Anna looked at him, seeing his anguish as if the note was only hours old.
‘I could never have despised her, and never had the chance to tell her,’ he said. ‘I have read and reread this. I have memorised it. Keep reading.’
She did as he said.
Please remarry, Johnny, please. Love, Cathy.
What was there to say? Her logical brain did not fail her. He either would or wouldn’t come around to the marriage she now knew she wanted, that of a dear heart in tune with hers, generous in love. They were married and would likely stay that way. Whether it was mere words on a document, or the kind of love that sank deep into the heart and body, she did not yet know.
She folded the note and handed it back to him, then leaned closer and covered his eyes with her hands.
‘Dear man, when she told you to please remarry, didn’t you believe her?’ Who was brave enough to saythat? Only her.
She expected no answer and didn’t get one. She took her hands away and looked into his eyes.Are you in love with me?she wanted to ask, but Anna Beattie was no fool. That question could wait; she doubted he even knew himself. She knew her answer, but it could wait, perhaps forever.
Instead, she lay down and pulled the sheet to her shoulder. To her delight, he lay down beside her and pulled her close.
‘I am a work in progress,’ he whispered in her ear.
Chapter Thirty-Four
He left two hours later, after holding her close in their bed as she cried again over Sofia, still blaming herself. She also wept for young Cathy and young John Beattie, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘None of what happened to Sofia was your fault, Anna. None of us knew of two brothers, their treachery and hatred of each other. If you want to blame someone, blame Napoleon.’
She had to ask. ‘Do you think… Sofia is dead?’
‘Dead? No,’ he replied. ‘I’m not saying that to make you feel better, although, God knows, I want to. I think she is more useful to France as a bargaining chip of some sort. Go to sleep, Mrs Beattie.’ He rested his cheek against hers for a brief moment. ‘I am no fool, either. Maybe this wasn’t the time or the place to show you Cathy’s letter, but I have no way of knowing what will happen to me even tomorrow, or the day after.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘The wondrous part of all this is that you are here with me.’
Was this the time for a light comment? Anna didn’t think she possessed one. Well, maybe one.
‘And I haven’t yet run screaming into the night, do you mean? I can’t imagine a worse time to think about love, Captain John Beattie. Can you imagine two more stupid people?’
‘No, I can’t,’ he said, and she heard the humour.
‘Seriously, when might you return?’ She knew this mundane question might restore his equilibrium.
It did. ‘That depends on our next move. TheHartfordwas weakened by her last single encounter withLa Guerre. Thanks to Pru’s discovery and your surmise, I harbour no illusions that when I sail, someone on this island will alertLa Guerrewith one burning torch thatSwallowis out and roaming. Somehow, I must find a way to get close toHartfordbeforeLa Guerreknows I am there, too.’
‘And fight?’
‘That’s what we do, my love. Hush now; rest a bit.’
It was strange to say goodbye to John in the middle of the night, children asleep and the house quiet. Sure enough, Hector, hunched over and muttering something, was there with his pony trap.
Anna walked John to the front door, where he enveloped them both in his cloak, seeking one last moment of privacy. John glanced at Hector and spoke softly to her. ‘Trust no one here.’
Her voice was equally soft. ‘Be careful.’
‘If I can be.’
‘I mean it, John.’
‘So do I. Remember my profession.’
How can I forget?she asked herself after they kissed. She watched until the pony trap was out of sight, then turned around and nearly bumped into Madame Durand. ‘Oh!’
‘He’s sailed already? Doesn’t he usually stay a few days?’
‘Duty calls,’ Anna said, unnerved that someone could move through the house so silently.You know the captain’s habits as well as I do, she thought. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, startled when the housekeeper took her arm.
