He seemed not to hear her. “They forced you to marry him? They forced you to go to India?”
Her spine stiffened. Her skin burned. That wasn’t grief on his face. It was pity.
Pity
. In his quiet words. In the softening of his eyes. Grief was there, yes, but pity rode close on its coattails, waiting to take over.
She set her shoulders back and decided to put an end to this. “Yes, well . . . I was privileged to travel to exotic lands and meet interesting people. Not many young girls are offered that opportunity.”
His face went rather blank at that, she saw with satisfaction. “Oh. Of course. It was not altogether horrible for you then?”
“Certainly not.” An impossible smile stretched her mouth. She’d be damned if she’d have him leave here feeling sorry for her. She was not the stupid, stupid girl she had been. She would not have anyone thinking of her that way.
Kate stood, forcing him to join her as she stepped onto the path. Aidan frowned at the grass as they walked, frowned at his feet, at everything but her. “Your time in India has been a benefit to you, it seems.”
She made a sound of agreement.
“What was it like there?”
“Hot. The plantation was isolated and somewhat primitive, I suppose. The animals were strange. . . .” Her voice faded away at the thought of the strange animal who’d been her husband. It had taken her so many years to understand him.
She felt Aidan’s arm tighten like a wary cat beneath her fingers as he prepared to ask something he didn’t wish to.
“Were you comfortable with your life there then?”
“Comfortable? Yes. It was a very comfortable life. We must have had twenty servants inside the house alone.” Not one of whom had ever spoken to her of anything but their duties. Kate had come to think there was nothing more disorienting than living for years in a house full of people who refused to see you. Only her stepson, a boy her same age, had watched her, and Kate had eventually wished him blind.
Setting the disturbing memory aside, she studied Aidan for a moment from the corner of her eye. He looked confused and a little angry, his jaw ridged with tension.
She fought the impulse to appease him. She was done being that woman. She’d eventually found a small purpose in Ceylon. If Aidan wanted to wish her miserable with her husband, then he deserved his own misery. Could he not wish her happiness? After all, he didn’t look as though he’d spent the last decade locked in an asylum, mad with grief.
“It was a long time ago,” she said. “We were young. And naïve.”
Aidan winced as if he remembered with perfect clarity the words he’d shouted at her that day.
Kate made her mouth smile. “You were right, you know. We couldn’t have married, so how else could it have turned out?”
He did not answer her, but seemed lost in thought as they circled the park before heading back toward her lane. The sun was setting, the air cooling around them. The coldness soothed her nerves. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with iciness. When she exhaled, she felt at peace, and she leapt into that peace with a final lie. “Perhaps it was better this way. If I’d married a man in England, it would’ve served neither of us well.”
He looked dumbstruck at the idea.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” she said. “But we should return now, I think. And say our farewells.”
“I thought I would return tomorrow evening. Perhaps dinner—”
“I’m already obliged for tomorrow evening,” she interrupted. “A reception.”
“Can you not bow out?”
“The dockmaster is hosting it. It would not do to insult him when our family business depends on timely shipments.”
“I see.” Green anger flashed in his eyes and silence fell again. He said not another word until they stopped before the door of her shop. “I’ll bid you good night then,” he said flatly.
“Aidan.” She could not keep the weariness from her voice. “We must say farewell. There is no point to this.”
She expected an argument, but what she got was worse. His eyelids dropped slightly. His jaw hardened to steel and edged forward. His eyes glinted cool fury.
When she’d known Aidan, he had not often lost his temper, but when he had, he’d become intractable. And he’d looked exactly like this.
Kate sighed. “Good evening then,” she murmured. “And . . . please do not mention me to anyone. I am not Katie Tremont anymore. I no longer know my family and I do not wish to. Please.”
He nodded and she turned to unlock the door. Her fingers were clumsy. It took her a moment to even find the keyhole. Just as her hand slipped off the key, she felt Aidan’s large presence draw close to her back, felt his warm fingers slide over her gloved hand.
“Here.” His voice rumbled just inches from her ear as he guided the key into the lock. Kate twisted it, quick with panic, and pushed the door open. She moved to escape him, but before she’d shifted more than a few inches, before she could get free of his heat, that voice touched her ear again, impossibly soft. “I am so glad I found you.”
A shiver slid up her spine, icy, feather-light. She closed the door behind her, not daring to even glance in his direction.
The third glass of whisky went down more quickly than the second. Aidan didn’t notice the subtle taste of peat and oak. All his subtler senses had deserted him hours before.
Katie was not only alive, but she was here. Here, in his reach. He didn’t know what to feel about it. The strong veil of anger that overshadowed his other raging emotions surprised him. He actually felt angry that she was alive, ridiculous as it was. Angry that he’d been tortured by grief when she had been alive and well in India.
Perhaps the
well
rankled most. It seemed as though she’d settled in nicely to her life on a coffee plantation, married to some faceless man. Surely, if she’d wanted to, she could’ve avoided the marriage. She could’ve turned to Aidan. She’d claimed to love him. She’d given herself to him.
He chastised himself for the anger even as he gave in to it and raised his hand for another drink. She’d only been a child. Well, not quite a child perhaps, but at most a very, very young woman. She hadn’t reached her majority, and her father had refused Aidan’s offer. They could not have married, not for three years, at least.
A curse escaped his lips. These thoughts were meaningless, futile, and yet they seemed unstoppable.
He pictured Katie as she had been—confident, mischievous, daring. She had dazzled him, had even been slightly overwhelming in her exuberance. The very first time he’d seen her he’d been enchanted, captured by the contrast of her demure white dress and the sharp glint of humor sparkling through her eyelashes. She hadn’t even been out yet, had only been allowed to attend dinner at her family’s ball before being forced to bed before the dancing. But she’d been confident enough to smile in his direction and exchange a few pleasantries over dessert. And when her mother had ushered her quickly out at the end of dinner, his fate had been sealed. What young man could resist forbidden fruit?
But how different she was now. She seemed to have grown into stillness. She was beautiful though; still lovely in a quiet way.
Beautiful and
married
. Did she love the man?
The question stuck in his mind, a barbed thorn, irritating and painful. Did she take her husband to her with the same breathless excitement she had Aidan? It was maddening to think so, despite the dozens of lovers he himself had entertained in the past years.
Aidan snorted at the comparison. His nights with women had little enough to do with love. Nothing, actually, to do with it. That was the point—to keep as far away from love as possible.
The fourth glass of whisky succeeded where the others had failed and actually quenched his thirst. Aidan stared at the last drops of amber liquid, at the dim light wavering through the thick glass. What did he really feel, underneath the anger and jealousy? The emotion was familiar in a vague, distant way, and he thought that perhaps it was relief.
Setting the glass against the tabletop with a distinct thump, he pressed his fingers hard against his eyelids and watched lights dance against the black with exhausted fascination. His tired mind drifted for a long moment, floating with the blurry peace liquor provided. The anger softened, the pain lost its edge. Ten minutes of time not revolving ’round Katie.
Unfortunately, he’d used drink to dull his mind once too often in the past, and his brain ground slowly back to life, eager to remind him of the damage being inflicted to his eyes. Reluctantly lifting his face from his hands, Aidan stared blindly at the stained oak of the table.
It was only eight, according to the distant chime of the inn’s clock. He’d planned to see her tomorrow but now had to fight the urge to rush back to Guys Lane and toss rocks at her window. She wouldn’t appreciate it; the woman obviously wanted him gone. Why the reluctance to see him? Given a choice, he would have clung to her side and stared at her for days.
“Idiot,” he muttered darkly. She had a husband. Little wonder she didn’t know how to react to the unexpected appearance of an old lover.
Restlessness twitched his limbs with sudden urgency, pressed at his head. Aidan surged up from his seat, wincing when the chair tipped and hit the floor with a loud clap.
“Sorry.” Ignoring the curious stares of the few other patrons, he righted the chair and stalked out the door, moving with determination, as if he actually had some destination in mind. The need to take action clawed at him, but there was absolutely nothing to be done except stalk and glare at people. There was no changing what had happened. The past could not be corrected.
By the time the fresh air settled the churning of his stomach and cleared his head, Aidan saw that he’d made his way to a less-than-respectable area of town. Good. One of the lounging drunks might make a move toward him; a sailor could stumble out of a tavern looking for a fight. But he walked on unmolested, unnoticed, until he finally arrived at the docks and made his way to the
Valiant
. She was small and sleek, and Aidan could well afford to repair her storm damage and get her sold quickly. A few repairs to make her seaworthy and she could be run up to London for a full rerigging.
There was nothing to keep him here, nothing but Katie, and he couldn’t hang about much longer with no more reason than a need to be near her. Still, he could stay to supervise the repair job—it would take at least a week, perhaps two.
A week or two. That would allow him time to make some peace with this situation. To say his farewells to Katie and send the past back to hell where it belonged. He kicked a cigar butt into the debris-strewn waters below, and as he watched the moon glint off the ripples it created, he wondered why his blood felt warmer beneath his skin than it had in years.
“Mrs. Hamilton!”
Despite her weariness, Kate felt a genuine smile tug at her lips as she finished tying up a sample of ground coffee.
Lucy Cain had come to call. The woman was lively and bright and Kate actually liked her. Miss Cain was smart enough that she had decided not to marry. Despite her father’s grumblings, she told everyone who asked that she was happy without a husband.
“The day is finally here!” Miss Cain trilled. “This little dinner is my favorite of the year.”
Kate smiled. “A little dinner, is it? I understand half the town is invited.”
She tossed her red curls over her shoulder. “Pah. My father’s business associates and every married couple in town, if I’m not mistaken. And not a soul to gossip about gentlemen with.”
“I’m sure to be a disappointment as well then, I’m afraid.”
Miss Cain’s eyes narrowed with mischief. “Really? And yet I hear that you’ve been strolling with a handsome gentleman, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“You . . . I . . . Pardon?”
“Oh, indeed,” she giggled. “The baker’s wife saw you and has been joyfully spreading the news.”
Kate rushed to her tall counter and took a seat behind it so that she could shuffle ledgers about and look busy while she panicked.
“My word,” Miss Cain said. “You’ve turned red as a cherry, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“I’m sure I don’t know why.”
“Perhaps you’ve only taken too much time in the sun.” She aimed a pointed look at the gray light in the window. When Kate didn’t answer, the girl clapped her hands. “Well, I’m relieved to see you are not so awfully serious as you have seemed. From the moment we met, I knew there was something about you I liked.”
Kate had been confused by that from the start. Lucy Cain had brought a basket of cakes and breads before Kate had even finished arranging the shop, then she’d sat and talked with—or at—Kate for the next hour. She’d concluded that visit with the argument that there were so few young, lively women in Hull that they must band together.
So confusing. Kate was not young and lively and felt disturbed that Miss Cain could make such a strange assumption. Kate was nearly thirty, first of all. And she was so
tired
. Much as she loved her shop, she sometimes wished she could stay abed all day.
Miss Cain, on the other hand, fairly vibrated with energy. In truth, she made Kate feel very old. And she made her smile when no other could.
“Do you have a gown?” the girl asked.
“I do.”
Miss Cain cast a doubtful glance around the shop. “And a girl to help you dress?”
“I’m sure I shall manage.”
“Nonsense! I’ll send my maid along! And the carriage too!”
“Miss Cain, that’s unnecessary.”
“Yes, but it shall be
fun
. Don’t you wish to have fun, Mrs. Hamilton?”
Fun?
It was a temptation. . . .
Miss Cain drew close to the other side of the counter and reached out to take Kate’s hands in hers. Her gloves were dainty and white, and Kate imagined her bare hands must be too. She was so very young.
“Mrs. Hamilton, you remind me of my sister. Have I ever told you that?”
She wanted to draw her hands away, but the girl’s fingers curled tighter.
“She is close to your age, but she is not free like you. You understand? She lives beneath her husband’s thumb. And you . . .”
Kate felt a moment of pure, horrifying fear. A surety that somehow this girl had found her out. But then she met Lucy Cain’s sweet brown eyes and saw in them a wisdom she had never noticed.
“You remind me of her,” Miss Cain repeated. “So please let me send my maid and a driver. And let us enjoy ourselves tonight, because there is no husband about to tell us we must not.”
Inexplicably, tears clogged Kate’s throat with the suddenness of a clenching fist. What could she do but nod?
Miss Cain gave her hands another squeeze before she stepped back. “I shall see you tonight then, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“Please,” she managed to say. “Call me Kate.”
Her smile stretched to a blinding grin. “Yes, I think I shall. And you must call me Lucy.”
Warmth prickled through her so quickly she pressed a hand to her chest. “All right,” she said. “I will.”
“Mrs. Hamilton!” a gruff voice called, startling her from this new place where people called her Kate. She stood and rushed toward the alley door to find a great oxlike man standing in the doorway. She recognized him by his white curls. He was the new driver who brought supplies from Mr. Fost’s warehouse.
“Good day, sir. Have you brought the Sumatran?”
“I’m not right sure, ma’am. I’ve got four crates here for you. Hope one of ’em has what you like.”
“Bring them in, please.”
He set them in the short corridor, stacking them against the wall. “Did I hear your husband was in India, Mrs. Hamilton?”
She glanced up from her examination of the label on the first crate. “You did.”
“I’ve a brother there. With the John Company, ’course. Where abouts is your plantation? Perhaps you might know him. Can’t be too many Englishmen there. I reckon you all know each other.”
Neither of the first two crates was Sumatran. “The plantation is quite isolated. In Mysore. I’m sure your brother has never been there. There were no Company stations nearby.”
“Oh, I’m sure, ma’am.”
She stood and put her hands on her hips. “There is no Sumatran here. Will you please tell Mr. Fost that I cannot go another week without?”
“I’ll pass that on, and hopefully I’ll be along with it shortly. Afternoon, ma’am.”
Kate dusted off her hands, then remembered Lucy and hurried back to the counter. “I’m so sorry!”
“Oh, please don’t apologize. I swear my father gets up from every meal at least four times to tend to some emergency. I wouldn’t know what to do with undivided attention. But I must go now. So many things to do before the party. Are you excited?”
Kate smiled. “I suppose I am.”
“Of course you are. It will be impossibly wonderful.” Lucy reached for Kate and clasped her tight in an unexpected hug. “I am so pleased you are coming. Good day, Kate.”
After Lucy swept out, Kate found herself humming a waltz as she went about her work.
Lucy had entered like a spring storm, and just as after a storm, the air of the shop felt cleaner and brighter now. She’d swept all the staleness away, and even Kate’s worries about Aidan York could not keep her from watching the clock in anticipation.
Lucy Cain was a force of nature and Kate had finally let herself be overtaken. And it felt . . . fun. She could almost hear the slide of another stone back into place. The tragedy she’d left behind did not matter. This was a new life, and already she was stronger.