Celeste sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh and looked directly at Mara. “I’m not good with subtlety, Mara. Why don’t you just tell me what it is you’re trying to say?”
Mara swallowed. “I was just thinking that, if Bentley pulls through, that you might wish to join us when we go to America.”
“You want to leave England?”
Mara looked down at her hands. “Not particularly, but I feel it would be too difficult to remain. Besides,” she said more firmly. “There are lots of prospects in the new colonies.”
“So you’re planning on running away?”
“No!” Mara said emphatically, but when Celeste merely raised a knowing brow, she amended reluctantly, “Is it that obvious?”
“It is to me,” Celeste said, then as if weighing her words more carefully, she added, “How about you just take it one day at a time? You don’t have to decide anything right now, and you never know what will happen in the interim to change your mind. Life can be funny sometimes.”
Mara frowned at such a cryptic statement, but she let the subject drop, nevertheless.
* * *
Roarke returned to Eversleigh House after a brisk, early morning ride through Hyde Park. Since the fashionable time to see and be seen on Rotten Row was mid-afternoon, he was able to give Aristides his head and tear up the ground beneath them without worrying about innocent bystanders.
He’d ridden the stallion every day to occupy his mind and keep the gnawing madness at bay. He hoped, for Madame Celeste’s sake, that there might be a message waiting for him today. After more than a week of cooling his heels waiting for her summons, he was growing restless. As it was, the day he’d been told to leave her establishment, he’d gone home in high dudgeon, ready to drink himself into a stupor.
Thankfully, Mr. Andrews had saved him with some rather welcome news. Granted, Roarke already knew about Bentley, but what he didn’t know was that Mr. Silva had recovered from his injuries in the interim. He’d already left the workhouse and had boarded a ship bound for Brazil, which meant Big B wouldn’t be charged with murder—if he managed to recover from his own ordeal.
While Mara was dealing with Bentley’s crisis, Roarke took care of a few things as well. He made all the arrangements for Lily’s burial, and after writing to his mother and Lyra, they offered to remain at Eversleigh Hall until her body was laid to rest before returning to London.
He’d also called upon Athena with a request she was more than happy to undertake, along with Lady Ambrel’s assistance. On the assumption that Mara would still have him as her husband, Roarke gave them free rein to order his future viscountess a brand new trousseau. It would be his wedding gift to her—if they ever managed to get the deed accomplished.
He had to shake his head as he thought about everything that had transpired to keep them from making it to that point already. It was almost as if fate was constantly working against them, but he was determined that, this time, things would end in their favor.
Dismounting, Roarke handed his reins off to a waiting groom. He felt as though his step was considerably lighter as he bounded up the steps. When Winston opened the door and announced that a letter had arrived for him, he felt a grin split his face.
He ripped the missive open before he’d even taken off his greatcoat.
It is time. I have it all arranged. Good luck.
—C
Roarke closed his eyes.Finally.
* * *
Mara sent up a silent prayer of thanks when Dr. Harris turned to her.
When he’d first arrived that morning, his features had been pinched and wary, but now the lines around his eyes had vanished, and Mara knew that his prognosis was going to be a good one. But truly, she hadn’t needed the doctor to tell her that Bentley was going to live. She knew it the moment his eyes had fluttered open, and that dark gaze had focused on her with tears of hope in his eyes.
“I must say I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been here to witness his condition with my own eyes. I can’t believe how quickly he’s improved in just a week’s time. It’s a miracle for sure.” He turned to Mara and smiled kindly. “Or maybe it’s due to the care of his guardian angels. He’s lucky to have friends like you and Madame Celeste to look after him, Miss Miller.”
“Thank you, Dr. Harris,” Mara could feel herself beaming from the inside out. “It was a tough road, but I knew B would come through.” Squeezing the boxer’s hand, she said, “I had no doubt of it.”
Celeste stepped forward. “I’ll walk you out, doctor.” Then she turned to Mara, “How about you get some rest too. I’ll come back and sit with B for awhile.”
Mara turned to Bentley. “Is that all right, B?” When he gave a nod, she bent down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon to check on you, I promise.”
After that first night, Celeste had given Mara a room upstairs and down the hall from hers. She’d also closed down the House until Bentley had recovered.
“I have some money saved up. Besides, it’s not good to work all the time.” She’d added with a wink.
On the heels of that reminder, Mara had brought to mind her own neglected shop. For years she couldn’t imagine doing anything else but running that modest haberdashery. It had been her salvation, but the thought of going back there now seemed completely foreign to her. It was difficult to believe that only weeks, and not months, or even years, had passed since she had crossed paths with Roarke on that fateful day. It was almost ironic to think that when he’d come through that door, she felt her entire world was falling into shambles, but the fact of the matter was, he had made it whole again.
