She didn’t move.
With a heavy heart, Gavin gave up. He’d known from the start his hopes had been set too high. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve happiness. And what was she, if not his source of happiness? Without her, his life would be nothing once again.
He gazed at her for a long moment. At least he would have her portrait. Those impassioned brushstrokes would forever remind him of the short time he had loved her—and those precious moments when he had been loved back.
No matter where she went, she would always be the keeper of his soul. He would love her until he died, and ever after. He couldn’t help it. She was everything to him.
Her continued silence was worse than screaming epithets at him, worse than a thousand knife wounds. But there was nothing he could do to change the past. He’d spent over a decade trying, and still remained the worthless cur he’d been at seventeen.
Evangeline closed her eyes.
At least he’d met her, known her, loved her. No matter she could no longer bear the sight of him, he’d never regret the days he’d lived with her presence.
She’d told him to hurry, to confront Francine. Very well. He could at least do that. He’d do anything she asked. He’d prostrate himself at her feet, declare himself her slave for eternity if only she would forgive him his many, many faults and let him touch her once again, kiss her, hold her.
Perhaps…perhaps if he just tried hard enough, he could somehow redeem himself in her eyes. Enough to warrant a second chance. Was it possible? He had to believe there was hope. Hope of a future with the woman he loved. Hehadto believe there was hope.
If there were none, he would die.
After a final glance at her downturned face, Gavin ducked behind the closest secret panel and slipped into the shadowed network of passageways between the walls.
Chapter 41
Too late. Why was he always too late?
Gavin forced himself not to throttle the Stanton chit. “Where the devil did they go?” he asked for the third or fourth time. “I thought you were watching her.”
“I meant to watch her.” She quivered before him, hands wringing, eyes tearing up behind her spectacles. “She was already gone by the time I came downstairs. Mr. Teasdale’s gone, too. They summoned their carriages before breakfast.”
“I don’t care about Teasdale,” he thundered, smashing his fist into the closest wall. “I care about that bitch Francine. Where thehelldid shego?”
“I don’t know,” she cried. “I told you I don’t know! Ask your sister. They were talking before breakfast. Maybe—”
He spun away from her and set off in search of Rose. She wasn’t in the dining room. She wasn’t in her bedchamber. She was upstairs in the nursery, reading stories to the twins. Jane and Nancy perched on either edge of the sofa beside her.
“First,” he announced by way of greeting. “Where is Francine Rutherford?”
Five pairs of startled eyes gazed his way.
“On her way to one of their country properties, I believe,” Rose responded hesitantly. “Why?”
“Second,” he continued without answering her question. “Why the hell did you and Nancy ask the girls to lie about where you were the night your husband died?”
“Wh—what?” Nancy’s face whitened. “We didn’t—”
“Youdid. You forced Jane to lie to my face. And for what? Neither one of you did anything wrong.”
Rose and Nancy stared at each other, mouths agape. “You didn’t—?”
Gavin glanced at the open doorway. “Oh, for God’s sake. Each of you thought the other did it, and you were trying to protect each other’s neck? All this time, I was sure you thought it wasme.”
Nancy colored and shook her head.
Rose moved the twins aside and got to her feet. “Even families who love each other can suspect each other of horrible things,” she said softly. “Even families who love each other can be wrong. Forgive me?”
“Have you ever forgivenme?” he asked and turned to go.
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Rose said simply. “I’m a mother. I would never leave my children alone with someone I didn’t trust. You’ve been a wonderful uncle to them.”
