Chapter 26

26

In the entryway, Enya paced to the front door, turned the knob, then halted. She left the door closed and walked briskly down the hallway the opposite way, only stopping when she reached the far end near the dining room.

At midday, Mrs. Christy was busy with chores in another portion of the house and wasn't witnessing the complete breakdown of Enya's sanity. Maybe not a complete breakdown, but Enya could admit that after not one word from Sullivan in a day and a half since the night he'd walked out of the house, she was going mad.

Where was he? And why hadn't he returned?

Though she'd expected him to come home that first night, she hadn't been entirely surprised not to see him. She guessed he'd stayed on the steamer to be close at hand to aid the runaway. Or maybe to make sure the slave catcher didn't sneak back on board and search again.

She'd waited expectantly for him all day yesterday, hadn't gone anywhere—not even to visit her family, who was back in St. Louis—because she hadn't wanted to be absent when he arrived.

But as hour after hour slowly passed and he hadn't come, she'd only grown more anxious. Finally, in the afternoon, she'd become so fearful that the slave catcher had found the slave and imprisoned Sullivan that she'd had Mrs. Christy send their newly hired coachman, Mr. Dunlop, to inquire after Sullivan's whereabouts on the levee.

The coachman had come back within the hour to say that Captain O'Brien was on the Morning Star and had been overseeing the loading of goods on the main deck. Sullivan hadn't sent back a word to her, not to let her know of his doings, not to indicate when he'd be home, and not to alleviate her concerns. He'd been silent and noncommunicative ... and it was all her fault. She'd really hurt him with her comment regarding his scars.

She paused and leaned her aching head against the textured wallpaper that covered the front hallway. "I'm sorry, Sullivan." If only he would come home so she could apologize directly to him. Instead, he'd been gone another whole night and then again all morning.

Now, with her coat and hat on, she was ready to summon Mr. Dunlop to take her to the waterfront and go speak to Sullivan for herself.

But what if she arrived at the Morning Star and Sullivan ignored her the way he had with the coachman yesterday?

She pushed away from the wall and walked to the mirror that hung beside the front door.

Her face was pale today and her eyes wide, with dark circles under them. Gone was the contented woman she'd become after living with Sullivan for the past two months. In her place was the frightened and cowering woman she'd been with Bryan—the woman who'd been beaten down and rejected.

Had Sullivan realized he'd made a mistake in marrying her? And was he now rejecting her too? If so, she didn't blame him.

"This is why you weren't supposed to give him your heart," she whispered angrily to her reflection. Maybe she hadn't exactly given it to him. It was more like he'd taken an ice pick to her heart and cracked off all that had been frozen. Then he'd breathed warmth into her with his small acts of kindness every day.

At a firm knocking against the door, she startled and spun away from the mirror. Was that him? Coming back to reconcile, even though she'd hurt him ... and pushed him away...?

Aye, he'd been right. She was sabotaging their relationship by thrusting him away every time they had a moment of closeness. That hadn't been fair to him. But she didn't know any other way of relating.

Straightening her hat, she placed her hand on the doorknob. It was trembling, but she forced herself to open the door anyway, dragging in a breath to fortify herself as she did so.

At the sight of her older brother standing on the doorstep, she expelled a breath of disappointment.

Kiernan was peering intently down the street, as though watching for someone, his top hat pulled low over his auburn hair, his handsome face shadowed. A cherry red gig was parked on the muddy street, the storm apron pulled up against the cold, spitting drizzle.

"Hello, Enya." Kiernan's keen blue eyes swept over her, slowing at her waistline, clearly gauging whether or not her pregnancy was showing yet. He was likely tasked by both Mam and Da to visit and tell her she needed to conceal any swell until further along in the pregnancy.

"I'm being careful not to show." She might as well get right to the point. "You can take your report back to Mam and Da."

"Good day to you too." Kiernan's gaze didn't miss a single detail as he slipped past her into the hallway, taking in the new wallpaper and carpet and the tall potted plants on pedestals.

She gave the street a hard look both ways, hoping for a glimpse of Sullivan but not seeing his distinctly broad frame anywhere. Then she closed the door. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To give me the usual lecture about how I need to behave now that I'm back in town? So I don't embarrass the family any further?"

Kiernan shrugged. "That's not why I'm here. But 'tis good advice. Please do refrain from any more of your shenanigans."

Enya couldn't keep from pursing her lips. Only a few seconds with her brother and already she was wishing she was someplace else far away.

"Especially now that your husband isn't around to exert his influence."

"Not around?" The question slipped out before she could think of Kiernan's reaction to it.

He tipped up the brim of his hat, and his brow rose. "The Morning Star left early this morning for New Orleans."

Her heart snapped loose and plummeted to the bottom of her chest. The impact was hard and swift and painful, shattering the already delicately repaired organ. Even as the pieces shattered, she forced a casual smile. "Of course. He's off again. As busy as always."

Kiernan, in the process of saying something more, paused and studied her face more carefully. Did he sense the hurt? Did he suspect that something was amiss between Sullivan and her?

"Mam wanted me to offer to have you come stay at the house while he's gone." Kiernan took several steps down the hallway, peeking into the parlor, his eyes widening with interest.

"I intend to live in here." She was relieved more than ever that Sullivan had provided a place for her. "Tell Mam thank you, though, and that I shall visit her soon."

"See that you do." Kiernan gentled his tone. "Everyone would like to hear all about your trip to New Orleans and your visit with your husband's family."

What husband? The question smacked into her so hard that she nearly toppled against the wall, had to grab on to it to keep from wobbling. She certainly didn't need Kiernan figuring out Sullivan had left her without saying good-bye—just like Bryan had. Kiernan probably would assume she'd messed up again and then start working on another solution.

What if Sullivan didn't come back? What if he'd given up on her and their marriage?

A strange despair tightened her throat. Deep down she knew that Sullivan wasn't that sort of man, that he wouldn't run away and leave her forever. But he'd obviously decided he'd had enough.

Kiernan took off his hat and combed his hair's longer front strands back rakishly, then replaced his hat with a cocky tilt of his head. "I heard your housekeeper is seeking to hire a maidservant."

"Aye, she's interviewed a couple of young women." Enya had sat in on the interviews yesterday, but her mind had been occupied with thoughts of Sullivan, and she hadn't been able to focus well. "Two more women are coming today."

"I want you to hire this woman." He lowered his voice and handed Enya a folded slip of paper almost secretively.

Enya took it and flipped it open and made no attempt to whisper. "Alannah Darragh."

"Hush with you now, Enya." He glanced around as though he expected someone to be watching them.

"Who is she?"

"She's in trouble and needs a place to stay."

"One of your women?"

Kiernan had become a womanizer over the past year since ending his longtime relationship with his childhood sweetheart. No matter how much he might deny it, he left a string of broken hearts everywhere he went.

"She's the sister of one of my employees." Kiernan was business savvy like Da, and at twenty-two, he already had his own successful glass-cutting factory.

Enya didn't intend to make the conversation easy for him. "Since when do you concern yourself over sisters of employees?"

Kiernan scowled. "He's one of my best workers but has fallen onto some hard times."

"Where do they live?"

"Does it really matter? Just do as I say and hire her." He started back toward the door, the arrogant swagger to his steps stirring fresh irritation in Enya.

She followed him. "I'll have to interview her like all the rest."

"No, you won't." Kiernan opened the door and tugged up the collar of his coat against the cool day, the rain having turned to heavy sleet.

"I'll not be hiring someone in order to feed your appetite for dalliances."

At Enya's insinuation, Kiernan stopped in the doorway so suddenly that Enya had to pull herself up short. He held himself stiffly for a moment before he slowly pivoted. "I don't view her that way."

She held his gaze and didn't let him intimidate her into looking away first.

"Hire her." He started to turn, then softened his voice. "Please."

Something about Kiernan was different. Enya couldn't put her finger on it, but his demand suddenly didn't feel so demanding.

She didn't watch him depart. Instead, she closed the door and leaned against it. A sob swelled and began to strangle her.

Sullivan had left St. Louis for New Orleans. He'd be gone for close to a month if there weren't any delays. One whole month. She wouldn't see him until mid-May.

The prospect of the next four weeks without Sullivan in her life only pushed the sobs higher into her throat.

She'd been too stubborn during their last argument. All he'd really wanted was for her to acknowledge that she wanted to be with him, but she'd let her fears keep her from admitting that maybe she was developing stronger feelings for him.

A sob slipped out, and as it did so, she slid down to the hallway floor, her skirt bunching around her. Aye, she had driven a husband away again. But this time she'd done it with a man who was good and honest and true.