“And leave you here by yourself? Would that not raise a few eyebrows?”
“Not if you come back from time to time and visit. Plenty of husbands travel for work.”
“My work, as you well know, is here in London.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” As the designer and manufacturer of fine furniture, George had made a name for himself amid the upper class. Having a Hewitt sofa was all the rage. So much so they’d both been admitted into upper class circles and counted Viscount and Viscountess Pennington among their dearest friends. “You already have employees who are trained to handle new orders along with the shop on a regular basis. Whether you sit in your study here and create new designs or you do so a hundred miles away would make little difference, would it not?”
“I suppose not.”
“Especially if you were to set up a home near Croft, which in my mind would make your life simpler since that’s where the carpenters are.”
For the first time since this conversation had begun, George allowed a hint of humor to tug at his lips. “You’ve put a frightening amount of thought into this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were eager to be rid of me.”
“Not at all,” she told him in earnest. “I merely desire to see you happy.”
He seemed to mull this over a moment. “I’ll think on it. Right now, there’s still Cynthia’s upcoming wedding to consider. Moving ahead with any drastic changes should probably wait until she has spoken her vows. I’d hate to give Mr. Petersen or his parents a reason to call things off.”
“Agreed.”
George finally smiled. “Good. That’s settled then. Care for a game of cards?”
Wilhelmina located the deck and returned to her seat. She knew George was being protective. It was in his nature. But she hated feeling like she was becoming a hindrance to him, a burden keeping him from the life he deserved.
Of course, altering his perspective only required a change in circumstance. This was apparent when he came to speak with Wilhelmina six months later. In the sort of bleak tone one might use when there’d been a death in the family, he announced that he’d gotten Fiona with child.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. Slumped in the same chair he’d used for their previous conversation on the matter, he clasped his head between his hands. No man had ever looked more defeated or miserable. It broke Wilhelmina’s heart. The joy George would surely have felt over the pregnancy was being overshadowed by the complication of his marriage to her.
Now, faced with a choice between the scandal of divorce or bringing an illegitimate child into the world, she knew his hand had been forced by fate. As such, the only thing she could think to do was offer comfort and reassurance as he’d so often done for her. “It’s all right. I will survive this, George. We all will.”
“I’ve spoken about it at length with Fiona. She asked me to convey her gratitude. What you are willing to do is–”
“The correct thing.”
“Mina…” His voice was thick with feeling.
“Moving forward, we’ll need a plan,” she told him matter–of–factly before she too succumbed to emotion. “Right now, only the three of us know the true nature of this marriage or that you and I share a bond stronger than what most married couples enjoy. If we are to succeed in dissolving our marriage completely, we’ll need to put up a good façade. The fewer people we confide in, the better.”
“I’ve considered this too,” George said. “I think we need to tell Cynthia and her husband, Henry, what to expect. I also think it would benefit you if one or two of our closest friends, like the Penningtons, were brought into our confidence. This way, you won’t be completely alone afterward.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “From what I gather, you and I shan’t be permitted to see each other once the divorce has been settled.”
“Not that we’d have much opportunity to.” When she gave him a puzzled look he explained, “Although getting through this may take a long time, Fiona and I intend to leave England as soon as it’s over since staying here and facing the aftermath could be difficult for our child.”
Wilhelmina’s stomach clenched at the idea of George moving overseas. He’d always been there and while she was happy to help him marry Fiona, she instantly knew his absence from England would lead to an unwelcome emptiness in her heart. For his sake, she forced herself to maintain her composure.
“Where will you go?”
“Massachusetts has a well–established logging industry, but it’s my understanding that the area surrounding the Great Lakes shows promise. It’s reputed to be an especially stunning part of North America. Most importantly, it’s far away.”
It certainly was. Wilhelmina forced a smile and tried not to panic. This was for the best. George would be with the woman he loved and start a family. With Cynthia already settled a few months earlier, her future had been secured. As for Wilhelmina herself, she’d weather the storm as best as she could, most likely by focusing all her energy on the property she owned near Renwick. George had helped her purchase the small farm nearly five years ago. After a serious bout of influenza, he’d insisted on making sure she’d have a property in her own name in case he died. She’d not been there often, but having it did reassure her.
“You do realize your child will likely be born out of wedlock,” Wilhelmina said. She hated bringing this up, but decided it was best to face the facts, no matter how unappealing. “From what I gather, the proceedings we intend to undertake could last a couple of years.”
George’s gaze finally sharpened. “I’m aware, but once it’s done, my son or daughter shall have my name.”
Wilhelmina nodded. “With this in mind, let’s get to work on ruining my reputation.”
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