Emily Baker (22 page)

“Just let me go.”

The farm receded in the distance behind them, wrenching Maura.

Freddie would escort her back to Dublin, then she would say her farewells to him, too. The hardest parting was already behind her. Leaving Garrett wounded in mind and spirit by her rejection had hurt her at least as much.

But it would be better for both of them. And certainly better for the people who needed him, who depended on him. A small sigh wrenched free of the tight control she was trying to keep on her shattered heart.

“Maura?”

Freddie had been the soul of solicitation since the other night. She knew his heart so much better than he had ever known hers. He was still quite certain that he loved her. Even in the face of the relationship he suspected between her and Garrett, his ardor had not seemed to cool.

She caught back another sigh.

“These have been tiring days. I shall be happy to reach home once more.”

“Indeed.” He reached over and pressed her hand. “A few days’ journey and we will be there.”

Her mind strayed far from the covered cart they shared with Jane and Sean. A coach would have been more comfortable given the distance they would be covering, but neither Jane nor she could bear the thought of entering an enclosed vehicle so soon after their escape. Instead they had padded benches, pillows and lap robes, and a carefully erected canopy to provide a modicum of privacy. Paddy Clancy would drive them in easy stages to County Meath, but none of these arrangements brought her much in the way of comfort.

She thought back to each time she had been in Garrett’s arms. His touch, his kisses burned on in her heart. Even she knew the Green Dragon never married, was sworn not to give his heart to any woman. It was one of the aspects of his tale Teresa told with such relish.

That left her as just another comforting body to him in what was surely a long history of such women. Even still, that might have been enough for now, but eventually she would have hated not being able to gain access to Garrett’s heart. She knew the way she felt about him needed to be reciprocated fully. It was better to end whatever they shared now while there was still a slim chance she had lost her heart alone and not also the security of her future.

The timing of her trysts with Garrett could not be worse. She, who never needed to worry about such things due to the infertility potion faithfully administered by Mrs. Kelly, had never considered the possible consequences when she had made such passionate, satisfying love with him.

Now, she faced at least another week of worry and concern. Two at the outside. She might very well be pregnant this very minute. Pregnant with the bastard child of the Green Dragon. The prospect chilled her.

She had promised herself no children, sworn that her choices would hurt no one but herself. As happy as the thought of holding living proof of the love she had shared with Garrett might make her, it was selfish, benefiting neither the child who would grow up with no father nor the father who would never get to know his child without the pain of betraying his solemn oath.

She just had to pray that she calculated wrong.

“We will be home very soon.” Freddie patted her hand, and she let him.

It would be so very easy to allow Freddie back into her life, especially if she really was pregnant. A few weeks in her bed would easily serve to convince him any child she carried was his. She would deny anything had happened with Garrett, and Freddie would believe her because he’d want to. And he would marry her before she could draw another breath if she asked. Her child would be born the son or daughter of Baron Stanhope, heir to Clancare.

A tempting prospect, save for the fact that she could not imagine ever taking another man to her bed after sharing herself so completely with Garrett. Nor could she betray Freddie or her possible unborn child like that. The lie would eat into them, burning away whatever happiness they might try to claim.

She sighed, and Freddie patted her hand again.

She cast her gaze over to Sean and Jane. As solicitous as Freddie was to her every breath, the two people sitting across from them appeared to be totally unaware of each other.

She couldn’t help but smile her understanding.

It was clear there was more than a passing interest on both their parts. Yet whatever they struggled against in their inner hearts precluded them from so much as glancing at each other.

She hoped that when Sean arrived at Admiral Fuller’s home with his daughter he would not immediately have some price to pay for his part in returning her to her father.

It was late afternoon on the following day that they passed the outskirts of Admiral Fuller’s lands in Meath. Paddy’s brother had brought word to the farm that this was where the admiral would await his daughter’s return after receiving Garrett’s missive. They had set out immediately after, and she had not gone back up to Garrett in all the time they had waited. One farewell had been wrenchingly enough.

If the two across the cart had been tense before, they were more so now. Maura’s heart went out to them both even as she was looking forward to the lessoning of tension once they had left them at the admiral’s estate.

“Two miles ahead.” Sean’s announcement fell into the cart like a leaden ball.

Jane’s gaze turned toward him. “Yes.”

She turned her gaze back to Maura and tried to smile despite the worry gathering behind her eyes. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Fitzgerald, for being so willing to stand as chaperone. And you as well, my lord.”

Her gaze ran quickly over Freddie and back to Maura.

Maura leaned forward and pressed the girl’s hands. “Do not worry so, Jane. I am certain your father will think only of your well-being and how happy he is to have you home safely.”

“Yes,” she said again, her gaze drifting outside the cart again to some place on the horizon. “That is what I am afraid of.”

Admiral Fuller was a strong, brisk gentleman who reminded Maura of Colonel Whyte. She couldn’t help but like him when they arrived at his spacious manor house. His joy in his daughter’s return shone quietly in his eyes, though his speech was brusque and to the point. Early the next day Maura and Freddie took their leave and began the final leg of their own journey.

Jane clung to her in one last spontaneous embrace, trembling at the interview to come once she and Sean were alone with the admiral.

“You’ll be fine. Write me,” she whispered to the petite blonde.

“Write back.” Jane gave her a final squeeze.

The ride back to Dublin was much longer than the distance allowed. She was all too conscious of Freddie’s loyal gaze as they covered the miles and she prayed for this interminable travel to end.

All the way, her thoughts stayed fixed on Garrett, whose deep green eyes bespoke the very heart of Ireland. She could have spent her life in that gaze and been happy. But now . . .

Darkness fell and she dozed in a fitful sleep filled with guns, masked men, and danger at every turn. She woke with her heart pounding, her cheeks wet with tears. Freddie’s concerned face hovered near her own.

“Dearest Maura, you are safe. Don’t cry.” He pulled her into his arms, and she clung to the reality of his warmth for just a moment. It was very late or very early as they traveled the darkened, deserted city streets at last. He soothed his hands over her back in long, slow strokes and she shuddered.

She’d dreamed of death and destruction, of Garrett in danger. He was the Green Dragon; he would always be in danger. She couldn’t live like that. That truth devastated her.

“Thank you, Freddie.” She pushed back from him, and he let her go with obvious reluctance. “You were always kind and good to me. Much more so than I deserved.”

“You deserve so much more than you will allow me to give,” he argued back. “I would give you everything, all that I have and all that I can manage to acquire. If you would marry me.”

The cart rumbled to a stop. She was home at last.

“Sweet, Freddie.” She leaned toward him and traced her fingers over his cheek, falling back on the physical answer as she had so many times in their past. “Thank you for seeing me home.”

He frowned at her but didn’t press the point. In moments he helped her down from the cart.

She looked up toward the young man atop the coach. “Thank your parents for me. You make a very efficient driver. Do you have money enough for the journey home?”

“Thank ye, missus.” Paddy Clancy grinned down at her. “Mam would have my hide if I accepted yer money. Ready, sir?”

He seemed all too anxious to put paid to the streets of Dublin and get back home to the farm.

“Your ride awaits, my lord.” She curtseyed.

“Maura.” He touched her hands as she straightened. “I will come by tomorrow.”

“Don’t. Just take care of yourself.” She brushed her lips against his cheek and hurried up the steps before he could see the tears trailing her face.

A week passed.

And then a second, just to be sure.

But there was no mistaking the fact that her courses had not come—she, who had been as regular as the cycles of the moon. Her breasts were tender. Her mood even more sore. Her stomach queasy all the time.

“There’s nothin’ for it then.” Mrs. Kelly brought her a tray in the front salon where Maura sat gazing out onto the street. Tea and just a few dry biscuits. Anything more bothered her stomach.

“Aye.” There was no need for further conversation. Dorothy Kelly knew, just as she did herself, she was most definitely pregnant.

She took a careful sip of tea. Hot and strong, no sugar. For the past ten days she hadn’t been able to abide sweetness in anything. Somehow that seemed a portent of things to come. She sighed and took another sip.

Freddie had been at her door almost every day. With flowers. Jewelry. Demands. Nothing worked. Gerald was ever vigilant in his guardianship of her front door. So it would be, so it would stay until Freddie eventually tired of the chase and moved on to something or someone else.

Garrett was another matter.

She felt a twinge of pain at the thought.

He came quietly, but with a persistence that set her teeth on edge. He always left as quietly, accepting Gerald’s rejections without protest. She had taken to sneaking out to the draper’s shop at odd hours or she dressed in Mrs. Kelly’s outer garb, anything to guard against a chance meeting. But, knowing she was dealing with the Green Dragon, and quite possibly his men as well, had left her unsettled and skittish. She was certain she was being watched.

Either that or the pregnancy was making her feel overset at the slightest provocation. Ten young ladies had been rescued from Harold Jameson’s clutches. Most had been restored to their families. Two were recovering at her school. Teresa had been only too happy to recount tales of this latest exploit, albeit with a slightly altered version than truth allowed.

How much longer would Garrett continue to haunt her door? How was she to be rid of him before she began to show? She could not sleep; she was too haunted by nightmares of his death.

 

 

Garrett finished another bout of conversational sparring with Maura’s formidable gatekeeper.

He couldn’t be entirely certain, but he thought he’d begun to detect the slightest thawing in the man’s manner. Any advantage would be greatly appreciated. As it was, he was essentially laying a quiet and persistent siege to Maura Fitzgerald’s townhouse. Eventually she would have to give in. She would have to see him.

And then, this whole nonsense would be settled.

No matter what denials sprang from those soft and beguiling lips, he’d seen the truth in her eyes, felt it in the response of her body. Nothing would dissuade him of that. He’d spent too much energy and too many years reading situations, reading people, to be uncertain now.

“Lynch!” A voice called out in greeting.

He glanced over to find Baron Stanhope, who actually looked pleased to see him.

“Stanhope.”

“I . . . I’ve been anxious to talk to you.”

“Indeed?” Garrett continued to walk, and Stanhope fell into step beside him.

“Yes, I am. I wanted to offer, well, to offer my services. If you would, consider—” His voice trailed off.

This was not the same young man he’d played cards with a little over a month ago.

“I know I am not experienced,” Stanhope continued. “I cannot offer you all of the skills you may require. But I would be honored if... if . . .”

He trailed off again, managing to look young, earnest, and determined at one and the same time.

“Stanhope.”

“Aye.”

“I appreciate your offer. Come to The Boar’s Head on Tuesday next.”

“The Boar’s Head? What shall I do there?”

“You will find that out when you arrive. Say four o’clock?”

They continued walking together, skirting the park on the opposite side of Merrion Street and passing the Rutland Fountain where a number of women gathered, waiting to fetch home one last bucket of water before dark. Although he listened only enough to remain polite, Stanhope was still thanking him for the faith he was showing in him, the chance he was taking and guaranteeing no regrets.
Too late for that one.

They stepped on either side of an open coal shute in the slate walk when a figure stepped out in front of them. The huge man blocked their path. Arms like tree branches hung at his sides, fists bunching and un-bunching.

“Stop.” His tone low and clipped. To the point.

“Lynch.” Behind them, the bored tones snaked forward, etched with menace. “And Baron Stanhope. You may wish to leave. Now.”

Stanhope’s gaze widened as they turned and took in the deadly looking pistol in Jameson’s fist. He waved it to indicate which direction to take. The younger man’s gaze turned to Garrett’s, wide-eyed as apprehension and reality took the place of dreams and idealism.