“Of course, I would want to see him off as well, which would mean going back when theTriumphantset out again.”
I know I was just there, but Mother has so many things to do when she is away.
“You can’t go.” Even as he spoke, Adam could hear his own childhood voice echoing the same words in his memory.
Then he saw Persephone pale, her smile disappearing in an instant. There was no disbelief, no shock, only disappointment. “Please, Adam,” she pleaded with him. “It would only be a few days.”
He felt like an ogre. He knew how devastating the past few weeks had been for Persephone, how she’d grieved the loss of one brother and feared for the loss of the other. How could he deny her the opportunity to see for herself that the lad was well?
But what if she left and never came back? Mother had found hundreds of reasons to prolong her stays in Newcastle over the years. The same had been true of London. Eventually she simply hadn’t returned.
“It could be years before I see him again.” Persephone’s voice broke a little as she spoke.
“Bring him here,” Adam blurted.
“But you don’t allow visitors.”
Adam shrugged off her extremely logical argument. Hedidn’tallow visitors. So why had he just invited one? “It makes far more sense than your going to Newcastle. Linus can come here before going to see your family.”
“Do you mean it?” Persephone sounded entirely shocked.
She obviously had not expected a simple kindness from her husband. It was a wonder she hadn’t left him as society claimed.
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”
“And it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition?”
“I’d rather like to meet the boy myself.”
“Really?” Persephone allowed the tiniest of smiles.
“Linus might make a good page.” Adam shrugged, surprising himself with his own attempt at humor. “Hewitt will probably faint dead away at the first battle cry. It would be wise to have a backup.”
Persephone’s smile grew. For just a moment she looked as though she would reach out to him. The look passed quickly, however, as if she’d reminded herself not to. Adam wondered why that was. Why, when she had kissed him only days before—twice in twenty-four hours—was she suddenly keeping a civil distance between them?
“Thank you, Adam,” she said, making her way to the book room door.
Adam waved off the gratitude. He hadn’t made the offer in order to be thanked. He’d done so for entirely selfish reasons—so she wouldn’t leave and so he wouldn’t have to miss her.
Trouble was, there would be other opportunities, other reasons for her to leave. He couldn’t prevent them all. He knew there wouldn’t always be an argument to keep her at Falstone, and he wasn’t about to become her prison keeper.
He needed to see to it that she wanted to stay. But how did he go about seeing that his wife was happily settled at home, was contented enough to not need to wander the country? Adam had no idea. Nothing about the home he’d grown up in had enticed his mother to remain.
“Persephone seemed in good spirits.”
He didn’t need to look over to see who had spoken. “Come in, Harry.”
If anyone knew about not leaving, Harry did. And Adam needed some expert advice.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You’re not going to tell me to go pack my bags?” Harry dropped into his usual chair. “Are you feeling well, Adam?”
“Why don’t you ever leave?” Adam jumped right into the topic.
“I knew it was too good to be true.” Harry sighed and rose from his seat, a spark of laughter in his eyes.
“Sit down and answer the question, Harry.”
