8. Comforting

COMFORTING

L uke kept one hand on the ribbons but rested his other on the bench, lost in the fabric of her skirts, cradling her much smaller hand between them. He'd told her that none of this needed to make sense right now, and he'd meant it. Because although he understood exactly what was happening and knew exactly what he wanted, it wasn't fair to think she did the same.

Luke had been attracted to her in London, but he hadn't expected he would feel the same seeing her again. And God help him, this wasn't the same. This was more powerful, far more compelling than what he'd felt for her before.

He'd come to Milton Cottage as a gesture to honor Gil's memory. If he'd done so for any other reason, he wasn't sure he could live with himself. He'd wanted to kiss her last spring but then she'd gone and fallen in love with his oldest friend.

Luke rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand.

Gil was dead, gone forever, and yet not for the first time, Luke was having misgivings as to what kind of man his friend had really been.

Luke was not mistaken in that he had informed Gil of his intentions to court Naomi immediately after the garden party. Because after spending those few moments alone with her, rowing her around the picturesque little pond, Luke had already believed himself halfway in love with Miss Naomi Augustine. He'd wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Instead, he'd gone to his friend.

He dared not admit even to himself the feelings he had for her now, after spending the last two weeks seeing her every day. And he dared not hope that he hadn't ruined everything by kissing her.

"Am I a horrible person?" Her voice sounded small beside him. "Are we?"

"We haven't done anything wrong." He cleared his throat, wondering what he could do to keep her from berating herself. He didn't want her considering the affection between them wicked or sinful in any way.

Gil was gone and, God willing, he and Naomi had long lives ahead of them. But Luke needed to exercise patience. Rushing into something now could cast a shadow on the future they might share.

Her reputation mattered to him. Far more than his own. He would do whatever he could to protect it, even if that meant denying himself now.

"You've suffered a great loss, not just recently, but with the rejection of your family last spring. It's only natural that you needed comforting." He tried not to stumble over his words.

She nodded beside him. "Is that what that was between the two of us? Comforting?"

He'd already burdened her with too much today. She must take the time to mourn Gil before giving her affection to another. "It cannot be easy for you. Any of this."

If he was going to win her love, he must exercise patience. She'd suffered a scandal, the loss of her family's support, and now Gil's death. Now was not the time to saddle her with his own selfish desires.

Indeed, a simple kiss did not need to make sense right now. She'd needed comforting, and he'd been there to hold her.

If only his heart would accept such an explanation. That kiss had surpassed all his expectations.

"You are a good friend, Lucas Cockfield. I don't know what I would have done without you these past few weeks." She touched her swollen belly. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

Ah, yes. She would require a good deal of time. In less than half a year, she had become a wife, then a widow, and soon she would be a mother.

He would wait. He could be patient.

He relinquished her hand and snapped the reins to set the cart to moving again. The two of them were quiet as they drove into the small village of Hull Crossings and parked at the end of the small cluster of buildings lined up along the single road that ran through town.

Before he could jump down to come around and assist Naomi, a boy of about eleven or twelve appeared and offered to watch the horse. Luke wasn't concerned anyone would steal Naomi's old pony in this sleepy little hamlet, but he tossed the boy a coin nonetheless.

It was the most natural thing in the world to place his hand on her back as they approached the various storefronts. His desire to protect her and the baby she carried had become powerful. How much more strongly would he feel if the child was his? He shoved the question away without answering it.

"I've only come to town a few times," Naomi offered. "It's quiet compared to the village near Somerhill House, my father's home."

If he remembered correctly, she'd grown up not far from Suffolk.

This particular village was inordinately sleepy. Almost as though it had been forgotten by the rest of the world.

A bell rang when Luke pushed open the door to Mr. Clapwell's mercantile and echoed as he held it wide for Naomi to enter.

"Once you're finished, meet me in front with your selections." He'd allow her time to look around while he located the supplies he would need for the next few days. She might appreciate time to simply browse. His sisters seemed to enjoy doing just that in London far more than making actual purchases.

Why hadn't she ventured to town more often?

Although the tavern at the posting inn could become raucous late at night, the establishment boasted a few private dining rooms where Gil could have brought her out to share a meal. A person couldn't spend all of their time hiding away in the country, could they?

Hearing the bell ring again, Luke glanced up in time to see another young woman enter and look around. He could just make out ebony hair tucked beneath her bonnet, and she seemed oddly familiar.

The exaggerated sway to her hips jolted his memory. She was the barmaid who'd attempted to provide him with… entertainment of a sensual nature several times since his stay. Bridget, if he recalled correctly.

When the young woman caught sight of Naomi, who was perusing fabrics near the front window, she froze. Naomi glanced up and offered a tentative smile.

Naomi must miss the company of other ladies. In London, she'd not only attracted the gentlemen, but she'd been popular with several of the other young women in society.

The barmaid's demeanor transformed, and Luke tensed before she even spoke.

"You!" She spoke loudly enough that any other customers would have easily overheard. "You've ruined everything."

"Pardon?" Naomi's expression fell.

"He was mine before he ever met you. Mine! He was going to come back to me. He was going to marry me . But he left because of you. And now he's gone!"

"You are mistaken." Naomi reached out a hand to reassure the woman, but her gesture only caused the woman to recoil.

"Arthur Gilcrest. He loved me."

Luke rushed around the aisles to Naomi's side, an insidious foreboding causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.

What in the hell have you done, Gil?

Luke saw the exact moment Naomi realized what the young woman was saying. The color drained out of her face, and she moved her arms in front of her as though to protect her baby.

"Whatever you believe of my husband is a mistake. He married me last spring because he wanted to marry me. I'm sorry if you think?—"

"But that's not precisely true, now is it? He married you because he had no choice. Do you think he didn't tell me everything? Do you think he didn't come to my bed this summer whenever he could? He said goodbye to you and then spent his final night in my bed. My bed ! He was mine." The anger and possessiveness in the woman's demeanor faded then, to be replaced with obvious grief. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her complexion had turned a ruddy pink. "He was supposed to be mine."

For all Gil's mistakes, Luke would have done anything to protect Naomi from this one.

You fucking bastard.

Because Luke didn't doubt the chit was telling the truth. Of course, Gil hadn't given up his ways simply because he'd married. This must be why he hadn't wanted Naomi to come into town.

It had likely been easier for the scoundrel to return to the front than face the tangle he'd made of his life in England. If the lying codpiece was here now, Luke would plow a fist through his cheating face.

Luke placed one hand on Naomi's arm and the other on the small of her back and steered her toward the front of the store. She walked as though in a daze while Bridget's claims molested the memories Naomi had of her brief marriage.

She was carrying Gil's child, for God's sake.

Her feet shuffling along, Naomi lifted a trembling hand to cover her mouth. But she was no longer shaking her head in denial. It was as though pieces were falling into place.

Had she suspected any of this?

Bridget refused to move out of their path, pinning her gaze on Luke. "You are more than welcome to ask anyone at the inn, Major Cockfield . Arthur knew me long before she trapped him. He loved me."

Naomi jerked her head, and her eyes begged him to deny the claims. "Luke?" Tears swam in her eyes.

Luke refused to have this discussion here. If Naomi would take a moment to consider that they were in public, she'd realize that she didn't want to either.

"Let's go." They would make their purchases another time. Already the clerk was watching them with interest, and a few other customers had entered and were watching them curiously.

Aside from going all the way to the back of the store and walking up a different aisle to reach the front, Luke had no choice but to maneuver Naomi around Bridget.

"He was taking care of me, sending me funds. He would have eventually married me. He was never really yours." Bridget hissed her vile words before they could pass. "And Major Cockfield won't be either. They're all the same."

Naomi tensed beneath his hands, and her steps faltered but she kept moving.

Good girl.

Not until they were out the door and halfway to the cart did her shoulders slump. And not until they were driving away did she speak again.

"Is it true? What she said?"

Was it true that Gil might have kept a woman on the side? Yes.

"It's possible." Because he could not know for certain.

Was it true that Luke would never be hers? Hell no.

"You know her?" Her voice wasn't as shaky as he'd thought it would be. She asked the question in a straightforward manner. Ah, yes, Naomi was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

"She works in the tavern at the inn." Not knowing exactly what Gil had done, he should only tell Naomi what he knew to be certain.

"How did she know so much about me? About… our marriage?" Naomi's question was a damning one indeed. Damning for Gil, that was. "Arthur frequented the tavern. Did he frequent her as well?" Her voice rose as she absorbed the truth—the truth that Gil may not have been faithful.

"He was thinking of you in the end, Naomi. He insisted I promise I'd look out for you if anything happened." It was almost as though he'd expected the attack. Luke stared straight ahead as he drove. Defending Gil left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he didn't want her to panic. He didn't want her to suddenly believe her entire marriage to Gil had been a sham.

Because even if Gil had been unfaithful, he couldn't have entered his marriage with the intention of doing so. Yes, he could be irresponsible, and he'd lied…

Oh, hell.

Luke removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it. The truth was Gil hadn't considered anyone's feelings but his own, and even if he had, he'd ignored them. Not only had he hurt Naomi, but it seemed he'd hurt Bridget as well.

Fucking hell, Gil!

"Did you know?"

Luke felt sick to hear the doubt in her voice. "No. God, no."

He turned and met her gaze steadily and didn't look back at the road until he was certain she believed him.

Would he have told her if he had? There was a code amongst gentlemen, an honor amongst friends that they didn't involve themselves in one another's affairs of the heart.

Only there was nothing honorable about this.

"I just—I keep thinking, what else? What else could he have lied about?"

Luke glanced over again, expecting she would be on the verge of tears. Her features looked frozen as she stared off into the distance, looking lost.

Luke moved the reins to one hand and wrapped his other arm around her. It was all he could do.