Authors: Becky Riker
“Do not believe everything you hear,” he reminded her.
She tipped her head in scrutiny, “I shall not, but I do believe there was some truth in what he said. After all, he was not trying to convince me of a lie. He was trying to provoke you.”
“That does not prove the veracity of the accusation.”
“Perhaps not,” she lifted her head, “but an innocent man would not have been so provoked by it.”
Finn had nothing to say in response. There was a grain of truth in the accusation, but Finn feared telling her any part of it would make her hate him. No, it was better to remain firm on this.
“This is your perception of me, but it is not accurate,” he turned to leave. “You had better go inside. I believe it has turned colder.”
Finn walked inside and turned toward the study. From the corner of his eye, he saw that she followed and turned toward the parlor. He was relieved she did not remain out of doors to spite him.
Rowan dropped in only to give him the particulars about the debt he owed and then left the premises.
“Dillon,” Finn emerged from his office ten minutes later with a letter, “please see that this gets delivered.”
“Yes, sir,” the butler took it without question.
“Today,” Finn spoke over his shoulder as he went to find his wife.
He was not surprised to discover she was in her room. He was also not surprised to see she had been crying, but it made his heart ache nonetheless. He knew he needed to tell her the truth. He could avoid some of the details, but she would be better off knowing than imagining the worst of him. The truth was bad enough.
“Naomi,” he stood at her door, “may I enter?”
She looked up from her place on the bed, “Telling you I wanted to be alone would be no guarantee of you heeding my preference.”
Her words hurt.
She sat up and smoothed her gown, “It is your house, Finn, and I am your wife. I know your rights as well as my responsibilities.”
Finn turned and left, slamming the portal shut behind him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Naomi had not heard everything the brothers were arguing about, but she had heard Rowan’s accusation. Finn had gained land by having relations with the woman who owned it. If Rowan had been completely wrong, Finn would have denied it.
She did not understand what they were talking about regarding Finn’s responsibilities for Rowan’s debts, but she supposed it had to do with a younger brother’s resentment of his older brother’s inheritance. It was common enough in entitlement situations.
When Naomi failed to appear for the noon meal, Missy came to check on her.
“Shall I bring you your dinner, madam?” the maid had remembered, for the first, time, not to refer to Naomi as ‘Miss.’
“No, thank you,” Naomi shook her head. “I am not hungry.”
“But, Miss – Madam,” she stumbled, “you get weak when you skip meals.”
Naomi smiled at Missy’s slip as well as the reminder, “Thank you for your concern, Missy, but I will be fine this time.”
Missy still remained in the room, frowning.
Naomi sighed softly, “Okay. How about some broth? I believe a cup of broth would be good.”
Relief washed over the maid’s face. She had been with Naomi for three years – ever since Mr. Price had decided his daughter needed to grow up – and she was well aware of the lady’s dietary needs, even if the lady herself seemed unaware.
“I’ll be back,” Missy promised.
Naomi finished her broth as well as the tea that Missy had brought to her. Never one to sit idly, she donned her slippers and went to explore her new home. Finn had promised her a tour today, but, under the circumstances, she assumed it would not happen.
The house was large, and there were several rooms that were clearly never used. She avoided the smallest wing on her exploration because she knew that was where the first Mrs. Haydn was housed. The southern-most wing contained a storage room and two small bedrooms. The master’s chambers took up most of the east wing, but there was another bedroom as well.
This one was clearly intended as a nursery. It was set up with a small alcove for a nurse as well as a play area that was distinct from the sleeping area. Naomi seated herself in the rocking chair and allowed herself to dream about what it would be like to have children playing in here. Would they be dark-haired like their
father or have her red locks? Their hair would certainly not be straight since both she and Finn had curls.
Naomi let her mind wander to the morning she discovered that. It was about two weeks after their wedding, and Finn was still sleeping. Naomi was trying to tease him awake, but he was sleeping unusually hard. She ran her finger behind his ear
and along his hairline.
“
Mmph,” he muttered and turned over.
She did it again, but this time
, caught a small section of his hair between her fingers, “Your hair is getting longer.”
He muttered something into his pillow.
Naomi laughed, “I do not know what you said, but it didn’t sound very nice.”
He rolled back over and looked at her, “I said, ‘I’ll ask Mrs. Baker if she can cut it for me.’”
“Why?” Naomi combed her fingers through his hair. “I like it a little longer,” she grinned. “It looks like it could curl if given half a chance.”
He groaned, “And that, dear lady, is why I never let it grow out.”
She blinked at him.
He sat up, “My hair would curl like a little girl’s if I did not keep it short. Should you like being married to a schoolgirl?”
Naomi laughed heartily, “Husband, you could let your hair grow out like Samson, shave your face twice a day, and wear ribbons, and nobody would think you a girl.”
Finn thanked her for the compliment by pinning her down and kissing her.
Naomi stood suddenly, no longer willing to dream about children and the happiness she feared may be slipping away. It was true that she may already be in the family way. Without Finn’s love, though, raising children would be a burden rather than a blessing. Naomi gained a sudden insight into Diana Haydn.
The mistress finished her tour of the house, but she did not enjoy any of it. It seemed a prison to her. She went to bed early and without eating anything despite Missy’s protests.
A knock sounded on her door as she was wrestling with her bed clothes, trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep.
She didn’t answer, hoping Finn would think she was sleeping already.
He came in anyway and climbed into bed beside her. She forced herself not to tense when he pulled her into his arms. Her head on his shoulder, she soon found herself drifting into sleep.
She woke the next morning, and he was gone. His side of the bed was remade. If she had really been asleep, she would not have known about his visit.
The following day brought a note from Tessa that she would be unable to come to Selby due to an unexpected visitor. Naomi suspected it was Rowan, but she did not speak of it with Finn. Indeed, she hardly saw Finn because he spoke to her once, telling her he would be going to check on his tenants, and she should not expect him until evening.
Naomi decided to make a more thorough investigation of the house. She was delighted to find some hidden doors and back passageways. They were likely in the house for the ease of servants, but she did not encounter any maids as she traversed the narrow halls. By the time her husband arrived home, she had explored several of them. They did not speak during tea, and Finn went directly to his study after swallowing his final bite.
She did not see him the rest of the night, but, after she retired, she heard a knock on her door. Again, she pretended to be asleep, and, again, her husband joined her in bed. All that remained of him in the morning was the scent of him on the pillow beside her.
It melted her heart slightly to think that he would come in and hold her. Perhaps he had trouble sleeping alone as well. Naomi thought about her accusations against her husband. It was true he had not led a perfect life before her. Was his past reason to continue to punish him?
It was quite easy to believe that he did not like to be reminded of his failures – particularly by a brother who hated him. Maybe Finn would tell her the truth now that he had calmed down. He had told her he loved her. Maybe what he really wanted was a chance to start anew with her.
She dressed quickly and went to find him. She assumed he would not be in one of the upstairs rooms at this time of day, so took her search to the parlors and breakfast room. When that resulted in nothing, she knocked on his study door.
“May I assist you, Mrs. Haydn?” Dillon was at her elbow.
She spun to look at the man, “I am looking for Mr. Haydn,” she confessed. “Have you seen him lately?”
“I do not believe you will find him in the study, madam,” the butler offered her that much.
Naomi looked at him more fully, “But you know where he is?”
“Perhaps Madam would care to await him in the breakfast room,” he stepped back and nodded in that direction.
She was beyond certain the man was hiding something, but she had not yet discerned if he believed himself to be protecting her or his master.
“Your maid mentioned that you did not eat much yesterday.”
That was bordering on impertinence, but Naomi did not chastise him for it. She preferred a staff who cared for their employers and each other over one that was strictly proper.
She was about to ask after her husband again when a noise came from the study. She arched an eyebrow at Dillon.
His expression faltered for a split second, “The breakfast room, madam?”
She tried the door and found it locked. Taking a deep breath, she held her hand out to Dillon, palm up.
“They key?”
He shook his head, “I am truly sorry madam.”
She narrowed her eyes, “It is clearly not you who needs to be sorry, Mr. Dillon.”
He looked beyond her as if preparing for her tongue lashing.
“Excuse me, please, Mr. Dillon,” she walked into the parlor that adjoined the office and closed the door.
With purpose, she crossed the room to a writing desk and reached behind it. She sprung the latch and walked into the cool passage. It was just a few steps to the door that led to her husband’s study.
Naomi took a deep breath and listened. While the doors and walls leading to other rooms were quite thick, these doors were not so reliable a barrier to the sound.
“Mr. Haydn,” a female voice met Naomi’s ears, “I don’t understand why you didn’t just come to me if you were looking for a wife.”
Finn met that statement with a laugh.
“After all,” she continued, “we’ve been friends for years.”
“I hardly think we would suit, Mrs. Shelser.”
Naomi’s heart clenched, and she was suddenly grateful she had not eaten breakfast.
The widow sighed, “Because I am so much older than you, I suppose?”
“Because we have nothing in common, Victoria, and I should think we would each be miserable.”
Naomi wished he would tell the other woman it was because he loved his wife and not her, but that, she supposed was too much to ask.
“But we do enjoy one another’s company.”
The silence that followed the woman’s statement proved too much for Naomi to bear. She opened the door that led into her husband’s study and found what she was both expecting and dreading. Her husband of just one month was kissing a raven-haired woman, his arms wrapped tightly about the widow.
The two were so engrossed in their embrace, they did not hear Mrs.Haydn’s entrance nor the soft click of the latch as she closed the secret door. They did hear her when she spoke.
“I imagine there is a good explanation for this,” Naomi worked to keep her voice calm. “But I cannot conceive of it.”
The couple turned to her with a start, the woman’s face bearing an expression of utter shock. Finn dropped his arms from the woman he was holding and stepped away. He did not approach his wife, however, but went to sit behind his desk.
“Mrs. Haydn,” the other woman began speaking, “I do not know what to say. . .”
Naomi lifted a corner of her mouth and sat down on the nearest chair, “I have found, in such cases, Mrs. Shelser, that is best to say nothing at all.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose dramatically.
Naomi glanced down at her hands and saw that they were shaking in her lap. She gripped them more tightly together, “To borrow some advice from my father, ‘Unless she can improve upon the silence, a
lady
,” she emphasized the word, “should keep her mouth closed.’”
“How do you know who I am?”
Naomi rose and walked to the door as sedately as possible. Turning the key in the lock, she opened it, “Perhaps that is a topic for another time.”
Mrs. Shelser didn’t spare a glance for Finn before hastening out the door.
Naomi turned back to her husband as she closed the door again. His face was full of shame, and his eyes were suspiciously wet.
She hardened her heart to his pain lest she feel her own more acutely, “Your cravat has come undone.”
She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her, “Naomi.”
The sound was so heartbreaking, so raw, that the tears that had been threatening began racing down her cheeks.
“I must speak with Mrs. Smythe,” she stepped out of the room.