© 2021
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I
The taste of seawater mixed with blood was revolting as it ran down the back of her throat, making her cough. The fear was suffocating her as she tried to claw her way to the surface. The saltwater was burning her eyes, but she knew that closing them now could mean that they would remain shut forever.
She wasn’t ready to die.
But still, she was sinking deeper fast.
It was getting darker where she was going and…
“Ho!”
The shout startled Marlin out of her slumber and her hand instinctively moved to the inner pocket of her jacket. The reassuring feel of the small derringer, resting against her heart, made her relax. She looked at the other passengers. They were slowly waking. Her hand fell away from her weapon and looking out of the window, she recognised the travel inn and the string of coaches parked on both sides of the road.
“You have thirty minutes. Afternoon tea and biscuits are served in the dining room.” The grizzled driver announced as he brought out the stairs and helped the two women down before he led the way into the establishment. Marlin lingered outside, having found the confined space of the carriage stifling and did not wish to return indoors so soon again. She rolled and lit a cigarette as she contemplated the dream of earlier. It had been some time since she had the dreams and their return was disturbing. Something must’ve triggered it.
But what?
She finished her cigarette and decided to see about a cup of tea. Her entrance drew some attention from the female patrons as she joined her travel companions. Marlin was used to that by now, but she almost always ignored it.
“Some tea, sir?”
A young serving girl stood next to her with a teapot and when Marlin nodded with a smile, the girl blushed furiously as she served her. Marlin graciously accepted the drink.
The rest of the group were talking amongst each other and she listened, having no interest in partaking in the conversation. The others noted her reluctance to be drawn into the discussion and respected her choice. One of the women had tried to engage her in conversation soon after they had left Coventry, but Marlin’s noncommittal responses had quickly dissuaded her.
Half an hour later, they boarded the carriage and were on their way. Marlin was largely unaware of the changing landscape as they travelled. Her thoughts were circling the happenings of the past few days in Coventry, and how they related to the recurrence of her dreams.
Hirsh had found happiness with Jane, just as Chester had with Florence. Geon’s reaction to the ‘as of yet’ unknown butch in London was a strong indication that the fiery Frenchwoman would soon be paired off, too.
That left only her.
What would become of her now? A feeling of melancholy welled up inside when she thought of how they used to spend their nights aboard The Raven. Each would settle in with a cigar and a brandy as they reminisced about the day. They would playfully compare their exploits amongst the ladies and joked about one day settling down with a single woman. Now the joke was on them.
Marlin would be the only one settling in on the deck at night with a cigar and brandy. Her life had changed dramatically over the past twelve years, and for the better, but even then, she still abhorred the amount of time it had taken her to adjust to these changes.
She closed her eyes.
Perhaps she would only welcome change once she had her revenge.
***
The knock on the door made Catherine look up from the book she was writing. She frowned. Who could it be? No one, not even her family, knew she was here. Except for Jeremiah Mortimer.
She opened the door slightly and peered through the slit only for her eyes to widen in horror at the identity of her visitor. Before she could react, the man burst into the room causing her to stumble backwards. His dark eyes were cold as he glared at her and shut the door behind him.
“What are you doing here?” Catherine struggled to swallow past the knot of fear in her throat as he advanced on her. “Your father assured me that you had left London.” He reached for her, his grip hard and cruel. Just like the night he had pinned her down and brutalised her.
The bile that rose with the memory, threatened to choke her. “Please, don’t. I beg you.”
“Then answer me. Why are you back?” His large hand wrapped around her neck and she shivered. Winston Niven was a master manipulator who had persuaded her family into believing that she had been the one who had teased him mercilessly until he, reluctantly, had to cave in. His lies, Catherine was well-aware, stemmed from his desperation to keep her as far away from his wife. It was his spouse, after all, that he had to thank for his position of prestige because of her well-connected family.
“I was assisting a friend.”
“Oliver Potts, you mean. I saw you with him on Friday night.” He gave her a sceptical glare. “What would a woman like you have to offer a man like him?” A sneer came over his handsome face. “Unless I’ve taught you well enough to service London’s most renowned Lothario.” His hand moved lower to squeeze her breast painfully. His obvious glee at her terror suddenly made her snap to attention mentally. She was allowing him to do this to her. The comprehension made her stomach roil in rebellion. What more did she have to lose? He had already taken everything from her.
Fear was the oppressor’s currency to acquire submission. She had submitted enough. First, to this lunatic and then to her disloyal family. She had enough of playing a victim and living in an unlocked cage.
Another thought crossed her mind at the same moment. It had been the original idea that she would give up her child and return to London and her life here as if nothing had happened. Not anymore. She was keeping her child. If she was going to tackle the steep hill that was to be her life from now on, she might as well bring her child along on the journey to serve as an encouragement for her to keep pushing forward.
Rage; liberating and empowering, rose in her. She didn’t know where the strength came from, but she pushed away from him and launched a kick. Winston’s face turned ashen as a comical expression washed over his features. He clutched his crotch as he crumpled to the floor with a drawn-out groan. Catherine took a brief moment to savour her victory before she ran for the door. The hotel was almost deserted at this late afternoon hour as she crossed the expansive foyer towards the exit. Running aimlessly, she realised that she would be missing her coach to Plymouth which was set to depart in an hour. As she dashed down the walkway, bumping into people and muttering excuses, she realized the area was beginning to look familiar. She stopped and looked behind her before she crossed the busy street and briskly walked towards a beautiful brownstone. She had only been here twice before the incident with Winston had happened. But the memory of the time spent here had been some of her most memorable.
As she knocked, she prayed her reception would be welcoming this time too. The door opened and she stared at the woman in the door.
“Please, help me.”
The woman blinked in surprise before she glanced over Catherine’s shoulder. “Of course…please.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”
The door closed behind them and Catherine turned to face the woman. “I apologise for bursting in on you like this, but I had nowhere else to go.”
Her saviour quickly stepped closer to grasp her trembling hands. “No, don’t apologise. Please, don’t.” She cocked her head to the side. “I know we’ve met before, but regretfully your name eludes me.”
“It’s Catherine. Catherine Poole.”
The woman smiled warmly. “Welcome to my home, Ms Poole. I’m Anne Mortimer.” She led Catherine to a cosy lounge and sat her down. She rang the bell and a serving girl showed up. “Would you take some tea, Ms Poole?” At her confirmation, the serving girl left and the older woman fixed her attention back on her. “I hope I’m not prying, but will you tell me what happened? Is someone after you?”
The compassion in the woman’s voice seeped into her shattered soul and Catherine broke down. The tears, the first since the ordeal started all those months ago, were a welcoming relief just as the tender arms that held her close.
***
The eyes in the painting were beginning to take shape and Oliver stood back to assess his handiwork. The woman in the painting was lounging on an unmade bed, her eyes hooded as they stared back at him. Mussed coppery locks fell around her exquisite face to rest on her naked shoulders. The seductive look in her eyes set off a swarm of butterflies in his stomach and he exhaled loudly.
“It’s beautiful.”
Oliver spun around, his heart racing. With dismay, he realised at that moment that his painting woefully fell short of the real-life version before him. The icy blue eyes studied him with an intensity that made him clench his jaw to stop a soft whimper from escaping his lips. She smiled unexpectedly and he swallowed hard. This woman knew him—the real him, and that sparked an unusual sense of insecurity within him. Geon’s smile widened; her eyes drawing him in just like in the painting. Oliver couldn’t resist her any longer and he slowly placed his palette and brush on the nearby table.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
She chuckled and the husky sound made him weak in the knees. He shrugged out of his painter’s smock as he took in her outfit. She wore a light blue dress that enhanced the brilliance of her icy blue gaze and showed off her impressive bosom.
“I asked your secretary not to announce my presence.” She walked up to him and ran her hands down his chest. Oliver stiffened slightly, but Geon ignored the reaction. “I wanted to surprise you and ask if you would like to join me for dinner later.”
Oliver found this to be extremely refreshing. He had never been asked out for a meal before by a woman. It was considered rather bold for society women to do so.
Not Geon, though.
The woman has demonstrated a more than subtle disdain for societal norms. She was unapologetically daring in everything she endeavoured; including her pursuit of love. How fortunate was he to be the recipient of her focus? Oliver snapped out of his contemplation of the enthralling woman and smiled.
“I would love to join you for dinner.”
The expression in her eyes changed without warning. “I’ll leave you in charge of dessert.”
The way the word ‘dessert’ rolled off her tongue, made no mistake of what she meant by that. He swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat.
“Of course.”
She tapped his cheek gently. “Á bientôt, mon beau.” She sashayed away but stopped at the door to turn back to him. “The look in the eyes lacks some heat. I would never look at you that tamely.”
Oliver let out a shaky breath when she had exited the room. His hand moved to cover his thundering heart as he turned back to the painting. She was right. The look, as enticing as it was, didn’t compare with the heated gazes she had seared him with just now. Geon had still been asleep this morning when he had slipped from her bed to get dressed. He had juxtaposed some glimpses from their torrid night together to come up with the inspiration for this painting.
Maybe he should get her to sit for him one day. Just as quickly as the thought had surfaced, he squashed it. It wouldn’t work. He would never finish the painting for he doubted they would be able to keep their hands off each other.
***
Coventry
Chester looked up with a frown when a carriage came up the lane to stop in front of the house. She wiped her hands on the rag dangling from her belt as she waited to see who it was. It was only ten o’clock and still too early for visitors. The driver opened the door and Chester’s eyes narrowed dangerously when she recognized the visitor. She spun on her heel and with long, purposeful strides made her way to the main house.
“Tea, Chester?”
Chester shook her head at the cook as she briskly marched through the house to the front door. She startled a servant girl when she suddenly appeared next to her.
“I’ll take care of this, Sally.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chester wondered if Florence was already up. She had left the woman asleep in bed a few hours earlier. The knock sounded again and she opened the door.
Gordon McAllister looked thinner and was leaning heavily on a cane. Everyone in the district heard of what happened at Craddock Hall. The perpetrators were still at large and McAllister wasn’t talking. Some believe that he had suffered from a loss of memory after the harsh beating he suffered at the hands of the culprits. To make matters worse, Florence, as the victim, had agreed for the man to be allowed out of prison on supervised security given his state of health to see to his matters before the court case that would decide his fate. Chester adored the gentleness of her woman but drew the line when it came to a blackguard like McAllister. Had he any influence in the decision, he would’ve liked to see McAllister hang. Or drowned. Or even shot. As long as the man ceased to breathe, he would be satisfied. But lucky for them, McAllister had amassed very little fortune in his life in contrast to having acquired a significant amount of enemies. In fact, he might be found dead in a ditch before he faced a judge, if the rumours about him having secured bail on the premise of offering valuable information about one of his associates, turned out to be true.
McAllister looked taken aback by Chester’s appearance, but he quickly shook it off.
“Is Lady Hampton in?”
“The lady is indisposed, sir. Shall I give her a message?”
McAllister frowned. “It’s important that I speak to the Viscountess. She would want to see me.”
Chester gave the man a long, hard stare and delighted in his discomfort. “Of course, sir. Please wait here.” She stepped back and closed the door in the surprised face of the man. When she turned away from the door, she met Florence’s amused gaze from where she stood at the top of the stairs. The breath slowly seeped from Chester’s lungs at the sight. Florence looked gorgeous—happy and relaxed. Chester glanced around before taking the stairs two at a time to stop a few steps below Florence. The golden eyes were warm with affection and Chester smiled. She ached to touch her lover, but the house was bustling with servants and any one of them could happen upon them.
“You are beautiful, ma’am.”
“Love seems to do that to a woman.”
They shared a long look before a knock on the door shattered their shared moment. Chester sighed and rolled her eyes.
“I’ll see him in the study.”
“Not alone, ma’am.”
Florence smiled. “I’ll be fine, Chester. Besides, I don’t want to bring unnecessary attention to you.”
Chester wasn’t happy, but an important part of keeping their secret included retaining the roles as employee and employer. That meant that she’d have to abide by Florence’s wishes.
“I’ll be waiting outside the door if you need me.”
Florence squeezed passed Chester, her alluring scent filling Chester’s nostrils. “I’ll always need you, my love,” she murmured as she made her way down the stairs. The servant girl was back at the door and she looked at a Chester for confirmation. At her curt nod, the girl opened the door to reveal the vexed face of McAllister.
“I do not appreciate being…”
“Mr McAllister, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
McAllister’s tirade died on his lips at Florence’s cool greeting. He quickly removed his hat and smiled charmingly.
“You’re as beautiful as…”
“Shall we meet in the study?” Florence cut off his attempt at a compliment. The man pursed his lips as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for Florence to join him. He reached for her hand but Florence coolly ignored it.
“I pray we can move past any prior unpleasantness between us and attempt to come to an amicable solution for my visit this morning.”
“We’ll see.” She entered the study with McAllister following behind her. Chester watched the man’s pronounced limp and ground her teeth. She only wished she had been the one to injure him.
Who knows, she might still have a chance if the cad misbehaved in Florence’s presence.
***
Florence took a seat and waited for her guest to do the same. Gordon McAllister tried to hide his limp as he settled in the chair. He smiled at her and Florence returned it with a frown.
“I thought my lawyer’s restriction letter had been clear about you showing up on my property unannounced.”
“I know.” He sat a little forward. “I have a proposition for you.” He watched her carefully hoping to gauge her interest. She lifted an inquisitive brow. “It’s no secret that I find myself in a financial pickle after several rash investments and I’m ashamed to say, all I have of any value now, is Craddock Hall.”
He paused again for some reason, but Florence kept her expression blank.
“I am looking to hire out parcels of land for pasture. As one of the largest wool producers in the district, I thought I would approach you first, milady.” He smiled enticingly. “Your growing herd could perhaps benefit from the extra pasture.”
Florence had to admit that it was a viable business proposition. One, she might even be interested in, had the advocate not been Gordon McAllister. She might be up and walking around, but nothing would change the fact that he had tried to kill her.
“I appreciate that you thought of me first, but I’ll have to decline.” McAllister’s expression froze.
“But…I…I…” he sputtered before he took a deep breath and Florence felt a chill run through her at the eerie calm that came over the man. “I thought seeing as we are neighbours you would accept the opportunity to increase your wool productivity.”
A movement at the door drew Florence’s attention and she glanced over to find Chester standing there. McAllister followed her gaze and visibly stiffened at the sight of Chester. She had to admit that Chester looked quite intimidating at that moment. Her black eyes were forceful as they rested on McAllister and the air in the room pulsed with menace.
Florence realised that she was looking at Cinnabar, the dreaded pirate, who made grown men shiver with terror. She quietly exhaled as she turned back to McAllister, whose complexion appeared a tad ashen.
“As I said, I appreciate your offer, but I’m not looking to expand at the moment. With all the recent stock thefts, more land equates to more labour and that is not an expenditure I could indulge in impulsively.”
The man nodded stiffly and gingerly came to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Lady Hampton. I’ll let myself out.” He walked to the door and hesitated when Chester held her ground for a moment longer, before stepping aside. McAllister’s back was ramrod straight as he stepped past Chester, who followed him closely. She heard the front door close and Chester entered the study a while later.
“Ma’am?”
Florence smiled. “I’m fine. He is leasing pasture land.” She rose and reached for her cane. “I’m famished.”
“Of course. Breakfast is served, ma’am.”
“Will you join me?”
Chester blinked. “No, ma’am.”
“Well, it was worth a try.” She came to stand in front of Chester. The other woman smelled of oil, mixed with a tang of sweat. The stained rag daggling from her belt was proof that the woman had been working in the carriage house. She glanced at the door before quickly pressing a kiss to Chester’s lips. The stunned look on the handsome face was a delight to behold as she stepped around Chester with a low chuckle. She craved Chester with an insatiable appetite and considering their location and time of day, remaining close to her inscrutable lover was probably not a good idea.
She sat down for breakfast and voraciously devoured everything on her plate to the joy of the cook, who gave her a huge smile when she stopped by the kitchen to greet the woman. Energised, she returned to the library to see to her correspondence and was flipping through the stack of letters when her eyes fell on a letter with familiar handwriting.
She stared at it for a moment before taking a steadying breath and reached for the letter opener. Florence read the letter twice before she sat back with a frown. The letter was dated two months ago.
She needed to get to London.
***
“I promise it won’t hurt,” Abigail murmured to the little girl and cupped her cheek. Geon didn’t know much about healing, except for the few times she had to hold a patient down on The Raven so that Marlin could administer treatment. However, the little girl’s swollen cheek proved that something was wrong. She also knew that it must hurt something awful when the girl kept her lips pursued tightly. That didn’t seem to deter Abigail at all who, with the help of the mother, patiently coaxed the pigtailed, girl to open her mouth.
Geon moved away to peek outside the small storeroom that they had turned into a makeshift examination room. The line of patients was long and Geon wondered if they would ever leave here today. She was eager to see Oliver again. She woke up this morning alone, deeply disappointed that she didn’t get to see Oliver before he had left. She would’ve liked to give him a proper send-off. As unlikely as it appeared now, she still hoped she would get to see him again tonight.
“Geon. I need your help.”
She moved to Abigail’s side, pushing thoughts of her handsome lover to the back of her mind. For the rest of the day, she dutifully served as Abigail’s assistant.
***
Catherine waited for the woman’s scorn, but to her surprise, Anne pulled her into an even tighter embrace.
“Oh, darling, you are not to blame for that man’s depravity.” She pulled back and cupped Catherine’s cheeks. “You are brave and beautiful to have survived this ordeal alone.”
The tears came and this time, Catherine didn’t stop them. It had been so long since anyone had held her and she soaked up the nearness of another human. When the torrent of tears finally abated, she allowed Catherine to lead her to a bedroom where she immediately succumbed to exhaustion, both physically and mentally drained from the intense emotional stress of the day.
When she woke again, the room was dark except for the soft glow of a lantern that had been turned low to not disturb her sleep. Catherine sat up and looked around. It took a moment to determine where she was. As she exited the room, she could hear voices downstairs. She glanced down at herself. Her dress was wrinkled, but that was the least of her problems for now. She followed the sound of the voices and came to a stop outside a door. It was half-open and she knocked, drawing footsteps towards her. Anne’s face lit up when she saw Catherine.
“You’re awake. Please, come in. We held dinner for you.”
The room turned out to be a small study and she also noticed that Anne wasn’t alone. She blinked at the man as relief rushed through her.
“Jeremiah.” Of course. His surname was Mortimer. She gave herself a mental slap for not having made the connection. To her defence, the morning had been challenging, to say the least, but looking at him now, she noticed the close resemblance to Anne.
He approached her and his grey eyes were filled with concern as he looked at her. “I hope you don’t mind, but my sister told me what happened. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Now that you are here, she added silently.
“Please have a seat. We could talk a bit while Anne sees about dinner.” He gave his sister a meaningful look and the woman nodded. When they were alone, she noticed a hard glint in Jeremiah’s eyes. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do about Winston Niven.”
She swallowed at the deadly edge in Jeremiah’s voice. She had never thought about what she would do to Niven should she have the chance. As a woman, she was powerless. Her family had deserted her and without the backing of a male relation, she stood no chance of challenging the man.
And now, out of the blue, Jeremiah Mortimer offered her the chance.
“I don’t know what to do,” she offered honestly, as she nervously wrung her hands. Her family might not appreciate the family name being dragged through this. They lost that right when they abandoned you, a small voice reminded her. Catherine was tempted to agree but knew that she couldn’t. She needed her family, even if they had abandoned her. Where would she go without them?
Anne entered the study. “Dinner is served.”
“We’ll talk some more later,” Jeremiah assured her and something in his voice gave her the impression that he wasn’t going to let up until she had come to a decision. She should be used to the man’s kind-heartedness by now, but Catherine was still pleasantly surprised when he offered his arm and escorted her out of the room.
***
Marlin stepped off the carriage and tossed the driver a coin before she looked up and down the dark walkway. The carriage pulled away and she tightened her hold on her luggage as she stepped up to the house. The lights were on which meant that someone was home. She knocked and waited. The last part of the trip had been tiring and all she wanted to do was eat something and sleep. The door opened and she smiled when she was pulled into a crushing embrace. She sighed deeply as she leaned into the warm body.
“Come in.” Hirsh reached for her luggage as she ushered her inside. Her stomach growled at the delicious scent that hung in the air. It would appear that dinner was underway. The hour was late to be serving the meal now, but Marlin wasn’t going to complain. Hirsh placed the luggage at the foot of the stairs. “Join us for dinner.”
Jane was the only one in the dining room. She smiled warmly at Marlin as she rose to kiss her cheek.
“If you’re here, it must mean that Chester is up and about.”
Marlin took a seat. “I realised that my services weren’t needed anymore when I noticed that Chester preferred the Viscountess’ attentions over mine.” Hirsh placed a glass of wine before her and she smiled her thanks. At Jane’s nod, she served herself from the dishes and dove in almost immediately. When the silence around the table stretched on, she looked up and caught the amused gazes of her dinner companions. “I’ve missed Geon’s food.”
“It’s obvious. How was your journey?”
“Hot and stifling.” She took a sip of wine. “Where are the others?”
“Abigail and Geon are at the soup kitchen seeing to some patients. I’m not sure about Jeremiah.”
“Maybe I should find other lodgings. I wasn’t aware that you were all staying here.”
“Jeremiah and Abigail are staying with a friend of Jeremiah’s. We moved in here yesterday morning.” Hirsh took a long drink and sat back in her chair. Her hazel eyes were sharp as they studied Marlin. “When do you plan to travel to Plymouth?”
“I can be there tomorrow, if you want.”
Hirsh shook her head. “No. That’s not why I asked.”
“Oh.” She dabbed at her mouth. “May I ask why?”
“The Raven.”
Marlin threw a look at Jane and found the blonde eating her dinner, completely unfazed. It would take her some time to get used to the idea that more people knew the truth about them. Jane glanced up with a smile, but didn’t say anything.
“Uhm…What would you like me to do?”
“I want you to get a message to Pristine. We can talk some more after dinner.”
Marlin nodded and eagerly turned her attention back to her meal.
***
Percy slowly opened his eyes to look into a strange, dirty face. The girl pulled away with a gasp.
“Ma, he’s awake.”
Heavy footsteps sounded and a heavyset woman entered the room. She was wiping her hands on a threadbare apron, her face ruddy from the heat in the kitchen.
“You are a lucky one, mister. Had my Jamie not found you on his way back from the tavern, you would be a stiffer by now.”
He opened his mouth, but no sound was forthcoming.
“Lizzy, get me some water.”
The girl ran off and the woman approached the bed. Not able to tell her off, he tried to sit up.
Nothing happened. He glanced down at his legs and tried to move them again. His limbs lay motionless under the threadbare sheet.
Panicking, he raised wide eyes at the woman. “W…hat…?”
A sympathetic look came into the woman’s eyes. “We found you like this. Naked and bleeding. You’ll need a doctor to tell you more.”
The woman wiped at his cheeks and Percy realised that he was crying. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from the woman.
He was a living corpse.
***
Abigail let them into the house. It was very late and quiet with many of the lights already dimmed. Geon felt her hopes deflate at the thought that she had not only missed her appointment with Oliver, but there was no chance that she would see him before she went home. She turned to Abigail. The woman was exhausted.
“Thank you for what you’ve done for them. I’ll never be able to repay you.” She pulled the woman into her arms and felt her sag against her. “Come; let me at least help you up the stairs before I leave.”
“I want to see the babies first.”
“Oh, well. I’m not in a hurry.” She returned Abigail’s smile and followed her down the hallways to the servant quarters. They entered the room that housed the infants and their midwife. Geon spotted three cribs, but two babies were sharing one. She smiled down at them. These must be the Mortimer twins, she gathered. The siblings were curled into each other, their tiny hands touching. It was a heart-warming sight and she looked at Abigail. There was a fierce expression of affection on the woman’s face.
“I’m sorry you were kept from them today.”
“They had Jeremiah and their minder.”
As if sensing Abigail’s presence, one of the infant’s eyes fluttered open and stared at them before slipping into sleep again. “They’re beautiful,” Geon husked.
Abigail’s eyes welled up. “They are, aren’t they?” The woman immediately became absorbed in her children and Geon turn her attention to the solitary baby in the bassinet. He was a beautiful boy. He had a tuff of light hair and a beautiful cherubic face. She ran her fingertip down the baby’s cheek and he stretched out a tiny arm. She smiled tenderly and touched the small fist. It was velvety soft to the touch. Geon couldn’t remember the last time she had touched anything so smooth—so perfect
Oliver had done right to save the baby from an orphanage. His family was still alive and he deserved to be amongst the people who loved him most. She couldn’t stop herself from touching him and indulged herself by running a finger down his cheek again.
“His name is Edgar.” The voice so close behind her, made her heart skip a beat and she spun around. Oliver gave her a tiny smile and came to stand next to her. “I plan to have him baptised soon.”
Oliver looked very dashing. As if he had only returned home at that moment. Jealousy snaked through her as she studied him. He met her gaze head-on and blinked slowly.
“I accompanied Jeremiah on an errand.”
Geon quickly looked away, embarrassed by her reaction. Oliver might not have said the words yet, nor had he committed to their relationship explicitly, but she knew him. He was an honourable man and she doubted he would cuckold her on the second day of their new relationship.
“I…” she began to speak but Oliver interrupted her.
“Could I offer you a drink?” She nodded and he glanced at Abigail. “Abigail?”
Abigail gave him an apologetic smile. “Not tonight, Oliver, thank you. I’ll spend a few minutes down here and then it’s bedtime for me. I’m exhausted.”
“Goodnight and see you tomorrow,” Geon said as she gave the tired woman a warm embrace and followed Oliver out of the room.