Chapter 35

35

Pain wasthe only thing that could keep Nathaniel sane.

He’d been at Portside every night since he left Calliope, picking up every fight he could. Even brandy didn’t do much to numb the mental flogging meted out by his own heart.

Where was Calliope? What was she doing? Was she wearing one of the yellow dresses that made her skin and hair glow so beautifully? Did she feel nauseated? Was she tired? Could she eat well?

There wasn’t one moment when she wasn’t on his mind.

Not even the bachelor lodgings on Curzon Street in Mayfair did anything to make him forget her. He’d thought being alone and not knowing Calliope’s every risky move would return the feeling of lightness and fun he’d experienced from time to time in the past ten years. On the contrary, seeing single men come in and out drunk, laughing, sometimes with ladies of questionable reputation on their arms, made him miss the things he had never imagined would bring him happiness.

He missed his wife. He missed his sisters. He missed his dogs.

He even missed that fluffy white monster otherwise known as Miss Furrington who loved to wrap her warm body around his feet during the night as he slept next to Calliope.

He wondered what plan Calliope and her brothers had come up with to locate Spencer and bring him home. No doubt by now they had something in mind.

He was afraid there could still be someone following Calliope and his sisters or watching Roxburgh Place. Unable to stop himself, just like a lurking footpad, he often went to stand behind a tree, watching his own home…which was lunacy. The irony of thinking that word about himself made him cringe…

But he’d never discovered anyone watching the house but him.

That calmed his worries and brought him some happiness, even though seeing his wife’s silhouette behind the curtains at night made his arms ache with the desire to reach out to her, to feel her warm skin under his palm. She was so close and yet so far. He just needed to walk up the stairs and enter the house and find her.

He loved her, goddamn fool that he was. He loved her so much he felt sick without her. He woke up every morning in the narrow bed, his hand brushing against the place where she was supposed to be and finding only cold air.

At the Admiralty, he had inquired after Concord and wrote Calliope a letter. He’d considered delivering it to her himself but the thought of facing her…

She hated him, no doubt. He’d offended her when he’d disrespected her dream. He’d kidnapped her and left her stranded far from home. He’d intended to keep her away from the thing she loved the most.

Not because he wanted to change her but because he loved her and was afraid to lose her.

He wanted to be close to her and the baby he was sure she carried. He wanted to see Calliope grow, touch her big, round belly and hear every little detail of how she felt.

He kept going to the Admiralty.

The day after their breakup, the admiral was found dead, the victim of what was assumed to be an accident when the candelabra fell while he was at the docks. Nathaniel wondered about the other man who had fallen onto one of the candelabra’s spikes and been impaled as well as the one Calliope shot. Had someone removed that body? Nathaniel was quite sure they weren’t real navy officers; they had looked and sounded like thugs dressed in uniforms.

He never suspected his close friend being behind all that—attacking his wife, trying to kidnap his sisters, taking Nathaniel hostage and threatening to kill him. This was the man Nathaniel had thought was a loyal friend. Someone thanks to whom Nathaniel still had a roof over his family’s heads.

The grief of losing Langden first as a trusted friend, then to death made him question everything he knew.

Though he went about his work at the Admiralty as if nothing had changed, Nathaniel kept his eyes and ears open. Who was the man with the walrus-ivory walking stick? What did he have against Spencer? The admiral had known about Calliope snooping around, but did that more powerful man? And was she still in danger?

One week passed.

Then another.

But he didn’t hear anything suspicious. No one approached him or followed his wife or sisters that he was aware of. Everything was quiet.

He settled into a routine. Working at the Admiralty during the day. Then eating at Portside and getting himself beaten in the boxing ring.

On the morning of the seventeenth day, there was a knock on the door of his lodgings. The room, typical of Mayfair bachelor lodgings, had tall, narrow windows that allowed diffused morning light to pour onto the richly polished mahogany floor. The furniture was serviceable and sparse: a four-poster bed with plain hangings, a small writing desk positioned to catch the best of the daylight, and a single well-worn leather armchair by the fireplace. The walls were lined with muted plaster and a solitary framed painting of a hunting scene. It was a place for a man to rest, not to live.

Nathaniel could hardly move a finger without some pain piercing his flesh. Purple, red, and yellow bruises covered his torso like a disturbing painting. Five days ago, he could hardly open one eye; now he sported a black bruise around it. He had a thick lip. And his knuckles were open, with a dark crust covering his wounds.

He hissed in air as he tugged on his shirt and trousers, then opened the door.

At first, he didn’t recognize his sister. She was a pretty young lady dressed like a little duchess, with her curls perfect and a pale turquoise bonnet framing her concerned face.

“Brother…” she gasped.

“Hazel.” He looked into the hallway behind her. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

He cursed and grasped her arms, pulling her into the room and closing the door behind her. This painfully reminded him of another female who had come searching for him in a building full of men with no chaperone.

“What were you thinking coming to bachelor lodgings alone?” he said.

She looked around, her gaze taking in the sparsely furnished room with curiosity and a little pity in her eyes.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded. “You are a bachelor no more. You have a wife.”

“I might as well not have.” He swallowed hard and winced as he put on his waistcoat, which touched a particularly tender place under his ribs. He threw a quick glance at Hazel, waiting for her to say a word about Calliope. When she offered none, he asked, “How’s Violet?”

“She’s fine. The stitches were removed.”

He nodded. That was good. “How’s Poppy? How’s…Calliope?”

Hazel’s eyes were as sharp as two shards of ice cutting through him. “Everyone’s well.”

There was a strange note at the end of her “well” that raised an alarm in Nathaniel’s gut. “What? What is it?”

“It’s just that Calliope…she’s well, really…”

He gripped the back of the single chair he had in the room. “Except?”

Hazel sighed out deeply in resolution. “Except she can’t seem to stop emptying her stomach, brother.”

He stilled. “Oh.”

“She’s pale and weak, and the only thing she seems to tolerate somewhat is salt and bread.”

“Did you call a physician?”

“No, she refuses.”

He sat down in the chair as his knees suddenly felt too weak to hold his body. This could be a sure sign she was pregnant…right? And if she was…

Regret slashed at him. He had wanted to be there for her, to ride out to fetch a physician despite her protests, to bring her water, to hold her hair if she needed to vomit, to take care of her.

“And she’s not going out and trying to find her brother…do any more investigations?”

Hazel shook her head. “She couldn’t even if she wanted to, being sick like that.”

Nathaniel nodded, fighting the urge to jump up and run through the door to help his wife.

“Why are you hiding here, anyway?” Hazel asked.

He was so tired he put his head into his hands and dug his fingers into his hair. He was tired of fighting his love for Calliope, tired of imagining everything that could go wrong and all the things that could take her from him. He was tired of keeping himself away when his body, heart, and soul ached to be near her.

“I can’t stand seeing her in danger, Hazel,” he said, feeling like his throat was full of gravel. “It seems I’m unable to keep people I care about safe. I’ve tried to do what I thought was best to make sure she was unharmed, but I only ended up hurting her. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like I treated her. It’s best I remove myself from the situation.”

Hazel sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Brother, is this because you couldn’t save our mother?”

He looked at her so sharply his neck clicked painfully. “How did you know?”

She pursed her lips and looked at her hands. “I remember everything.”

He went cold all over. “What?”

“I remember. I thought for years it was a bad dream.”

His eyes blurred from tears, and he wiped them away quickly. “Oh, Hazel. I thought you were too little to remember.”

“It’s all quite blurry and strange. I was in a carriage alone with the twins. It was dark. I looked out of the window and there you were…fighting the highwaymen like a hero from a book. But you were alone. There was no one else to fight beside you but Mama. And she protected you.”

Nathaniel sighed deeply. He couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t tell her she had imagined it all. That would be a lie.

All he could do was surrender to the truth.

“I’m sorry you remember it,” he said.

She sighed. “It is the only thing I remember about Mama. I’d rather have that memory than no memory at all like the twins.”

Nathaniel walked to the bed and sat down next to his sister, taking her hands in his. They were small and cold, and he cupped his hands around hers to warm them.

“You’re quite right, darling. She was a wonderful mother, and she loved you very much.”

Hazel’s eyes met his. “She loved you, too. That’s why she threw herself between you and the bullet. Because she wanted you to live. To be happy. It was a wonderful gift, brother. A gift that you’re wasting by spending another moment torturing yourself when you have a wife and a baby on the way.”

Nathaniel swallowed hard. Her words were so similar to Calliope’s, which he had dismissed in anger and fear. But now that he had some distance from the terrifying events of the night at the warehouse, he could see that Calliope and Hazel were right. A gift…his mother had given him the gift of life, and he was wasting it.

Hazel gently rested her hand on Nathaniel’s arm, her fingers soft and warm. She looked deep into his eyes, her gaze unwavering. “Thank you, Nathaniel, for all you’ve done for us, for all the nights you’ve stayed awake, worrying and planning, trying to keep harm at bay… For every time you went out boxing and did other things I’m sure you’re not telling us.”

She paused, and her words sank into him as if he were a sea sponge absorbing water. He never expected his sisters to notice anything he did for them or feel any gratitude at all. He did it because he couldn’t do it any other way.

And yet, hearing Hazel acknowledge what he had done warmed him like a bed warmer on a winter night. It also meant one more thing that worried him.

His sister had grown up. And, perhaps, like the Dowager Duchess of Grandhampton insisted, it had been the right time to have her come out.

His all-too-grown-up sister smiled and continued. “But, you see, life is unpredictable and fleeting. Safety is like smoke and mirrors. It means nothing. I learned that when I saw our mama die. Then when we lost Papa, and with him, all the comfort and money and privileges… And then only recently, when we returned from the soirée to find our home invaded, one of our sisters being kidnapped, and the other one injured…”

Nathaniel couldn’t fathom it. His dear Hazel, whom he’d considered something akin to a porcelain doll, was talking to him about death and the unpredictability of life…

He slumped forward, elbows on his thighs, but kept his gaze on his remarkable sister.

Hazel’s eyes sparkled with tears as she looked over at him with a smile. “We chase this daylight, this safety, believing it’s the sure way to keep darkness at bay. Just a few steps ahead, yet it always eludes us. Does it not? It’s a thing that doesn’t truly exist, not in the absolute sense you wish for.”

Drawing a deep breath, she added, “We are all given a limited amount of time on this earth. Instead of living in constant fear, we should embrace every moment. Love deeply, help others, and follow our passions. After all, the quality of our days matters more than their number.”

Nathaniel blinked, absorbing the wisdom she’d just imparted. It felt like a weight was slowly being lifted off his shoulders, replaced by a new understanding of what truly mattered.

“Good Lord, Hazel,” he muttered. “You’re just seventeen. How is it that you are so wise and…somber?”

Hazel chuckled softly and reached over to squeeze one of his hands, then let it go. “See? You really needn’t worry about me marrying, brother. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to marry me.”

Oh, Nathaniel highly doubted that. Any man would be lucky to breathe the same air as his sister.

“What do you truly want, brother?” Hazel asked.

Nathaniel leaned back on his elbows. He wanted the pain in his body to stop. And once it did, for the ache in his soul to cease torturing him. For the constant barrage of questions at the back of his psyche to end.

“Peace…” he breathed out.

Peace of mind would be all he needed for a long while. Perhaps it was all he had ever needed. Perhaps the ton had considered him a confident rake, but no one knew the constant agitation and worry that lay deep below the exterior.

“When did you last feel like you had complete peace?” asked Hazel.

He thought about it and knew exactly when. The night full of stars. The roof terrace. The irises illuminated by lanterns.

The most beautiful woman in the world giving herself to him.

His wife.

Perhaps that was the night they conceived their baby.

“With Calliope,” he rasped.

A cool and calming sense of peace had enveloped him like a beautiful blanket. He had felt peace with Calliope just as he had felt peace with his mama when they’d retreated there to hide from his father.

Just like his mama, he had tried to do the impossible, to ensure that those he loved never came to any harm.

But it was impossible.

It was simply not in his power to ensure anyone’s safety.

“Calliope is well, brother,” said Hazel. “Well…besides her vomiting. You can find peace with her again, I am certain. But first you must find peace in yourself.”

After that, Nathaniel accompanied her to the end of Roxburgh Square where he watched her enter the house safely.

He spent the next week in the same routine, except for going to the boxing matches. He no longer felt the need to get himself beaten to diminish his pain.

There was not so much pain anymore. He kept thinking of Calliope, but not as the source of his ache.

As his source of happiness.

The night of stars and irises was, perhaps, the best day of his life…after the day he married Calliope, of course…or the night of the Royal Navy ball when he first met her. It was hard to pick.

But as days passed by and his bruises healed, he kept mulling over Hazel’s words and his own thoughts.

Safety was an illusion.

A lie.

He was not God and could never fully protect his sisters and his wife…and his future children.

All he could do was love them and do his best to help them.

The thought filled him with such a deep and powerful sense of peace he felt it through the crust of the Earth and through the whole planet. He lingered, feeling a sense of calmness.

What would it feel like, to always have that peace he’d felt? To feel like he could trust her to protect herself and to know her own mind? To let go and let her be who she was and who he loved her for?

Fierce. Independent. Sharp. Beautiful. Someone he couldn’t help but admire.

Someone he could support.

And love.

And see shine beyond her wildest dreams. And be so, so proud of her, watching her with pure adoration.

Something like a benediction came over him, and he felt light and vast and warm.

How would it feel to be the kind of man who had the peace of mind that came from the love that he felt for her and from his trust?

Perhaps it wasn’t rational. But he could feel it just like he could feel his own heart beating.

Because his love for Calliope was bigger than his fear.

Just like his mama’s love for him was bigger than her fear of death. She had been blessing him all this time, and he didn’t even notice. Perhaps it was she who had led Calliope to him and given him the biggest treasure in his life.

He grabbed his coat, feeling strange and almost ethereal as love and peace spilled through his blood, and he said out loud to the room he hoped to never see again, “It’s time for me to go home.”