They were several yards away when Ellis stopped walking. “I still think you should have stayed at the house. I know what Nightingale looks like. You don’t need to be here.”
“I need to see for myself.”
“What should we do now? Walk in and ask for Nightingale by name?”
“Abernathy. The man staying here who matches Nightingale’s description is named Abernathy.”
“You’re hoping it won’t be him.”
“Naturally.” If it wasn’t Nightingale, Evie might stay longer.
“Why not get the thing over with?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” The implication being that Ellis lacked the capacity for deep emotion? It wasn’t the sort of remark Alex usually made and he already saw the injustice of it. Ellis never seemed to miss his wife and he never talked about her, but then Alex never asked. They weren’t close that way. They didn’t talk about their feelings.
“I meant, why not get the confrontation with Nightingale over with. I would never presume to—” Ellis frowned at his feet.
Alex waited for him to continue but whatever he’d been about to say had been caught by that filter of good manners the man hid behind. For the first time, it bothered Alex that he’d never troubled to get to know him properly. They were cousins, after all.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked.
Ellis didn’t deflect the question as Alex half expected. “Of course I—” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “In the circumstances, you deserve a truthful answer. Yes, I’ve been in love, and I know what it is to want an unobtainable woman. To burn with the wanting.”
Alex didn’t even attempt to mask his shock. He’d heard the pain and yearning in Ellis’s voice. A depth of feeling of which he hadn’t thought him capable. He wanted to ask who she was because it couldn’t be Charlotte. Surely “unobtainable” wasn’t a word that applied to a man’s wife? Unless Charlotte loved someone else. Then the distance, both physical and emotional, between the Ellises began to make sense. All baseless speculation, but even though Alex knew none of the details, he recognized the look on Ellis’s face. Evie had been right; there was more to his cousin than met the eye. “I had no idea.”
“I wish I could tell you it gets easier as the years pass, but…” Ellis shrugged.
“I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”
“We should go in.” Ellis directed his gaze at the Bilge and Barnacle, clearly embarrassed by his recent disclosure.
Alex was content to let the subject drop for now. He’d left Evie packing her few possessions. Even though she’d promised she’d still be there when he returned, he wouldn’t put it past her to bolt. The quicker he got this over with, the quicker he’d be back with her. The sooner he’d know.
“You gave her the money?”
Ellis didn’t need to ask who. “Of course.”
Naturally, it had occurred to Alex that he could delay giving her the money until he returned. She was too practical to leave with nothing. If she was thinking clearly. After what she’d been through lately, he wasn’t sure she was. At least this way she’d be financially secure if she ran. “Come on.”
The inn door was never locked at this hour since the guests needed to move freely, so he knocked sharply twice before immediately entering. The innkeeper rushed over the moment he clapped eyes on them. Yes, Mr. Abernathy was staying there. He was eating breakfast. Yes, the innkeeper would be happy to point him out to His Grace.
They followed the proprietor into the public dining room where several people were sitting down with steaming bowls of porridge. “The gentleman by the window, Your Grace.”
Alone at a small table sat a man of about forty. Bearded, saturnine, well-favored—he fit the description. But he wasn’t Nightingale.
Alex didn’t know how to feel.
Evie might stay longer now, but Ellis was right. Alex wanted this thing with Nightingale resolved. When he had reported him to the authorities in London, he’d been fully aware that Nightingale hadn’t actually done anything illegal yet. As he’d expected, the police had promised to “have a word” with the man. Beyond that, they were powerless. To Alex, Nightingale had been an annoyance. A fly buzzing around, irritating but harmless. Nightingale couldn’t hurt him, not really.
Unless it was through the woman he loved.
Alex didn’t care about threats to himself, but Nightingale had made a big mistake when he threatened Evie. It was time—long past time—for Alex to take matters into his own hands.
…
The grounds of Stoney Hey were beautiful even in this miserable November weather. Evie had spent the time of Alex’s absence learning them. A stone path led through the dormant rose garden at the front of the house and wound behind the manor, forking right to more gardens, or straight ahead to the top of steps that took you down to the cliff path. The same way Alex had gone with Mr. Ellis.
Earlier, she’d run along it to the road, all the time afraid that she might meet them coming the other way. Alex would think she was escaping when all she intended was to know the lay of the land. Once she reached the edge of the village and saw the sign pointing to the train station, she ran back again, all the way to the bottom step where she now stood panting.
The wind whipped her skirts as she gazed out to the horizon. The black and purple of a bruised sky bled into the sea—a distant rainstorm, but it would be here soon enough. The North Sea itself was a great, gray wall confining her. She was small, insignificant, but she’d always known that. Everyone was when you got right down to it. Even Alex couldn’t change his fate.
“Evie.” Alex’s voice sounded far away, but when she looked along the path, she saw him coming, closer than she’d expected. The wind was playing tricks. Ellis wasn’t with him. He must have stayed behind in the village for some reason.
She waved to show she’d seen him and climbed the steps. When she reached the top, she stopped, waiting for him. His face told her nothing as he climbed the steps, but when he reached her he took her into his arms. His lips tasted of sea salt. Afterward, he leaned his forehead against hers. “It isn’t him, Evie.”
Reprieve.
She slid her arms around him and melted against his chest. Content to hold each other in the wind and the drizzle, they fit together like puzzle pieces. Though all the things they weren’t saying hovered in the air around them, she was happy to leave them there, and for once, so was he.
Thunder rumbled in the distance and finally the heavens opened. Rain lashed down as they ran laughing back to the house. A side door led into a sitting room all painted white. Huge windows looked onto the churning sea, just visible through the driving rain. He led her to the fireplace, an inglenook, all ready to be lit. Once he had the flames roaring nicely, he drew her down onto the floor with him where the heat was fiercest.