The first was a letter from her mother. A certain duke had spoken with Naomi’s father on her behalf before departing for his wedding holiday and had somehow convinced him that Naomi deserved his forgiveness. She was welcome to return home along with her child, whom all of them were quite impatient to become acquainted with.
She’d read through the letter twice. It was something she’d wanted for months, yet it only offered her a small amount of relief. Perhaps she was numb. From Arthur’s death and Luke’s absence.
The second one had been sent by the War Office, stating that Mr. Arthur Gilcrest had claimed all wages he’d been due, and since he had not, in fact, been killed in battle, there was no widow’s pension for her to claim. It was dated last April.
Naomi had taken the second letter to Lord Tempest, uncertain whether it was her responsibility to inform the War Office that Arthur had finally succumbed.
As somber as ever, Arthur’s brother promised he would look into it and then gone on to assure her that she would never be in want of funds or security. Milton Cottage had been willed to her by Arthur, along with an annuity as his widow and a trust for Amelia. Furthermore, she was welcome to remain at Galewick Manor for as long as she’d like. She was family. She would always be welcome.
It was the most he’d ever spoken to her at one time, and she’d left his study thinking that she would visit her parents first, perhaps remain with them through the holidays, and then after, she might return to live on her own at Milton Cottage.
She’d attempted to reject the annuity, but Tempest had insisted. She was his family’s responsibility.“You have Amelia to think of,”he’d told her.
She wandered the now-familiar corridors deep in thought, and after looking in on Amelia and seeing that she was already down for her afternoon nap, Naomi was drawn outside by the golden light of the autumn sun.
There were some aspects of this estate that she would miss. It had provided her comfort in a tumultuous time.
Naomi slipped outside and strolled aimlessly to the edge of the garden.
Was she really free?
She continued through the copse of trees then over the small bridge onto Blackheart property. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she’d walked along the rushing brook with Luke at her side, since she’d grasped his arm beneath her hand and felt his strength along her side.
The air felt warm on her face and shoulders. Almost one year had passed since that fateful day he’d come to Milton Cottage. When would she see him again?
She watched the ground and carefully picked her way along the stream, feeling lighter than she had in ages. The futurestretched out before her as a blank slate, unknowable and frightening, but whatever it may bring, for now, Naomi felt… hopeful for the most part. Renewed.
A distant rumbling, barely audible, teased at the very edge of her senses. The waterfall, she was getting closer to it, wasn’t she…? As though compelled by some unknown force, her feet carried her onward, and the rumbling sound grew steadily until she could barely hear anything else over the familiar roar.
At first, she thought she was imagining the obscure silhouette of a man standing at the edge of the pool. And then she believed that she must be mistaken. But the posture was familiar. She knew the tilt of his head, the breadth of his shoulders.
She stepped on a twig, snapping it in two, and he turned his head.
Luke.
With his feet planted shoulder-distance apart, his hands behind his back, dressed in a black coat, tan breeches, and gleaming hessians, he appeared even more magnificent than he’d been in her dreams.
As his eyes settled upon her and his lips tilted upward in welcome, the beating of her heart grew strong and steady again.
Unable to hold herself back, Naomi lifted her skirts with both hands and sprinted across the distance between them. This time, she would throw herself into his arms.
This time, she had no reason to hide.
Luke had not beenon English soil for even forty-eight hours, but rather than spend a single night at Portsmouth, he’d hired a mount and ridden for home.
To Naomi.
He’d done what needed to be done, and he was prepared to reside at Crescent Park for as long as was necessary until he could make her his again.
Because she would be his forever. He’d relinquished his heart long ago.
When he’d walked through the door of the home he’d grown up in, Lydia met him first with tears and welcome but quickly informed him of Gil’s passing.
He’d considered the likelihood of Arthur passing before he ever made it home; a part of him had expected it, even. And after having accepted it once already, Luke had thought he’d been prepared.
And yet…
Despite everything, grief crept in and settled into the pit of his belly. He’d lost his friend multiple times, in different ways. Each time he’d lost a little more of his own innocence.
