The major assisted her into one of the chairs placed around a long worktable and Naomi stared at the stains in the wood. She’d seen them hundreds of times. She should have scrubbed at them harder.
A cup of water appeared and was placed in her hand. The gentle nudge from inside her belly had her lifting the drink to her lips.
Water.
“I’m so sorry, Naomi,” he said again. The pain of that sentiment stabbed at her again.
“Stop it. Stop saying that.” She felt angry. She didn’t want to believe him. He waslying.“You’re wrong. He may have been taken prisoner, but he would have escaped. Because he has so much to live for. We’re having a baby. We’re going to be a family. He loves me. Why would he leave me?”
The major swung a second chair closer to her and dropped into it so that he remained near. “Is there someone I can send for?” He took hold of her hands. “Your family? A friend in the village who can come here so that you are not alone?”
Naomi stared down at his hands. They were masculine hands, strong, capable hands. But they were not Arthur’s hands. The fingers were too slim and the tiny hairs on Arthur’s weren’t as dark. Feeling betrayed, she tugged and he loosened his grip.
Her family had disowned her when she’d eloped.
And friends? Naomi nearly choked on the word. Francis Carter, the one person she’d considered to be her dearest friend in London, had promised she wouldn’t tell a soul about the baby. And the people in Hull Crossings mostly looked at her suspiciously.
Would her mother come?
The last—the one and only letter that she’d received from her parents—had made it perfectly clear that all of London knew of Naomi’s indiscretions. Word had spread like fire. The papers, even, had printed that the oldest daughter of the Baron and Baroness of “B” had taken advantage of Captain A. G., second son of the Earl of T.
All of thetonknew, her mother had written, that she’d trapped him.
No, Naomi didn’t have any friends.
“My housekeeper,” she whispered, only wanting the major to leave. After he left, she’d be able to think more clearly. His presence right now was making everything even more unbearable. “Ester went to the mercantile. She’ll be back shortly.”
Agony caught her unaware and had her gasping. “Please,” she begged. “Go back and find him. He escaped. I know he would have. He promised me. He promised me.”
“Of course.” The major pulled her head forward and pressed her face into the wool of his jacket.
“He broke his promise,” Naomi choked out.
“I know.” His chest rumbled as he spoke. His hand gently stroked her hair. Again, somehow, he just managed to keep her from breaking into a million pieces.
“He’s gone.” She tested the words on her lips. They sounded final and ugly and left her feeling dead inside.
The major’s arms squeezed tighter around her.
Arthur was gone. Dead.
She was alone.
She was a widow at twenty-four.
Chapter Two
Lucas rode into town feeling as downtrodden and miserable as if he’d just lost any military battle. It was enough to make him swear off marriage forever—for as long as he remained in the army anyhow.
Arthur Gilcrest, Gil, had had far more to live for than Lucas did.
Luke rubbed a hand down his face.
He’d held his friend’s grieving widow until the housekeeper had returned and shooed him away.
Lucas was a fixer, a planner. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling helpless, useless.
No, that wasn’t precisely true. There had been little he could do to alter the outcome of the ambush—and later that night, long after the sounds of shooting had gone silent and they’d taken count.
