Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 (3 page)

“I have no right to burden you with my problems,” Savannah said as she set down her mug. She massaged her wrist absently. “Please forgive my thoughtlessness.”

“There’s none to forgive,” Florence said. “And if there is some way we could help you, I like to think you’d turn to us.”

“I couldn’t,” Savannah protested.

“You’re Clarissa’s cousin. Thus, you are our cousin.” Jeremy paused. “You’d be the first cousin I’d care to claim in a while.”

Savannah burst into tears, burying her face in her palms as her shoulders heaved. “I’m so sorry. This is unseemly,” Savannah gasped out.

“Quit your nonsense and have a good cry,” Florence ordered as she moved to sit next to Savannah and embrace her. Florence continued to pat her back and hum soothing noises as Savannah sobbed. “That’s it. Get it all out. You’ll feel better for it.”

“Flo, I’m home!” Richard yelled as the front door slammed shut. When he entered the room, he noted his brother’s worried expression and the crying woman in Florence’s arms. “What’s the matter?”

“Mrs. Montgomery is under duress,” Jeremy said.

“Clarissa’s uppity cousin has called here for help? Not likely,” Richard said with a half laugh. Savannah turned a tear-streaked face toward him as she hiccupped out a sob, and he immediately sobered.

“You’re Savannah,” Richard said. He studied her, from her tousled hair, her gaunt appearance, all the way to her disheveled, outdated clothes. “What happened?” He pulled up a chair to sit next to her, with Florence on Savannah’s other side.

At Savannah’s silence, Richard looked from Florence to Jeremy. “Why is she here in our kitchen, crying, rather than in her fancy house in the Back Bay or her father’s shop in the South End?”

“Because they don’t believe me!” Savannah cried out as fresh tears poured down her cheeks.

Richard grasped her hand gently and looked into her eyes. “Well, why don’t you tell us, and we’ll see what we think?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy too. Threaten to send me away,” Savannah rasped. She shuddered as she recalled all that Jonas had warned.

“You may find us more charitable than your husband,” Jeremy said.

After a long pause, where Savannah gripped Richard’s hand tightly, she whispered, “He stole my baby.”

“What?” Florence and Richard asked at the same time.

“Jonas. My husband. He had the doctor give me something during the delivery to put me to sleep. When I woke, he told me the baby had died,” Savannah said, as tears streamed down her cheeks again. “I had trouble sleeping. There was always a baby in my dreams, wailing, desperate for me to find her. Jonas had me see another doctor, and I was given a sleeping potion.”

She took a trembling breath. “Finally, a few weeks ago, my aunt Betsy visited and brought me to Quincy. She threw away my sleeping potion, and it was as though a fog had lifted. Jonas had kept me drugged all that time.”

“How long?” Jeremy demanded in a hard voice as he rose from his chair.

“Six months,” Savannah said. “Six months I lost with my baby. I knew I was missing something every time I remembered the birth, and finally, when I heard my maid talking with my aunt, I realized that I had heard the baby cry. She wasn’t a stillbirth. She had lived.”

“Why do such a thing?” Florence asked.

“Jonas wanted a son. Anything else was a failure,” Savannah said. She rubbed at her cheeks and the errant tears that continued to fall.

“You think he brought the baby to the Home?” Richard asked as he looked up to watch Jeremy pacing the small space by the sink.

“I don’t know! But I have to find her. She has to know that she is wanted and loved,” Savannah said on a sob.

“You aren’t mad,” Florence said fiercely. “I believe you. Richard and Jeremy believe you.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Remember? We know Clarissa. And we know the type of man your husband is,” Richard said.

“Any friend of Cameron’s is, by association, a bastard,” Jeremy growled.

“And we’ll help you,” Florence said with a glare to Jeremy for his language.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Savannah said. “Everyone else, everyone except Aunt Betsy, thinks I’m unhinged after the loss of my little girl.” She released Richard’s hand and scrubbed her face. Finally she raised her eyes to meet Jeremy’s gaze. He studied her guardedly.

“Well, I imagine you are,” Florence said with a soft smile. “But I don’t believe you’re mad. You just need to find your baby girl. What day was she born?” Florence asked as she filled Savannah’s mug.

“November 14.”

“We can start tomorrow at the Home and go from there,” Jeremy said.

Savannah nodded, gripping the mug to the point she thought she might crack it. “I will try to meet you.”

“Will your husband allow you to leave again so soon?” Jeremy asked, provoking a startled look from Savannah at his perceptiveness.

“I’ll find a way,” she whispered.

“The Home is not a terrible place, but I would rather your baby be with you,” Florence murmured. Richard clasped Florence’s hand, smiling tenderly at her.

Savannah rose to leave. “Thank you. Thank you more than I can ever express.”

***

AFTER SAVANNAH DEPARTED, Jeremy continued to pace the small living area.

“Well, Jer?” Richard asked as he sank into the couch. Florence settled next to him. At Jeremy’s glare and stubborn silence, Richard sighed. “You’re more like Gabriel than you like to admit.”

“I am nothing like Gabe.”

“But you are. You’ve taken an interest in a woman who is far above you. And worse, beyond unavailable. She’s married, Jer,” Richard said with urgency in his voice.

“What makes you think I’m interested in her?”

“You’re prowling around like a caged animal. You couldn’t keep your eyes off her. And you are protective of her, though you want us to think the opposite.”

“I have nothing to offer her. And I’m nothing like Gabriel,” Jeremy said, bitterness and fatigue leeching into his voice.

“Jer, at some point, you have to let go of what happened in the Philippines,” Richard urged.

Jeremy shook his head as he paced again. “You don’t know of what you speak, Rich, or you’d never say such things. You have no idea …” He broke off as he spun to stare outside the darkened window.

“I know you killed men. That you did things you are not proud of,” Richard said as Jeremy turned to look at him.

“How?”

“How else were you to survive?” They shared a long look. “And I cannot regret what you had to do to survive, Jer. It brought you back to us.” He rose and walked toward him, clasping him gently on the shoulder.

Jeremy met Richard’s eyes. “If I can help Sav … Mrs. Montgomery find her baby, I will have done something good. Something I can think about in the middle of the night that doesn’t cause me shame.”

“You’ve already done so much. Think of what you did for Clarissa, helping her with Cameron. That may have seemed small to you, but it meant a great deal to her.”

Florence joined them. “I think you believe that, no matter what you do now, nothing will ever rectify what you did in the Philippines. Am I correct?” Florence asked.

Jeremy glared at her for a moment before nodding tersely.

“You may not wish to speak to us about what happened, but you need to speak with someone,” Florence urged.

“I did once. I spoke with Clarissa,” Jeremy whispered.

“You did?” Richard asked. “And how did she respond?”

“How do you think? With compassion and caring,” Jeremy said.

“Why do you think we’d react differently?” Richard asked, attempting and failing to hide his frustration that his brother would not speak with him about his war wounds.

“Because you knew me before. You both knew me before.” Jeremy paused. “You would never have thought that I would turn into such a man.”

“We all have darkness inside us, Jeremy,” Florence whispered. “It’s whether or not you let the darkness rule you.”

“I can’t seem to find the light,” Jeremy murmured. He patted Richard on the shoulder and left the sitting room.

“Richard,” Florence said. He reached for her, holding her close. “Richard, he will recover.”

“Will he?” Richard asked, hopelessness and despair evident in his tone. “He’s been home for over a year. I don’t know what to do for him.”

“Maybe it’s not what, but who. Savannah may be just what he needs.”

***

SAVANNAH SLIPPED into the large four-storied brick corner-lot mansion with its mansard roof on Marlborough Street in the Back Bay. Formal gardens in the front bloomed with peonies and a bleeding heart wept in its patch of shade. She sent a pleading look to the butler as he closed the black walnut door for her, the sound of the closing door echoing through the large foyer and down the long hallway. An incandescent green vase on the entryway table held a large bouquet of white peonies, already starting to close as dusk approached.

Although she had hoped otherwise, she knew the butler would inform Jonas of her absence. After handing the butler her light wrap, she slipped up the carpeted front staircase to her bedroom on the second floor.

After changing into an appropriate evening gown that matched her mood, one of black silk with lace at the neck and cuffs, she sat at her vanity as her maid, Mary, placed the finishing touches on her hair. “Are you all right, Mrs. Montgomery?” Mary whispered.

“Fine,” Savannah whispered back. She knew she was in the privacy of her bedroom, but she feared Jonas could have a spy nearby. “They believed me.”

“Who, Missus?”

“My friends,” Savannah said, nearly breaking down into tears to realize she had friends.

“That is good, Missus,” Mary said.

“I’ve never mentioned what you told me, Mary. I don’t want you to lose your position.” Savannah met Mary’s grave eyes in the mirror. “And I need an ally in this house.”

Mary nodded, draping a necklace around Savannah’s neck. Savannah smiled her thanks at Mary as she rose to descend the stairs to the formal parlor to await her husband, Jonas Montgomery.

“Where did you go this afternoon, dearest?” Jonas asked from his gentleman’s chair, one refined leg crossed lazily over the other.

Savannah sat in her lady’s chair next to him, as was expected.

He was exquisitely attired in a black evening suit with crisp white shirt and cravat, his muddy-brown hair tamed by pomade and his beard with no whisker out of place. He inhaled from a cigarette, blowing the smoke in Savannah’s direction. His intentional air of relaxation belied the barely restrained fury emanating from him.

Savannah attempted to prevent a start of surprise but still grimaced unintentionally. “I visited my mother and then a few friends.”

“I was unaware you had friends. After your prolonged illness, you fell out of favor with your set,” Jonas said with a mocking laugh as he tamped out his cigarette.

Savannah shrugged, unwilling to expound on her whereabouts.

“I’m certain I need not remind you that you are to have no further excursions with dubious acquaintances without my permission.”

“May I visit my parents tomorrow? My mother wanted me to call for tea again.”

Jonas watched her with patent dislike. “No, I think you need a few days to contemplate your error in leaving our home when you are still unwell.”

“Jonas …”

“Do you really think I don’t know what you attempted today, Mrs. Montgomery?”

“Pardon?” She tried to hide from Jonas the hitch in her breathing indicating her fear of him.

“If you are thinking of replacing me, I will have you know, no man will ever want you. Not now that you have shown yourself to be the pathetic female that you are.”

“Jonas,” Savannah whispered as she choked down a sob.

“Why would any man want you now?” His gaze skimmed over her silk-clad body with contempt. “You had one purpose in our marriage, Mrs. Montgomery. One! And that was to give me a son,” he roared.

She leaned away from him as he rose and paced, his movements jerky with his anger.

“Instead, you cry and wail in that birthing bed as though you were no more than a low-class barmaid. It made me ashamed to have married you. And then, instead of giving me a son, you produced a mewling girl.”

“Jonas,” Savannah said at the thought that he would admit their daughter had lived.

“I’m only thankful she died,” he said viciously. “She saved me the shame of having to look upon your weakness daily.”

“Jonas, she was our daughter,” Savannah pleaded.

“No, Mrs. Montgomery. She was never my daughter. I never wanted a daughter. Daughters are meaningless when it comes to business and legacies. They are only an unwanted, unneeded expense.”

“Jonas, please.” Savannah began to sob.

He moved toward her abruptly, gripped her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. “If there is any justice in this world, it is that we are both childless,” he hissed, his eyes taking on a maniacal gleam. “You, who only wanted children, now will never have one.”