Luke! But the four of them were not alone.
Lady Tempest hovered nearby, and her eldest son was crouching behind Arthur.
A man who had been presumed dead. But how? Why?
“Luke?” Naomi spoke his name instead of so many questions. He would know. “What? How?”
“You didn’t get the letter. Blackheart didn’t get it.” Luke’s voice came out flat. She had never before seen him so defeated.
“Letter?” she repeated dumbly.
“I sent word to Blackheart. I wanted to protect you from the shock of this… He was supposed to tell you.”
An odd part of her brain acknowledged the miscommunication. “He’s in London with Lydia. Help me up.” She was trapped on the ground by her skirts. Instead of Luke rushing forward, however, it was Lord Tempest who offered his hand.
Upright again, she got a better look at Arthur. Either he had been injured and was barely recovered or he had been very ill.
He looked as if he was dying.
Last November, she would have been devastated to see him this way. She would have fallen into his arms, overjoyed that he’d come back to her at all. She would have demanded his family send for a physician immediately and ushered him to their chamber, comforted him with loving touches and gentle words.
But now she looked upon Arthur Gilcrest and saw a stranger. A man who had hidden all the worst parts of himself—parts that were many and damning. He had betrayed her when she was at her most vulnerable. The person she loved had been a lie. Hedid not exist. She’d mourned that person, and then she had been forced to mourn the death of the lie.
She didn’t know this man who stood before her now. Had she ever?
“Perhaps we should go inside,” Lady Tempest suggested. “Arthur needs to rest.”
Even if Naomi hadn’t realized something was wrong with him, she would have known after taking one look at his mother. Her son, who had been presumed dead, had come home alive, and yet her eyes were filled with sadness and the lines around her mouth seemed even more pronounced.
When Arthur failed to respond in any way or move to do as his mother had asked, his older brother stepped forward. “Arthur,” Lord Tempest said, more firmly this time. “You must rest.”
“I can walk beside my wife, can I not?” Some of the familiar spirit she remembered was present in his demand. He offered Naomi his arm.
Naomi couldn’t help but send Luke a questioning glance. What did this mean?
Only Luke wasn’t looking at her. He seemed inordinately preoccupied handing Amelia off to the nurse who’d silently appeared.
“Naomi?” Arthur’s voice clipped out her name.
He moved closer to her as his older brother took his mother’s arm and began leading her back toward the house. Arthur motioned to his elbow with a jerk. “I don’t bite, you know.”
There was the ghost of his old teasing grin, but it was strained and his words sounded angry, bitter.
But she was the person who had been wronged. He’d cheated, he’d lied, he’d kept another woman while Naomi kept his home.
She didn’t want to touch him.
“What of your tavern friend?” She met his gaze accusingly, hugging her own arms and pointedly refusing his escort.
In response, he tilted his head.
“Bridget?” she clarified with a raised eyebrow. “Are you not going to go to her?”
“Damnit, Naomi, I return, more dead than alive, months after having been presumed dead and you want to discuss a harmless indiscretion?” he asked, voice hard. The look in his eyes remained cold, lifeless almost. “Is this what a man gets for risking his life for his country? Surely, you are joking?”
She thought she saw Luke tense but must have been mistaken. She wanted to meet his gaze but he turned away from both of them and followed the others inside.
He had chosen to give them a moment alone but, watching him disappear, Naomi had to fight down the panic that was rising inside of her.
