“Tell her I sent you. She’ll help both you and David.”
Mrs. Marshall stuck out her head from her tent. She didn’t say anything, but her questioning expression was a reminder that Cora was a married woman whose reputation he ought to consider.
He stepped back from Cora. “Lady Roxbury, I regret the circumstances in which we were introduced, but it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we’ll meet again.”
A sudden choking sensation caught him. He might never see her again. He shouldn’t be upset about not seeing a stranger again, but for the first time, from the moment he’d volunteered to leave for Lias, he hoped to return home safe.
She grabbed his hand with surprising energy, clinging to him with desperation. “Please come back. We need brave men like you.” Her auburn eyelashes fluttered down in a sad gesture that tore at his heart.
“I wish you only happiness.” He slid his hand out of hers. “We aren’t all monsters.”
“I know.” Her smile didn’t light her eyes. “Be safe.”
“Farewell.” He bowed from the waist before leaving a little piece of his heart in her elegant hands.
three
Four Years Later
AS CORA SAT in the carriage with her husband, she rubbed the back of her stiff neck. Her muscles throbbed even though Jacob had hurt her several days ago. The attack had been swift but had caught her off guard.
She wondered if the pain came from her body or her mind. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between the two. At least the violence didn’t happen often and didn’t leave bruises if that was any consolation. She had only to learn to keep her distance from his mercurial moods and avoid angering him until she put aside enough money for David and her to leave. The sum she’d squirrelled with careful patience over months would barely cover the trip to Calais for David and herself. She needed thrice that amount to start a new life in France, away from Jacob and his cruelty.
He sat in front of her, his icy blue eyes regarding her with contempt. And to think there had been a time when she’d found his eyes warm and charming, caring and compassionate. How wrong she’d been. They had the colour of an ancient glacier and were just as hard and cold. Oh, he was handsome. She couldn’t deny that. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Fine features, a straight nose, and bouncy golden hair that frameda perfect jaw. But if there was a person who embodied the old saying ‘looks are deceiving,’ it was him. And she’d been deceived. Deeply so.
“Why do you keep touching your neck?” Even his voice sounded misleadingly tender and caring as if he were genuinely worried about her.
“It’s sore, and you know why.” She hoped to give him back some of his uncaring attitude.
He arched a perfect eyebrow. “Stop this fuss. I barely touched you. You simply love playing the victim and trying to make me feel guilty for something I didn’t do. You know I care about your well-being.”
Did she imagine the sarcasm in his voice? She couldn’t tell anymore.
She didn’t say anything because he wasn’t expecting an answer and he wouldn’t care anyway. Besides, arguments with him tended to end with him dismissing her feelings as hysterical or imaginary, and with her growing frustrated.
He’d touched her. He’d closed his elegant but very strong hands around her neck and squeezed just because he enjoyed controlling the life flowing in and out of her while she remained petrified.
He openedThe Timesand hid behind the ironed pages. So much for caring about her.
The title on the front page caught her attention. Lord Commander Stark and his division, after having returned to London from Lias Island, had made a speech about the importance of protecting every corner of the empire from looters and slave traders. The complete defeat of the Thorne Pirates had brought him fame, not always of the good kind.
Ethan. The relief of learning he was safe in London had been overwhelming. Not a day had gone by in the past years withouther thinking about him. Also because his name appeared inThe Timesevery other day, especially after his father had died.
Jacob folded the newspaper, and she couldn’t read more. “Stark does nothing but preach about equality, freedom, and brotherhood these days, like a damn Frenchman,” he said, drumming his fingers on his knee. “He thinks he’s morally superior to anyone who didn’t fight in a battle.”
She remained quiet and let him talk. It was the best strategy to avoid an argument.
News about the gruesome battles to crush the pirates’ trade had circulated for weeks. Many soldiers had died. Others had lost their limbs or mental sanity. But the island was thriving now that the menace had been vanquished. Ethan had been awarded with the Victoria Cross for bravery. A war hero. Not that his bravery pleased London’s peers.
Jacob huffed. “No one can endure his holier-than-thou attitude anymore. It’s a matter of days before he’s kicked out of the gentlemen’s club. Arrogant prick.”
Surely, Jacob would play a role in Ethan’s being dismissed.
She hadn’t seen or communicated with Ethan since the Colchester earthquake. He might have forgotten her, but a warm flutter started in her chest at the possibility of meeting him again before she left London. He was here.
Would he be disappointed to learn her situation hadn’t changed much from the last time they’d seen each other? Would he think less of her? Had he changed and become arrogant as Jacob said? No, that wasn’t possible simply because everything that came out of Jacob’s mouth was a lie.
The carriage rolling to a stop forced her back to reality. The footman opened the door and pulled out the steps.
