“Trust me when I say that not one of my thoughts was pointed in that direction.”
Miss Delmonte peeked at him once more from under her lashes, as seemed to be her habit. She had such a quiet air about her. Not timid per se, but the lady was the very definition of tranquility that faced the world without needing to demand attention. Though a servant of sorts, Miss Delmonte was not subservient. She spoke of her history without defiance or defensiveness, merely unfolding it with a hint of self-deprecation at times.
“I was thinking about how very similar we are,” he said.
Miss Delmonte’s brow furrowed, but Silas refused to rise to the bait and waited for her to ask the question. No doubt, her reticence was a byproduct of her past employers, and though he had no qualms about prodding her into a conversation, he didn’t wish to run roughshod over her. Silas was certain she enjoyed their discussions as much as he, so it was only a matter of patience.
And his waiting was rewarded.
“You, sir, were born among the gentry and married a genteel lady, had four children, built yourself a rather successful naval career, and inherited a fortune that has allowed you to pursue your dreams. How would you say you are similar to a poor, plain governess?”
Silas laughed as her dry tone demanded. Her humor was subtle, but it was there, nonetheless. And it was utterly delightful.
“When put in such bald terms, I suppose it does sound like a foolish assertion,” said Silas. “But I assure you it is not. I know full well what it is like to wish to find one’s place in the world. To long for love and acceptance and not find it.”
Miss Delmonte took up her sewing once more. Her hands moved with the ease and skill of a familiar task, but her attention was elsewhere, and Silas waited to see if she would speak those thoughts.
“To borrow your own words,” she finally said, “might I ask you a personal question?”
Silas nodded and motioned for her to do so, anxious to hear what it was she would say.
“Why does a man of your position, with a house and family of his own, feel as though he has no place in the world?”
Chapter 14
His humor faded as Silas’s thoughts gathered, and the past settled onto him like a sodden greatcoat. The question wasn’t wholly unexpected. It was natural she would question the validity of his statement and wish for some evidence to support it. Yet, it required sharing secrets that weren’t his.
“I trust I can share a bit of my history without you breathing a word of it to anyone?” he asked.
Miss Delmonte’s gaze sharpened, and she nodded.
“This is something that no one—outside our immediate families—knows.” Silas took a deep breath as though to steel his nerves, but the calm support in Miss Delmonte’s eyes eased the last of his fears. “I told you a little of the history behind my marriage, but not the whole of it. The truth is our marriage was forced upon us by my brother.”
Silas straightened, tugging at the edge of his dressing gown as he sorted through how to explain it all without painting his wife in a poor light. “He and Deborah had been sweethearts for many years, but as he had no inheritance to speak of, it took time before he could afford to marry and for her parents to approve of the match. When they were finally allowed to plan the wedding, Thomas was ordered to set sail for the Indies, which meant their marriage would be postponed once more. They…”
Stumbling over the words, Silas didn’t know precisely what or how much to say. Luckily, Miss Delmonte supplied the explanation he could not.
“They anticipated their vows?” she asked with a faint smile. “I am well aware it happens at times.”
Yet still, Silas felt his face heating as he nodded. “They were all but married, and they felt secure in their future. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Thomas died soon after he set off, and Deborah discovered she was with child.”
“And so, you stepped into your brother’s place to protect her and the child.”
Drumming his fingers against the arm of the sofa, Silas shrugged. “No man could do any less. As much as it pained me to have my wife chosen for me, I could not bring my brother back from the dead, and I was pleased to do something to help him. He would’ve done the same for me.”
Of course, Silas wouldn’t have left a lady in such a position, either, but men were prone to frailties of some sort, and it did no good to compare the mistakes of one to the mistakes of another. In the end, they were all mistakes, and he couldn’t have allowed Deborah and her child to face the consequences alone.
“Deborah’s and my marriage was bound to be difficult because we didn’t suit each other. Our personalities were too dissimilar.” Silas paused as his heart filled with a cacophony of emotions. He felt far too much to quantify or classify the sentiments, and he simply allowed them free rein for a moment before he gained his voice again. “But she lost the child not long after we married.”
Miss Delmonte paused in her work, her wide eyes rising to meet his. Silas tried to smile in return, but it held years’ worth of heartbreak.
“The first few weeks were a struggle, but at least we had a sense of duty to carry us through,” he said. “Without that binding us together, we were simply two people who didn’t wish to be married. If we had waited only a short time rather than rushing into things, the whole affair would’ve sorted itself out and no one would’ve been the wiser. We would’ve been free to marry as we wish.”
Those dark brows furrowed once more, and Miss Delmonte whispered, “Even the best of marriages would crumble beneath the weight of such resentment.”
Silas nodded. “So, I set up a home with a woman I did not love, and though I tried to be a proper husband and father, it was a struggle to be in a place I was not wanted. Every time I returned to Portsmouth, it was clear Deborah wished me away, and my children soon shared her sentiment.”
Warmth shone in Miss Delmonte’s gaze, the clear understanding dawning as she listened to his words. “And so you fled, always hoping you would find it a welcoming place when you returned. Constantly longing for a home and not finding it.”
