She felt the blood drain from her face. These were the dozens of letters she’d written to Philip while he was abroad. Andrew’s most prized possession.
The truth hit her like a backhanded slap, and she felt an overwhelming need to sit down. His love for her was not of a recent nature as she’d assumed. He’d been in love with her for… six years. He’d rescued these letters before leaving Egypt, keeping them with him all this time. And now had given them to her. Wrapped in the handkerchief she’d made him, leaving everything of her behind. Because she’d sent him away.
Something wet plopped onto her hand. Dazed, she stared at the tear, as another, then another, fell onto her skin. All those years she’d ached with loneliness, endured her husband’s cruel neglect and rejection of her and Spencer, Andrew had been wanting her. Needing her. Loving her.
The realization, the depth of his feelings, his devotion, humbled her, enervated her, and she could almost feel the wall she’d built around herself and her heart crumbling, leaving her exposed and her feelings utterly bare. Undeniable. She could hide from them no longer. She did not simply desire Andrew. She loved him.
A sob escaped her, and she pressed her trembling lips together. With an impatient exclamation, she dashed the back of her hand over her eyes. Later. She could cry later, although she dearly hoped she would not need to. Right now she needed to figure out where Andrew had gone, think of a way to help him find Carmichael. Then tell him what a fool she’d been. And pray he’d forgive her for the hurt her fears and confusion had caused both of them.
Clutching the letters and ring to her chest, she paced to the window and stared out at the soft, golden light signaling dawn. Her gaze drifted toward the stables in the distance, and she blinked at the sight of Andrew’s familiar, broad-shouldered figure approaching the wide double doors. Her heart jumped in relief. He was still here. If she hurried, she could reach the stables before he left. But with Carmichael possibly about, she needed some protection.
She dashed to her bedchamber, then dropped to her knees before her wardrobe and pulled out a worn hatbox. After opening the lid, she removed the small, pearl-handled pistol hidden beneath a pile of old gloves. She then set Andrew’s letters and the ring on top and replaced the hatbox. Cursing the further delay, she hurriedly dressed, then, slipping the pistol into the pocket of her gown, left the room.
Chapter 20
Today’s Modern Woman should always practice prudence and caution where matters of the heart are concerned. Sometimes, however, fate will present her with the one man who slips under her guard and turns her heart to porridge. If the gentleman should happen to feel the same way about her, she needs to recognize that fir the miracle it is and not hesitate to carpe hominis-seize the man!
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
Andrew paused in the doorway of the stables to allow his vision to adjust to the dimness of the interior, his pistol balanced in his palm. He slowly scanned the vast interior, eyes and ears straining for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing appeared amiss, and a quick search ascertained that Carmichael wasn’t hiding in one of the stalls or the loft. Fritzborne wasn’t about, which concerned Andrew. Surely he’d returned from Mrs. Ralston’s cottage by now.
He allowed himself another quick peek over the door of the third stall where Shadow slept, curled up in the corner on a blanket-covered bed of hay. He’d have to make arrangements for someone to retrieve the puppy for him. And return Aphrodite. God knew he wouldn’t have the strength to come back to Little Longstone again himself.
Forcing his feet to move, he walked into the tack room. After setting down his pistol on a worn bench, he was preparing to reach for Aphrodite’s saddle when he heard Spencer’s voice ask, “You’re leaving, Mr. Stanton?”
Andrew turned swiftly. Spencer stood framed in the doorway, his eyes reflecting confusion and hurt.
Alarm rushed through Andrew. With Carmichael looking for him, the last place Andrew wanted Spencer was here.
Andrew approached him, his stomach tight with concern. “What are you doing here, Spencer?”
“I wanted to play with Shadow. As I left the house, I saw you entering the stables. You’re leaving?” he asked again.
“I’m afraid so.”
A stricken look came over Spencer’s face. “Without saying good-bye?”
Guilt kicked Andrew squarely in the gut. “Only for now. And only because time is very short. I planned to write you.” He quickly told him what was going on, concluding with, “As soon I’ve saddled Aphrodite, I’ll take you back to the house. You must remain inside until Carmichael is caught. Protect your mother. Do you understand?”
Spencer nodded. “When will you come back?”
Andrew pulled in a deep breath. There was no time to say all the things he wanted to, but he couldn’t do less than give Spencer the truth.
“Do you recall all those bothersome suitors who wish to court your mother?”
“Of course. We showed them not to pester Mum anymore, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did. But unfortunately I fear I’ve become one of the bothersome suitors.”
Spencer blinked several times. “You want to court my mum?”
“I wanted to, yes, but things are not going to work out as I’d hoped.”
Spencer frowned, and Andrew could almost hear the wheels turning in the young man’s mind. “Why aren’t things going to work out? Mum likes you, I know she does. And… and she enjoyed the strawberry ice very much.”
“I know she likes me. But sometimes liking someone isn’t enough. And in this case, it isn’t enough.”
His bottom lip trembled and his eyes welled with moisture. “So you’re not ever coming back?”
God help him. How many times could his bloody heart break in one day? Andrew reached out and rested his hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “I’m afraid not. But I want you to know that you are welcome to visit me in London anytime you wish.”
“I am?”
“Yes. And I hope you’ll seriously consider making the journey. I believe you’re ready to venture outside Little Longstone. I’d show you the museum, and we could continue your pugilism lessons.”
Spencer dashed the back of his hand across his eyes. “I… I’d like that.”
“We can exchange letters if you’d like as well, although I’ve been told I’m an abominable speller.”
“I could teach you. I’m a good speller.”
“Well, it’s all settled then. Except… would you mind terribly looking after Shadow for me until I can send someone for him?”
“I wouldn’t mind at all. Perhaps I can deliver him to you in London.”
Andrew smiled around the lump squeezing his throat. “An excellent plan.”
“Mr. Stanton…”He looked up at Andrew, the distress in his eyes cutting Andrew like a rusty blade. “What if people in London are… unkind to me?”
“I’ll be standing right next to you, Spencer. If anyone is foolish enough to be unkind to you once, I promise you they will not be so foolish twice.”
His words erased a bit of the worry in Spencer’s eyes, but none of the sadness. And it was time to leave. Giving Spencer’s shoulders a squeeze, he looked directly into his eyes. “I want you to know… if I had a son, I’d want him to be just like you.”
Spencer’s chin quivered, then a lone tear dribbled down his cheek, smiting Andrew more effectively than any weapon. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Andrew’s waist and hugged him tight. “I wish you’d been my father,” Spencer said, in a broken whisper.