Another hour slipped by.
His head didn’t lift from his work.
I didn’t like him quiet. Couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I was miserable.
Miserable because he didn’t look at me, not once. Daniel Thackery—the only man inside the carriage, the only one in the world whose attention I wanted—sat across from me only lifting his gaze to Hope.
They had a way of glancing at each other like it was a special language. What was he telling her before she slept? Why did she always laugh and smile like he’d made a joke?
Now, the handsome man stared out the window like it was more interesting than frustrated me. What did it take to gain his attention, to hope he’d say my name and again ask to start anew? I’d tried to find answers without him. There were none, none that I and the Widow’s Grace could locate.
Fumbling with the correspondence, the ribbon-bound parchment in his case, I saw my husband frowning, such a waste for perfect lips.
With his head down and the thick waves of hair out of my reach, I wished I drew people, but then I realized no artist could capture this feeling of loss simmering in my bosom. Was this what he felt when we left Hope’s room and he went to his bed and me mine?
How did I tell Daniel I missed him? How did I share this secret?
He sat across from me, right there, less than a heartbeat away, and I felt lost and small.
That made me fussy and miserable.
Yet, there were times like now, on my third glance, when he finally saw me staring.
When it was too late to turn.
Caught, I wanted to reach my hand to his. I needed him to pull me into a tight embrace and hold me like we’d never fought, like he and I knew we were to be one—here, here in England, everywhere on the earth.
He should believe me. I didn’t want anything else anymore, just him.
But he didn’t know my heart.
I hadn’t been brave enough to say my secret.
I was miserable.
CHAPTER 53
DANIEL—THEPORTSMOUTHMISSION
Mr. Anthon pulled Daniel’s carriage into the long drive of the Royal Hospital Haslar, a structure built on the promontory overlooking the dangerous sea.
“Where are we?” Jemina’s brow had crinkles.
Daniel’s hands sweated. It tore up his insides to do this, but they had fact finding to accomplish. “I have a secret operation to perform. You are the star witness.”
“Witness to what, Daniel?”
“The witness to what happened on October 18, 1812.”
Wide, crazy eyes darted, then narrowed on him like he’d betrayed her. She held Hope tighter. “Don’t send me away.”
His throat constricted. “Never. I need you to trust me, like I trust you. You know the man I am. What I want should be written in your heart, like mine. Put your faith into works and your palm in mine. We have to go inside the Royal Hospital to learn the beginning of your story. How did you go from Portsmouth to Bedlam? Who authorized it? Jemina, it might restore your memory.”
She looked out the window at the high brick walls of the building looming closer.
The water splashed as the carriage galloped across the bridge.
Jemina put a hand to her chest.
