21. An Old Friend

AN OLD FRIEND

N aomi had not imagined the black look she'd seen on Arthur's face the day before. She had not imagined it because it was there again, almost as though the devil himself had stepped inside and taken over the person she'd thought she knew.

"Luke is a friend," she responded in a calm voice, hoping to diffuse Arthur's charge. It wasn't that he was completely wrong. She had lain with Luke last November, but she'd believed Arthur to be dead.

"Luke, is it? Not Major Cockfield? Or even Lord Lucas?" If anything, his face contorted into an even sharper rage.

Luke released only one of her hands and turned both of them to face Arthur, who approached with surprising speed, considering he was leaning heavily on his cane.

"Luke has been kind to both of us," Naomi insisted.

"You'd do well to watch your words, Gil." Tension rolled off Luke in waves, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. She glanced sideways at Luke's chiseled profile.

This was the man who'd led hundreds of men into battle. This was the man who risked himself to defend the soldiers who relied on him, to defend his country's interests.

Her fingers tingled from his tightened grip.

"Why should I bother? Because you already know what I'm going to say? Did she fuck you before or after you told her I had been killed?" Luke jerked forward, but Naomi clung to his hand as fear trickled down her spine. It wasn't that she was afraid of Arthur, but she was afraid for him. Was he goading Luke on purpose?

"Don't do this. You don't know what you're saying." Her voice pleaded with Arthur.

"You're out of your head, Gil."

Now that the man she'd once believed herself in love with was closer, she saw it too. His eyes were glassy and rivulets of sweat glistened on his forehead.

"I know precisely what I'm saying. Hell, perhaps that blubbering infant isn't even mine." His lip curled, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "How many of us did you lie with last spring, my dearest wife? Only Lucas and me? Or were there others? What about Metcalfe? Or Reynolds? Likely both of them, eh? Did you limit yourself to officers only?"

Naomi sucked in a startled breath, rendered temporarily speechless by his utterly unfounded accusations. She no longer truly cared for his opinion of her, not after all the things she'd learned about him over the last year, but she was hurt that he would be so willing to tarnish the only good thing left between them. Last spring had been romantic. It may not have been the great love she'd imagined it to be, but she'd given him her innocence and they'd created Amelia.

Arthur stumbled, losing his grip on his cane, and he would have fallen if she and Luke hadn't both rushed to his side.

Luke ducked beneath Arthur's arm on one side and Naomi did so on the other. Now was not the time to argue about this. "You're burning up. You need to be in bed."

"I'm going to die, Mimi." Despite everything, the defeat in his voice cracked her heart in two.

"You aren't going to die." It was what one said to a person at such a time. Leaning forward, she caught Luke's gaze. He was staring at her with that same hopeless expression he'd had when he arrived earlier this week, bringing Arthur back from the dead.

Would Arthur come between them forever?

"My cane," Arthur mumbled as Naomi and Luke turned to take him back into the house, half-dragging, half-carrying him.

Naomi labored under the weight of him but not because of his size; he could barely lift his feet to walk between them. He was wasting away and, if she was correct, had only worsened since his arrival.

"I'll send a servant once we have you settled." She struggled to keep her voice even despite the emotions tearing her up inside.

"Is she mine, Naomi?" Arthur persisted despite his nearly incapacitated state.

"Of course, you fool."

"But I'm right, aren't I?" He somehow managed to turn his head to question Luke. "You're fucking her?"

Naomi hated that word. If she thought for even a moment that Arthur was lucid, she would have walked away, allowing him to fall on the ground and get his own sorry person back to the house.

"Not as long as you're alive," Luke answered. "But I love her."

Tears burned in her eyes.

This time, when she glanced over at Luke, he did not look guilty or hopeless, he looked sincere.

Even Arthur was silenced by Luke's words.

Apparently, they'd been observed from the manor, for a few maids and a handful of manservants, along with Lady Tempest, scurried outside through the terrace doors. A wheeled chair awaited Arthur on the patio.

Naomi didn't hesitate when one of the footmen stepped in to take her place supporting Arthur's weight. Luke refused to relinquish his hold, though.

"What happened? Why is he not in his chamber?" Lady Tempest's hands fluttered in the air.

"Arthur wished to walk in the sunshine, and we were fortunate enough to meet up with Major Cockfield in the garden. He collapsed while we were on our way back." Naomi didn't want to lie but neither did she want to reveal that she'd spent the morning alone with Luke. He was the man she loved, but where reputation and the ton were concerned, that mattered little.

Naomi settled an arm around the older woman's shoulders. For all Lady Tempest's rigidity, she'd suffered greatly over the past year. First, believing Arthur to be dead, then the joy that he hadn't perished after all. And now this: watching him slowly die before their very eyes.

"He shouldn't be out here." Her voice wobbled.

"He insisted." Naomi found herself embellishing now. "And you must know how persuasive and stubborn your son can be when he wants something."

This brought a tremulous smile to the countess's lips. "True, true." She tore herself away from Naomi's arms in order to oversee the servants as they lowered Arthur into the chair. Naomi stepped back and watched until all but she and Luke had disappeared inside.

She was not surprised at his grim expression. He'd taken a vow of sorts just before they'd been beset upon by anxious servants. They would not be walking together tomorrow.

"I think… I ought to depart right away." His honor dictated this, she knew. If he remained at Crescent Park, there was no guarantee that they could, in fact, be "just friends" with one another.

But he loved her.

"I love you, too. In case you didn't realize that." Surely, he knew. But sometimes a person needed to hear the actual words. "I'll stay with Arthur until the end, but I won't stop loving you."

More than anything, she wanted to feel his arms around her. He was returning to the conflict, and there was always the possibility that he wouldn't return.

"You are the best part of me." Several feet separated them, but Luke's words washed over her like a soothing balm. "Where there is love, there is hope."

She nodded.

He stepped forward just then, took one of her hands, and bowed formally.

He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and simply held them there, far longer than could ever be considered appropriate, while Naomi stared down at the back of his head.

She allowed herself to run her fingers through the thick sandy strands. Her throat constricted, and she swallowed hard before answering.

"Then there will always be hope."