“He keeps the basics in his cabin on the Masquerade.” His smile was tight. “I am not certain why Ben did not give him any more notice than he did, but it was imperative he leave at once.”
So he did. Without a word, without an apology, without an explanation after those kisses and then the confrontation with Captain Arnaud…he just left, because some politician told him to. On a mission to spy on her father’s friends in the navy. To put his life in the gravest of danger. To possibly never come back.
She pushed away from the table, working hard to keep a smile upon her face. “I imagine if anyone can give the congressman the information he requires, it is your son. Now I am afraid I must beg your indulgence and promise to visit more in the morning. I have a bit of the headache.”
Another chair scraped as she turned, and warm fingers touched her arm before she could make it through the doorway. “Gwyneth.” Mr. Lane’s voice was low, pleading. “He had little choice. Concerned as he was with how this would seem to you—and you were his first thought—’tis a matter of the safety of us all. Having this knowledge could make the difference between—”
“I understand, sir. I grew up in a military home, remember.” Though Papa had never left without saying goodbye.
Rosie elbowed Mr. Lane aside. “I’ll see after her. You go on and have some of that tea.” She guided Gwyneth forward, the untouched glass of lemonade in hand. “You may want this yet.”
She didn’t want anything. Not lemonade, not company, not soft words from biased parents. She wanted only silence. From the talk, from the thoughts banging around her head like war drums. From the heart that said his name with every pulse. Thad, Thad, Thad.
“I could smack that boy,” Rosie muttered, leading Gwyneth away from the stairs she’d intended to go back up. “Leaving now after upsetting you. And just when you had started feeling at home here too.”
The sentiment eased her, yet it made her tongue jump to his defense. “He is doing what he must, Rosie. I cannot be his only concern.” Though when she saw that the housekeeper was leading her toward the drawing room, she dug in her heels. Thad, Thad, Thad.
Rosie scolded her with a look. “You think you can avoid the thought of him anywhere in this house? Come on, now.” She pulled her inside.
The same lamps were lit that had been two hours earlier, when she and Thad wandered in with her painting. It hung now over the fireplace as it had after their jesting. Thad, on his ship. His first love, he had called it. And back he had gone to her.
Of course he did. His ship is freedom. You are shackles. A burden.
She turned away from the painting. Rosie steered her across the room to her oasis of comfort, the secretaire that had been her home more often than not since she arrived. Where pencils were happily scattered and paper always freshly stacked. Where she could block out the rest of the world and make sense of it all through the order of black on white.
She sat, pulled out what she would need, knew just what she would draw—Emmy. Though the vision made her pause. She looked up at Rosie as the woman put her lemonade on the corner of the desk. “Rosie, you have a beautiful daughter.”
The stern brow softened, and a rare smile lit her face. “I know. She’s the only beautiful thing that came of that life.”
“Is she…?” She could think of no delicate way to phrase the question.
But Rosie’s eyes reflected no pain, no bitterness as she nodded. “My Uncle Free tried to buy my freedom time and again, but the master would never let him. And you can be sure my opinion was never asked, not about nothing. But he died when Emmy was a little thing, and the mistress was happy to get rid of us quick as she could. When Uncle Free asked me where I wanted to go, and the Lanes invited us to their home—it was the first time anyone ever asked me anything. So I told them. And I ain’t never stopped telling it like I see it since.”
She leaned forward and cupped Gwyneth’s chin with strong fingers. “Now listen, child. You fight for what you want, what you need. You fight whatever’s against you. Whatever’s been making you think you’re not safe unless he’s here. You are. You hear me? We’re gonna take care of you while he’s gone, and when he comes home—well.” She straightened, those gray eyes gleaming like silver. “Then you’ll show him it ain’t you who can’t live without him. It’s him who can’t live without you. Understand?”
Gwyneth understood the words, yes, and the sentiment, and they brought a wave of determination through her. If she wanted this to be her home, if she wanted to make a life with Thad, she must not sit idly by, bemoaning his absence. She must be strong like Rosie. She must…she must…
That whisper still filled her ear. You are shackles. You are a burden.
She must find a way…she must be more than…
Thad, Thad, Thad.
“Fight it off, Gwyneth girl. Don’t give it purchase. Don’t let it win after you’ve come so far. Fight it off.”