“How can it all be true? How? And what of your Indian wife and her baby? I’ve never demanded an explanation, never asked you to tell me what happened to them. I’ve trusted you all this time. But now I find you’re no’ the man I thought you were! And I’m wantin’ the truth—all of it!”
But he’d never spoken to anyone of what had happened that summer. Oh, aye, he’d told them Eben and Josiah had been tortured and burned to death. His own scars were plain enough that anyone who saw them knew that he, too, had been tormented. But he’d never said more than that. And never had he told anyone about Lyda.
When he’d faltered, Bethie had picked up Belle and made for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I dinnae belong here. I’m goin’ to find a place to stay among my own kind. Maybe your Matilda will hire me to work downstairs in her kitchens.”
He’d blocked her path. “You’re going nowhere!”
“You cannae tell me what to do! We both know you’re no’ really my husband!”
“In every way but one I am your husband, Bethie, and you will not leave this room!”
“Fine, Master Kenleigh. If I cannae leave, then you must, for I cannae stand to be near you!”
Most of his life he’d had to watch out for scheming parents who wanted to entrap him in marriage to their daughters because of his wealth. To think that he should now lose the woman he loved because he was propertied—well, there was some kind of perverse irony in that, but he’d had a bit too much brandy to work it out.
Damn her!
An annoying voice inside his head reminded him that it wasn’t just about the money. It was about truth. Bethie had asked for the truth, and he had refused to give it to her.
The darkness inside him yawned deep and wide, a chasm he’d kept blocked off through sheer will for six long years. She’d already rent a fissure through that weakest spot in his defences, already come terribly close to letting that darkness escape.
So she wanted the truth. All of it. Well, then, he would give her the truth.
He tossed back the last of his brandy and, ignoring the curious glances of those around him, strode toward the stairs.
***
“He’s here!”
Alec Kenleigh dropped the knight he’d been about to move against Jamie Blakewell’s queen, stood, stared at the innkeeper. “My son is here? In Philadelphia?”
Matilda leaned toward him as if about to impart a great secret, whispered. “He’s here—in The Three Crowns, sir!”
Jamie stood. “It’s about bloody time! I was beginning to think Écuyer had made the whole thing up.”
Alec could scarcely believe what he’d just heard. “Are you certain it’s him?”
“Aye, sir. I spoke with him, settled him in his room. He’s here with his wife, a lovely young woman, and their baby—a girl, I believe. He asked for the best room, but I could not give it to him, as you’ve already taken it.”
Alec started for the door. He’d waited six long years for this moment, six years of watching his wife, Cassie, suffer the anguish of not knowing whether her son was alive or dead, of watching his daughter, Elizabeth, blame herself for her brother’s abrupt departure, of watching every member of his family suffer for the love of a young man who’d turned his back on them. Six terrible years of wondering what he might have done different, of feeling helpless, of fearing he would never see his eldest son alive again.
“Alec, wait!” Jamie blocked his path. “Do you think it’s wise to go charging into his room at this late hour? He’s got a wife and a baby. They might well be sleeping.”
“Damn it!” Alec met Jamie’s gaze, realized his brother-by-marriage was right. Jamie knew Nicholas better than anyone. The two were only four years apart in age. Although Nicholas was Jamie’s nephew, they were more like brothers.
“We’ve waited six years, Alec. What’s one more night? We came to bring him home. The last thing we want to do is barge through his door and provoke an argument.”
Alec closed his eyes, took a deep breath, every fiber of his being desperate to see his son and heir. “Aye, you’re right. But I won’t leave here without him.”
“No. We won’t leave here without him.”
Alec turned back to Matilda, took her hand in his. “Thank you, madam, for informing me. Please let me know immediately if Nicholas makes to depart. Wake me, if you must.”
“Of course, sir, as you wish. ’Tis always my pleasure to be of service to your family.” She turned and left, closing the door behind her.
