Tides of Honour (27 page)

“Oh, Danny,” she said, any hesitation in her expression dissolving. Her eyes, dark with misery, filled with tears, and she hiccupped a sob. “I am so sorry.”

“Not nearly as sorry as I am,” he said. His hand stroked her damp cheek, his thumb smudging away her tears. His fingertips reached the scar on her cheek and she instinctively withdrew, looking embarrassed. He smiled, but kept his fingers on the smooth pink skin, skimming across the scar in a soothing movement.

“What was it someone very wise once said to me?” he asked, thinking back to a warm, mellow morning, the sunlight pouring through the bedroom window and spilling over his young wife's face. “Ah yes. I'm touching you because I want to give you pleasure. And it gives me pleasure as well. And your cheek? Scarred or not, I'm touching a part of you that's still there.”

He leaned closer, and she met him halfway. Their lips touched, and Danny forgot everything but Audrey. She was his again. He could breathe.

THIRTY
-
NINE

“I have to speak with
Pierre,” she said when they stepped apart.

Danny swallowed his disgust. He was going to have to move past this if he was going to keep her. “What'll you say to him?”

Her hesitation was over quickly. “I'll tell him . . . I'll tell him he should have told me you were alive. He should have done what he promised he'd do. I'll remind him that you're my husband.”

“He won't be too happy about all that. What about the baby?”

Audrey chewed on her lip. It was a new habit he had noticed. She looked almost . . . frightened. “Well, I'll have to tell him anyway.”

“What does he say about the baby?”

She puffed out a breath and looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. “He was quite angry about it, actually. He said he didn't want any more children. He said—” She scraped one of her boots against the road, uncomfortable, but he kept his eyes on her face. “He said I would become fat and useless like his wife.”

What an honourable man,
Danny thought. “Why did you stay with him, then?”

Her liquid eyes blinked against the late-afternoon sun. “Where else could I go?”

“I'm coming with you,” he decided. “I'll make sure you're safe.”

“Oh yes, Danny. Please do.”

“Tonight?”

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. “Yes. Tonight.”

Danny collected his things and spoke to the foreman, who let him go early. The women with Audrey stared at her with disbelief when she said she wasn't going back with them. They bustled into the back of their car, exchanging glances and words.

“I won't have to tell him much,” Audrey said, sighing. “Catherine and the others will speak with him first.”

“Maybe you won't have to go at all.”

“Of course I will. It's his baby, after all.”

“Right,” Danny said quietly, suitably scolded. “But for now, come on along to Mick's place, will you? I want you to meet him. And I'd like to put on a fresh shirt if we have time.”

She smiled and went with him. He wanted to wrap his arm around her, where it belonged, but there was still a lingering crevasse between them he couldn't yet cross. A solid space. He would have to figure out how to get around it.

Mick was home when they walked in. He came out of the back room looking businesslike and gruff, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He had pulled his newsman's hat down low, half covering his eye patch so he looked more disreputable than ever. When he caught sight of Audrey, he stopped short and slid off his hat.

“Ma'am,” he said, offering a little bow.

“Mick? This is my wife, Audrey.”

A smile spread across Mick's face and reached his eye. His grin focused on Danny. “Oh, is it? Well, Daniel my boy, I'm so pleased
to hear that.” He turned to Audrey, still smiling. “Audrey? I'm not sure I've ever been so happy to meet someone. The boy's been a mess without you. Practically useless to me around here.”

She chuckled. “Well, I do hope things will improve now.”

“Mick was in the battalion with me,” Danny said.

Audrey tilted her head to the side and squinted. “I thought so,” she said, then smiled again. “I thought I recognized you. We didn't speak at the time,” she assured him when he looked confused. “You would have no reason to remember me. It was a busy time.”

“I'm sorry? I—”

“Mick, do you remember the farmhouse where we went once, and Audrey was there with her grandmother? We fixed their wagon and—”

“I do!” Mick exclaimed, eyes wide. “I do! Well, and if that ain't the craziest thing. So you and Danny—the two of you . . . Well, I'll be!” He slapped his thigh, then Danny's shoulder. “Good for you! He always talked about you in the trenches, you know. Couldn't stop talking, showing us your picture.” He nodded a few more times, his eyes darting from side to side. Danny could practically see him thinking. Eventually the newspaperman's expression changed from one of friendly recognition to one that carried a little suspicion. “So you did survive the blast. We'd heard you didn't. Where have you—”

“Mix-up somewhere along the road,” Danny said. “Her name was . . . left off the lists.”

“I have been living with Pierre Antoine,” Audrey declared softly.

There were a few beats of surprised silence as Mick took that in. Audrey chewed her lip. “I know how that sounds. He found me at the medical centre and brought me home. Poor man lost his wife and children, and he tended me when I was ill.”

The men exchanged a fleeting glance, then looked away from each other, still quiet.

“What was I supposed to do?” she demanded, clenching her fists at her sides. “I was alone with no money. He told me you were
dead,
Danny. He told me you died at the docks.”

“I know, Audrey. I understand. It's all right.”

“No, Danny. It's not all right.” She turned away. “None of this is all right.”

“Audrey,” Mick asked, interrupting their quiet conversation. “Did Antoine talk about his work a lot?”

She glanced toward him, startled, as if she'd forgotten he was there. She shook her head. “No, not really.”

“He never mentioned anything about contracts?”

“No,” she said, frowning. “Not to me. I heard him talking with the other men when they were all sitting around blowing cigar smoke. Sometimes I heard him on the telephone.”

“He has a lot of friends, don't he? A lot of well-dressed fellas, I mean.”

“I suppose. And yes, everyone near Pierre dresses well.” She pulled a gold chain from under the top of her dress and revealed the gem Danny had seen before. Blue, he saw, like her eyes, and rimmed by an ornate gold frame.

“He gave this to me,” she said, looking slightly sheepish. “It belonged to his wife, he said. He used to say he'd have liked to give me earrings, but they only made my scar look more obvious.” She snorted softly. “He thought that was funny.” She glanced away and wrapped her arms around herself, looking as if she hadn't considered his comments to be funny at all.

“Nice guy,” Danny muttered.

“So now you're coming back to Danny, huh?” Mick asked. She nodded. “Good. That's good. Tell me, did Antoine ever give you anything else besides the necklace? Any money?”

Audrey looked scandalized. “I would never take money from him! He paid me in the beginning to paint, but after that I was lucky to be given a place to stay and food on my plate.”

“A place to stay. That's right,” Danny said under his breath.

“Give the girl a break, Danny.”

Audrey glanced uneasily between the two, then sighed. “Mick, you should know something. Danny's giving me a very big break. He wants me back . . . even though I'm pregnant.”

Mick's eyebrows shot up. “Pregnant! Well, now, I don't know how to answer that.” He looked at Danny, but Danny turned away. “Should I say congratulations?”

“I've always wanted to be a mother,” she said, her smile small but tremulous. “But I only ever imagined it would be Danny's child. I never meant—”

Danny snorted, avoiding both their gazes. “But surely you knew, going with him like that—”

She whirled to face him. “What was I supposed to do? I was alone. You were dead! I had no money, and my face was all cut up. Pierre lost his family and took me home. He cared for me, and when I was well enough, he introduced me to some important people so I could paint for them.”

“And you got pregnant,” Danny said.

Her cheeks instantly reddened. “Yes. I got pregnant.”

“And how does Mr. Antoine feel about that? About the baby?” Mick asked.

Her gaze dropped to her hands in her lap. “He's . . . he's not happy. He wants me to . . . give it up after it's born.”

“Nice guy,” Danny said. “Adding to the orphan population.”

Her voice dropped dangerously. “Danny, you said you could handle this. I can't change what it is. What is done is done.”

“But still. You stayed with him.”

“Where was I to go? The street? Penniless and pregnant? I
may not be very smart, but I'm not stupid either. I know a good thing when I have it.”

It would have been so easy for Danny to rant, then storm out, to leave her as she'd left him. But leaving was the easy part. After that there would be living to do. And Danny knew he couldn't live without her.

Mick broke the uneasy silence. “Did Antoine have a lot of meetings in his home?”

“Yes, he did.” She blinked a few times, regaining her composure.

“Do you remember the people who came to the meetings? Their names?”

“Some. Why?”

Danny looked at Mick, who said nothing, only returned his gaze. Words passed between them, though.
Go ahead,
Danny urged.
Tell her.

Mick tapped the end of his pencil on the table, and Danny knew exactly what he was thinking. How exactly was he going to break it to Audrey that she'd been living with a louse? That she'd slept with a snake?

He sniffed and leaned back in his chair, gauging her reaction. “It's only Antoine's no choir boy, you know? He's got quite a reputation around the financial markets.”

“Of course. They say he's an excellent businessman.”

“And quite a character.”

She nodded. “He is. Very entertaining and charming. But he has a bad temper too. Unpredictable and vicious. Like a tiger. You should stay out of his way, Mick.”

Mick grinned darkly. “I love tigers.”

“We're headed to his house tonight,” Danny said. “To tell him she's coming back to me.”

“That's bound to meet with a friendly reception,” Mick said with a chuckle.

“I don't care how he reacts. Audrey's my wife.” He darted a nervous glance her way, and she smiled, reassuring him. “He has no right to keep her there.”

“Sure, sure,” Mick said. “I'm only saying he won't be real happy.”

“I don't expect he will be, but it has to be done.”

Mick winked. “Watch your back, pal. He has some pretty big friends to go along with his tiger temper.”

“I ain't scared.”

“Oh, I know you ain't. Only too well, my friend. I'm just saying to be on the lookout.”

Danny nodded, then assumed Mick's earlier grin. “Who's going to warn him about me?”

FORTY

At about six o'clock Danny
and Audrey arrived at Antoine's front door. The sun still shone on its polished wood surface, and the couple stood side by side, staring at it.

Danny tugged her coat sleeve. “You're sure, right? That you want me instead? Because this sure is a pretty house.”

“It is,” she agreed. “And it's warm. And he always serves delicious meals and fine wine.”

“Seems like you could have been happy, here with the rich folks. Won't you miss it?”

“Of course. Some of it. I've done things I never imagined while I was here. I met the mayor! I've tasted champagne, Danny—”

“It'll be hard to go back to beer.”

She looked up at him from under her lashes, mischievous. “I prefer the taste of beer.”

“What about the painting?”

“I'll never stop painting,” she said. “But maybe we could just visit the city once in a while, and I could paint on special occasions. People here really like what I do.”

“So . . . you're not sure?”

She didn't smile this time, and when she looked at him, her expression was unhappy. Danny's palms went slick.

“You're not, are you?” he asked, lifting his chin defensively. “You're looking at me like I'm making you do something you don't want to do. You look sad. If you'd rather stay here, I'll understand. I have nothing to offer. Probably never will.”

She let out a long breath, and Danny's heart rate soared. Then her hand went to his arm, her little fingers latched on to his sleeve. She wanted something from him, he could see. Was she going to bargain for something? Because whatever it was, he'd do it.

But her voice wasn't demanding. It was soft, almost pleading. “Danny, you spend every minute telling me you have nothing to offer. Nothing to give me. But tell me this: did I ever ask you for anything? All I ever asked was that you promise never to leave me. And you did promise me that.” He swallowed hard, and she went on. “Can you never see yourself like I do? I don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone who is always making excuses. I want
you,
Danny. You are all I ever wanted. Not this,” she said, hooking her necklace with one finger. “Not this house either. I'd live in a fish shack with you, Danny, as long as you believed in yourself.”

She was right. She was always right, and he could kick himself for all the wasted time. He held her gaze and nodded soberly. “I'll be the man you think I can be, Audrey. I'll be the one you came here for.”

“Don't do it just for me.”

“No. I understand. I do. I've changed a lot since you left, and I'll prove it to you.”

Keeping her eyes on his, Audrey leaned forward, then lifted to her toes so she could kiss him lightly on the lips. His heart raced like it used to, before she'd left. He wanted to pull her against him, take her in his arms, and escape into the bright
solstice night with her. But they had a job to do. He stepped back, all business.

“Let's do this.” He knocked on the door and waited, admiring the new door frame. They would have had to replace all the stolen blankets and pillows as well, he thought with a secret smile. He wondered if Antoine had ever recognized his things when they'd shown up at the hospital.

The young maid who answered the door scowled at Danny, letting her eyes drift from his head to his shabbily clad toes. She looked as if she might shut the door again, but Audrey stepped forward with an authority Danny hadn't seen in her before.

“Good evening, Margaret.”

The girl's eyes widened. “Good evening, Mrs. Baker.”

So she'd kept his name. Danny practically swelled with pride.

Audrey stepped past the startled Margaret. “Is Mr. Antoine in the sitting room?”

“He is. With Mr. Callahan. He's been asking about you, and he isn't happy. Suzanne kept your supper warm for you.”

Audrey gave her a short nod and tilted her head forward as she removed her hat. Danny's cap was already in his hands. Careful not to interfere, he glanced over and saw her nibble at her lip. Ah. So she wasn't nearly as confident as she appeared. He brushed a hand against her back for reassurance.

“Shall I tell him you're here?”

“No. Don't trouble yourself, Margaret. You have other things to do. I'll show myself in.”

Margaret cast a doubtful glance at Danny, and Audrey grabbed his hand. “This is my husband,” she said.

Danny wanted to laugh at the little maid's open-mouthed reaction, but he didn't. Only squeezed Audrey's damp hand.

She led him down the hallway, and a strange memory swept through him. He had been in this house before. He had tugged
a blanket-laden, upside-down dining room table down this hall. There was a master bedroom over his head here, he thought, and just down from there was the child's bed in which he had slept on that frozen nightmare of a night. Plush new carpeting sank beneath his foot and his peg with every step—a far cry from the crunching of glass that had been there before. It was warm in the house, almost stifling within the velvet-papered walls, and Danny remembered the whistling urgency of the wind that night, the small snowdrifts that had piled inside the absent windows just as it had inside those lesser homes. And the way that same snow had piled over the remains of other houses, like dirt on graves.

He wondered how long it had taken Antoine to replace the big, impressive windows, to repaint the damaged walls, to send his servants out to purchase more quilts and pillows. He wanted to tell Audrey how desperately he had searched every room in the place that night, looking for her. He wanted to share the loneliness that had never quite gone away, that gut feeling that she was gone, swallowed up by the wind and the fire and the snow.

She had dropped his hand by this point and was walking with purpose, shrugging back her shoulders so she stood taller. Her silhouette faded in and out before him as she passed by lamps and dark spots in the hall.

He could share all that with her later. It felt good, knowing there would be another time.

The wall of defence to Antoine's sitting room was a heavy oak door, but there was also a small vertical window in the wall where Audrey stopped, just out of sight. Without taking her eyes from the man inside, she spoke to Danny in barely more than a whisper.

“Don't say anything, Danny. Let me speak. He won't want to discuss this business with anyone but me.”

“Is it all right I'm here?”

She looked at him then. “I'd be too frightened to do this without you.”

Antoine sat across from the window, leaning back in a navy armchair, cigar smoke curling from the brown stub between his fingers. He appeared to be speaking with someone, and the low rumble of men's voices travelled through the walls. When Audrey showed her face in the window, Danny saw a shadow of irritation cross Antoine's expression. He said something to excuse himself, then strode toward the door. He flung it open, appearing in a flash of gold-embroidered waistcoat and slicked black hair. A surge of blood rushed into Danny's fingertips at the sight of the man.

“Where the devil have you—” He stopped short at sight of Danny, and his words slowed. “Well, Mr. Baker. What an unexpected pleasure. Thank you for escorting Audrey back safely. The streets can be a dangerous place for a beautiful woman.”

“They can indeed,” Danny said cordially, maintaining a stiff hint of a smile. He would have been happy to jump in and speak, but Audrey wanted to look after this. Danny was limited to playing the role of observer.

“I apologize for making you worry, Pierre, but I've been with my husband,” she said, giving Danny a tiny smile. “There was really no cause for concern, because I'm always safe when I am with Danny.”

“So I see,” Pierre said, eyes narrowed. He turned toward Danny, as if dismissing her altogether. “Thank you for returning her to me. I shall have my man drive you back to your—”

Danny laughed, surprising himself. “
Returning
her to you? Excuse me? I ain't returning her to anyone. She's mine.”

Beside him, Audrey bit her lip, but she didn't try to shush him. Her eyes shifted to Pierre's face.

Antoine's expression was like steel, but it didn't bother Danny. He'd met up with much worse, and he'd beaten them all. He
might have lacked a leg, but he stood a head taller than Antoine and ten years younger. Antoine was forced to look up to speak, but Danny didn't give him time.

“You see, since she's found out I'm still alive—which you chose to lie about—she wants to come home with me. We're just stopping in to collect her things and say thank you very much.” He gritted his teeth, holding back the pressing urge to crush the man's face between his hands. “Thank you for taking such . . . good care of my wife.”

His expression dared the little man to speak, but Antoine looked as if he couldn't quite find the words. His nostrils flared over tight lips.

“It has been my
pleasure,
” he finally said, words dripping like grease off bacon.

“I imagine it has been,” Danny replied.

Audrey glanced nervously between the men, then stepped into the conversation. “I am very sorry, Pierre. I know this is difficult, but I obviously can't stay here with you. I'm married, and I have missed my husband very much.”

“Is that right?” Pierre said, cocking an eyebrow. “You didn't seem to miss him much when you were here. Indeed, I thought you were quite . . . satisfied with the arrangements.”

She blushed, and Danny almost growled. “Regardless of how things might have been,” he said, “she's coming home with me.”

“I'll go get my things,” Audrey said, backing uneasily from the room. “I'll be right back.”

The men stared at each other after she had gone, the air thick with fury.

“How dare you?” Pierre hissed. Danny raised his eyebrows. “How dare you take her from all this so she can live in squalor in a filthy hut somewhere? She deserves better. Especially . . . now.”

Danny closed his eyes. He had been wondering how long it
would take before Antoine came to this. When he opened them again, he let them sparkle with a hint of laughter.

“She decided she would rather live in a hut with me than spend another moment with you.”

“And now she'll have the bastard—”

“Whom you didn't want. And who will become my child,” Danny answered readily. “What's mine is hers, what's hers is mine, after all. That's part of a wedding contract, I believe. Although I'd heard your own understanding of marriage was somewhat different from that. I always wondered: did your wife turn a blind eye to all those sweet little honey pots so's you'd leave her alone?”

“Why, I should have you arrested—”

“You could, couldn't you? Make my life miserable, I mean. You have so many people in your pockets. It's impressive, actually.”

Antoine glared at him, then settled his features into a grim smile. “Oh, I could indeed, Mr. Baker. I could make your life very unhappy. In fact, I wouldn't start feeling too comfortable if I were you.”

“Thank you for the warning.” A creak from the top of the stairs alerted them both, and they turned toward the stairwell. Danny's blood sang with victory. “Ah. Here she is. My lovely bride.”

Audrey padded down the plush runner covering the wood stairs, following a maid who carried one of her bags. The other bag, which he could see contained her art supplies, Audrey carried herself. Danny took the bag from the maid, and she gave him a nervous smile before disappearing into another room.

“Got everything?” Danny asked Audrey. She nodded, then turned to Antoine, looking as if she might cry.

“Pierre, thank you for all you did for me. I hope you understand this is best for all of us.”

“I fail to see how this benefits you, Audrey,” he said roughly.

“I told you about Danny.”

“Yes, in fact, you talked about him constantly. To the point of annoyance. I know all about his drinking, and how he hit you.”

“You also know I missed him every minute.”

“Not every minute,” Antoine reminded her, staring pointedly at her belly.

She swallowed hard, looking sickened. “Yes, Pierre.
Every
minute.”