He exhaled slowly and nodded. Although his eyes softened, they still held a shadow of disappointment. But his hand came up to cradle her cheek with exquisite tenderness. “Very well. I’ll leave tomorrow morning and expect to be back in two days. Please don’t do anything rash while I’m away.”
Alice just nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. He drew her into his arms, and she went eagerly. Circling her arms about his waist, tightening his hold on him as if she could keep him by sheer force of will.
“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll talk when I return, and we will finish this mission together.”
She wanted to believe that. She really did. But her heart was bleeding with the fear that he was slipping away once more.
CHAPTER 17
Earlythenextmorning,Nathaniel reluctantly left Alice’s warm bed. The temptation to kiss her was strong, but he had kept her up late the night before, making love to her until well into the early hours. He should let her sleep.
Besides, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop with a kiss, and he didn’t have time for more. The train that would take him to Greystone would depart in an hour, and he needed to make his way to the station.
With a last longing look, and a promise to himself that he would return soon, he left the bedchamber silently and headed downstairs and out to his waiting carriage. His only luggage was a satchel with a change of clothing and another where he carried the documents they were working on. All but the journal. He had left that one, for Alice was working on it.
He had already sent a message to Dalton yesterday, assuring him he would continue to work on the ciphers while he was away and asking him to please look out for Alice. He knew she wasa capable and independent woman, but sometimes she could be too independent. To the point of rashness.
The train ride offered ample time for reflection—on his wife, on their future. He should have been working on the cipher, yet his mind refused to focus. Whenever he thought he was close to breaking it, he hit another dead end. Perhaps he was losing his touch, or perhaps his lack of success was because his every thought kept circling back to Alice.
He had barely left her a few hours ago and already missed her. Couldn’t wait to get back to her. It was pathetic how besotted he was, but he was past caring at this point. The only thing he knew was that regardless of what she had done, he wanted his wife back. After all, it was partly his fault; she wouldn’t have fallen if he hadn’t left her alone for so long.
Still, how could she have done that to him? He had been alone for just as long and never once strayed. He had plenty of opportunities, from visiting a house of ill repute, to taking a lover among the bored widows or even wives of the aristocracy. And yet, he didn’t even consider the prospect, for Alice was the only woman he wanted. So how could she have replaced him with another man? It was obvious she still had feelings for him; he did not doubt for one moment the authenticity of her feelings, but they had not been strong enough to keep her faithful.
And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Nathaniel was trying to reconcile what he knew with Alice’s evident sincerity when she said she loved him and that she wanted him. Yet he had seen with his own eyes the proof of her infidelity. The memory of that night, when he had first seen her with her lover still haunted him. He had passed by the corner of the street where their house was located, as he often did when he was in London, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe looking for an excuse to knock on her door. Most of the time he didn’t see her, but on this occasion,he saw her arriving in a carriage. It was a fine equipage, too, befitting an aristocrat.
Lord Ardmore had emerged first and extended his hand to her to help her alight from the carriage. The ease and familiarity between them had been evident, even from a distance. They went into the house together. He waited for hours for Ardmore to come out, his rage and hurt growing with each passing minute. Only by exercising a level of control he hadn’t known he possessed until that moment was he able to stop himself from barging into the house, beat the man to a bloody pulp, and demand satisfaction with a duel. A duel! Wasn’t that rich. Who ever heard of duels being called anymore? But the spy instinct had won, that of hiding and watching and waiting. Or maybe he was just a coward, because he couldn’t bear the thought of finding Alice in bed with another man. It had been almost the break of dawn when at last the man emerged, got back into his carriage and departed the house.
Even recalling the events almost a year later brought back a fresh wave of pain and shock. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the cool pane of glass of the train window, re-living the devastation of that night. Standing watch while his heart bled out in his chest. But it wasn’t the only time. Oh, no. Just to torture himself further, as if one time wasn’t devastating enough, he had set a guard on her. A boy who worked as a groom in the livery yard behind the house had been easy to bribe. He had given the boy a crown and told him to let him know whenever he saw the coach or its owner come to visit Alice’s house. The promise of another crown every time the boy notified him had ensured his enthusiastic cooperation.
The boy had summoned him five more times. The visits had only stopped when Ardmore was out of England, but when he was in London, the man seemed to visit often. Damn and double damn. How was he going to make peace with that? He wanted somuch to forgive Alice. These past few weeks, working together, talking, laughing, loving each other, had been the happiest he had been in five long years. He was afraid if he let her go, he’d never be happy again.
But his reaction just now as he rehashed the memories told him clearly he was not over his wife’s infidelity. He’d need to talk to her when he returned to London. He had given her the opportunity to confess before, and she had denied it. This time, he would be more direct. He would lay out all he knew in front of her and let her try to explain that. Once everything was out in the open, they could start to heal the past.
At least…he hoped so.
After long hours of travel, at last the carriage that had transported him from the train station rattled over the last stretch of the trip, the gravel drive that led to Greystone Manor. Built from the same grey stone that gave it its name, the house rose stark and proud against the pale sky. The mullioned windows caught the muted light, reflecting back a steel-blue hue. As one approached the house, its austere architecture was softened by the row of trees that flanked the drive and the carpet of ivy that clung stubbornly to the east facade.
The rolling lawns unfolded in immaculate swaths that led down to a small lake where swans drifted lazily. Beyond, fertile fields stretched into the distance, dotted with grazing sheep and divided by ancient hedgerows.
As he gazed upon his home, the familiar knot of ambivalence twisted in his chest. There was a part of him that still loved the place—its quiet strength, its noble architecture, the sense of purpose he had found in stewarding it. But the memories inside weighed heavy.
Since his brother’s passing, grief and unspoken resentment had cloaked the halls like a sick miasma. While the outside was serene, the interior of the home was oppressive. No wonderAlice had wanted no part of it. And yet, he couldn’t help but think, with a grim sort of longing, that Greystone could be a warm, loving home again. Once, as a boy, he had been happy here, racing across those lawns with his brother and the village children, getting into all sorts of shenanigans, climbing trees, swimming in the lake in summer. It had been a good childhood. One he had once hoped to offer to his own children.
That hope, once buried when Alice left him, had now resurfaced with their renewed relationship. They had not taken any care to avoid pregnancy. He had apologized the first time, but in truth, he wasn’t sorry. And she hadn’t seemed distressed by the prospect either, so he had given up any attempt at prevention. It was reckless, unwise. But he knew in his heart he would never regret having a child with Alice.
The carriage had barely slowed in front of the wide steps that led up to the entrance when the front door swung open. The butler, ever precise, offered a stiff bow, but it was his mother who spilled out onto the stone steps with effusive relief.
With her small stature, dressed in unrelenting black, for she refused to abandon the color even six years after his brother’s passing, and with her black tresses that only bore the merest hint of silver, she resembled an oversized raven.
“Nathaniel! Thank heavens you’re here at last,” she exclaimed, clutching her shawl tighter as though she had been waiting in the chill.
He descended from the carriage and met her embrace with measured politeness. “Mother, you look remarkably well for someone whose letters suggested death’s door.”
She drew back, color rising to her cheeks, but her smile never wavered. “Yes, well… I recovered more quickly than expected.”
“I am glad. Now that everything is well, I’m sure you’ll understand I’ll have to keep this visit short. There are matters in London that demand my attention.”
Something flashed in his mother’s dark eyes. Too fast for him to interpret. But before he could question it, she launched into another tirade, clutching his arm and leading him inside.
