Indiscreet (37 page)
Nightmarish anger flooded through him. Every self-defeating thought he'd ever had rushed back, filled him with self-loathing. Sabine had left him. Fallen out of love with him. My God. The woman he loved beyond anything had left him.
"Where the hell is my wife?"
"Foye," Cross said. He took a step back, both hands lifted. "It's not-what you think. Foye, it's not. And Lady Foye isn't here."
"Get out"
"I didn't mean—"
Foye grabbed Crosshaven by the lapels and brought him up off his feet White-hot anger lanced through him. "You never meant Damn you, you never meant" He wanted to throttle the bastard. Jesus, he was more than a little tempted to toss him headfirst down the stairs. "What happened because of your lie that night turns my stomach, and for that I'll never forgive you though St Peter himself denies me entrance to heaven."
"I'll not forgive myself, either," Cross said.
"Then why are you here?" He released and pushed Crosshaven's wrist so hard Cross's arm jerked in the air. "Why the devil are you here?"
"Rosaline," he said, and he had the effrontery to sound and look angry. "Her parents live near St Ives. You know that, Foye. Better than anyone" Crosshaven took a step back, pulling on the end of his coat to set it back to rights. "We were visiting her parents when we heard the news about you, and then about Lady Foye. About there even being a Lady Foye."
"You brought Rosaline here?"
"No. They don't get on, actually, your wife and Rosaline."
"But you two do."
Cross flushed. The bastard. "If you must know, Foye, she's cold to me as well. I don't blame her. But Rosaline's father insisted on calling. Today of all days." Crosshaven inclined his head toward the open parlor door. "He's not well, Foye, but he insisted on paying his respects, and since I am home and able-bodied and he is not, I brought him here. He admires you still, Foye, Rosaline's father. He took the news of your death hard. We're here, waiting for her, your wife, Foye, so that a man who hasn't done you any wrong can tell her how sorry he is that you're gone."
Foye stared at him. He could hardly believe this was Crosshaven.
"She doesn't know we're even here, for God's sake, your wife." He grabbed Foye's arm. "Listen to me. She's out, Foye. Not even at home yet She doesn't talk to me unless it can't be avoided, and she doesn't even know I'm here."
Foye didn't know where to look, what to do, what to feel. His heart was still pounding in his ears.
"Cross?" called a thin voice from the parlor.
"Come tell the old man you're alive, Foye," Crosshaven said. "Please? Not for me. For him."
Foye took a deep breath and went into the parlor to say hello to Rosaline's father.
He was frailer than Foye recalled. Too thin, his hair mostly gone. But he gripped the old man's band and told him the tale of his survival, and all the time he could hardly concentrate but for thinking about Sabine.
Cross had the decency to stay out of the conversation. He kept to himself on the far side of the room and didn't say anything unless it was to remind his father-in-law of some name or event he'd forgotten or gently correct him when it became plain the old man's mind had wandered and had suddenly mistaken Foye for his late father.
He could hardly concentrate, but all the same, he knew the moment Sabine came into the room.
Chapter Thirty-four
Sabine stood in the open doorway, blinking hard. She couldn't understand why Lord Crosshaven was in her house. He must know he was not welcome. But then another man came forward, and her heart stopped beating.
"Foye?" she said.
It must be someone else, she thought Someone else as tall as Foye. The stranger came out of the shadows where he'd been. And her entire body flashed hot and then cold as ice. She trembled from head to toe. It couldn't be. He was dead.
"Foye?" she whispered.
"Sabine."
It was his voice. His voice. She'd never in all her life fainted, and she would not now. She put out a hand to catch something. The edge of the door. A table. A chair, anything sturdy enough to help her keep her balance when her head was swimming and tier legs threatening to crumble.
There was a table by the door, her searching hand hit the edge and that served She clutched it, hanging on as hard as she could.
"It's me," he said. He came toward her, and all she could think was that she must be imagining this. The sun was coming through the window behind him, this man who looked like Foye, and she wasn't sure at all of anything. She could not see him well enough. "My love, I wasn't on the factor."
Sabine held out a hand. "Is it you?" she said. "Is it really you?"
"Yes." He crossed the room, walking out of the sunlight, and he took her in his arms. And though a part of her still believed Foye was dead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight to her, and their bodies fit exactly as she remembered. Perfectly.
She was dimly aware of Lord Crosshaven helping a frail old man to his feet She recognized Crosshaven's father-in-law from church. Since coming to St Ives she had met everyone who attended their church. She had withstood all the introductions, even the exceedingly difficult one to Lord Crosshaven and his wife, whom she disliked a great deal. At first on mere principle and then because she would not have liked the woman in any event
Sabine stepped forward, still with one hand on Foye's coat stopping Crosshaven by placing a hand on the old mans arm.
Crosshaven took a breath and said, "He wanted to pay his respects, Lady Foye."
She nodded. 'Thank you for coming, Mr. Prescott"
He bowed, slowly, and, leaning heavily on his son-in-law's arm, spoke in a voice that trembled with age. "He's a good man, Foye." He lifted his head. "A good man, my lord."
"We'll call, Mr. Prescott," Sabine said. "If we may. Lord Foye and I."
He chuckled and patted her hand. Mr. Prescott smiled at her, and she was reminded very strongly of Godard.
Not because there was any great resemblance between the men but because of his age and the way Lord Crosshaven supported his arm. Mr. Prescott was older than Godard by several years, and she knew precisely what it had cost the older man to travel so far, how deeply he must have felt his obligation to Foye's memory. "That would be delightful."
"We look forward to it, sir," Sabine said. She pressed his hand and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You've brought me luck, sir," she said. "You came to call and brought me back my husband. I'll never forget that"
"Come along," Crosshaven said to his father-in-law. "We'll get you home, and you can tell Rosaline all about how you brought Foye back from the dead." He looked at Sabine and said, very softly, 'Thank you." Cross glanced at Foye and nodded. "Good day, my lord."
"I won't wish you the same."
"Foye," Sabine murmured. "Don't be unkind."
He looked down at her. "I won't, my love."
When Crosshaven and Mr. Prescott were gone, Sabine turned back to Foye and slipped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest and stroking his back until she stopped shaking.
"Tell me again it's you, Foye," she whispered. 'Tell me I'm not dreaming." He held her close, stroking her head. Tears burned behind her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
"You're not" He pulled her hard against him. "I drove from London to here as quickly as I could. I couldn't get here any sooner."
She went up on tiptoe so she could put her palms on both sides of his face. She traced every line of his face with trembling fingers while Foye produced a handkerchief to dab at her tears. She looked to the door and saw the butler there with the housekeeper and several of the maids and footmen. Through her tears she said, "It's him. It's really him. We'll have a feast tonight, won't we?"
Foye set her back and said, "Lady Foye and I will dine in our room tonight If you wish to celebrate tonight, do so, with full permission." He slipped an arm around her waist and held her tight against him. "But we'll feast the entire house tomorrow."
"My lord." The butler had the sense to retire, shooing away the rest of the staff.
Foye took Sabine to his room, and he looked around slowly. Sabine realized it was patently obvious to anyone that she had moved in here, into his room and not the lady's chamber, and there they had an awkward moment. "I felt closer to you here, Foye," she said. The silence between them horrified her. Had he changed? Had he fallen out of love with her?
"It's quite all right"
She stayed near him and kept her hand on his arm, and he let her. He faced her and removed her hat. Some plain thing she'd bought at the milliners at St Ives and had dyed black, not caring at all what she looked like. Her gown was a horrible, hideous black as well, Her shoes, too. He stood there in the center of his room that she had turned into hers, and ran his fingers through her hair.
"It's grown quite a lot since Aleppo," he said. "And all of it gold again."
"It has." She touched the curls around her forehead. "These remind me of you. I didn't know I had them until recently. Before, my hair was too long to curl this much."
"Brooks told me you're with child, Sabine. Is it so?"
She nodded. "I've seen the doctor."
"You're wearing mourning," he said. "Widow's weeds."
"For you, Foye."
"I dislike you in black." He stroked her hair, her cheek, and she turned her face into the curve of his palm. "I hate particularly to see you in clothes that are out of fashion and too plain." He was holding onto his emotions as tightly as she was, and she wasn't sure how to get them past this awkwardness. Turkey was thousands of miles away, and now, after all that had happened, could they really make a life together?
What a pair they were.
"Knowing you," he said, "you haven't anything else to wear."
"I haven't."
"I'll buy you a new wardrobe. In colors. Any color you want, Sabine. A rainbow of them if you like. I'll take you to London and visit all the shops in the world."
"I don't care about that" She reached up to put her hands on either side of his face. His skin was cool underneath her fingers. She trembled when she touched him, and he covered her hands with his. "Thank God you came back to me, Foye."
He took a deep breath, and she tried to work out what would happen now. If she didn't know, or couldn't guess, did that mean they'd grown too far apart? "I confess," he said eventually, "to some relief on that score myself."
His smile took her breath.
"You do make me laugh, Foye," she said. She slid her hands to his shoulders and then to his chest, where she left them so she could feel the beating of his heart He let his hands slide off her until they ended up at her hips. She tilted up her chin to look at him. "I am still in love with you," she said.
"Are you?"
"Yes." She nodded, a very determined bob of her head. 'I've been giving the subject a great deal of thought over the weeks since I left Iskenderun."
"There is not much to do on board a ship but think a great deal," he said.
"Quite true."
He reached up to bracelet her wrists with his fingers. She'd taken off her gloves when she came home, and her gown had short sleeves that left her arms bare from just above her elbows to her hands. Foye swept the last two fingers of each hand down her arms from the bottom of her sleeves to her wrists. "I've been dreaming of this moment for months," he said. "Of holding you in my arms again and hearing you tell me that you love me."
"I love you, Foye. How many times shall I tell you? A dozen, a hundred? A thousand?"
"We'll be married again in the Church of England, Sabine." He slowly breathed in. "Wherever you like. Here or in London. Or in Oxford, if that's what you'd prefer."
"Here," she said without hesitation. 'The church in St Ives is pretty, and I like your reverend. Besides, this is home."
"St Ives it is."
She unfastened the first button of his coat. He kept his fingers around her wrists. "I told you I could not leave Godard," she said. "But I never got the chance to tell that by the time we reached Kilis I'd changed my mind about not telling him. I was so very unhappy, and all I wanted was to be with you."
He touched her cheek, cupping the side of her face in his warm hand. "Please don't regret staying with Godard. You mustn't do that."
Her breath caught, and Foye briefly tightened his fingers on her. But only briefly. "I wanted to, Foye." Her voice dropped so low he had to strain to hear her. "I wanted to leave him."
"I understood you could not."
"So much happened when we went to Kilis." She unfastened another button of his coat "I thought I'd given you up forever." She swallowed hard. "I imagined you'd return to England and marry some other woman. And then..."
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