Chapter 14 #2
She turned away from his scrutiny, the stars a convenient excuse. “I am surprised you have found the time to ask. You seem to be quite busy with Miss Tolliver.”
“Why, Kate,” he said when his laughter finally subsided. When she kept her attention on the sky, he nudged her shoulder with his. “I did not think you were the jealous type.”
“I am not,” she insisted. “I have simply observed that you have often been in her company.”
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “I have no feelings toward Miss Tolliver. Only irritation at her constant presence and the headache her laugh inspires.”
Relief softened her, and she had a little more charity toward the lady now that she knew she did not hold James’s interest.
“Is Miss Tolliver the only reason you have been avoiding me?” James asked.
She said nothing. If she opened herself up to James, she was risking so much more than her heart.
He released a frustrated breath and dropped her hand. She appreciated the space, yet as the cold of the bench seeped through her skirts, she wished him closer—and not just for his warmth. He drew a small object from his pocket, rubbing his thumb across its surface. Her curiosity stirred.
She glanced at the token nestled in his palm. “You hold that as though it matters a great deal.”
He stilled, surprise flickering across his face as though he had drawn it out without thinking. Silence descended between them as the stars glittered and the breeze swept through the trees. An owl hooted in the distance.
“It belonged to my friend Henry. At least . . . I believe it did.” He swallowed. “I took it from his coat pocket after he was killed.” His voice cracked, his features raw with grief as he returned the object to his coat.
She sat stunned, and this time, she reached for his hand, hoping to convey with the simple touch all the words she could not say. “I am sorry you have had to bear such a loss.”
Emotions passed across his face too quickly to name. After a while, he turned toward her, sliding on the bench until their legs were almost touching.
“I met Henry almost three years ago. We were partners of sorts in . . . business, and we quickly became friends as well. He was impulsive but confident, always sure of who he was. I envied that.” He blew out a breath, bowing his head.
“In truth, I was drawn to him because of it. He helped me out of more than one difficult situation. I trusted him implicitly, even with my life. And unfortunately, he trusted me with his.”
When he raised his head again, whatever confession hung on his lips had already torn him apart.
“His death is my fault.”
“Surely, you cannot believe such a thing.”
“Henry and I were meant to meet a man near the river about a business opportunity. It was supposed to be an easy, straightforward matter. Then a commotion broke out by the docks. I couldn’t leave it alone.
” James stared into the darkness, lost in the memory.
“I told Henry I’d return. Told him he could handle the meeting without me if I didn’t make it back in time.
” He let out a shuddering breath. “I hadn’t made it more than a few streets when I heard the gunshot. ”
Kate tightened her fingers around his, but she did not interrupt.
“I ran. Heaven knows I ran. But a crowd was already gathering on the bridge. Bystanders swore they had seen an argument, the flash of a pistol, and a body falling into the river.” His voice roughened.
“There was blood on the stones, and Henry’s coat lay crumpled against the rail. The token was in the pocket.”
Anguish marked every line of him. “The coward who pulled the trigger had already fled. If I had not—” The words seemed to catch in his throat. “If I had not left him to meet that man alone, perhaps he would still be alive.”
Kate watched him, an ache blooming in her chest. This was the confident man who had met danger without a flicker of doubt.
Now he sat defeated, broken, haunted by a ghost and a choice he could not take back.
The unyielding earl had vanished, replaced by someone far more real, and Kate wondered what else he kept hidden behind his carefully composed facade.
“I didn’t know your friend, but I cannot imagine he would want you to blame yourself for something neither of you could have predicted. Who is to say that if you had stayed, there wouldn’t be two coats on the bridge instead of just one?”
James stared into the darkness, his jaw set like stone. “It should have been mine, not his. I failed to protect him, and I won’t make the same mistake again.” He turned to her with a sudden, piercing intensity. “Kate, why do you think I came after you?”
“Because you have a keen sense of duty and a low tolerance for being challenged. I have no doubt you were angry that I simply . . . disappeared.”
“When your housekeeper told me where you had gone, I was admittedly angry, but not because you had left. I was cross that you did not trust me enough to confide in me, but that fault is mine.” He tugged her closer.
Too close. “I did not follow you out of anger, Kate. And while I will always feel a sense of duty to protect you, I did not follow you out of some sense of obligation.”
“Dash it all, Kate—” His hand rose to her cheek, his thumb grazing her jawline. “I was not thinking of rules or duty when I came after you. I have tried to put you from my mind . . . and I find I cannot.”
His fingers brushed her temple, and he leaned in, his warm breath a caress in the cold air. “The very idea of something happening to you is unbearable.”
She let herself melt into his touch, unable to resist the invisible string that tied her to this man and to a heart she suspected held far more than just secrets. Was she willing to let him see a part of herself in return?
“Would you like to know why I truly left London?” she whispered, leaning back to allow space between them. He blinked, clearly not having anticipated her question. She did not wait to hear his answer.
“I have no great objection to the pursuits society allows a lady,” she said slowly, willing herself to speak the words she had never confessed aloud.
“But I find that they are not enough. Embroidery, afternoon calls, shopping for a new bonnet—they have their place, but I want to be useful. I want something more than the life laid out before me. Just two days ago, you saved a little boy’s life.
And now you are building a bridge.” She twisted the edge of her cloak between her fingers. “I wish to do something that matters.”
“You would like to build a bridge?”
Her head snapped up. “That’s not what I meant.” Then she saw the grin on his face. She nudged his shoulder before continuing.
“When I saw those shipping crates in the alley,” she said, choosing her words with the same precision that she deciphered codes, “I felt a pull I couldn’t ignore. It was a thread leading somewhere important—one I needed to follow.”
James’s amusement vanished. “You were always daring and adventurous when we were children, but this is not a game of hide-and-seek around the estate. You are tracking dangerous men, the kind who thrive in the dark and would not hesitate to dispose of anyone who stood in their way. I cannot stand by while you place yourself in their path, and I cannot protect you from a distance.”
She clasped his hands. The heat of the contact made her pulse trip, but she did not stop. “Then come with me,” she whispered. “And we can face it together.” Silence gathered. “As friends,” she added, a shield for them both.
“As friends.” His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth. “Is that truly how you view us?”
“For now.” She could not promise him more than that yet, but perhaps it was a place to begin. “I am determined to go to Dover, but I would rather not go alone. I would like you there beside me—as a friend and as a partner.”
His smile faded, replaced by grim resolve.
She knew what his answer would be. She did not resent his wish to protect her.
After the terror in the alleyway and the man watching her at the bookshop, she welcomed it.
But if he saw her only as something to guard, he would never truly see or accept her at all.
She let her hands slip from his. He did not stop her.
“I am going with you to Dover,” he said, his voice quiet but unyielding.
“I will keep you safe and see you safely home, but do not mistake my presence for a partnership. You are too bright to live among the shadows.” He cupped her cheek before he drew back.
“We agreed on five weeks. I had meant to use that time to court you, Kate. Now I fear I will spend it merely trying to keep you alive.”
Kate stilled. He wasn’t offering to join her.
He was offering to guard her. The sting of his refusal warned her that her feelings for him had grown into something precarious, and the tenderness in his touch only made that truth harder to bear.
She had promised herself she would not fall for a man who did not accept her fully, yet here she was, heart aching, over a man who still thought protecting her meant keeping her behind him.
She leaned away from him, a flicker of anger gathering where the hurt had landed.
“Have you given up trying to earn the right for me to call you by your name, then?”
“Never. But I would rather have you call me a stranger for the rest of my life than allow harm to come to you because I was not there.”
A stable door slammed shut, the sound echoing in the darkness. James rose abruptly, the movement stiff.
“I have a few details to settle regarding the bridge repair. If we are to leave for Dover at first light, I had best go and take care of them,” he said.
She slipped her arm through his, but as they walked back through the moonlight, the coldness between them had returned.
The man who had lingered over her poetry notes beside the fire was gone.
In his place stood someone careful, guarded, and painfully distant.
A man willing to stand between her and danger but not beside her in it.
Kate stifled a yawn as she entered the inn yard, the dark of night slowly giving way to the pale yellows of early morning.
James checked the straps and spoke quietly with Jones, the coachman, while Tess and the other servants packed the carriage.
They were to travel first to Dover to investigate The Great Dover Shipping Company and then to pay a short visit to Aunt Edith to uphold their masquerade.
Kate was pleased to see that little Arthur was already awake and outside. She would have been disappointed to leave without bidding him farewell.
The boy and dog chased each other around the yard until Leo yelped and bounded off to the forest, stopping just inside the tree line. His bark, playful in the yard, now held a frantic edge.
“Leo! Leo! Come back!” Arthur yelled.
Though his barking echoed across the yard, no one else seemed to take notice. Kate frowned at Leo’s odd behavior. His body stiffened, his ears pricked toward something she could not see.
“Come, Arthur,” Kate said, reaching out to him as she pushed aside her unease. “Why don’t we go see the small creature that has Leo in such an agitated state this morning?”
He took her hand, and they walked together across the yard as the brief morning sunlight disappeared behind gray clouds, a brisk wind biting her cheeks.
As they approached Leo beneath the trees, his bark turned to whines. “What is it, Leo?” Kate asked. Curiosity pulled her forward. The dog barked again, tense and full of warning. She saw a boot, large and unmoving, partially covered by the leaves that littered the muddy forest floor.
Her stomach turned, and she moved forward, quickly covering Arthur’s eyes. Cold shock ran through her as the grim picture came into focus. The dark wool coat, the kind countenance, the unruly tuft of white hair.
Mr. Ashcombe lay before her—unmistakably, horrifyingly dead.