Page 114 of Aurelia

Roland nodded. “The letter came—ever so inconveniently—after I had spent one of the most delightful evenings of my life with you in the library.” He chuckled at the pink that spread over her breasts, chest, up her neck, and slowly to her cheeks.

“So lovely,” he murmured, stroking the path of the blush with his hand.

“Roland.”

“Hmm?” he inched near enough to lower his mouth over her nipple.

“Roland.”

He heaved a sigh and, reluctantly, sat up.

“What happened?” she asked, her forehead deeply furrowed. “Did you”—she bit her lip and then forced herself to say, “did you find her?”

He gave an unamused laugh. “No. I spent six bloody weeks chasing red herrings, and it all led to nothing.”

“No trace of her?”

“Oh, there were plenty of traces, but never anything more. I spoke to dozens of people, but the trail—if there even was one—had gone cold. Rebecca was not an especially, er, noticeable woman.” He felt a pang of guilt at the words. “I do not say that to be cruel, just to make the point that it was difficult to be sure the woman whose trail I was following was really her. Average height and weight, brown hair, regular features—neither beautiful nor hideous.” He gave a snort of annoyance. “If she’d had a wen on her nose or a hump on her back people would have remembered. It is amazing how hard it is to track a so-called average person.”

“What did the letter say? And who would have sent it?”

Roland inhaled deeply and then exhaled. He hated having to talk about this—today, of all days—but it needed to be said. “I don’t know who sent it,” he admitted. “But the letter contained one detail that only Rebecca and I knew. The writer claimed that she had a child with her.” He swallowed. “A boy of approximately three-and-ten. Rebecca was pregnant when she disappeared, which is something nobody knew.”

“Oh, Roland! How terrible.”

He nodded. “I spent day after day searching with nothing to show for it.” He met her concerned gaze. “I could not believe that I received a letter about her now—just when I had met you and—” He broke off and gave a bitter laugh. “In any case, I had to follow any lead I could.”

“Of course you did.”

“I paid two inquiry agents and scattered money far and wide, especially hoping to get word of the boy—if there was one.” He felt a pang of shame and forced himself to meet her gaze. “But I hoped I would not find her, Aurelia. All I could think about was you and how Rebecca’s reappearance would ruin any chance I had for happiness.” He pulled his thoughts away from those weeks of frustration and caressed her face, cupping her jaw, which fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. “I love you. And even though I am probably the worst man you could marry, I want you too much to do the honorable thing and let you go. Tell me you will marry me, sweetheart.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes, for once, unreadable to him. And then she laid her hand over his and gently removed it from her face. “I cannot marry you, Roland.”

***

Pain and confusion flickered across Roland’s face. “Is it because you fear Rebecca is still alive? We looked high and low, Aurelia. That is why I followed each and every lead and why I stayed away all those weeks. I wanted to be sure. I found no evidence that Rebecca is still alive. She must have told somebody she was pregnant before she left—that is the only answer.”

“I am not concerned that your first wife will re-appear.”

“Then what is it?”

“I think it would be hell on earth to marry a man who could not be faithful.”

He flinched as if she’d slapped him.

“I watched my father slowly drive my mother mad with his infidelity, and she never loved him. You have been married twice and you’ve had lovers throughout. Such behavior would be unbearable.” Because I love you, she might have added, but she couldn’t. Because her love didn’t matter when she could never marry him.

He abruptly stood and fetched her chemise.

“You are getting goose cpimples,” he said, and then he turned away while he pulled on his drawers and breeches.

Aurelia slipped the flimsy garment over her head and when she looked up, he held out a blanket.

“Let me wrap this around you. There is still a chill in the air, despite the fire.”

Aurelia allowed him to bundle her up like a child.

Once he had shoveled more coal onto the fire, he said, “Your point is well taken, Aurelia. But you don’t understand—” he broke off and paced toward the window, staring out into the storm.