“It was jolly good, miss. Should I fetch us a hansom?”
“No, the earl is sending his carriage around for us.”
They waited in silence, there on the portico, with Finn’s arm around her holding her close. It seemed there was too much to say, and yet not a single word was adequate for what either of them was feeling. He couldn’t help but believe that her grief ran deeper than his. She’d had nine months with the child, feeling it growing inside her, seven years of hoping it was alive, while he’d only just come to know of its existence.
And then had it snatched away.
It wasn’t until they were in the carriage, his horse tethered at the back following along, with Robin across from them, and Finn sitting beside her, his arm around her, tucking her in close, that she burrowed against his chest, clutching his lapel with one hand, and let the sorrow have its way with her.
“I’m sorry,” she rasped, and he didn’t know if she was apologizing for all that had happened or that she no longer had the strength to hold the grief at bay.
“Shh. It’s all right.” He skimmed his hand over her soft hair, knowing that inside she was so much softer, even as she fought to appear harder. But there was strength in softness, tenderness.
“Why ye be sad, miss?” Robin asked.
“We had a bit of unhappy news,” Finn told the lad, making light of the devastating news because he didn’t want to upset her more or cause the lad to worry.
“I should have shared half me biscuit with her.”
Her laugh was a strangled sound. “Yes, that might have helped,” she said.
But it wouldn’t have. Only time and distance would ease the ache.
With a sniff, she straightened. He was reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief when Robin produced a piece of linen and held it out to her. “Thank you,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
She glanced at Finn. “Neville gave Robin a banknote, so we need to take him to the bank.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow.”
“I’m rich, guv,” the lad crowed.
“Five hundred quid is a lot of blunt. Don’t go boasting about it. You don’t want someone trying to steal it.”
“Right-o. Won’t breathe a word of it to a soul.”
Still, Finn held out his hand. “Why don’t you let me have it for safekeeping?”
He could see the boy thinking about it, but finally he brought it out of his jacket pocket, slightly wrinkled and a little worse for wear, and gave it to him. He winked at the lad. “You come see me tomorrow, and we’ll get this matter sorted out.”
With a nod, Robin turned his attention to the passing scenery, and Finn wondered if he was contemplating all the things he could do with his newfound wealth. Or if he simply wasn’t comfortable staring at a saddened Vivi.
They had the driver stop at the Mermaid and Unicorn first, where young Robin disembarked. Then they carried on. Vivi slumped against him.
“Just a bit longer,” he assured her.
She nodded. “It’s hard.”
“I know, love.”
Somehow, she managed to keep herself together until they entered her rooms, and then she lost her way, sinking down onto the floor, no strength left to her. “I didn’t think I’d ever see it or find it, but I’d always thought that at least it lived.”
Great, gulping sobs broke free of her, bringing with her such pain that she didn’t know how she’d survive it.
She was aware of him lifting her into his arms and carrying her across the room into the bedchamber. Gently, he placed her on the bed, and she curled into a ball of anguish.
“I hate her. I hate what she did. How could she be so uncaring?”
He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to, because there was no answer that would suffice. Instead he removed her shoes, rubbed his hands over her feet, then moved up to the head of the bed and began removing the pins from her hair. When the strands were combed out over her pillow, he stretched out on the bed and cocooned her within the warmth of his embrace, holding her tightly while she wept, all the while knowing that he had to be hurting as well.
