Chapter 58
Alfred
Ifreeze in the hall of the townhouse.
What on earth just happened?
The succession of events addles my brain, my confusion mounting.
For the first time in three weeks, my wife clearly wanted me.
Now, I am standing alone, when just a minute before her lips were on mine.
When she first kissed me, I was unsure what was spurring it.
I didn’t want her to bed me out of guilt or a misplaced sense of obligation. I wanted her to really want it. And so I hesitated.
I know that she still isn’t quite herself. I am not sure how, merely that I do. I suppose it is the way she moves. When Annabelle is feeling her usual self, she is alive to sensuality, to pleasure—it is a natural part of her. And that part of her is still inhibited.
But as she kissed me, I felt it again.
It only took me a moment to recognize it.
Then she found the broadsheet. And then everything fell apart.
I stand for a moment in the hall, unable to move.
I contemplate her dismissal of me. It is my worst fear, realized. And yet I am dominated mostly by concern for her. I saw her anger and her pain. It is hard for me to believe she really wants me gone.
I think of what she said—that she planned to get with child by me from the start.
I am unsure what to feel about this revelation.
She intended to use me. But this, of course, I already knew.
She made it clear to me from the start that she wanted me for her own pleasure, her own ends.
That she had an ulterior motive, a child, stuns me.
But I am not horrified. Part of me is even flattered.
That she saw me as a desirable sire. That she saw a man worthy of fathering her child in the nervous, sputtering mess that was myself.
It was the broadsheet that set her off.
Of course, it made sense that it would upset her.
But so upset that she would flee from me? That she would think I don’t want her anymore?
She can’t possibly believe that that piece of trash would affect how I feel about her. She must know that such a thing is impossible.
All I know is that I must retrieve my wife. She is pregnant, and upset, and alone on the streets of London. To others, she might be the most fearsome woman in England. But to me, no matter what she has said, no matter what she has done, she is the woman that I love.
I run out into the street. I have no idea where she has gone. No notion of it. So I just speed forward, trying to see if I can glimpse her.
And then I slam into someone.
I stop short and pull back. And to my surprise, it is Evie Colley.
She is wearing a blue dress that, while not unusual on its face, has an ineffably strange, scandalous air.
She is bareheaded once more, with only a thin shawl around her shoulders despite the cold.
“Miss Colley!”
“You!” she says, jabbing her finger into my sternum. “I just saw Annabelle. She was crying, I am sure of it. I called to her, but she didn’t hear me. Or didn’t want to hear me. Then I lost her in the crowd. What have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything,” I say, all irritation at this young woman’s presumption. “We had—not even a disagreement. A misunderstanding.”
“I knew she should not have trusted a man,” Evie says, her eyes flashing. “Have you begun bedding other women already?”
“Jesus, no. I would never do such a thing.”
“So they all say,” Miss Colley hisses.
“In my case, it is very true. Please, Miss Colley, you do not know a thing about me. Or my marriage.”
“Perhaps not,” Evie says with a snort. “But I know that Annabelle is precious. And while she may be too highborn to gut a man, I won’t hesitate, Mr. Saintsbury.”
“De Lacey,” I correct. “My last name is de Lacey.”
Evie opens and closes her mouth, clearly unsure how to retort.
“And I love Annabelle. I would never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally anyway. I may be clumsy in word or action, but I would never betray her.”
The strange young woman fixes me with a stare.
“Then go find her, Mr. de Lacey.”
I do not need to be told more than once. I am off, but my encounter with Evie has, strangely, steadied me. It reminds me of the solid ground on which my relationship is built. Everything Evie accused me of—well, I would simply never do it.
No betrayal has taken place here.
Even if Annabelle thinks I have betrayed her, and that she has betrayed me.
I refuse to panic. I refuse to believe that she has rejected me.
I am worried, yes, and I am hurrying through the streets.
However, I won’t lose my head.
Because I believe in my relationship with Annabelle.
I believe in our love.
She has not said those words to me, but the truth is that she doesn’t need to.
I know she loves me.
I will find her.
And set everything to rights.