda and Lydia had admitted to walking over on a few occasions.
What would be the outcome if Naomi kept right on marching, across the bridge and up to the door, demanding to see him?
She had half a mind to do just that, but it was a considerable distance and she’d need to feed Amelia in an hour or so.
Ruined Page 15