“I’m sorry we had to leave so abruptly,” Donovan said more to Marguerite than anyone else in the dimly lit carriage, the mood not at all lighthearted as it had been on their way to Almack’s.
How could it be? A messenger had delivered a note to Donovan right there in the assembly room that there had been an accident at Arundale’s Kitchen in Cornwall, a dozen tinners trapped deep in the mine. They had left the ball at once to return to the town house…although for Corie and Donovan, not for very long.
They would leave London that very night to return to Porthleven, taking the twins, Estelle, and Linette with them while Corie had insisted once again that Marguerite remain behind with Lindsay. Just as Corie had insisted that she would accompany Donovan tonight rather than wait to follow him in the morning, although he had tried to convince her otherwise and that he would ride out ahead.
There was no arguing with Corie once her mind was made up. She cared for the tinners and their families as much as her own, and would share their suffering at Donovan’s side. The carriage had then settled into a deep somber silence but for the clattering of the wheels upon the cobbled street, broken only by Donovan’s grim voice.
“There will be other balls, Marguerite.”
“We’ll not think of that now, brother, of course we couldn’t stay,” Marguerite said as she glanced at Corie, who sat beside her. Her sister’s face was so pale, Marguerite knew Corie’s thoughts were only upon the tinners, their wives, and their children.
“If there is anything we can do, Donovan, you must let us know,” Jared said as grimly, his hand tightly gripping Lindsay’s.
If there had been any disharmony between them, Marguerite saw none now in the flickering light of the oil lamp hanging in the opposite corner. Lindsay’s other hand rested protectively upon her rounded belly as the driver urged the horses onward at what felt like a breakneck pace through the darkened streets.
Marguerite knew they would arrive soon at the Dovercourt town house, and all she wanted to do was flee to her room, undress, and jump into bed.
It had been kind of Donovan to say there would be other balls, but Marguerite had already vowed to herself that she would not attend another one.
She would suffer no further humiliation from Sir Russell or anyone else’s insults for that matter…and she never wanted to see Walker Burke again.
She’d had no idea why Jared might have said so heatedly to Lindsay that Walker wasn’t the man for her…until his attention had turned so abruptly from her to Lady Belinda as if he hadn’t just held Marguerite in his arms.
As if he hadn’t looked at her when they were dancing as though she were the only woman in the room.
The man was clearly a rogue! Perfidious and inconstant as the day was long!
She wasn’t one to swear, but Walker could have his damned ducal title and ladies swooning at his feet.
From this wretched night onward, he was no more the man of her dreams than the…the bloody man in the moon!
***
“You’d never know there’s been so much commotion in the house from how sweetly he’s sleeping,” Lindsay murmured to Jared, who hugged her close as he gazed at their eighteen-month-old son.
Such a welling of emotion struck him that Jared didn’t speak, but so he always felt at these quiet moments with his beloved wife in his arms and Justin fast asleep in his crib.
After they had donned their nightclothes, it was their evening ritual to visit the nursery for a last glance at their little son before retiring to their bedchamber. The nanny had stepped outside the room to give them some privacy, the only sounds the gentle rhythm of Justin’s breathing and the soft chiming of the clock upon the mantel.
Half past eleven. Donovan and Corie and their family had already packed up and left for Cornwall, their visit cut short by the tragedy still unfolding in Porthleven. Lindsay and Corie had clung tearfully to each other at their goodbyes, which had made Jared all the more certain that he’d made the right decision in returning to England.
Lindsay needed her friends, her family. She had not uttered a word of complaint during their three years in Boston, but Jared would never forget the joy in her beautiful blue eyes at the news from Donovan of a royal pardon.
They could go home again…even though for the longest time, England had represented nothing to Jared but pain, treachery, and a burning quest for revenge.
Yet that tortured past lay behind him now. Thanks to Donovan’s help—spurred on, Jared knew, by Corie’s impassioned urging—he had regained his title, Dovercourt Manor, and Lindsay once more being closer to her best friend. Her happiness meant everything to him. He drew her closer to press his cheek against her silky blond hair.
“We’ll have them back soon, I promise,” he whispered against her ear, not surprised when she gave a small sigh. He sensed from how quiet she’d grown that she missed Corie terribly, but at least Marguerite had remained to keep her company.
That thought made him sigh, too, but from aggravation. The image of Walker holding Marguerite so close against him at Almack’s earlier that evening still fresh in his mind, Jared wasn’t surprised, either, to find Lindsay studying him in the flickering candlelight.
He could read the way her eyes searched his face as clearly as if she’d spoken to him, and he knew that she, too, thought of Walker. The peace of the moment fled, Jared took her hand and together they walked quietly from the room so as not to wake Justin. At once the nanny went back inside to take their place, while Jared led Lindsay past the room where Marguerite slept to their master suite at the end of the hall.
Lindsay clutched his hand so tightly now, he knew she was holding her tongue only until they’d entered their room and closed the door behind them. The click of the latch had barely sounded when she heaved a sigh of pure exasperation and spun to face him.
