Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Edward
The image of Annette’s retreating form lingered in my mind long after she disappeared.
There seemed to be an invisible line tethering me to her, and the more space she put between us, the tighter it became.
At some point, the line would snap completely, and I would never recover.
My heart already felt ripped in two, and I hadn’t the faintest idea how to repair it.
Perhaps such a task was impossible. I would never forget the pain in Annette’s blue eyes. All this time, I had known it would hurt her to learn the truth, but I had expected more anger, more rage. Her acceptance and tears were far worse. I would have preferred her ire.
I deserved her ire.
But it hadn’t come. Instead, she’d offered understanding, at least of my reason for accepting her father’s offer. She knew how much I needed the funds and what I would have done with them. Worse, she intended to still support my cause with her dowry because she believed in it.
Believed in me.
Even after I had betrayed her trust.
The mere idea of allowing her to be a benefactor stabbed with more force than any sword ever could. How could I allow it, knowing what torture it would be to have her in my life but never be able to see her? To touch her?
I’d been a fool to think that in turning down Lord Paxton, the entire situation would fade from existence. I should have told her the truth myself, despite the promise I made, although I did not know that the outcome would have been better.
My jaw clenched. I had to change her mind.
Prove myself. Earning her trust had been difficult the first time, but I could not let her go without trying.
Would learning that I had, only minutes before, rejected Lord Paxton’s offer make a difference?
Would knowing that I wanted to court her without such stipulations hanging over us help her understand that I cared for her?
More than cared for her.
I stepped forward, but once again, my efforts were halted by Apsley’s hand pressing against my chest. His expression had softened since the start of our argument, but his eyes still held warning.
“My sister needs space,” he said. “I would advise you to give it to her.”
“Do you intend to have me thrown from the house?” I challenged.
“Not yet, although it was quite tempting a few minutes ago.” His hand fell away from me. “Do not make me regret not doing so.”
“Fine. I shall give Annette time to process everything, but I cannot promise to be patient about it. Whatever you may think of me, you are wrong about my motivation for accepting your father’s offer.”
Apsley crossed his arms. “I gathered as much, given Annette did not tear you apart as I expected. For her to be so understanding suggests your intentions were, at the root, good. Regardless of your reason, however, I will never condone your behavior. I intend to have a word with my father about it as well.”
“Go easy on him. With his health…” I sighed. “Rest your blame on me. I knew the whole of it was a bad idea, but I was desperate. Am desperate. He made a convincing argument, and like a fool, I ignored my instinct.”
“That is all well and good, but he came up with this ridiculous idea. He cannot escape some of the blame.” Apsley shook his head. “I cannot believe he would pay someone to marry her.”
“For what it is worth, he believed the two of us already harbored feelings for one another. I cannot speak for your sister, but my regard…it was there, even if I did not acknowledge it. He saw what I could not and acted upon it out of his own fears. He was worried for her. Feared she would remain determined to never marry. He did not want to pass on knowing she would end up alone.”
Apsley scoffed. “He may have unintentionally sealed her into that fate now. She will never trust a man’s intentions again. Heartbreak is not easily overcome.”
Something in the way his brow furrowed hinted that he spoke from experience, but I would not pry. Even before the recent catastrophe, Apsley and I had not been on good enough terms for shared confidence of that sort.
“I expect you to explain,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “If I am to even consider allowing you to stay here—allowing you the opportunity to fix this mess—then I want the entire truth.”
I nodded. It was a fair demand, and so, I explained everything, starting with how I had served under Hollinsby and later discovered his corruption. Apsley listened with rapt attention, his lips never wavering from their downturned position.
“You mean to use the money to get justice,” he said after I had finished.
“In part. Bringing Hollinsby to court is only a small part of what I hope to achieve. England needs change—the world needs it. While my family is accepted in high society, I am nothing more than the second son of a wealthy gentleman. A naval officer with but a small estate to his name. It is not nearly the influence I require to prod at those in Commons and Lords.”
“Perhaps not.” Apsley rubbed a hand over his chin. “Have you considered the alternative?”
“Alternative?” I repeated.
“You could become an MP yourself. Have a seat in the Commons. It would be far easier than prodding, as you say, to have direct power to encourage change.”
“Yes,” I said slowly, “but again, I am a second son, and not even one of a titled man. To become an MP—”
“You would require support from, say, a viscount?”
I stared at him. “If your father thought such a course was viable, he would have suggested it in Town. His health is too poor to assist me in gaining enough clout to be voted in, assuming an opportunity even arose.”
“True,” said Rus, his lips twitching. “But the title does not end with my father, now does it?”
My lips parted, but no words came out. Lord Paxton had insisted his sons had no interest in politics, but here Russell Apsley stood, suggesting he might lend his name for my benefit, even after his father could no longer do so.
“I’ve shocked you, it seems.” He chuckled, then rounded the corner of the desk and took a seat.
He appeared more relaxed now than I had seen him in days.
“Let me be clear, I’ve no interest in politics.
I’m sure my father has told you as much; however, abolition is important to him.
If I can continue his legacy of fighting for change, even in a roundabout way, then I would like to.
” He met my gaze. “And given you have my sister convinced into supporting you—”
“I have no intention of accepting any portion of her money,” I interjected.
Apsley raised a hand as if to ward off my defenses. “That is between you and her. All I am saying is that this cause of yours is a worthwhile pursuit. My father can see that. Annette can see that. And so can I. In this, I trust you.”
In this. His words stung, for surely that meant there were areas in which he did not trust me.
Apsley’s lips tipped into a lopsided smile.
“Good. You’ve read into my statement precisely how I intended.
Regarding my sister, I’m uncertain whether I trust you.
You’ve hurt her, and that is not an easy thing to forgive, nor do I believe she will forgive you.
There is time, though, for you to prove me wrong.
But lest you think the matter will be let go, I should warn you that I have every intention of burning this contract.
Marrying my sister will not earn you those funds. ”
My wry smile surprised him. “I do not require those funds to marry Annette. I already told your father to get rid of the contract.”
Apsley opened his mouth to respond, but tapping on the door drew both of our attention.
The butler stood in the entry, his flat expression offering no hint of his reason for the interruption.
He bowed respectfully. “Forgive my intrusion, but Langley says he needs to speak with Lieutenant Paget, urgently.”
My stomach knotted. Langley was the footman Lord Paxton had assigned to watch Willowbrook Manor.
If he had sought me out, that could only mean he had information to share…
possibly unwelcome news. I looked at Apsley.
Curiosity glinted in his eyes, but he accepted that urgency would not permit an explanation at present and nodded his approval for my departure.
“He’s in the drawing room, sir,” the butler said as I rushed past him.
“Thank you.”
I found Langley standing near the hearth, the flicking flames within casting a glow against his clothing. He turned to face me as I entered and offered a hasty bow. “Sorry to pull you away, sir, but this could not wait.”
“What is it?”
“They’re gone, sir. All of them. The carriage that arrived yesterday left early this morning, and there was a buzz of activity for hours. Had I realized they all intended to leave, I would have come to retrieve you sooner.”
My chest constricted. “All. What do you mean by all?”
“All, sir. The captain, his visitors, and from the looks of things, even the servants. They’ve all packed up. Given the chaos, I assume the departure was unexpected.” He tilted his head, giving me a pointed look. A chaotic departure likely meant one thing: Hollinsby had gotten wind of my presence.
I pressed my eyes closed, a feeling of lightheadedness overtaking me.
No, no, no! Hollinsby couldn’t leave. Not now.
I was so close to obtaining evidence. Lucas had promised to do his best to find something—anything—to help.
Had the boy given me away? I hated to think he was responsible, but it was a possibility.
“I’ll need my horse readied straight away,” I said, opening my eyes.
Langley nodded. “I’ll see that it is done. What of your belongings?”
My heart pounded against my ribs, rebellious and opposing.
If I left now, there was no telling when I would return to Kenwick.
Or if. Chasing Hollinsby could take weeks or months.
Years, even. Such a pursuit would lead me away from Annette.
Away from the future I’d just begun to envision.
The mere thought twisted my heart, as if it were being smashed between colliding ships.
The wreckage would be a disaster, and yet, I knew…
I knew leaving was my only choice. Hollinsby could not escape. I couldn’t lose Adda.
Which meant losing Annette.
“Yes,” I said shakily. “Have my things packed as well. With haste.”
Langley rushed from the room, understanding the urgency of the request. I remained, watching the fire dance within the hearth, my fist pressed against my chest in an attempt to cure the agony beneath it.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Hard, constant, without mercy—my heart slammed and pleaded.
But no matter its demands, I had to go. Perhaps it was better this way; forgiveness was likely out of my reach.
In accepting Lord Paxton’s offer, I had set myself up for failure, becoming the exact type of suitor Annette feared most.
I do not wish to see you again.
A sharp pang rippled through me. Perhaps the best thing I could do was give Annette what she desired.