Why had she thrown them out? She should have pressed them and now…
She would never have those flowers again! They’d been an apology, of sorts, for failing to return from the village one night.
He would never bring her flowers again.
Naomi had barely made it into her bedchamber and thrown herself onto the bed they’d shared before more sobs escaped. She wanted her husband back. The man she’d vowed to love forever. He was supposed to come home and protect her.
As morning turned to afternoon and then evening, she only rose from her bed once, to pull one of his shirts out of the wardrobe. She comforted herself with his scent. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he wasn’t gone.
For the remainder of the day, she lay curled up in their bed.
Ester had peered in to check on her, but Naomi feigned sleep. She would eat later. She was so tired. As the storm arrived and it drizzled on and off for the rest of the day, so too did her consciousness.
Even the leak above the window wasn’t enough to rouse her. She was so tired. Tired and alone.
Upon riding awayfrom Milton Cottage a second time, Luke made his way toward the inn feeling conflicted. It wasn’t right that she should be alone right now.
Mrs. Gilcrest was an adult, and it wasn’t as though she’d given any indication his help was needed, or would even be tolerated, but he’d seen the condition of the house.
The porch was a hazard. One wrong step and she could tumble through the floor, breaking an ankle or worse…
He leaned forward, urging The General to increase his pace as the rain began to fall in sheets.
What additional items needed repair to ensure she could live there safely? Were there other floorboards that needed to be replaced? What of the roof? And the windows? He ought to have done an inspection while he was there.
Even after unsaddling, brushing, and putting The General up in the stable himself, these and other questions plagued him. Did she have a groom in her small stable? Did she even have a conveyance for travel?
Uncertainties persisted as he ducked in from the rain and brushed the water off his jacket. When a smiling barmaid approached and offered him ale, he declined politely, and despite her pouting protest, climbed the stairs to the room he’d lain awake in for most of the night. After removing his jacket, which had been soaked through, he opened the pack for his change of clothing and his heart dropped.
How had he forgotten about the satchel, empty but for a few paltry items Gil had left behind?
Luke withdrew the small canvas pack, and then, staring out the window at the now driving rain, came to a decision. It would seem Mrs. Gilcrest had not yet seen the last of him.
He changed into dry clothing, opened his valise, and located the items he’d require for his tasks.
His first missive was intended for the War Office. If Naomi Gilcrest truly was as alone as he suspected, it would be vital that she receive Gil’s pension. The pension could not be sent to her unless the cogs of the military knew of her whereabouts.
And her existence. Gil had often been casual about filing reports. Luke hoped his friend hadn’t treated this administrative requirement so lightly.
The second letter was addressed to his brother. Blackheart would have heard that Luke was on leave, and he and their younger sisters would be expecting him any day. Although Black likely had already been apprised of Gil’s death, Luke nonethelessrelayed the most general of details in his missive. Tempest, Black, Gil, and Luke had been each other’s first chums, after all.
Careful in his wording, Luke explained the circumstances in which Gil had left Mrs. Gilcrest. There was no need for him to write anything else. Blackheart would read between the lines and take matters into his own hands. After sealing both envelopes, Luke posted them downstairs and arranged to keep the room indefinitely.
The following morning, for the third day in a row, Luke found himself yet again approaching the poorly maintained house where Gil had planned to make his home with his wife. Luke had managed a few hours’ sleep and, now with the purpose he’d laid out for himself, felt better than he had in weeks.
She must have heard his horse because, before he was even fifty feet from the house, she burst out the front door and came running down the steps. She was smiling brightly in greeting but then halted suddenly and her shoulders fell.
Ah, hell. She’d seen the uniform and assumed…
Ah, hell.
She raised a hand to shade her eyes, and there was no mistaking the look of not just disappointment but devastation as he drew his horse to a halt.
“Did you forget something, Major?” Her voice sounded defeated. It was possible she’d forever remember him as the bearer of the worst news she’d ever received. He didn’t blame her.
“As a matter of fact.” Luke dismounted. He’d pretend he didn’t know that she’d imagined he was Gil returning home to her. He removed the pack he’d forgotten about and then stepped forward to hand it to her.
She hesitated a moment before taking it from him.
