But she knew that was only directing blame where it did not belong. She and she alone was at fault for this mess. If she had not been such a coward, if she had stepped up and told her sisters immediately that she was leaving, she would not now be staring into the hurt eyes of the two people who meant most to her in the entire world.
Exhaling wearily, she let her arms fall heavy to her sides. “I have much to explain, and many apologies to make, it seems. Let us finish up here and head upstairs, and I shall tell you everything.”
Or, she silently amended as they quietly put away their things and headed for the stairs that led to the upper floors,everything they needed to know.
As it turned out, needing to leave out so much information led to having very little to tell them. So little, in fact, that in a mere matter of minutes, she was quite done.
Millicent and Elspeth stared at her after she fell silent, obviously expecting more. When Seraphina merely folded her hands tight in her lap, they raised their brows in disbelief.
“That is all?” Elspeth demanded.
“Yes,” Seraphina replied, even as she felt her insides burn from how horribly the blatant lie scorched her soul.
“You have nothing more to say?”
This time she could only manage a sharp shake of her head.
“So you mean to tell us,” Elspeth continued, exchanging a disbelieving look with Millicent, who was sitting in wide-eyed silence, “that Iain, someone you have not seen in thirteen years, and who has not been involved with any of our family’s dealings in all that time, came all the way to Synne to inform you that Mrs. Mary Campbell, Father’s old housekeeper, has passed on and that you must travel to Scotland to deal with some issues that had been brought up after her death, and once those issues are taken care of, we will all be much safer?”
“Yes,” Seraphina said slowly, though it came out more like a question, the single syllable rising in tone at the end. Dear God, she had lost her touch with this lying business, hadn’t she?
Elspeth threw her hands up in the air, frustration and hurt twisting her normally sweet-natured features. “I don’t believe you,” she cried.
Seraphina clasped her hands so tightly together they began to go numb. “It is the truth,” she managed. That, at least, she could say with utmost honesty.
“But it is not the whole truth,” Elspeth accused hotly. “I know you must have had your reasons for keeping secrets, for keeping us in the dark about what was going on. We know you must have been through hell trying to keep a roof over our heads and food in our bellies.”
Seraphina felt the blood leave her face, and she had toforcefully remind herself that her sisters were ignorant to what Seraphina had done during those dark years when survival had been doubtful at best. And she had done it willingly. Selling her body had been small in the grand scheme of things, after all, when so much had been at stake.
Even so, she never wanted her sisters to know what she had been reduced to.
Elspeth must have seen some of her emotions on her face. She leaned forward across the small space that separated their seats, mismatched chairs that were worn and faded and had seen better days, and laid a hand over Seraphina’s. “We were young, so very young, and we will be forever grateful to you for all you have done for us, for saving us from an abhorrent future and providing us with such a wonderful life. But the days of fear and anxiety are past. We are grown now, and you needn’t protect us from the truth any longer. Surely you can let go of some of your burdens and confide in us.”
“We love you so much, Seraphina,” Millicent joined in, scooting forward in her own chair and placing her hand over their joined hands. “Please, let us in.”
Looking at her sisters’ earnest, loving faces, she was tempted. Ah, God, she was tempted, after so long, to open herself up to these people she loved so much. The words rose up from the depths of her soul, truths that she had kept secret for what felt a lifetime.
But at the last minute her throat closed up, the thought of the love in her sisters’ eyes being replaced with disgust or pity making fear choke her. Or, worse, if in taking on part of the burden she’d shouldered, they were overcome with guilt and hated themselves for it. She could not bear it if the truth of her past changed the way they saw her or altered their love for her.
Stretching her lips into a smile, she straightened and gently pulled her hand out from under theirs. “Truly, you are both making much more out of it than there must be. When Mrs. Campbell died, Iain learned of something that might prove detrimental to us staying hidden. He has promised to escort me north to take care of it. Once that thing is taken care of, we will be even safer than we are now. I will be back within a week, two at most. Now,” she continued, rising, “it is growing late, and we still have not had our supper. Let us eat and get a good night’s rest. There is much to do before my departure in two days’ time.”
As they all silently went about their nightly duties, Seraphina knew she would never forget the look of hurt in her sisters’ eyes for as long as she lived. But it was a small price to pay to continue protecting them. She only prayed they would one day understand.
Chapter 9
At any other time Iain would have cursed the early hour as his carriage trundled down the still-dark road. The sun was not yet up, the hue of the sky barely past the indigo of deep night. And while he was an early riser—a lifetime of being forced to work just to survive had ensured that—this was bloody early even for him.
But he found that, though he had not slept the night before, though he should by all accounts be dizzy with exhaustion, he had never been more awake. And it was all due to one very particular fiery-haired woman who was waiting for him.
He had received her sharply succinct missive yesterday, which had laid out in steeply angled letters the instructions she’d had for him on their departure. And now here he was, heading for the place of her choosing as she had demanded, some house calledCaulnedy, a location apparently private enough that no one would witness her climbing intoa carriage with him. And growing angrier at himself with every turn of the wheels. While he should be approaching this trip with cool satisfaction that he would soon be legally rid of her, instead his blood pounded hot and his body thrummed with anticipation that he would see her again. Damn and blast, he had better get ahold of himself, and fast. This was no pleasure ride. Nor was it a meeting of old friends. No, this trip was expressly for the purpose of lancing Seraphina from his life, like an infection that he had to purge his body of.
Just then the carriage, in the process of making a turn at yet another bend in the road—where the hell was this house he had been directed to?—slowed drastically. The driver called out to his team, the alarm in his voice clear as the equipage swayed sideways. Iain’s nerves, already frayed due to his unwelcome thoughts regarding his wife, unraveled further as he grasped onto the wall of the carriage to steady himself. What, were they being held up by highwaymen now? Which would just be the icing on the cake of this ridiculously early morning, wouldn’t it? Letting loose a small growl, he threw open the door and leapt down to the road. He’d be damned if he would just sit and wait for whomever it was to accost him.
Two women stood in the center of the road like delicate specters, their slight forms covered from head to toe in voluminous capes. An alarmed shiver worked up his spine. He was not one to frighten easily; he was usually the one to do the frightening, if he was being completely honest. But the Isle of Synne, from what little he had seen of it during his wanderings over the last several days, seemed a magical place, with its secretive forests and undulating beaches, and rolling hills that resembled nothing so much as slumberinggiants; being waylaid by two figures that appeared like ancient druid priestesses just amplified that.
And then they pushed back their hoods, revealing hair that shone with brilliant red highlights the same hue as Seraphina’s in the light of the carriage lanterns, and the breath fled his body entirely. It was like looking at dim echoes of the young woman he had loved so desperately so long ago.
In the next instant, however, reason blessedly took over. There could only be two people in the whole of the world who resembled his erstwhile wife to such a degree, after all, much less in this little slice of Britain. He recalled the small girls they had been, of course, quiet, shy creatures who had adored Seraphina. And she had adored them. To such a degree that she had chosen them over him all those years ago.
