Jamie handed Belle back to Bethie. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation, Nicholas. Hell, after all you’ve been through, it’s a miracle you’re sane.”
But he heard another voice, his mother’s voice, pleading with him, begging.
Please, Nicholas, don’t go!
Then his own voice, cold and lifeless.
I regret to inform you, madam, that your son is dead.
He met his father’s gaze, let the words come, for it was the truth. “Of all the wrongs I have done in my life, the most terrible has been to hurt those I most love.”
His father’s eyes held only compassion. “So it is for all of us.”
He felt the carriage turn the last bend in the road, knew Kenleigh Manor had come into view. He took a deep breath, steeled himself.
Bethie could sense Nicholas’s anguish, taste his deep regret. She wanted to comfort him somehow, but knew there was little she could do.
“There’s your new home, Bethie.” Jamie pointed out the window.
She leaned forward, thought she might faint. The house was made of red brick and stood three stories high, with wide steps out front and a porch with four white columns. There were glass windows everywhere. It seemed unbelievably grand, hardly a fitting home for the daughter of Scots-Irish redemptioners.
“I’m afraid I shall get lost inside so big a house!” She stared in amazement at Jamie and her father-in-law, both of whom smiled kindly back at her.
Nicholas caressed her hand with his thumb. “One day it will belong to our children, Bethie—all of this.”
The estate included the miles and miles of land they had traveled from the river—how many hundreds of acres she could not guess.
She looked into his eyes, still stunned. “’Tis more lovely than I could ever have imagined.”
Somewhere a bell clanged in welcome, and she saw children rush out onto the steps, followed by well-dressed men and women—Nicholas’s family.
Her family.
The butterflies in her stomach fluttered and swirled, and before she could catch her breath, the carriage had rolled to a stop.
Nicholas took her hand, kissed it, and it touched her that he should feel concern for her, when she knew that he was consumed inside by his own feelings.
She smiled up at him. “Go to them, Nicholas. Go to them.”
He nodded, opened the door, stepped to the ground, and was swept into a throng of men and women who looked so much like him they could only be his brothers and sisters.
“Nicholas!”
“Welcome home, brother!”
“Bloody hell, but you need a barber!”
A young woman with her father’s dark hair stepped forward, remorse in her eyes, tears streaming down her face. Her hands were fisted in her skirts. “Nicholas, I... I’m so sorry.”
Nicholas drew her into his arms, held her for a moment, then stepped back, taking her hands in his. “No, Elizabeth. ’Tis I who am sorry. You are and always have been blameless. You did nothing wrong. You came to comfort me, and I repaid your love and kindness with selfishness. I hurt you terribly. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Elizabeth nodded, her lips curving in a smile, even as she wept. “Oh, yes!”
He embraced her again, held her tight.
And suddenly Bethie felt close to tears. She blinked quickly, swallowed hard, fidgeted with the ribbons on Belle’s dress.
“Shall we?” Her father-by-marriage stepped from the carriage, turned back for her, lifted her and Belle safely to the ground.
