Home.
Lord help her.
She so desperately wanted to belong here and at Delamere. She wanted to belong with Beau, to grow together like vines twining. She wanted to burrow in until she finally felt like she truly belonged somewhere.
Right now, though, she wasn’t at all sure she would succeed. She wasn’t sure Beau would let her. She couldn’t even wholly commit herself to anything yet. She had to leave again almost as soon as she had gotten there, playing a part as a worker in an insane asylum. Mere weeks ago, she would have considered that the height of adventure. Everything she and Theo had played at when they were children.
Now, though, she knew the risks, the consequences, the uncertainties. The danger.
And not just physical danger.
Oddly enough, she wasn’t worried so much for herself as she was for Beau. What if they were not able to find Theo? What if they were too late? Beau would never survive that. Worse, she suspected he would find a way to blame her.
Closing her eyes, she laid her head back against the chair. She was desperate to be with Beau, to hold him, to share the turmoil they both faced and find surcease in each other’s arms. She suspected, though, that even as he feared for her safety, he would be relieved to have her somewhere else. And how was she supposed to begin to build a relationship when her husband couldn’t stand to be near her?
She wanted a future with him. She wanted his children, she wanted to ease into old age by his side, enlivening his day and soothing his night. She wanted what every woman wanted for the man she loved. Right now, though, she couldn’t quite see her way through. She was so terrified that this little adventure of theirs would end up leaving her once again the unwanted visitor in her own house. Which, she realized, would be even worse than not being in her own house at all.
Sighing, she climbed to her feet. There was nothing for it but to take the next step, and the one after that. She had made her decisions. She had taken her chance. There was no one else she would be able to blame if she never found a comfortable place in her own life. With her own husband or, if it came to that, without him. She could only do what she could and make sure that no one but Joyful saw her tears.
18
Drake sent over a packet of information which kept Pip busy through the afternoon hours. Information about the asylum, the patients they knew were there, the conditions—which seemed to be better than most, if the information was true. There was even information about special rooms hidden away for those intransigent patients who refused to conform. A ‘quieting’ room, they called it, and a map as to where they were out back of the facility. Underground. It gave Pip the chills.
Miss Schroeder was posing as a Mrs. Eloise Riordan, wife of one of the mid-level members of the Lions, a man who helped supervise the King’s Bench. The real Mrs. Riordan was safely tucked away with another of Drake’s Rakes, Harry Lidge and his wife Lady Kate.
The woman who had offered the new information to Miss Schroeder was, to the best of their knowledge, a Mrs. Baxter, whose husband was in a general in the Guards. Pip would have to seek her out as well. And on her way to the asylum she would be meeting another rake, Diccan Hilliard, who had put together a team called Diccan’s Household Army, since he would be the one supervising her foray into the asylum.
All the while she didn’t hear a word from Beau. He came out to dinner, but the meal was no more comfortable than the rest of the day. Pip several times attempted to spark a conversation, but Beau couldn’t seem to manage more than monosyllables.
Finally, she motioned the footman from the room.
“Is this the way it’s going to be?” she asked, setting her fork and knife down.
He stared at her for a minute. “What?”
“Our life. Am I to meet you at dinner for stilted conversation and then watch you lock yourself back into the study?”
“I told you what my plans were, Pip. They have not changed.”
She should not have asked. She knew it. And she got her answer. That was when she realized that she had been stupid enough after the other night to begin to hope. He had been so gentle, so considerate. So generous.
Only, it seemed, in the bedroom. In the bedroom, where you could escape everything else. You could pretend that you weren’t crippled by guilt and grief and resentment. Those all waited outside the door. They lurked in the dining room over dinner.
Would she ever know what it was to find peace with this man? To fit herself into a comfortable place she knew she belonged and was wanted by the only man she wanted? Or was silence her future?
“What will you do while I’m gone?” she asked, hands clenched on her lap.
He shook his head. “Estate matters. Work with Drake on protecting the royal family. Decide what I shall say to Theo when he walks in the door.”
It was on those last three words that his voice broke, and he surged to his feet.
“I need to check in at my club.”
And before she could protest, he was finishing his glass of wine in one swallow. “Are you finished?” he asked.
She just nodded and set her serviette on the table. Beau helped her from her chair and guided her into the hallway where he dropped a quick kiss to her cheek before asking for his coat and hat.
And there she was left, standing in the echoing silence of her new home, alone again, aching for Beau to reach out to show her he shared her fear, her hope, her awful uncertainty. Knowing that it would be too much to hope for, that when he was struck by the most difficult revelation of his life, he would suddenly turn to her and beg for her support.
