If only he could. Forget everything, that is. But every time he imagined her sharing her body with somebody else, a red rage clouded his vision, followed by profound pain. After today’s revelations, a great part of that rage was self directed. Why hadn’t he believed her and supported her before? Why hadn’t he immediately followed her when she left?
He had wanted to. Letting her go was the most harrowing decision of his life. He had wanted to run after her. Fight it out if necessary. Talk it through. Come to an agreement that would make her come back at all costs. Why hadn’t he? Wounded pride. She had left him without a second thought, or so he had believed, and following her like a lapdog felt humiliating. Another reason was misconceptions partly fed by his mother, he had to admit. She had reassured him he was in the right to let Alice go. Wasted no opportunity to tell him how unsuitable his wife was. How uncouth, brash, lacking in breeding and gentility. His mother had subtly suggested at every opportunity how Alice had shown little patience and interest in learning to be a lady. And had offered her poor results as proof of her indifference.
And he, fool that he was, had fallen for it. Because he knew how capable Alice was. He couldn’t fathom that she wouldn’t succeed at every task she really set her mind to. He had seen her play every sort of role in their career. From servant to aristocrat.She always managed to fit in perfectly, infiltrating every circle, fooling powerful, smart, and even dangerous men. He had seen her read people at a glance and spot a liar across a room.
Taking over the reins of a genteel, grief-stricken household, becoming his viscountess, should have been child’s play for her. If she had failed, then it surely was because she hadn’t really put her heart into the task. She had given up too easily. Or so he had thought.
Floundering due to his own deficiencies, struggling with the challenge of taking over an estate and a role he was not prepared for, he had failed to realize she was struggling as well. He had thought her role was easier. What an utter fool he had been. He had taken her for granted and lost her. Had neglected her for years. And now he knew he had no right to be angry at her for having found consolation in someone else’s arms. It was no more than he deserved.
But damn it all to hell, he was still angry. He still had trouble accepting it. Would a teary apology, a promise of never straying again, a declaration of everlasting love from her, be enough to soothe his wounded heart? He didn’t know. He only knew he needed to find a way to forgive her. Because he still loved her as much as always, and he wanted her in his life. If she would have him back.
They arrived at Whitehall after a short ride and were immediately shown into Dalton’s office.
“About time you two showed up.” Their formidable leader greeted them, standing from his chair. “I expected a report this morning.”
Nathaniel raised a sardonic eyebrow, unimpressed by Dalton’s tone.
“This might surprise you, Dalton, but we agents are only human, and as such, we need rest sometimes. Especially after such a difficult night.”
He showed Alice to one of the chairs before the desk, and they took their seats.
“Difficult?” Dalton asked with interest, resuming his seat as well.
“Yes. Tragic, even. The good news is we recovered the documents and may have made some progress in the case. The bad is, the widow, Mrs. Phipps, is dead.”
“Damn it all!” Dalton exploded to his feet once more, his hands braced on the desk, head hanging down in defeat. “How did it happen? Did they kill her? Were we too late?”
“No, it was nothing like that,” Alice interjected quietly. “We found her before the Russians did. When we got to her, she was still alive. But she was in labor. I stayed with her throughout it all. Nathaniel brought a doctor. We did all we could, but it was a difficult birth. She…didn’t survive it,” Alice finished in a low, unsteady voice.
To Nathaniel’s shock, Dalton appeared as distressed by the widow’s death as Alice and he had been. So distressed that the ruthless spymaster paid no attention to the information that they had recovered the documents. Then he remembered that Dalton had also lost his beloved wife. The man appeared cold and forbidding, but Nathaniel knew how much he had loved his wife. How much he had suffered with her death. How much he had blamed himself for failing to save her. To lose another woman—a pregnant woman—who had been under his care, must be harrowing.
“The baby…” Dalton rasped, as if afraid of the answer.
“Babies,” Alice replied. “She had twins, and they both survived. The babies are safe and well cared for.”
Dalton frowned. “Where are they?”
Alice hesitated, as if she wanted to withhold the information, but in the end must have realized there was no point in trying. Dalton would find out regardless.
“They are with the Aycliffes. I brought the babies to them this morning and, last I heard, they plan to adopt the babies.”
“Are we talking about the Duke and Duchess of Aycliffe?” Dalton asked, raising his brows.
“Yes. You remember that I helped rescue Lady Josephine, the new duchess. We have remained in contact. I collaborate with her and other ladies with a charity organization they founded. The other ladies are in the country, but I knew Josephine was in London, and that she would help. It was the only place I could think of to take the babies. They needed to be fed immediately.”
“I see.” Some of the shock was fading from Dalton’s expression, but he still seemed somewhat taken aback by all the events. “And you are satisfied that they will take good care of the babies?”
“Absolutely. They took them in immediately, no questions asked, and arranged for a wet nurse to feed the babies.”
“No questions asked. That means you didn’t need to disclose the origin of the babies or anything related to the mission?” Dalton asked, once again in the spymaster’s role, now that the lives of the babies were resolved.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t disclose any sensitive information anyway.” Alice sounded a little offended that it was even a question.
“Good, good,” Dalton replied, pensive once more. “Aycliffe is solid. The man is a decorated army veteran and a strong ally in Parliament, but this mission requires the utmost secrecy.”
“We know, Dalton,” Nathaniel interjected. “Neither Alice nor I are novices at this.”
“Of course,” Dalton agreed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. Let us revise the documents you were able to retrieve. Hopefully, we will find something that will lead us to the person behind all this mayhem.”
