“By a woman,” Naomi finished for him. She was coming to understand Gil’s baser tendencies all too well.
“But there was no guard. He was not tied up.” All he’d wanted was a damn explanation. He’d not been suspicious until Gil had responded by lashing back at him. “I have no evidence of anything, but the way he refused to answer any of my questions… He was uncooperative, defensive, and he kept insisting that he couldn’t remember what had happened. Though, it very well could be the fever.” Luke hated that he was even thinking these things.
They were nearing the outer trees of the garden and she slowed almost to a halt.
“He will have to make an explanation to the War Office, won’t he? After they read your report?”
“I’ve yet to send it in.” He forced himself to relax his jaw. “If he responds to them in the same manner he answered to me…”
Naomi was nodding slowly. He could see in her eyes that she followed his train of thought. Gil was ill. Very ill.
“Hell, Naomi. If he’s guilty, he deserves everything they throw at him. Men died. Good men. But if he isn’t, I don’t want him dying in prison.” It was possible Gil would spend what remained of his life defending himself.
“And your upcoming mission?”
“Is to flush out the traitor.”
The house had come into view and both of them halted. When she turned, however, she didn’t draw away from him but took hold of both his hands. “I think that Arthur Gilcrest is very lucky to have you for a friend.”
Luke stared down at their hands. Her cream-colored gloves contrasted vividly against his black ones. “If I find evidence of his guilt, I’ll have no choice but to report it.”
She squeezed his fingers and nodded.
Her daughter awaited her inside. Luke hated to tell her goodbye, but she was always going to be a mother first. He could only esteem her more for this.
And yet he wasn’t ready to relinquish her.
“Will you meet me again tomorrow? At the bridge?”
“Of course.”
“So, this is why my wife is not overjoyed at my return.” The snarl in Gil’s voice cut across the lawn in a startling accusation. Rather than release Naomi’s hands, allowing her to step away guiltily, Luke held her fast and slowly turned to meet Gil’s stare.
They had done nothing wrong.
His old friend, however, seemed to believe differently.
Chapter Twenty-One
Naomi had not imagined the black look she’d seen on Arthur’s face the day before. She had not imagined it because she was looking into it again. It was almost as though the devil himself had stepped inside and taken over the person she’d thought she knew.
“Luke is a friend,” she responded in a calm voice, hoping to diffuse Arthur’s charge. It wasn’t that he was completely wrong. She had lain with Luke last November. But she’d believed Arthur to be dead.
“Luke, is it? Not Major Cockfield? Or even Lord Lucas?” If anything, his face contorted into an even sharper rage.
Luke released only one of her hands and turned both of them to face Arthur, who approached with surprising speed, considering he was leaning heavily on his cane.
“Luke has been kind to both of us,” Naomi insisted.
“You’d do well to watch your words, Gil.” Tension rolled off Luke in waves, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. She glanced sideways at Luke’s chiseled profile.
This was the man who’d led hundreds of men into battle. This was the man who risked himself to defend the soldiers who relied on him, to defend his country’s interests.
Her fingers tingled from his tightened grip.
“Why should I bother? Because you already know what I’m going to say? Did she fuck you before or after you told her I had been killed?” Luke jerked forward, but Naomi clung to his hand as fear trickled down her spine. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Arthur but she was afraid for him. Was he goading Luke on purpose?
“Don’t do this. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Her voice pleaded with Arthur.
“You’re out of your head, Gil.”
Now that the man she’d once believed herself in love with was closer, she saw it too. His eyes were glassy and rivulets of sweat glistened on his forehead.
“I know precisely what I’m saying. Hell, perhaps that blubbering infant isn’t even mine.” His lip curled, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “How many of us did you lie with last spring, my dearest wife? Only Lucas and me? Or were there others? What about Metcalfe? Or Reynolds? Likely both of them, eh? Did you limit yourself to officers only?”
Naomi choked on a sob at his utterly unfounded accusations. Not because they hurt her but because he would tarnish the only good thing left between them. Last spring had been romantic. It may not have been the great love she’d imagined it to be, but she’d given him her innocence and they’d created Amelia.
Arthur stumbled and when he lost his grip on his cane, would have fallen if she and Luke hadn’t both rushed to his side.
Luke ducked beneath Arthur’s arm on one side and Naomi did so on the other. “You’re burning up. You need to be in bed.”
“I’m going to die, Mimi.” Despite everything, the defeat in his voice cracked her heart in two.
“You aren’t going to die.” It was what one said to a person at such a time. Leaning forward, she caught Luke’s gaze. He was staring at her with that same hopeless expression he’d had when he arrived earlier this week, bringing Arthur back from the dead.
Would Arthur come between them forever?
“My cane,” Arthur mumbled as Naomi and Luke turned to take him back into the house, half-dragging, half-carrying him.
Naomi labored under the weight of him but not because of his size; he could barely lift his feet to walk between them. He was wasting away, and if she was correct, had only worsened since his arrival.
“I’ll send a servant once we have you settled.” She struggled to keep her voice even despite the emotions tearing her up inside.
“Is she mine, Naomi?” Arthur persisted despite his nearly incapacitated state.
“Of course, you fool.”
“But I’m right, aren’t I?” He somehow managed to turn his head to question Luke. “You’re fucking her?”
Naomi hated that word. If she thought for even a moment that Arthur was lucid, she would have walked away, allowing him to fall on the ground and get his own sorry person back to the house.
“Not as long as you’re alive,” Luke answered. “But I love her.”
Tears burned in her eyes.
This time, when she glanced over at Luke, he did not look guilty or hopeless, he looked sincere.
Even Arthur was silenced by Luke’s words.
Apparently, they’d been observed from the manor, for a few maids, and a handful of manservants, along with Lady Tempest, scurried outside through the terrace doors. A wheeled chair awaited Arthur on the patio.
Naomi didn’t hesitate when one of the footmen stepped in to take her place supporting Arthur’s weight. Luke refused to relinquish his hold though.
“What happened? Why is he not in his chamber?” Lady Tempest’s hands fluttered in the air.