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’s coming home. He promised,” Naomi choked out.
“I know.” His chest rumbled as he spoke. His hand gently stroked her hair. But it did not matter how securely he held her or how desperately she clutched him back. In that moment, something inside of her shifted, a keystone slid out of place and crumbled into dust, and everything that had been resting upon it slowly but surely began to tumble after.
“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.
AUTUMN RAIN
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.
Six of his men captured.
And the next day, news that they’d been killed. The insurgents hadn’t even had the honor to return the bodies. They’d only returned the uniforms—bloodied—some with pieces of skin and flesh still attached. Luke had struggled not to vomitwhen the messenger revealed that his men had been burned alive.
Gil’s beautiful wife needn’t know the circumstances of her husband’s actual death. Not if he had any say.
Luke swallowed guilt and self-loathing. They’d been told the pass was clear. Gil himself had led the reconnaissance team.
It wasn’t as though a major was expected to handle such assignments himself, or that he even ought to, but Luke should have suspected something, knowing there’d been trouble in the area recently.
Guilt was only one of the reasons Luke had delivered the news himself.
The other was that Arthur Gilcrest had once been a good friend. Their fathers’ lands bordered one another, and they’d attended Eton together. Both were second sons and when Luke’s brother, the Duke of Blackheart, purchased Luke’s commission for him, it had only seemed natural that Gil’s brother had done the same.
Riding away from Milton Cottage with the sun setting to his right, Luke contemplated the last moments he’d spent with Gil.
The night before the attack, the two of them had sat up long after the others bedded down, sharing a flask of rum. Staring into the fire, Gil, not typically one to discuss his fears or concerns, had been in an unnaturally effusive mood. Luke had mostly listened while his old friend mulled over the events that had taken place while they’d been on leave in England—how he’d ruined Lord Barrington’s eldest daughter, Miss Naomi Augustine. How he’d gotten her with child and how he’d set her up at Milton Cottage as his wife.
Luke had met Miss Augustine at the first ball of the Season. He’d danced with her, in fact, and been more than a little jealous when Gil declared his intent to pursue the delicate blonde himself.
