Chapter 22
Dawn was peeking over the meadow when Henry dragged himself out of bed and prepared for the journey to meet his father in London.
As he stuffed a suitcase with clothing, he thought of what he would say to Eva. They had not spoken about the time-travelling device since the social event had ended and he regretted not doing so. They had both pushed their luck far enough. This is how it would end, with duty being delivered in a small grey envelope.
My son. It is time to meet and discuss an important matter of business.
There was the expected sting between his ribs at the thought of seeing his father for the first time in five years. But now was not the time to wallow in self-pity. He had to strategize.
His options were limited. He could run to Eva, wake her with one last kiss and confess that he was off to see his father who, he was certain, would force him into an arranged marriage. She would be livid. He would face her wrath. They would then be separated by distance and heartache.
Then what?
Even if he were threatened into action by his father, he still had to discreetly help Eva and that meant communication with her. And he was certain an angry Eva would be impossible to compromise with.
And what about the location of the damned device? That mystery was yet to be solved.
Clarkson was in London.
Henry stilled.
The discovery that Cooper probably had the last missing time-travelling device was a lead Henry could follow while in London. By speaking with Clarkson, he could gain his trust and possibly discover more regarding the police investigation. And if push came to shove with Edwin, Henry could become an anonymous informant to Clarkson, who would surely be a formidable ally in his fight for freedom. He could finally destroy the iron-clad cage of Asheford Sons and set himself free. It was almost too good a plan and he feared that something would go terribly wrong. Christ. Something had to eventually go right for him. Did he not deserve that much after years of suffering?
And what about Eva? He knew he should tell her the truth, especially after everything they had shared. But the truth was, he was a coward. Last night, the thought of her knowing about his involvement with Cooper or Edwin nearly made him sick with grief. Wasn’t it better that way? To keep a bubble of ignorance around their relationship? She should keep happy memories of him, not ones of treacherous heartbreak and betrayal.
From his bedroom window, the sky’s hue was changing to a soft gradient of orange.
His heart sprang as if kicked by a horse. Time was running out. She would soon wake and catch him like a startled doe.
He would write her a letter explaining his intention and slip it beneath her bedchamber door. It would contain a half-truth – that he had an unexpected meeting with Clarkson after writing to him weeks ago. That they would exchange information; incriminating evidence against Edwin Asheford for the time-travelling device … or something along those lines.
There would be no sweet goodbyes. No last I-love-yous.
Because, by God, if he saw her face or heard her voice now, he would never find the strength to make it out the door.
***
Sleep had not come for Eva that night. Her heels gently crunched along the gravel road of Asheford Hall. She strolled with her arms across her chest, admiring the pale sunrise over the horizon of the Asheford land.
Her life was a chaotic mess. Her dad’s death, travelling to 1881, murdering her attacker in self-defence, playing Jane Edwards with a group of nineteenth-century socialites, and falling in love with a man so horrendously and hopelessly deeply. There was so much to take in. So little time to understand it all. And the most messed-up part was that she was starting to picture her life here … with him.
She had made it to the iron gate when a carriage came rolling up from behind.
Her stomach lurched.
Who would be leaving Asheford Hall so early in the morning?
William sat on the bench, holding the reins and looking anxious. As it drew near, the carriage slowed and came to a stop.
“Good morning, Miss Edwards.” William bowed his head. “It would please me if you would step out of the way, miss.”
She stood in the centre of the entrance and crossed her arms. “Who is in the carriage?”
“Master.”
“And where is he going?”
“He has business in London.”
Eva dropped her fists to her sides, marched to the carriage door and flung it open.
Henry sat in the middle of the bench with a suitcase by his side. His blue eyes widened, and he cursed.
She climbed in, shut the door behind her and slid onto the seat opposite. “London? For how long?”
“Why are you awake this early?”
“I had trouble sleeping.”
“For what reason?”
“Because you were acting weird last night,” she said. “And don’t change the subject, Henry Asheford. Why are you fleeing like a bat out of hell this early?”
“I have a meeting in London,” he said. “There’s a letter beneath your door explaining the circumstance in more detail.”
“With whom?”
“Clarkson.”
Her heart took a dive into the pit of her stomach. She took a moment to find her words. “The police chief in Cooper’s letters.”
Oh my God. He was getting rid of her. No, he was helping. You know he is helping you. But it still hurt, especially since she knew how these things went in a police investigation. It would be an exchange of information. Henry would become a snitch.
“I hope … I hope anonymously,” she said weakly.
“Of course,” he replied.
She breathed in deeply. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
“I did not want to ruin our last night—”
“Our last night?”
Henry had gone notably still. He clasped his hands into fists by his side. His expression was unnaturally cold, as if he were working extra hard to control his facial muscles to suppress whatever emotion he was feeling. His tone was formal.
A wave of panicked nausea rose in her stomach. Something wasn’t right.
“How long will you be away?” she finally said.
“Not more than four days, I imagine.”
He isn’t sure. Her thoughts jumbled inside her rattled mind. “Henry,” she said, hoping that saying his name would make him more likely to listen. It always did. “Henry, there must be another way.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I’m sure we can figure out a different way to make the device work again. You shouldn’t have to go to the police and risk your father knowing.”
“No.” He leaned his elbows on his knees. “We have no other options. This is the only prominent lead. You know that the main device is missing, two duplicates have been destroyed and the third could very well be sitting in Clarkson’s office. I must try.”
Her hand curled around the carriage door handle. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that this was your plan?”
“Because I wanted us to have a moment of happiness,” he said. “A moment of pretending this was normal.”
He reached for her hand.
She blinked. Her instinct was to pull away from his warmth. Was he breaking up with her?
“It feels like you’re walking into the lion’s den,” she whispered.
He dropped his head and withdrew. His fingers dug into his waistcoat to retrieve his pocket watch. After glancing at the time, his eyes swept over her.
She knew what that expression meant – We’ve had our fun and it’s time to get back to reality. It was the same one most men in her life gave after a few months of casual sex … after they realized how incapable a girlfriend she was. The only difference now was that reality meant going home to the twenty-first century.
“My train will soon arrive,” he stated. “In the meantime, you will be safe here at Asheford Hall with Lottie.”
Her blood ran cold. She hesitated, feeling her heart crumple. He was kicking her out of the carriage and leaving. What more was there to say? Her fingers tightened around the door handle.
“Eva.”
She shook her head.
My train will soon arrive.
“Eva, we knew this day would come.”
“Safe travels,” she said and turned to open the door.
His hands frantically reached for her arms. “It was never my intention to hurt you,” he said.
“But it was.”
His hands squeezed her arms. “You know that is not true.” He brought his forehead to hers. “I love you, Evaline Quinn. In this life and the next.”
He tried to kiss her.
She turned her head away. “If it wasn’t your intention to hurt me, you would have told me about the letter last night, you would have come to kiss me goodbye this morning, and you wouldn’t be running off to become the sacrificial lamb.”
His breath came hot against her neck. His hands pulsed between the struggle of holding on and letting go.
She could feel the tension in his muscles. There was no doubt that he loved her. She knew he did. She could feel it reverberating through her body, a bittersweet twinge of pain and pleasure.
“I will return as soon as I can,” he whispered.
She gave him a hard look.
His beautiful, mesmerizing eyes met hers. The early-morning light shining through the window brought a soft, delicate glow to that sea-blue colour she loved.
It dawned on her then that she would not see those eyes for a while. “You’d better come back to me, Henry Asheford, or God help you, I will hunt you down myself,” she said.
He smiled.
She didn’t like the sadness in it.
His fingertips brushed her cheek, caressing the soft curve of her jaw. “There is my imp with her prickly spirit.”
She forced herself to turn away and open the door. Without another word, she jumped from the carriage and hurried down the gravel path toward Asheford Hall.
She could have kissed him goodbye. She could at least have embraced him or said, ‘I love you’, but there was no use. He had said enough. He may as well have stabbed her in the heart.