She shuddered and chastised herself for allowing such a thought to surface. Even though she might never see him again, he was her dearest friend. She loved him and could not imagine a world without him in it.
“Did you and Mr. Dale quarrel?” Cynthia asked that evening when she came to meet Wilhelmina in the private supper room she had procured.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re in here while he’s made himself comfortable in the taproom.”
Wilhelmina gestured for Cynthia to have a seat, then poured her a glass of red wine before taking a sip of her own. “I took your advice and tried to tell him the truth, but it came out all wrong and now he thinks I’m in love with George.”
Cynthia gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Eyes dancing, she stared at Wilhelmina who promptly frowned. “It’s not funny.”
Cynthia shook her head, then nodded before choking out, “It is a little funny. In a Comedy of Errors sort of way.”
“I suppose,” Wilhelmina agreed with some reluctance. She gave her daughter a weak smile. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”
“You ought to correct his mistake,” Cynthia said. A serving maid arrived just then, allowing a brief reprieve in conversation while mother and daughter placed their orders.
“What would be the point?” Wilhelmina asked once the maid was gone.
Cynthia’s eyes widened. “The point, Mama, is for him to know how you truly feel. Even though Michael disapproved of me not telling him my secret sooner, and in spite of the fact that he’s chosen to break things off, he knows I love him just as I know he loves me.”
“And doesn’t that make it harder, knowing you love each other but that you cannot be together unless he’s willing to give up on being a father?” When Cynthia didn’t respond, Wilhelmina said, “I fell in love with Mr. Dale and I believe he fell for me too, but it will be easier for him to walk away and move on if he believes my heart belongs to another. Especially since he’ll never choose me anyway.”
“You don’t know that, Mama.”
“I do.”
“But, Mama, if you care for him, surely—”
“Let’s not discuss this further,” Wilhelmina said. She was exhausted by all the powerful emotions she’d experienced since that morning, from passion, to love, to hate, and pain. “It’s pointless to ponder that which will never be. Instead, I would suggest we set our minds to getting you back into London society. If you can find a good man who’s a widower with children in need of a mother, perhaps you can still build a happy life for yourself.”
Cynthia didn’t look the least bit convinced, but Wilhelmina was certain this would pass. Cynthia’s heart was raw at the moment, but once she accepted reality and set her mind to finding a more appropriate match, Wilhelmina believed she would move on. Of course, her connection to Wilhelmina might remain an obstacle, though Wilhelmina was sure this too would change with time, provided she stayed away from London.
“Have Mrs. Lawson and her daughter not come down yet?” Michael asked when he plopped down into a chair at James’s table.
“They’re in that supper room over there,” James said, raising his gaze from the paper on which he wrote just long enough to jut his chin at the back of the taproom.
“And yet you’re here,” Michael said. He seemed to hesitate before asking, “Should we not join them?”
“No.” James went back to his writing.
“Seems a bit rude of us not to,” Michael murmured. “Did you and Mrs. Lawson have a row or something?”
James raised his gaze to Michael’s. “Turns out, she’s in love with her husband.”
Michael frowned. “She said that?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
“Hmm?”
A thoughtful expression slid into place on Michael’s face. “I think you may have misunderstood her.”
“Indeed?” James leaned forward in his seat and perched his elbows on the table. “She said she loves him, Michael. What is there to misunderstand?”
“The nuance, I suppose. I mean, she might love him without being in love with him. There’s a difference, you know.”
James stared at his son for a long hard moment. He wasn’t wrong, and yet… “If you know something that might be helpful, by all means tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Right. Because you’re sworn to secrecy.”
“Exactly.”
Pushing out a deep breath, James reached for the tankard of beer he’d ordered earlier and took several gulps. “Well, I’m tired of trying to figure it out. Point is she made no claim of caring for me in a way that would ever compel me to fight for her. If she had, things might be different, but I don’t have the patience for playing games or unraveling truths I’m not meant to find. Instead, I’ll focus on more pressing issues, like the threat Cloverfield will continue to pose unless we find a way to stop him.”
“You believe he’ll attempt to strike back?”
“It would be naïve of me not to given the fact that he’s an arrogant duke intent on having his way and that I’ve now humiliated him in public.”
Concern stretched across Michael’s brow. “When do you expect him to act?”
“I don’t know. If he continues toward the house party he was headed for when our paths crossed, it could be weeks before he’s back in London.”
“At which point he may have come up with a crafty plan,” Michael muttered.
James nodded. “Hence my attempt to work on my own defense. I’m preparing an outline of the events that took place while they’re clear in my mind. Furthermore, I’ve secured written statements from a couple of people who witnessed the fight between myself and Cloverfield. My next step is to ask the innkeeper here to provide a similar account of Cloverfield’s brutal assault on Mrs. Lawson during our stay here the day before yesterday.”
“He attacked her?”
“While she slept, if you can believe it.”
“Christ!” Michael looked just as horrified as James had felt at the time – how he still felt when he thought of Mrs. Lawson’s cries for help, the fear in her eyes, and what would have happened had James not managed to save her. “That poor woman. What she has been forced to endure at that family’s hands is insupportable. Heaven help me, but I wish you’d have beaten him until he choked on his own damn blood.”
James stared at Michael. “That’s uncharacteristically callous of you.” Michael clenched his jaw and returned James’s stare with a hard one of his own. “You’re usually more forgiving than I. Tell me, what did you mean with what she’s had to endure at that family’s hands? “
“Nothing,” Michael gritted. He gestured for a maid and ordered a beer along with a couple of plates of food when she answered his summons. “Forget I said anything.”
That was about as unlikely to happen as him forgetting Mina existed. Her face had gone pale when she’d first seen Cloverfield in this very taproom. Recognition had filled her eyes with a wild sort of panic. So he’d known she must have crossed paths with him before, yet they’d both pretended to meet for the very first time.