“You have faith in me, Noah, even when I’m wrongheaded?”
He smiled, but unless the long burp puckering those pouty lips was commentary on a conflicted heart, I didn’t think he could read my mind.
My education and dowry made me an eligible candidate to marry a son of a British peer. This was all due to my father. Did Mama stay for us girls, her family, or for her heart? Did she love him, the man, or the good that their marriage brought?
“You reading that letter?” Enna rolled over in the bed she’d positioned by the crib. “I should’ve gotten up. I didn’t hear him.”
“No, you sleep. We’re a team. We’re sort of . . . we are a family, Enna.”
My friend smiled and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Thank you, Mrs. Chari. It is good to have friends and good care on these shores.”
Her sentiment was wonderful, but with Enna there was always a measured bit of wisdom that followed.
I shifted Noah to my other arm. “Yes, and friends should say what troubles their hearts.”
The young woman nodded. “We are doing well. So much better for me here than Demerara. I wish this was enough for you. I wish you could say goodbye to revenge. I fear you find this Gladstone then nevercomehome to us. I hear they’ll kill a woman for killing a man, even if justified.”
“I won’t risk you or Noah, but I’ll have revenge. My sister can’t be forgotten.”
“Wish some of that forgiveness my brother talked about would take root. There needs to be some other way to make things right without putting you in bondage.”
There was no escaping my fate.
Helena Thomas Gladstone would be avenged.
Her lousy husband, Felton’s cousin—Gladstone killed my sister. He needed to die.
One man could fix things so there would be no repercussions.
Tramel.
The duke’s shadowy connections helped me get to my sister. He knew how to get revenge, but that was too big of a thing to ask from someone who had done too much for me.
“A man can change, Mrs. Chari. Killing him gives no room for that.”
The tone in her voice sounded sharp, almost accusatory, but I’d not relent. “Gladstone killed my sister. He needs to pay. He needs to die.”
“Mrs. Chari, your sister lives in the goodness of the babe.”
That was true and blew a kiss at the boy. “I’ll keep you and Noah safe.”
“You’re not a killer. You heal with art. That’s your destiny.”
Shifting Noah to my side, I put my hand over my stomach.
Art was the only thing I’d ever birth. It was my calling.
Scooting the babe deeper into the crook of my arm, I returned him to his crib. Covering him in blankets, I whispered a prayer.
The babe stared back, but I saw his yawns. Then more spittle flowed.
Running water. “Noah, you’ve inspired me. I know what to do at Drury Lane Theatre.”
He burped again and smiled before offering his happy coo.
Knowing Helena sacrificed to bring this babe safely into the world, and then entrusted him to me raise him—it wasn’t something to take lightly.
Despite Felton’s attempts, I wasn’t his priority. My little family of Enna and Noah was my first priority, and unless I could determine a way to have revenge and keep them safe, I’d have to forget Gladstone. Forget, not forgive.
